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The Urge

By Adobe Fats
Revised 2010

One small moment of passion, a desire for something I knew was wrong, and my entire life changed.

It began from a fantasy dream, one where our family moved to a new house, we leaving then to a far away place and too they who I knew as being my friends. The breaking away of my ties meant the world for me at that young age, feeling sad and angry I wanted to cry out for help if just to stay in the neighborhood where I grew up.

Longing for help, wishing for something that would never be again I pleaded to higher and greater powers. They heard my prayers those powers being above and below, but what came to meet me head on and offered a way to accept my loss, it was a devilish Demon. Why a demon you would ask is so concerned about the wants of such an insignificant young person, the reason for the interest comes from what is or was my family heritage.

Great stories dealing with magic rests best upon those being the seventh so of a seventh son in the linage of a family. As well in another case, the son of or grandson of a very righteous minister of the heavenly faiths is something that in the demon devil realm as quite the trophy to procure. Therefore, as a young person reaching near to where by law he was considered as mature, the Demons took note of this, planning then a scheme of treachery to ensnare me. Me the nephew of, grandson of, and great grandson of a great minister of the church, it set me forth as a prize catch.

That is what I as a person cannot change my family heritage. As myself, I have the ability to cease part of the continuing heritage, if by choice, did choose to do or be something that would disgrace the family name.

My disturbing trouble came to me while out walking the very rural road we lived along, a hot and humid night, the moon in its new moon phase, making my world a dank darker place. She came then, a devil of the female variety, taking her shape for a reason to tempt. As learned, demons do not actually have any differing genders but stand as tempters trying to cause a separation between mankind, and of their God, demons and devils being as spiritual powers too, embodied with extreme evil and hatred toward all of creation.

She walked toward me, coming from out of the darkness, this creature of power giving a friendly greeting, telling of her name as being Lysailea. A Demoness of some legion, owned by an even higher powerful Demon, she came to me in a most agreeable form. Likely quite different than her normal demon self, she became as something for my visual delight, the temptation of any a young male human coming soon of age and feeling the urge.

Therefore, it was for my benefit she came, this dark orb of demonic power. In my time of wallowing in hate and sinful despair, she came in a form so sleek and seductive, and offering me a suggestion, a plan for how I could return to be near my friends and the neighborhood I so loved.

As I listened to her proposition, she made small motions of her hands. These motions at the time meant nothing to me and for as much I ignored them. Had I paid more attention to her movements I might have realized she was baiting me, urging my male parts to become enthused, and as such pressuring me to agree of her plan.

A trade, mutual benefit for all, beginning with one named Pat, as well for Lysailea, and lastly but a important part of the pact and plan was myself. The friendliest one in our neighborhood was Pat. He not being human at all was born a Shetland pony male, as lived then at a animal shelter owned all by Mister and Misses Brown; he and other animals there kept in a petting zoo. As he was an actually normal animal and born as a soulless animal, he saw people as something he would like to be, and she, Lysailea contended it was in her power to forge a mutual trade bodies and lifestyles.

The alluring urge she was making happen inside my pants suggested that becoming as Pat I would gain back of continuing years of pleasure, me then able of being ever near again they who were my friends. Her suggestion was made more thrilling from the extreme expansion of my arousal, as it went from hard to like a steel rod.

Such a temptation was never a thought to me before that night, She, Lysailea made of it more than a thought, she implanting a vision in my mind, one of camaraderie to be at least near they who were my friends, and of the added allurement, allowed to live the wild and unholy immoral a life, a lifestyle of retribution toward my parents, and primarily against the morals taught by they who came before me.

Aroused as well my thoughts of rural scenes, having seen if not paid much attention to, the horses, stallions they, with their daily urges of want and of lust did show forth what they had as their manner of enjoying a animal life. This came to the forefront of my thoughts, urged there by Lysailea, adding to the thought of how sexual Pat as in a pony body would be both pleasing and pleasurable.

She explained that Pat being without a soul was as open fodder to any demons for easy use. Lacking the will a human has, the pony would do willingly, trusting of human kind, as told and giving in a trade for me a safe haven to enjoy life with little restraints. It was up to me to agree, being human and if wishing to make a trade of one human heritage, as trading it for some special delights, then this could become a mutually even trade.

