Go back to AdobeFats Index. Side 1
”Powers of Persuasion”

By AdobeFats
Series 2005

On any an afternoon, much of what you see and hear happens just that way day, after day without much change. September that year and on the first day after a Labor Day weekend, what might have happened turned into an beguiling and evil situation.

Two good chums walked from the city bus stop nearest the house and home of Cody Jarret, we walking and talking about that our first full day of continuing education, college that is!

Nearing the corner where I needed to turn and head for home, we heard the barking of one exceptionally large dog Miss Agnes Smyth kept as her very private pet.

“Come! Come here, big boy," urged Cody, seeing the always playful giant Airedale frolicking about her lawn. Cody always tried to be very friendly to the pets belonging to people he serviced on his evening newspaper route.

Miss Smyth and her big dog, Bunsen, were where things in that neighborhood tended to get rather strange. The seemingly old woman by how she acted, but by some bequeathed reason she retained the form and figure of one “Knockout” younger looking of a female. This led us who had any dealings with her to consider her as if some perverted person.

She seemed and acted as if older but when seen she looked the part of a woman in her early thirties. She often stood or just sat in a rocking chair on the sun porch that began at the front of her house, taking a turn and stretching the length of the home ending where it joined a wood deck she recently added onto her house.

This time we failed to take note of Miss Smyth, she sitting in her porch rocking chair, watching us both like a Hawk seeing its prey.

"Cody Jarret, you stay away from my pretty pet," yelled Miss Smyth, she using her sometimes nasty, but on that time she used an alluring and sexy sounding tone of voice.

Cody used his common newspaper delivery smile toward the woman, waving a hand at her as if to reply in a friendly agreement to her possessive attitude concerning anyone coming close to her pets.

The two of us continued our walk home from the bus stop, we each giving an occasional and cautious look over our shoulders to see if the ole bitchy woman might be coming after us.

We both took note of her using then that ruddy evil stare she so often glared at trespassers on her property, or certain people, like Cody and me she seemed to despise.

I saw it first, making note to Cody as we stopped our walk and turned to see an uncommon sight. It was our turn to gawk, seeing the giant Airedale dog standing upright on its hind legs and fawning over the shoulders of our Miss Smyth.

The large dog stood upright on his two hind paws. He almost nose-to-nose with the woman, his forepaws hung over her shoulders, as the woman and her pet rubber noses.

I think seeing that drew our attention first, but with then the appearance of the big doggy producing an erection in its fullest possible state of ready, we gawked with youthful male jealousy, seeing that dog with his long, red colored, pointy shaft and his knot.

Seemingly, the dog felt something special for that mean tempered old woman, even at a distance his manners toward her held two young men wishing they had something as fine as did her big dog.

I knew from many a summer spent at Camp Rogers, that dogs there and horses alike, often would show their personal feelings, wants, or desires for food, and/or other pleasures, gaining a colossal erection.

The sight of that big dog and the manner that it and his master acted on a “Spur-of-the-moment,” tended to make me feel to aroused and slightly squeamish to ignore it all and look away.

Bunsen was just doing what most any happy mutt might. It was of Miss Smyth and her showy ways that made us uneasy.

Praising her big doggy, she reached down her hand and took a firm grip to that engorged tool that stuck out, elongated, rigid in the extreme, and showing a male dog eager to please.

"Weird," I said, saying loud enough to Cody next to me that my voice carried and Miss Smyth looked at us and sneered.

"You sexy old slut," Cody shouted, as then we both turned and walked away.

I went on home, but Cody had his evening paper route and was soon putting through the neighborhood seated on his Cushman scooter. He having a good throwing arm could toss the daily news mostly on front porches. As he rounded the corner towards home, he readied his last paper, but remembering the subscriber preferred it walked respectfully and properly placed in the mailbox, to save him from another nasty phone call, he stopped, walked quietly, and did place it on the front porch instead.

Leaving his scooter running at the sidewalk, Cody walked up the long brick walkway to the house and steps of the Smyth Victorian styled house.

"Paper," Cody called like clockwork and turned to exit her property in haste.

He was nearly to the front gate when the woman emerged and stood in the doorway. This time a broad smile clung to her face, like patience on a monument.

"Cody, come here." she called out in her most seductive sound, requesting and as much a demand at the same time.

