FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Owen sighed, raising his eyebrows as he looked into his old place one more time. It seemed so stark, so impersonal; not, he thought, that he'd personalised it very much when he lived here. However, even commonplace items told a story of the person who lived there, which Owen wasn't any more.

Once he'd handed over the keys to the waiting agent, Owen retrieved his bags from beside the front door. Paul's work-scarred fingers tapped on the metal of the car door's external surface as he listened to the radio. When he saw Owen coming towards him, he asked, "You got everything?"

Owen dropped one of the bags, unzipping it as he talked, fishing around for the small binder he'd spent last night collating together. "My P45's right here, along with the signed contract, National Insurance Number, doctor's notes from my last physical, blood work, everything you asked for. All tabulated. I've even got scans of my passport as well as the originals, not that I'll be using it for a while."

"Very well organised," Paul commended, quickly thumbing through the binder. "Most of the guys that come work for me aren't nearly as good at the paperwork stuff. Are you certain you want to go through with this?"

"I'm homeless and jobless," joked Owen, "what else am I going to do?"

Paul laughed, "Alright, alright, get in. You're looking good, by the way."

"Thanks!" Owen grinned. Since he'd gotten back from the farm, he'd really hit the gym hard in his off-time, and it had paid dividends. His clothes looked tight on him now, and in the right way: the buttons pulling against their holes at the top of his chest, straining less around his middle. The jeans were new, since he'd gone down a size and wanted to show off. He wasn't quite sure how the transformation process worked, but he wanted to go back to the farm in great shape. "How's everyone else?" he inquired as he buckled himself in.

"Excited to have you back," Paul replied, the car gently rolling forward. "Vince in particular. I think he's a little heartbroken that you didn't decide to join him as a dog, though."

"It was tempting," Owen replied, thinking of Vince's slender, hairy body. "I guess I'm not naturally a big guy, though, and it sounds like you needed the extra muscle."

"Amongst other things," Paul chuckled. "We've got a regular client who only likes donkeys. Not horses. Just donkeys." He shook his head. "Pinocchio syndrome."

Owen smiled: he had a lot of fond memories of that movie of his own. The idea of him going through something similar was exciting. He let his arousal form, relaxing and leaning back in the car. Wriggling his toes, he tried to imagine what it was going to be like walking around on hooves. "That should be okay, we've got at least a little in common," he answered.

"I can see that," Paul laughed, risking a glance down at Owen's crotch. "Don't worry, it'll be a while since he'll be in. He pays really well, so I always let him know when we've got a donkey in stock, so to speak."

"I guess I'll have to get used to that idea," Owen mused, pulling off his shirt as they drove away from his whole life. Since he got in shape, he'd been feeling more outgoing, more confident. He went out cruising for clubs, trying to get into the mindset of being good with random hook-ups. They had been fun, but nowhere near as wild as what it had been like at the Petting Zoo.

"You seem pretty different," Paul noticed. "Not that I'm complaining. You're in really good shape, and you're a lot more relaxed."

"Yeah?" Owen asked, unable to stop himself from grinning like an idiot. "Probably because I'm going to get to do what I really want, for a while anyway."

The drive was long, but enjoyable. They passed through all sorts of small villages and big towns; brick buildings everywhere one moment, a few later it was trees, grass and road as far as the eye could see. While they travelled, Paul caught Owen up on what was happening on the farm: Rowan was planning on heading back to New Zealand soon, so was trying to pack in a bunch of fun before he left. Paul himself had been busy preparing the treatments for both guys. Guests had come and gone - not many, but they only needed enough to keep the books out of the red - and Vince had apparently been a pretty popular addition to the Petting Zoo's "stable". Owen shared his own war stories.

Almost abruptly, Paul suggested they stop for lunch. Reluctantly, Owen put his shirt back on as they headed into the pub. He was wondering what Paul was up to: when they both got out of the car, he'd seen Paul adjusting his pants to conceal an erection. When they slid into a booth and Paul's foot slipped up onto his crotch, though, Owen caught on and returned the favour.