My sensual arousal did in effect make the suggestion of such a trade seem better than it really should. Her very easy ways of sounding like Pat was willing too, and in as much longed to be as like me! Now this was all she said but had I thought to ask of more details the ultimate truth would have told me I was becoming as another of her fooled fools.

Her plan seemed to be simple, I should hitch hike my way back the neighborhood and visit Pat. Once there I was to enter the petting zoo and with Pat in his stall should begin a demonic rite of transmigration. Lysailea said she would help, and make Pat be as friendly as a pony could be wanting of companionship. This had me thinking she was on my side, a foolish thought when being the prey of a demon.

It was about ten O’clock on that dark moonless evening, and I set out for the highway. A friendly man stopped and picked me up his face I remember to this very day. It was a short ride but gave me little time to talk or think as this man did all the talking. He being a handler of animals told me of many things, the most interesting was the mating ritual of horses.

We finally arrived near my home street and I lighted from my free ride.

I walked through the night to bring me to the front gate of the Brown family private zoo. There were goats, and birds, two pigs in their sty and to one side stood Pat in his dusty small corral.

As I opened the gate to the corral, instantly I saw in the dull light from the street behind me, he was standing there totally aroused too, his maleness in a fully erect state, as if prompted of the coming trade.

I approached him cautiously, wondering if Lysailea had talked this all over with him. He stood quietly his tail would occasionally sway, and his mighty male organ stiffened, rising up to bump his round belly, and then fell limp swinging down until it bumped a hind hock.

“Go to him, feel of his male parts and do as I have told you to do!” said the voice of Lysailea.

I looked around for her but saw not a sole, human or demon I was all alone there with Pat.

Kneeling down at his flank, I reached a trembling hand to touch his might male organ. It felt wrinkled and coated with dust from his corral. I knew it was black as I had seen it many a time in the light when we came to pet him. Pat seemed interested in the strange touching of his male shaft. He sniffed in my direction as if wondering whether he knew me!

“Take hold of it, it will not bite you, flex it and put the end to your mouth, kissing it to show your homage," said the voice of Lysailea to me.

Slowly I took a hold of the shaft and even in the dim light from a golden security light saw the stout, stiffened soft skin of what was the male organ of this pony. A dusty thing, the base of where it connected to the sheath and his body was sleek and soft, seeming much cleaner than the opposite end. The blunt end and ten or more inches up from it, there was caked on it an encrustation of such filth, by touch and rubbing of it the dried substance dropped away as if scales. This end of his shaft saw more of the light of day, sweat and where it emerged had become filthy over time and this being likely with the general lack of care he received.

Eyes gawking at the upturned end saw the flared head of it, as much suggesting of what Pat the pony felt and seemed to want of me as I would, should, could wishing, want of him. Gripped firmly, the twist and turning of the organ as to make kissing of it easier made Pat jerk his rear quarters. The end peering up at me all flared and nasty, began to wriggle in my hands as if being a snake wishing to be free of captivity.

My lips pursed as to give a kiss, the pointed fingernail claw of the Demoness then jabbed me in the back, scared me, the mouth opened to say something, but all words ceased as the hands holding and the organ flared, were jerked and jammed inside my mouth. Unexpected the reaction, the pain from her poking me in the back still a reality, for some unknown reason then or now, but I did push the encrusted, salty flavored thing past the kissable lips and let a wondering tongue begin to learn.

I touched it with my tongue as Pat jerked backward a quarter of a full step. He snuffled a small whiny as if unsure of what I was doing, obvious to us both the action seemed evenly unrighteous to us both.

Instead of just a pecking kiss of it, the tongue took to seeking and searching at what protruded inside the mouth. The thought of spitting it out, of wanting to puke and stop met with resistance as Lysailea not wishing to lose her quarry, took hold with her hands to my head and shoved me forward, deep throat swallowing the thing I never planned to have actually in my mouth.

Gagging on it from the depth it went into the far back reaches of mouth and to touch the Uvula, what is put there to keep things from doing what this thing was doing. Lysailea hunched down behind me, her legs feeling like furred thickly with draped hair. She urged harshly, insisting in action and words that now, with the thing in my mouth, I should begin sucking of it. Hearing her suggestion, no order ofr me to do as she said, I reacted with a positive defense, ducking my head and turning around while kneeling, it yanked out from my mouth that what did not belong in a mouth.