Cody, used good manners for most people, did turn around and stood looking up at Miss Smyth standing there on her large front porch.

"Yes Ma'am,” I am sure was that respectful reply Cody so often used when addressing any female customer.

I suspect that took the sexy slut by surprise, as she would have expected worse from anyone she had so recently scolded.

"I see you like Bunsen," she half-asked, trying to change the subject and lure some young person into a scolding or worse.

"He is a fine big and well endowed doggy and very friendly too!" Cody said, remarking and as well chiding her commenting.

"Yes he's very special, being he is an exceptionally virile stud male Airedale with a loving attitude. Yet he is still mine, and I deem whom he gets to be around; do you understand me, boy?" Miss Smyth saying, she wanting to make a point and maybe try to start an argument.

"Yes Ma'am!" My friend Cody would respectfully reply, he knew that saying it that way would goad the ole woman.

The woman stood at the head of the steps coming up to her porch; she said nothing for a long moment, maybe thinking what to do or say next. As then, without a change of expression, she requested Cody come to where so few ever she allowed to step, he became welcomed to step up onto her porch.

Acting as if blatantly obedient, Cody stepped up and onto the porch, he said later of feeling what felt as if a light electric shock on his feet. The feeling danced up and down his legs, making them tingle.

He stood there at the top ready to run for his life, as Miss Smyth, renown to the neighborhood for her being as some witch and a bitch.

Memories of when he saw another of our friends, a Jay Winslow met Miss Smyth on her front porch, ushered inside her house as for some reason, and then vanished. Now that all happened a couple years ago, the police were seen at her house questioning Miss Smyth at length.

Jay mowed her lawn faithfully every Friday afternoon and after seen entering her house, our friend failed to return home that night. We were all convinced she had eaten him alive. The entire neighborhood turned out to help in the search, but days passed without a trace of him, and we eventually gave up hope.

As Cody cautiously stood before Miss Smyth, he ready to run, the Airedale pranced eagerly out of the house, passing by Miss Smyth, and walking out onto the porch as if to guard her and greet Cody.

Bunsen looked excited at Cody, seemingly happy to see him, and then jumped up to stand on his two hind legs, fawning on Cody. Bunsen hugged him with doggy embraces, licking his face, and, like before, he gained another of his massive erections.

As then Miss Smyth spoke and did then give her dog a demanding order to "Speak."

Instead of a common bark, as one might expect, out came pure American English words.

"Hey Cody, this is the new me, Jay Winslow! Oh wow, but from one friend to another we were all so right about her, she is really a witch. See here, she changed me, she did, to her personal and very private pet, but she is such a nice person. I get to play, and…we make love! She is a lot of fun. I like it here being this doggy for these past few days. She offered me this, me being her happy dog lover and spending a week feeling how she can thrill me. You come now, you and I we can play fetch, run, leap, and have some good fun." Bunsen spoke, that name as an alias name given him in place of what his parents named him, he as my friend Jay Winslow.

"Jay, you're a dog! She made you her perverted big lust-loving stud Airedale dog! Moreover, hey nothing, you speak as if she recently did this change to you. How long do you think it was since she changed you, Jay, days, weeks, try years, Jay! We all considered you another missing person two years ago! Your mother went plum nuts and divorced your father, he since, moved away and lives in Arizona." Cody said, he astounded to discover Jay alive and as a dog belonging to Miss Smyth.

"Damn kid, too blasted truthful," grumbled Miss Smyth.

As if suddenly snapping back to reality, the huge Airedale blinked and whipped his head around, giving a stare at Miss Smyth, her dog and pet did growl.

"Two years, you said it was just for a few days! Look what you made of me, take a good look at me; I am a full-grown dog! You fooled me, made me lose track of time, and kept me as this sex loving private playtime stud!" Jay seethed with anger, speaking his mind, turning spitefully with hatred toward the woman that made him as her bestial lover.

"Enough, already," ordered Miss Smyth, she then ordering Bunsen to return to all fours, and become again as his doggy obedient self.

Like an obedient dog, Jay returned to being as Bunsen, falling forward, and became again her pet and pleasure toy. Standing on all fours, his ability to talk diminished almost immediately, returning to the demeanor of an overly friendly pet.