"I need to use the bathroom," Paul declared, sliding out of the booth and heading towards the men's room. Owen waited a few agonising seconds, readjusting his cock in his pants to hide the bulge before sliding out to follow him in. For a public bathroom, Owen thought, this was surprisingly clean. Paul, running his hands on the water, gestured to a stall. Owen grinned, sneaking in as it became Paul's turn to follow.

Wordlessly smiling at each other as the hid in the stall, they slid around each other to allow Paul to sit on the toilet, legs wrapping around Owen. Owen reached down, unzipping Paul's jeans, the outline of his package straining against the zip until it sprang out. Paul, Owen learned, was not wearing any underwear.

Taking off his shirt and handing it to Paul - who pressed it up to his face - Owen curled his body around, grabbing onto Paul's shirt for stability. Breathing in deeply, Owen tried to shut out the unpleasant smells of the bathroom, focusing totally on Paul's scent. He opened his mouth, saliva dripping down from his tongue as he looked at his boss's round, long cock. The head was smooth and shiny, the shaft thick and lined with prominent veins. Panting, Owen grinned at Paul, then lowered his mouth around the deep pink head, sliding his tongue over it while using the ring of his index finger and thumb to pump at the base.

Reaching down, Owen unzipped his own pants, running his hand around the tip of his cock as it sprang free. Paul's pre-cum oozed out onto his tongue, the salty taste lingering as he stroked. Owen felt a heavy, gnarled hand fall on his head, sliding down as it stroked his short, bristly hair. "Guys love playing with my short hair," he thought, thinking about the mornings he'd woken up in strange beds having hands gently massaging his head.

It wasn't the first time recently Owen had had a quickie in a men's room stall, so he knew how to be discreet about it. When he slid Paul's cock into his mouth, he didn't go too far, and made sure to swallow his saliva when his mouth was just around the tip to allow him to keep a seal around it and not make a potentially embarrassing, loud sucking noise. Paul's thick, muscular legs squeezed on Owen's sides, holding him in place as he pleasured the both of them. Paul's feet braced against the door, the flimsy wood's groans of disapproval the only noticeable sound indicating something unusual was happening in the stall.

Neither of them wanted to take too long, and fortunately Paul was eager to compromise. Thick spunk fired into Owen's mouth, the taste sending a surge through Owen's cock as he started to stroke himself faster. As Paul filled his mouth with cum, Owen shot his own load out against the toilet bowl and the stall's floor. Gulping down the fluid in his mouth, Owen finally released the shaft, smiling up at Paul as he allowed Paul's shaft to slip out, still swollen but growing less erect, from his mouth.

While they caught their breath, they smiled at each other. Paul first handed Owen some toilet paper, which he used to clean up the mess they'd made, then his shirt. As he slipped it back on, he noticed a big wet patch. Paul saw this, and explained in whispers, "I didn't want to cry out, so I stuffed it in my mouth."

Grinning and feeling light-headed and slightly weakened, Owen left the stall first, taking a careful glance out of the door before sliding out to allow Paul to lock it behind him. Washing his hands, he checked himself out in the mirror. "You dirty old slut," he thought, a satisfied grin on his face, as he went out to the bar to order lunch and a drink, passing the time by staring out at the car, wondering what it would've been like if Paul had instead pulled over and the two of them had fucked on the side of some country road.

"I haven't done that in a while," Paul confessed, sliding opposite Owen into the booth.

"I hope you enjoyed it," Owen replied. "I know I did."

"I'm pretty sure you know I did," Paul winked, thanking the woman who brought over their drinks. Giving a toast to new ventures, they clinked glasses and took a drink.

"Do you, uh," Owen asked, watching his words carefully as a family slid into the booth next to them, "do that with all your new employees?"