The ritual defaced the still rank taste of salt and urine mixed with my saliva clung to my tongue. Memories of how while inserted the thing made my tongue dance about, licking and giving touch to everything, the worst and most disgraceful a feeling came from touching of tongue to the black flat end and its perked hole.

Pat got very erect making his penis inflate even bigger, see it do this the thought of this happening while still in my mouth sent shivers of horror up and down my spine. The flattened head bloomed into some large mushroom shape; it surely would have constricting my tongue and made me choke. A few pelvic thrusts and from his then much the mightier male shaft spewed forth out a silky smooth liquid. It coated the ground, his front hoofs, splattering upon my trousers, the stench of it as something straight off the walls of hell.

Lysailea cursed, angered by what she really wanted of me to do a disgracing act, had stopped before the ritual she planned could culminate.

Meanwhile Pat felt not disdain from the happening, he moving his butt around, gyrated it faster, jerked about as if still lodged where it felt so nice, he continued his spewing of the first load of pony stallion semen. Rank beyond any preconceived thought I ever could imagine, the semen smelled of cut grass, urine, and a powdery scent reminding me then of Corn Starch.

The smell and flavor still in my mouth caused continuing choking. In my mind, my ears still the voice of Lysailea urging me to continue as she would wish it done, and me to agree then to making her deal as my reality. It was the way she said it that in my exhausted situation I knew she was laughing at me.

Pat whinnied loudly enough to wake the dead. Scaring me I lunged backward and to get away from the pony, body slamming Lysailea, knocking her over and on her furry ass into the corral dust. Me seeing what I had done, caused sudden fear of her, as she, being Demoness and having such powers, I wondered just what she might do; so I stood up, and looked down on a Demoness.

“Damned be you young one, the ritual is broken and my plan is in ruins! I curse you, cursed by the powers of my Master and his Master, as Pat there would have trade his life and body to help you, now you shall gain the want to forfeit your body to thrill him!” screamed Lysailea.

She pointed her index finger at my nose and looking cross eyed at it I saw a blue spark of power jump, and hit me in the face. Instantly every stitch of clothing on my body exploded in a thousand directions. Her powers and maybe some rival demons fly about me looking ever so much like a men dressed in black bed sheets.

Around they flew about me making their hatred for all humanity, known as my body felt different, changed.

Seeing it happen my change was in slow even motion. First, their powers made what was soft tissue change. My ears sprouted upward getting furry and long. As they took to twitching being mobile at their roots, my head swelled outward. My screams of terror sounded like gruff and coarse sounds not at all of those made by a human. As I tried to reach out my arms in pleading and begging for mercy, they changed, becoming the forelegs, knees, cannon bones, fetlocks and a single toed hoof.

“No, please Lysailea No!” I begged but as my mouth launched the words, I thought they came out as ragged brays of an Ass.

Instantly I drew them back against myself only to feel and find my chest, was now coated in brown coarsen hairs. “Jackass,” I thought she would make of me; but something of her how she worded her curse told me this was not quite what she a Demoness scorned would do.

As the black winds of demoniac plans roared about my body, I had only the ability to look down, and around where I stood. The sight was one not of horror about being as a human male for I was quite the specimen for the girls. Seeing as did my hips broaden gaining too of equine muscle! Worse yet, was the long rope-like tail that grew out of so quickly. It adorned then my backside, as it swung, swishing, stroking over what to me felt so extra-sensual. The devilish things worked their wonders as I stood there, helpless but too watch as my human feet lengthened, and change to those of an equine animal.

Again, feeling anguish for ever making such a deal, I tried my best to plead for some mercy. Lysailea looking angry when the black spirits began their work, she stood roaring of laughter. She reeling about, pointing her finger at the soon to be wholly and unholy a damned person, and said then nasty demeaning words and phrases about how I then appeared.

I felt in all my fear and dread the odd sensation of being horny. Expecting my penis should be soon swaying erect, I peered down, but saw nothing. The slowing of the winds making my fortune as black as were the demonic winds, they all then faded into thin air.