"You could not have just greeted your friend. No, you had to tell everything! You tried to ruin my, our relationship, and for your act of aggression toward me, this shall not go unpunished, newspaper boy Cody." Said Miss Smyth, as she walked up close to a very scared Cody, in her hand she held a black and red beaded necklace.
Cody remembered this well, he said his eyes went crossed. He stood there, held in a trance, and watched a hand coming closer to his face. Miss Smyth took and pressed some ancient looking charm against the center of his forehead.

Cody says he remembers little of what happened next. He has dreamy recollections of watching his arms twist, muscles cramping and contorting, as they became the thick forelegs of what for some reason he understood was of a Mastiff dog.

He told about feeling waves of some electric sensation, as hairs sprouted through his skin, and the terrible pain that woke him from his trance: the announcement of his long bony tail. However, all of his very descriptive notations told how the change encircled him. He stood there and did nothing, could do nothing, but stand and watch while his human male self became that of a mature male Mastiff dog.

Cody would smile, saying how the change did not terrify him, but felt rather enjoyable. Sated, thrilled, he watched as the transformation from human to dog was, for the most part, enjoyable!

His teeth falling out, replaced by those of a canine offered the only sensation of any pain. The pain he quickly forgot, when at the same moment the wave of change affected his maleness. He remembered swooning at the sensations, his balls getting bigger, furry covered, tucked tightly between his then hind doggy legs.

Cody goes almost starry-eyed, when he speaks of what if felt like, as his human male organ did burrow up into his groin, it weaseling upward and sprouting out as a furry sheath and the prong he felt was his new trademark.

He speaks so much about what it felt like, as if by being like a dog his male organ increased mightily in sensation. The sensation held him away from thinking of his dehumanization, of becoming then, as is a dog, and of what Miss Smyth might want of him to do.

He says he does remember being inside a chain-link enclosure. Nervously he waited her returning for him; he feeling the urge to vanquish his doggy bladder, instinct took over shortly, him sniffing a post and lifting his hind leg anointed a spot marked by his scent.

To me the exploits of when Cody was as a dog were disgusting. His need to urinate proceeded the cleaning with his tongue the remaining residue clinging about the end of his furry sheath. He made note how with some want and sense of urgency he tried to probe his tongue up and inside the sheath, loving the new sensation.

He also remembers her coming out and fetching him to join with Bunsen, both of them thinking happy thoughts, tails wagging and Bunsen drooling.

She needed little effort in coaxing Bunsen to follow her upstairs and into her bedroom. Cody followed them but had a feeling or thought form learned morals that doing this made him a bad dog.

Cody stood at the doorway to the master bedroom, as inside the woman stood scantily dressed, beckoning Bunsen to fawn on her as he had done before with such gusto.

Jay, or as then Bunsen obeyed his mistress, he leaped upright, fawning with his forepaws over her shoulders. He became then excited at coming prospects to a sensual situation. Tail wagging, Bunsen (Jay) bounced from standing on one hind paw to the other, dancing as he did, his maleness protruding, growing, expanding, becoming erect and rigid.

Happy and as much willing to obey his master, with a long tongue lolled out a wide mouth, he licked his jowls with anticipation and likely some bestial lust.

Miss Smyth, as we all knew of her, looked every bit the part of a mature and well-endowed woman. Yet from what Cody remembered, she was more a voluptuous female, seemingly much younger, more slender, with long legs, and from where he stood on all fours, his eyes seemed to remain focused, looking, staring at a crotch that seemed to keep captivated his small brain.

"Come to me my pets. Enjoy, and find why I changed your puny peckers to something hotter, and more willing," she beckoned.

Bunsen was the first, he already standing upright, his shaft at full ready for pleasuring her and him. Cody remembers it as if frozen second by second in his mind. She guided the shaft engorged red shaft of Bunsen, pulling him forward until the point of his male organ did press into her body. Jumping about, Bunsen strained to thrust as the two slowly fell over onto her big bed.

Cody remembers sitting like an obedient big dog, watching his master lay on the bed, apparently enjoying the molestation by her giant Airedale. Both lay stretched out in the missionary position, Jay worked hard, lifting his rump and dropping as he made each thrust. Cody sat and listened with an increased sense of hearing as the one did do panting and she only moaned.

A thrust and the sound of something sloppy turned an ear. Watching Bunsen pump back and forth, Cody felt his own new maleness suddenly pressing out past the tickling hairs of his sheath, he reminded as of it wanting to be uncorked.