"No," Paul answered. "I try to be professional and not allow my personal feelings to intrude. Sometimes, though, a client will insist I get involved, so it has happened." Continuing to talk obliquely about their chores, they finished lunch and headed back to the car. They listened to the radio as they travelled, Owen taking off his shirt, wondering how long it would take Paul to recover.

Eventually, they passed into an area Owen was familiar with. He sighed, staring out of the window. "What's on your mind?" asked Paul, "Not getting second thoughts, I hope. I mean, I don't mind if you do, it's just, well..."

"No, no," Owen insisted. "I was just thinking about my first visit, when it was so weird to have it so... so real, you know?"

"I suppose so, yes," Paul nodded. "It is weird, but I imagine you found it exciting, too."

Owen shrugged, "Maybe I'm just worried a little bit. It's all feeling a lot more real now that I'm here, and will know it'll happen. Not that I'm not looking forward to it. Just know that I am. A lot." The car's indicator started flashing, as they turned off the road and along the somewhat secret driveway.

Seeing the farm again caused Owen's heart to pound firmly in his chest; he even felt a tear threaten to come to his eye as he saw his new work colleagues standing in front of the house, Quentin and Rowan holding up a huge sign with his name on it; then laughing as he realised that the line underneath in blue paint had the large bulge on the end on purpose.

Accosted as soon as he was out of the car, Owen felt his head spinning from being the centre of attention. Although he still felt nervous, a lot of the lingering, nagging doubts had gone, leaving him more content about the choice he'd made.

Once Paul judged that Owen had had enough of the compliments on his new physique, and he'd been lined up for a whole hosts of "dates" once he got his new body, he clapped his hands. "Come on guys," he shouted, focusing their attention. "You can slack off later once Owen's ready to work in the salt mines." A round of laughter later, and the welcoming party disbanded; Owen was left with a buzz as the guys went back to their chores, leaving him alone again with Paul.

"Thank you," Owen replied as he fetched his bags from the car.

"That wasn't my idea," Paul explained. "I wish I did know, or we shouldn't have stopped for lunch. Although, well, I'm actually glad I didn't know."

They laughed as they walked into the house. While they walked to his office, Paul said, "You've been in here before, but I'll show you where you can put your stuff from the time being. You'll probably end up big, so you might want to get one of the stalls to use as a bedroom, but that's entirely up to you. If you're stay here, though, you'll have to bunk and you might have to crash elsewhere if we have a guest or your room-mate is entertaining."

Through the office was a door that opened on to stairs leading downwards; Paul flicked a switch and followed them down. Owen quickly caught up, seeing the place where the magic happened. The laboratory, or whatever this place was, looked like a hospital room: two beds, cleaned and ready for use, sat facing one another, with curtains that could be pulled around when modesty was required.

"Welcome to your home for the next few weeks," Paul said, gesturing to the two beds. "Pick whichever one you want. I usually give the place a good cleaning every week, even if it's not being used." He started pointing to various parts of the room. "Through there's my lab, nicely out of the way of any clumsiness you might have getting used to your new legs. Don't go in there."

"That's obvious," Owen thought, looking at the "No Entry" sign hanging on the door in bright red on white. He walked over to one of the beds, dropping his bags on the bed.

"That's a closet for you to keep most of your stuff," Paul explained, still pointing at various doors. "You'll be unconscious a fair amount of the time, so try to keep most of your stuff in there, and if you fall asleep I'll put anything I find in there. Other door's the bathroom." After coughing, he suggested, "Might want to use that before you get settled in. I'll get things ready for your first set of treatments while you do that, and we'll get started."

Owen obliged, unpacking some of his stuff and placing it on the shelves in the closet. His heart was racing, which made his hands tremble slightly as he unpacked the books he intended to read during his convalescence. There wasn't much in the way of clothing; until they knew the outcome of the treatment on exactly how much height, weight and muscle he would gain, there wasn't much point in planning ahead.