The bright light of a clear morning glared harshly into my eyes, as I lost all sense of balance, wavering, did fall forward onto my four solid feet.

Head cocked out of the sunshine and with looking around, my mind filled with avid fears, for there I stood, me caught inside the stall where usually Pat the pony stood and did his duties.

Although it was a place we as visiting kids, we were never allowed to enter, and I was inside to be sure! Thousands of strange new sensations, scents, odors, sounds, and all blended into a mind dimming din. The sound of Mister Brown singing as he walked out from the house, thinking of his daily morning giving and greetings to those, his animals and pets. He fumbled around feeding the goats, and pigs, then went into the hen-house for some morning eggs. I stood in the corner of barn stall, shaking from head to hoofs.

“Pat, Pat come out and eat this, your breakfast!” called Mister Brown.

I looked around the small 12 x 12 barn and saw only Pat and then myself. Where the small barn shed had originally but one stall, as for Pat, it suddenly had in it two stalls, one then for me!

Stepping forward, m y eyes saw something I knew was different; a sign posted over the doorway leading to where Pat called home had his name printed boldly on it. A slow cautious looking around saw then another sign, the over where I was in a stall, it read "Dolly!" Slowly I inched out of the barn and stood shaking, scared to death of what he was going to say to me. Worse yet, would be when my dad came to pick me up, and what he would ask of my strange excursion.

“Good morning Pat, and a fine day to you Dolly, I see we are in fine forms today,” said Mister Brown!

Indeed, I was so scared about my being found and caught in the ritual, in the stall of Pat, I failed to notice that I was now standing beside of Pat. Mister Brown being a farmer long ago knew when a horse or pony was thinking hard he usually got an erection. Pat the pony had his size of a penis was out rigid and looking as if he was thinking about what he felt earlier that morning, it a time to him of something wonderfully sensual.

Still it did not strike my clouded mind and standing there with legs stretched to the breaking point of the joints, I began to sniff the wind and from it felt an urge to get horny and or more so, as does a Jenny. A busy tail and several good squirts of panicked urine sent Pat into a fit of sexual wild rampage.

Up, down, up, down was his erect shaft doing its thing and making his mind dream of mares he mated and of the touching to each new vulva, the delights of his mating, breeding equine style.

The rush felt in me of a equine feeling the need, I let loose a shot of stinking urine. Pat took this to be something better than food, and began sniffing me all over. Nuzzling about me, Pat walking to stand behind me, this action meant nothing at first, and then in a bounce he mounted my butt. The end of what was a real stiff and stout male organ belonging to the animal named Pat, began thrusting his shaft at and then, pushed it into me. I felt it, oddly relished it, and thrilled by the feelings, bug eyed I stood there on all fours gawking up and toward a smiling Mister Brown.

“My goodness there Pat, you sure have the delights this morning!” Said the man, he who was then to me as my owner, the owner and caretaker of both Pat and his donkey jennet, Me!

Sensation and realization struck then full force as my brain being smaller the mind worked rather slowly. The thought of what was happening, a physically sexual romp all going on behind me, was a male pony straining to mate with me; me then being as a female donkey. Wild was the inner feeling I thought was for what I liked and this being what I as a donkey wanted, I began to take inventory of this new me. There was little doubt I had by Lysailea and her demons power, become changed from a teenage boy to a female donkey.

Wishing to learn more of what was then the new me, I began to twisting, turning, I tried to walk away, but found myself being roughly, impaled, as Pat had me locked in place.

Pat and his exceedingly long, bloated pony maleness was making this new me feel the desire and passions of the female, the jennet donkey I had become. Swaying my backside into his groin, pressing him then ever deeper into me, I moaned feeling strange but excited new donkey pleasures. Smacking his thighs over my rump I stood with hind legs spread allowing him full entry into my still tightness. Even as I stood there being rutted, the thought of how my inner language changed from learned body parts to delights from varied sensations used not words, as if divined by the demons. This was my own personal realization for the meaning of joy. It felt joyful to be like this, naked yet coated in a black thick hide and cloaked in brown donkey fur.