Once she was thrilled enough from Bunsen, the offer turned to beckoning of Cody to take his turn. Bunsen flopped to the floor, exhausted from his hour-long romp, still sporting a stiff. He stood longing to be on his mistress again, but finished as according to her; he let drip some his juices on the rug.

Cody, a fine and righteous fellow, felt embarrassed. He was not too sure, what she expected. His close watch of the orgy suggested the woman deemed her actions as if proper, but he still had some human morality remaining. He felt reminded of things taught as he had to sit there looking at her. She climbed off the bed, her near naked body looking near a decade younger than he could remember. Beckoning Cody to come close, she was urgently in need of more pleasuring and walking to him, she took hold to his muzzle and tried vigorously to position his nose into her still sloppy,
dripping wet female sex.

Startled, Cody let loose a bark, spun a quick turn and ran out the bedroom, down the grand stairway, and out the back door to his doghouse. His instincts told him the place that he had marked with urine was home, but with the pen door standing wide open, the time was perfect for an escape, but where could he go?

Miss Smyth came storming out of her house, her voice and tone indicating to even a dog that he was in for some trouble. She handled him roughly and cursed him for being a coward. Soon locked into a small crate inside the big house (which Miss Smith kept for visiting victims), Cody stood looking at his new body. Even in his reduced mental state, he knew the breed he saw. He was even bigger then Bunsen from ears to tail, covered from top to bottom with a smooth coat of thick coarse black and brown fur.

He sat and eyed his groin, the only part of him with almost bare skin. His big doggy sheath the tight bag of two big balls kept his mind busy. The sheath looked as long as had his human penis. The thought of Miss Smyth, she naked before him, her body began to bring on an erection marbled with veins and arteries. The scent made him sniff it and swoon.

Day after day, Cody came to live in the crate. Miss Smyth would regularly come to feed him and fill his water bowl. One day, the police came about looking for yet another missing person, along with the worried parents of Cody.

I formed a group of concerned friends and neighbors, as we walked around every city block of houses, checking in the bushes, scavenging the neighborhood.

When Cody with those doggy ears of his heard my voice, he barked and barked, whining pitifully, crying as if in need of help, or until Bunsen came to his rescue.

Bunsen knew the other big dog to be Cody from the scent, and his strong jaws and sharp teeth had the latch opened in short order, allowing Cody to run out from the crate. Cody saw me walking outside and, with a mighty lunge, crashed through the window. Barking and jumping about, Cody the monster Mastiff of a dog went to greet his friend, me!

I know he knew me, as I felt some inkling that the dog was Cody.
He acted as if near thrilled to death, similar as how Bunsen acted on various other times when I and friends came searching for Cody.
Cody apologized to me later, he coming to fawn on me felt such a sense of excitement, he did pee a yellow hot stream and soaked the leg of my pants.

"I guess, you belong to him now, or so he must belong to you," said my dad, he walking to come and see this new dog in our neighborhood.

I just stood there appalled at my wet pants.

Miss Smyth heard the barking excitement too and came running out her front door looking for the cause. Finding Bunsen had released me from the crate, she argued with my Dad over ownership, but he held his ground.

After all, the big dog obviously did not want to be part of the Smyth household and he wore no collar or a license.

Miss Smith stood watching the Mastiff dog, she had named as Cody too, (ironically named after my lost friend, a name to which the dog did answer to it right off), she seemed to reconsider and let me keep him. In the end, she looked as if she had something more to say, but she just stood on her front porch looking stark as I walked on with my new pal.

A couple of weeks later, Cody came to me with his leash in his mouth and panting heavily. Taking this as a sign to walk him, I linked him up and off we went hastily, as if Cody had some direction already in mind. We ended up at the house belonging to Miss Smyth. Cody pulled me up onto her porch, where my feet felt a constant static shock. Cody began barking frantically.

Hearing him, Miss Smyth stepped out of her house to give a warm greeting to us both.

"Speak, Cody," said Miss Smyth ordered.

"Oh buddy, it is me, Cody, I am inside this big dog body of what she made from my human body. Careful, she is as we thought, a witch, her ways evil and alluring.” Cody spoke, he speaking and moving his mouth so oddly, but quite intelligible.

A bark of anxiety, and Cody warned me to take care for if she pulled from some pocket a chain of red and black beads with some charm attached, I should turn and run away.