Heading into the bathroom, he undressed, staring at the hospital-grade shower and toilet that had been provided for them. Looking at the pile of clothes, he shivered, realising he'd spend the greater part of his time naked from now on. As his cock hardened, Owen figured it was as good a time as any, and pulled out his phone. Out here - especially down here - it was more or less useless as a phone, but it was a good camera and he took another photograph to add to his collection. He'd been documenting his progress at the gym, and now it seemed worthwhile to keep going.

Wrapping his phone up tightly in his clothes, he made full use of the facilities: the last time he'd been close had been at lunch, and that visit hadn't exactly been to use them as intended. Emptying his bladder he left until he was in the shower, peeing as soon as the water had gotten warm, as he soaped down his body with the provided disinfectant soap.

Towelling himself off, Owen grabbed his clothes and headed out. Paul was waiting for him, a tray of needles waiting for him. The sight unnerved him, reminding him starkly of what was going to happen soon.

"It's your last chance to back out," Paul replied, laying a gloved hand on to Owen's shoulder. Paul had changed too, wearing an operating theatre gown. "Just say the word. Or, if you're one hundred percent sure, get on the bed and we'll get started."

Taking in a deep breath, Owen walked over. First sitting on the bed, he then pushed himself up to lie on top of it, wriggling into position. When Paul came over to collect his clothing, Owen quickly remembered, retrieving his phone. "I've been taking pictures of myself," Owen explained. "A documentation of my, uh, progress. Could you take photos of me during the... the procedure?"

Paul's mask crinkled as he smiled, taking the phone and putting it beside the bed. "I will, but I have my own camera for that kind of thing. Less tracking, in case you want to leave at some point."

"Oh, sure," Owen nodded, feeling even more naked than he was, sprawling on the bed.

"First things first," Paul declared, exchanging the phone for an empty syringe. "I take another blood sample from you. This is just to make sure it's as fresh as possible before we begin. I'll keep it stored, so if and when you decide to leave us, you can do so in your own body."

Owen gritted his teeth, making a fist as Paul dabbed an area of his skin with an alcohol-soaked cotton ball and then inserted a needle. Rich red blood filled the vial, as Owen's skin stung. Thankfully, Owen had learned during the first couple of sample-takings Paul had made, he had a great knack with the needle.

"Normally this is when I'd offer you a cookie," Paul joked, inserting a stopper into the top of the vial and placing it into an awaiting tray that kept it upright. "Instead, I'm going to give you start pumping this into your arm." He tapped the bag of fluid hanging down from one of the occupied hooks of the drip stand. "This will put you into an induced coma, although it will take some time to kick in. That will let me connect you up to the monitoring equipment, and start putting a few other things into you before you pass out."

Owen lay back, holding out his arm again as another needle was pushed into him. After it was taped in place, Paul scurried about, sticking various things onto or into Owen's body. A heart rate monitor - although the device, Owen realised, was probably more elaborate and fancy than that, considering all the connections required - started beeping to life, showing his high heart rate on the monitor.

"Feeling nervous?" Paul observed. "Well, I don't blame you, but as you've probably guessed I've done this a few times and I'm not going to make you my first mistake. How are you feeling?"

"Fine," Owen answered. "My fingers and toes are starting to tingle."

Paul's brow wrinkled a little as he squirted a clear goo on to the end of a yellowish plastic tube. "That's a little unusual, but not unexpected with the anaesthetic I've administered to you. This tube is to help to feed you while you're unconscious."

Owen nodded, remembering the explanations Paul had made: a nutrient-rich fluid, which they'd developed in-house and which the bigger guys drank to supplement their diets, was going to be fed to him regularly: fuel for his transformation. Paul gently pushed the tube up his nose, coaxing Paul to swallow. The tube slowly worked its way through his body, curling around his nose, and travelling down his throat, ending at his stomach.