Never did I think that Pat being as an animal, was anything all too much a stud animal. Yet animals are different and God made them with those abilities they needed to survive. Some of my senses felt advanced beyond those granted unto men, as others such as eyesight being limited. So then, for me, my first and foremost sense and ability found my donkey eyes as fixed focus lens making me quite nearsighted. This caused me some foreboding over my life ahead as a donkey.

Now hearing and the mobility I had with my donkey ears did have its delights. As if my ears were similar to radar but used to search out and collect sounds, they worked extremely well. The ragged breathing of Pat standing over my rump, he grunting with his every forward thrust, sounding as if so urgent, like there was never going to be a tomorrow, came clear as a bell.

My height and this ability could hear Mister Brown coming my way at over a hundred yards. Like Pat, would jump his head up being suddenly alert to the coming footsteps of children intent on petting him, I too learned then to do the same thing.

When I was human the ability to taste was far more acute than the way my tongue now acquaints me to what I eat or lick. The smaller donkey brain has a little spot for the sensory lobes. This means that eating hay or grass would come to me as something comfortable and relaxing. At times and for his own reasons Mister Brown brings me a plastic pail having a mixed allotment of grains and to my thrill he has poured into this a bottle of dark beer.

Breathing is as being human but when I inhale one can feel the massive lungs fill, it relates to stamina. Although I have but this small corral as my range to walk, stamina means little except when the urge to mate or masturbate stops me in my tracks. As I breathe, I smell the scents of what is around me but only up wind. This sense is also very acute relating to my brain the simple thoughts of friend or foe.

Part of my thinking ability is as Lysailea has allowed me to remember people and friends, family members, my dad and mom, and a long running relationship with Pat. As if I have been here a lifetime, the memories of mares he mounted, as well as myself, he enjoyed. It is the last item to which my brain overwhelms those memories of my past life. As being now myself an animal, the passion for life is to procreate, while enjoying the sensation of my demonic ordained transformation, the change of gender is excited by the touching of vulva or to my teats.

The future means nothing to me now, may only delight is in things right present. I stand here feeling want for more of that rank rutting of pony stallion mounted, humping his favored female, and as much as it fills me of terror, as I am so very much finding it as something enjoyable!

Life for me is of the very moment I am alive and for this I feel longings for those pleasures I enjoy to continue. Kids that come and pet my hairy body find glee in touching a true to life animal. Their hands roam most everywhere but just a few dare to touch my teats or under my tail. Whether bold or passive in their young ways, I enjoy their very sensual touching it lets me enjoy what I am since as a donkey, I am without human hands.

My tail, now this is a true graced given delight that considering the limitations I have being as an animal, this gifts me something to express myself. Whipping it forcibly side to side shows me as anxious, lifting it up foretells of coming filth. If I raise my tail when walking or during a short prancing run, it would be a symbol of my personal happiness if being alive. When I stand and stare at something, my tail hangs down. As if to chart my thinking when feeling uneasy about what I see, hear, or can smell, it might rise up off my hairy butt an inch or two.

One day lead to the second, and onward went time, as I soon lost interest in remembering those who I knew and loved. As for those who came to be my friend and pet my hairy form, they are friends but only while doing me the sensual service of feeling my body for my personal delight. I was in this way sinking ever deeper into the trap Lysailea had planned for me, and my demise.

The chilly winds of a coming winter season had me enjoying the lack of insects and flies. My hairy coat is beginning to molt and I am gaining a shaggy thicker covering of body hairs. I feel the brisk breeze blowing that gives me the tickling sensations now, as the children are all in school and I stand day after day alone. I do not miss them and their strange smells of hands soaked in sweets.

My daily longing for sensual passion flares and I find myself wishing for Pat to come and do to me four and five times each day. I think at times about me doing this wanton act, and wonder if for the fact of being bored that it helps break up my dull life.

Pat sniffs me and with his pride he helps the time to pass as we enjoy what we are and each have as ours to feel and give. The fear is gone; all apprehension over the change of self and or gender is from many pleasured romps a concern no more. When he is in the mood, a simple nuzzling of my furry self is enough to turn, and give him what he wants. Similar is times when I feel the need for closeness, and it takes so little to taunt him into again pleasuring me.