"He would not pleasure me, and then Bunsen here let him run loose," she explained.

"Cody, you may come here as often as you feel the urge to talk.

This porch is the only place where you can." Miss Smyth announced, as if in some devious and friendly fashion she had a plan cooking.
My understanding of Cody being as my pet seemed a bit unsettling.

He would often come and sit, watching me dress or get ready for bed. He would then get sensually excited, stepping up and giving my maleness a good lick.

Asked Miss Smyth to change him back to being his original self, but times uncounted she denied my request. As over the next few years, we ventured often to the Smyth house front porch to talk. I gained a lot of knowledge as from what Cody in a doggish way had varied points on my observations.

When I did after five long years did graduate from college, Miss Smyth made me an offer. She had purchased a computer, finding the sensual writings and vivid depicting photos on the Internet to increase her lusts; she wooed the bestial delights online.

One early fall evening, as I walked by the Smyth home, she beckoned me to come and talk, we sitting there on her front porch. She described to me of her finding and reading a fantasy about a Mexican girl giving herself to a male donkey. She wished to try it, but was worried about doing it with some crude brute of an animal, as doing it; the beast might violate her with a harsh bestiality.

I sat there stunned when she made me an offer I would have been nuts to refuse, and crazier yet to accept. Drooling like a dog thinking of his food, she asked me to accept her, making love after she changed me into a donkey.

In return, she would sponsor me in any business of my choice. Seemingly, she tried to bolster her honesty with her devout promise to keep me a male stud donkey “Jack” as if for just one week. She said that would be long enough for any real pervert, to know if it was really the best of the beasts she liked to taunt!

Her house set on several acres of cleared property, a small but elderly unpainted barn at the far North corner held within it two twin ponies, a couple of big buck goats, two black nanny goats and held an air of witchcraft and suspicion enough to ward away any neighborhood kid.

I made mention of either pony might do her better. She laughed at the suggestion, telling me that the two ponies were college age brother that tried to swindle her into buying magazines to help pay for the education. When she learned of their real intentions for the money, she spelled them to be as pony stallions, leasing them to farmer in the county as stud breeders.

She said the two ponies, have over the past years become wild and accentuated about their maleness, they seemed to hate her, trying to bit her often.

Laughing, she said too about the Billy goats gruff in their pens, each came trying to sell her something silly, and when she made a lurid offer, they complied. The result for a man coming into her bedroom was the permanent loss of his being human. She felt as Billy goats they were of more use, and made for her money by doing what the ponies did, sire and studs for keeping female animals happy.

If I were to agree, my change would happen more slowly, retaining near all of my human memory, reasoning power, and my kindly manners. My alibi was a senior trip, and my parents were delighted to let me go. My plan seemed simple: two weeks away from home (one for the changes to take effect and the other to pleasure the witch). All my dreams all met, I agreed.

The red and black beaded necklace showed itself, the charm on it pressed against the end of my maleness. Words spoken using Latin and sure enough, with some magic words, I slowly began to change into a donkey.

During that first night at the Smyth home, my penis grew to an enormous size, with giant balls to match it. The second night I grew fur and a mane and began to feel a little uncomfortable standing upright.

By the fourth morning, my hands and feet looked ok but were harder to move, and by the next day I was a human with a giant dick, a mane, and four full-fledged hooves.

I found it became harder to do simple tasks, since my hands were gone, replaced by black hooves at the ends of my arms.
Luckily, by the sixth day, my arms had grown, and my spine had changed enough to allow me to walk on all fours. My neck had also changed and my fur came in thicker. My favorite part, however, was the tail. Feeling a tufted tail growing at the end of my spine is a sensual feeling, one I might never forget.

On the seventh day there, my muzzle grew out, my ears lengthened, and my eyesight changed. Within one week, I was a very lusty and willing male stud donkey.

Miss Smyth and I had been having our fun since the first day, and we surely had plenty of romps within the following week. If I did her rightly, me mating with true donkey delights for just one a week, she would return me to my original self and my life would return to something better than just normal.

That would have been the case, except once locked in her backyard corral as a well-endowed brown donkey, she felt an attachment to me. Like Jay Winslow, her witchery glamour made me lose track of time as the days and nights of wild humping filled my every waking thought.

One chilly fall afternoon, Cody came wandering about looking for his friend. I brayed him greetings and he came over to my corral. He looked very old. The gray hairs around his muzzle that told he was aging very fast.