"That's great, Owen," Paul complimented, patting Owen on the chest before preparing another tube. "This other one will take your urine away," he exclaimed, lubricating the tube's end. Owen's cock had become flaccid as the anaesthetic kicked in; Paul's hand on his shaft felt nice, but in a distant way, a bit like he was watching this happen to somebody else. Grunting, Owen wanted to tighten his grip to the bed underneath, but his arms had become leaden lumps as the tube was forced up his urethra. Owen kind of wished he had gotten hard: it wasn't particularly comfortable, but it was, in a way, kind of arousing.

Paul sat beside Owen once he was done, taking the samples away and returning with a stool. "I'll put in the other needles and things once you're out," he said, "since they'll hurt a lot. When you next wake up -"

Owen scanned for anything new as Paul talked, but it was all stuff he was already familiar with. The first thing to change would be the biggest and most painful: he'd gain mass, his body expanding; his legs would change at the musculoskeletal level; his tail would grow in and his genitals would expand and change significantly, along with some carefully-chosen cranial alterations. Essentially, everything about him that could be more or less concealed or explained away as "human enough" to the outside world, which is how he would look, bar some adjustments back towards the human side, if he wanted to leave temporarily. All those changes would take a drastic toll on his body, which would be why he would be unconscious for most of them. After that, he'd have to get used to walking on his new legs again, undergoing a rigorous recuperation regime while further changes took place: the rest of the facial changes, and the hair covering the rest of his body.

Listening to Paul continue to talk, Owen felt himself becoming increasingly relaxed. His whole body was fuzzy, head aching in need of sleep. Tired, heavy eyelids started to close. Even his heartbeat had calmed down impressively fast. Finally, Owen slipped into unconsciousness, as the fluids injected into his arm took full effect.

His dreams were weird and fragmented. He was in the Pinocchio movie; the imaginary X-rated version of it any way, starring as Lampwick. He was back at school, only he was naked, everyone staring at him and laughing as he started turning into a donkey, his cock slapping up against the desk as it thickened out rapidly at his embarrassment. Paul was riding him around the farm, putting on a big black glove and shoving it right up his donkey asshole, doing something that really got him going. Then he was alone, on all fours, happily letting his cock out enough, enjoying taking a nice, long, donkey-length piss on the grass as a bunch of people watched him. Someone put a harness on him, riding around in a rather kinky fashion.

When he finally woke up, Owen's head was pounding. He grunted, his tongue feeling strangely big as he licked his slightly-dried lips. Feet shuffled along the ground. He heard a steady beating becoming irregular, then returning to normal. Something smelled, really strong. He tried to move, the bed feeling too tiny.

"Whoa there, big fella," a voice called out from across the fog. Owen felt a hand being placed on his chest, a strangely small hand. It took him a while to place the voice; then he remembered. His eyes snapped open.

Paul stood there, gently nudging his body. Owen could only tell it was his because he felt it, and because his head was attached to it. It barely fit on the bed, the shoulders and hips broad, strong but not toned muscles shifting beneath the tough, strangely insensitive skin. Thick bands ran across his body, keeping him from moving aside from some small shifts of weight. "Sorry," Paul explained, "I had to put the straps on you. If I'd known how you were going to turn out, I would have gotten you a bigger bed."

"Holy shit," Owen said, surprised at the weak, but far deeper, tone of his voice. "I'm huge."

He heard Paul snicker. "That's not the half of it."

Suddenly Owen felt something intensely good. His vision was slowly recovering, and he noticed that Paul's hands stretched, the fingers barely able to meet, around a girthy shaft that was inching its way out of a thick-skinned sheath of flesh. Licking his lips, Owen glanced at the head: round, with a thick ring of flesh denoting the end of the head, he looked down at the lengthy mottled shaft that was his.