We have so little or nothing to do all day but listen to the hay working its way along in our gut. any sort of a distraction from the boredom is worth the while, as it happened one fall day. I stood there near the four rail high fence. At first it was something my nostrils suggested to be friendly. As eyesight found it and focus cleared I became slowly elated at the sight of one coming to greet me.

Deep dark and forgotten memories flooded to the forefront, I remembered his face I saw before me, it was once mine to live. There, known to me by her distinct scent was she, the real Dolly, being then in a male human form, she coming to give me her greetings. Now in a body like to what was once mine, she had returned to meet me, to talk, as if my weak donkey brain could understand her speaking, as do humans.

“We know each the other, you are now the Donkey I was, and I am as you were in this wonderful body! I want to thank you but there is this one unanswered question, why? Why, would you being as this in body, having all the neat comforts of being a human being, why would you want to be as I was, why?” she/he asked.

Snuffling a short bray, snorting and flicking my tail I stood anxious to say my reasons of why and how, but words were wanting and I could not talk as a human. I pawed the ground with my right fore hoof, the gone sense that I might write my feelings ended up as me digging a small hole in the corral dirt.

“Lysailea!” her name stuck in my donkey brain. My lips strained to say her name, it held on the very tip of my tongue as if to tell this would say all.

He reached out a friendly hand and smoothed it up and down my face. His nimble fingers tickled my soft nostrils and the lips I used to feed this animal body. It was when he took a hold to both of my ears one each in a hand that my minds thoughts and his blended into a mental conversation.

I thought of my reasons for being as he stood there before me and me preferred once to be as is Pat, a pony stallion and my stud. As then how Lysailea made of me like to Dolly, an exchange, as she, Lysailea gained by Dolly a way to hold and ownership of my human soul.

He told me of his awakening in my body just outside on the patio lawn chair. He wandered for a couple of days, confused and unable to place his life into a rational thinking plan. Then on his third day of being lost there came a sudden realization he was not as he was, he was no longer a donkey, but human.

Those learned things, the memory patterns activated from a larger brain than what is in a donkey head, as her maker grants her so. He understood his newness of self, he could speak, talk, converse, and knew everything of my past, and as well of her life I lived. He found my body a new thrill that continued to delight him in many ways. My life and those who loved me were to him as a clear drink of refreshing water on a scalding hot day. It was after being me these many months that he thought it as fun to meet his old self.

He like the old me now Dolly was so thrilled to be someone able to make a dull day so very different. He had great plans now and a way to meet his ambition with human abilities, like what once were mine. He could only stand there thanking me repeatedly as for giving him, his chance to live as a human. We felt the sense of belonging together, me as in her original body living where in the neighborhood I so loved. Dolly as me in my body doing things outside the fence, enjoying life and the limitless possibilities he had being as a human.

The pony Pat standing there, would have cried from the emotion we both felt. Yet equines do not cry as can humans, its one of those differences in us. I had found many such differing limitations hemming me in, it all part of being a partially ignorant and lustily donkey animal. I needed not having now the abilities that relate to constant rational thinking, as now my simple life leans toward things strictly physical and sensual.

My life is now a vain form of living for the moment. I stood thinking only of my sensual wants of self and what momentary pleasures, those I might eek out of every long and boring day. I thought often how things might have become different had Mister Brown many acres for me to graze, run, and frolic. Yet there I stood in our dunged and dusty corral. The simple trappings of what Pat the pony and I have for our needs, less the comfort and delights of a herd members and mates.

Stranded there by choice to stand, just as Lysailea promised I would some day. I am in my old haunt of a neighborhood. I am surrounded by friends I knew when a human. Sorry to say those who were my friends know me not as their best buddy, but instead as Dolly the often horny jennet donkey, willing to offer to any male of whatever species, a time of pleasure. Mating, breeding as would Pat or any stallion at the Brown families’ private zoo; there were but a varied few past friends who came from outside the fence into my smaller world of rank sensation.

“Please do come and touch or feel of me, I enjoy the perversion, I welcome all that come and offer them everything their fur loving heart might desire.”

Lysailea won her quest even if it was by default. Pat has his mate as I have him to keep mind from feeling low. Dolly lives on as I, she being still without a soul, while I who had one, did sell it for that moment of an urge.

The End.

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