"Come back did you there, Cody," came the voice of Miss Smyth, as she walked out the house with Bunsen trailing along behind, as he still wanting to sniff at her cute butt.

She took my reins and led me up onto the long porch with Cody and Bunsen, the three of us friends gathered to talk.

Cody told me that he had looked for me a long time. My parents had long since given up hope. I was just another on a growing list of people that up and vanished from the neighborhood. He told me of how my dad and mom were planning to move away, disgruntled over my disappearance. He made it sound as if I had been missing for more than just a week or even maybe a month.

He then looked at Miss Smyth, then to a happy Bunsen, and then back to me and announced that I had been missing for the past seven long years!

"You said one week, not seven years!" I screamed at Miss Smyth. Cody turned quickly and, with one large jump, hit Miss Smyth in the chest, knocking her flat. It looked like he was going to rip out her throat.

"Return us to human or die, witch!" growled Cody.

Eyes wide as she was powerless to stop the big animal from killing her, she agreed reluctantly, and instantly things began to change. It was like a wondrous reunion. Jay Winslow was again that handsome young man of twenty. I was also returned to normal, and so was Cody, save for an odd bulge in his pants. Pulling them down, we revealed and still sported the sheath, balls, and groin of an Airedale and a donkey. I stood there thrilled at the return of my friends, if not perfectly normal, the majority of them was certainly so. I also felt a bit uneasy as Miss Smyth smiled at me.

"What?" I asked.

"You are welcome to come to me whenever the spirit moves you," she said evilly.

"You are still endowed with the maleness of your stud equine self and your deep inner lusts will always be to want the rump of a donkey first, I second! Each of you retains his own lusts and, with them, their beastly parts. Please come back when you feel the urge. Any or all of you can become my pleasure friends again."

Therefore, we returned to our families. Weeks turned to months. Each day I stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom, reminded of my experience as a virile stud donkey. Even as my business bloomed with success, I felt the lust. As with every day, I felt nagged with the memory of those well-learned beastly habits, those known only to stallion studs that are lucky enough to make love to mares, jennets and the like.

Cody could not handle human life. The morals of society were too much for him after years of living wild and enjoying what people consider as taboo. He wandered back into the ways of Miss Smyth, asking from her as some help to cope with his life. She helped him in ways she knew all too well. She found mercy by changing him into a fine form of a Red Dexter bull. Although she felt betrayed by him and stood mocking him often, and all through the transformation, when he completed his changing, she sold him to a farm, he being as one exceptionally fine looking bull.

She tried to play with him but his change went a little too far toward the bovine desires. Her other victims that she changed and tried but failed to meet her expectations found themselves soon placed on a ranch just outside to town.

Jay could not stand to be human either, trying to date several young women; each one when they saw his equipment remarked they would have nothing to do with someone so perverted. He finally gave up, and returned to Miss Smyth, asking to be her giant Airedale dog and lover again.

She had a place for him in her heart, as since then they play like ole times. Her powers and persuasion was too great for his young mind to handle. She had tired of him being an Airedale stud, she wanting more pleasure; and made of him a larger breed, he a Mastiff stud.

Ultimately, the sensations of life caused Jay to digress mentally, he eventually regarded into a very loving, 226 pounds of quite mating-minded male dog.

I wonder if I can hold out and live a human life. I cannot marry; my penis is too long, far bigger than any female human could have or hold. It is as black as pitch, the thing looks exactly like one belonging to her Welsh stallion ponies. My lusts build and with the scents of spring, I spend much time peering over fences.

Consider this as your own warning. With sensual fantasy come those who have the power of persuasion, as which tends to bring on perversion, and if you stray upon a porch owned by such as Miss Smyth, expect to have some life-long issues.

The Internet is a wide world of information, lies, and subterfuge. As for this, I found a place to write, and tell about some of people I met. One such personage I came to meet, knowing her as a terse woman, and quite self-oriented.

Mrs. Smyth, she had to be the one person that caused me more troubles than I should have told, writing about the story and putting it on the web.

As of Cody Jarret and Jay Winslow, I wrote, and many thought this as some wild and weird sexual fantasy story, when to know that woman you knew it had to be all-true.

A little knowledge can be dangerous, especially when you have a monster ego to prove, and prove to all every day that you are superior. This curse of self-interest lay upon the shoulders of one such a working stiff, who had the happenstance to work where I do. He knew me; and from my telling about what traversed my life; he, Doug heard me speak of my experience with a vile woman with the name of Smyth.

A computer buff if ever there were one, Doug knew the machine and its links all too well. In record time, he having heard some tales about my Mrs. Smyth did check her name upon the Internet, and low and behold, he found a story there, it written by me and told of some weird things happening.

Doug drove to be near where he knew I lived, and by using a city directory and cross-referenced it to the Internet, he discovered a Mrs. Smyth lived a city block from where I grew up.

Egotistical to the worst possible level, Doug sat in his car and watched the Smyth residence from the far corner, that nearest the barn where two canvassing brothers spent many a year grazing and being as ponies.

Doug had to see enough to make him wonder if the story I wrote was the God’s awful truth. He sat in his car all day and come the evening hours he roamed the sidewalks, finally deciding to check out the insides of that barn.

That barn an old decrepit thing, it stood for years as a blot upon the lovely character of that serene neighborhood. Stories told by those who for whatever reason took the choice and chance to enter inside; some told of the two ponies living there. Others who went in seemed never to come out, but when the moon is full and clouds race across the blue lightface of Mr. Moon, you can here sounds of screams.

Doug entered and found that the two brothers had long since left the stalls, they returned to living life in a more upright stance.

Flashlight in hand, Doug looked into every corner of that small barn. He opened the feed box, and stuck his light into the harness and tack locker. If not for that blatantly foolhardy ego of his he might have given some thought that from the main house a woman there saw light coming from out a normally dark and unused barn.

Something caused Doug to trip over his big feet and falling then headfirst into one of the two stalls there in that barn. A moment of recomposing on his part and with flashlight beaming brightly, there scratched into one plank of the stall wall, Doug saw some writing.

Warning, my brother and I are doomed, damned, and cursed to live here as being ponies, beware the woman in the house!

Doug felt some sense of horror, but the fear faded, as with ego and a wealth of previous rationalizations about other oddities in his life, this seemed more like to a hoax.

Hearing then the sounds of a barking dog, a big dog by how it barked with a deep tone to its voice. The sound of the dog seemed to be coming closer, and Doug using some good sense, ran from the barn, leaped into his car and slid down to the floor, trying not to be as seen by anyone.

“Tick, tick, tick,” the sound of a stick pecked at the driver’s side window.

Fearful he was caught at something illegal, Doug turned and looking up from where he laid cringing on the car floor, he saw in dim light from a street lamp the face on Mrs. Smyth.

“Young man, are you experiencing some car troubles, you could use my phone, call a tow truck if you like!” Misses Smyth said, she offering Doug, he to come peacefully with her as she dared of him to enter on that front porch, or inside her house I made mention of in my writings.

No alternative but to ride along with the reasoning he had car trouble; Doug got up, got out of his car, and then remembered nothing until he awoke one morning, butt naked and at the county fair grounds.

Mentally shaken, Doug snooped around and found old clothing to wear and then walking, he came to see and visit me at my apartment.

“Doug,” I exclaimed upon seeing him, “Where the hell have you been, damn you stink, come in, let me help you, you need a bath and I shall launder your clothing.”

Nary much more than a slurred sounded hello, and Doug entered my apartment, removed his clothing right before my eyes, and headed directly down the hallway to where he thought was a bathroom and a hot shower.

Doug need not tell me where he was for the past and previous three long years since we were college chums. He had disappeared, his car found driven into the river, and he thought of as drowned and the body floated downstream.

His casual striping naked before me suggested part of what I realized had happened to him; but as he walked the hallway, the swinging swaying pendulum of a long and black pony penis told volumes of what he had had happen to him.

An hour later, after a hot soapy shower a still naked and completely casual about being naked, Doug walked out the bathroom and to the kitchen where he enjoyed a full box of honey nut Cheerios.

I sat there watching this past acquaintance from college sit there unflustered to his nakedness, he devouring my cereal, using no milk, and with his face wallowing into the soup plate bowl, as would an animal foraging.

“You through, or would you like some greens now, ponies like things that are green!” I said to Doug, he looking up with a surprised and confounded expression, unaware he had two Cheerios stuck to his chin.

“Huh,” is all Doug said, as then and before he exclaimed his story, I added to my questioning of him, “I would say you had quite a meeting with Misses Smyth, and she from the look of you now, did to you what she did to two brothers and as much to me.”

A questioning expression showed on the face of Doug, he suddenly aware of more about his surroundings, he realized his nakedness, and as well of how he had just eaten breakfast as might an animal. His mind a blaze of rational thoughts, a learned response to thinking about sensation caused something to perk up and over the edge of my kitchen table; Doug had for himself a male shaft equal to mine, but the head a bit more of a trumpet shape and contour.

The more emotion Doug felt the taller his black shaft stuck upward, gracing along his belly and chest, the elongated thing with that big head stood stout and stiffly, just an inch below his lower lip.

“Quite the woman, that Misses Smyth, she likes her stud dogs but not having a donkey like me or two horny ponies to fornicate with, I suppose you did her wishes these past three years.” I said a lot to Doug, enough to let him know I knew what she did to him and of just how long a time he had spent being her stud pony playmate.

Doug got all red faced and taking a deep breath he was about to expound at me that what I said and suggested never happened. He was ready, but then looking past me, he took note of the calendar hung by the refrigerator there in my apartment kitchen.

Still blushed a deep red about his face, I reached across the table and using my index finger I did give a flicking pluck to the large pee hole on the tip of his fully erect pony penis.

“You were going to call me a liar, and suggest I was pulling your leg, but were you born with a pony size cock or did you use some elixir off the Internet?” I asking Doug then, he could only shake his head side to side and ponder the year, the month, and the season outside my kitchen window. My flick plucking changed his pony cock, making it wildly aroused and him feeling uneasy looked down at the bulbous head, it oozing then some slimy pre-cum as his large stallion pony testicles churned.

“It is not possible, but…” Doug said, as just then his flood cut loose and boiling out the end of his shaft came one, two, three, four, five and six long spurts of slime and white thick crème, the essence of equine semen!

Doug looked as surprised as if he had never seen a fountain; of course, he never thought his prick would become one, but it did. He sat there literally drenched in his own type of semen, the egg white like slime coating his hairy head, trails and strings slithering down onto his chest.

An expression of anxiety and horror told much as Doug looked and acted like someone gaining the remembrance of many other times when his big cock throttled out spurts of his seed. He began mumbling under his breath, and I expected he realized what I suggested and said was the bare truth.

Doug said nothing more but went to the bathroom and started the shower to bathe off the slime that coated his whole head.

I became a mommy sort and began cleaning up after Doug; my kitchen floor was a pool of thick equine semen slime, the scent of it I found rather invigorating as I mopped it up with a dishtowel.

Showered and dressed again, Doug still looked like a man with quite a major problem.

“You get everything tucked back where it belongs?” I asked Doug, he giving me a facial expression of someone insulted to the quick.

Although he made no remark I continued and had some more for him to learn and or understand. “I have as much a very similar problem, as a donkey dic is about the same length, but slightly more of a trumpet shape flare at the end, makes for good suction when sunk in deep and thrusting!

You will discover that various sex related scents will cause your shaft to unfurl, as it drops out the sheath and becomes flaccidly an erection it must dangle down a pant leg or otherwise bursting past your belt and out the slacks, it is a bit of an embarrassment. Myself, I take a number 2 Valium tablet daily for when I got out in public. It quells the scent urges and keeps me calm; and the cock up in its sheath.

You CANNOT use a public urinal, the act of urination will perk out almost a foot long section of your cock from the sheath; use a toilet stall all the time.

Avoid women with perfume, or expect to run of into a lavatory and then masturbate your cock dry.

Avoid going horseback riding as fun, the scent of a mare in heat will do you more of an embarrassment than just people seeing your cock in an erection, trust me, I know! You will go sex crazy bind, and mattering on nothing dealing with social morays or morals you will find a way to mount and mate the mare in her time of heat.

Especially, avoid returning back to see Mrs. Smyth ever again, for once she has you in a vulnerable feeling, your next three years will be playing pony mating games with a woman or she leasing you out as a breeding stud.

Now if you think this is too much to bare, you care less for living with people than to be around animals; then return to Mrs. Smyth, request she revert you back to being a pony stallion and stud, she will, and that will be the real you from then to death.” I said all that to Doug, told him what he had to know, and gave him the same way out of it as chosen by two good friends.

Our End.

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