Owen grinned, "Holy shit, I am big!" He continued to examine himself: his balls had ballooned out, his scrotum tight around them as they bounced up and down, matching the pulsing shudders travelling along his cock. The mottling hadn't remained on his cock; he looked as though he'd contracted vitiligo. His legs, though, required the most attention: he couldn't really feel them, but twinges running up his legs indicated he might not want to just yet. However, he could see them pretty well, long feet hanging over the edge of the bed, hooves on the one big "toe" that remained.

Paul smiled back as Owen continued to admire himself. "I figured you'd like that. I made a roster on who got to help me take samples. After we learned just how big you were getting, there was a lot of people lingering around my office upstairs."

"That explains the dreams, then," Owen stated, still grinning stupidly at his own massive body and ridiculously impressive cock and balls. Everything looked very "off" though: not only would this take some getting used to, and he hadn't even gotten a chance to look at himself in the mirror yet, but he still had a fair bit of changes to go. "So, who's on the roster today?"

"I figured you might like to try it out yourself, once you've woken up a little bit more," Paul replied, "Though it ain't easy keeping a pack of horny sex fiends away from a stud like you. You've responded fantastically well to the treatment. You'll need some time to adjust, of course, get used to walking again now that you're awake and have hooves, and that's even before your massive change in size."

"Yeah," Owen replied, settling back against the bed. His whole body was tingling as it started coming back to life.

Paul patted his chest again. "I'm going to pull Rowan and Quentin in to help you out, at least for a couple of days. So I can bathe you, and you can use the bathroom, without having these pipes in you." Owen's eyes followed Paul as he walked around. With some relief, Paul slowly extracted the feeding and urination tubes from his body. Whatever pain there was, he was too doped up to tell that it was happening, but it felt nice to get them out of his body.

When Paul returned from throwing the pipes away, he brought a small hand-mirror with him, explaining, "You'll get a good look at yourself in the bathroom, but I thought you ought to get a look at your face as it is at the moment."

Owen looked: he almost looked the same, he guessed; at least for someone who didn't know him well. As someone intimately familiar with his own face, though, he could tell the changes. The ears were too long and a little too hairy, covered in the same grey fuzz that he could almost see covering the rest of his body, but was most prominent on the edges. His hair had thickened, especially in the middle. "Guess I'm getting a Mohawk," he chuckled.

If he squinted, Owen could tell there had been substantial changes to his features. His nose was a lot longer and broader, and he had really prominent nostrils. His whole face was longer, his eyes a little farther apart than they'd normally be. Paul's serum had taken him really, really close to the edge: he could definitely pass as himself, but he could definitely see his donkey side coming through.

"I'd like to unbind you," Paul apologised, "but I'm worried you'd fall off the bed. I'm going to get Quentin and Rowan, and have them help you into the bathroom. Will you be okay here by yourself?"

"Sure," Owen replied, trying to hide his nerves. Even though he was a huge monster of a guy, being tied up like this was a little unsettling, especially after having the equivalent of a major operation. To pass the time alone, he continued to look at himself, trying to acclimatise himself to the big changes in his body.

His cock seemed to love the attention, or perhaps, he supposed, his body was now easier to sexually stimulate. Either way, Owen soon found himself staring at a rigid donkey cock jutting out of his crotch, drooling thick, clear, sticky liquid onto a patch of thicker grey hairs over the two heaving bags of muscle his pectorals had become. Rolling his eyes up, Owen groaned: this was the worst kind of torture, leaving him here needing relief but being unable to give it to himself. Trying to remember all the videos and information Paul had given him to study before his transformation, he tried whipping his cock up and down against his body.

"Hey!" Quentin shouted, barging into the room with Rowan hot on his heels, both smiling broadly. Paul appeared behind them as Quentin continued, "Look who finally decided to stop being lazy and wake up."

"Hey!" Owen replied briefly. There wasn't really much point in being embarrassed about trying to jack off in front of these guys. Instead, he accused, swallowing to try to get rid of the dry throat he had, "So, how many times did you guys molest me while I was out cold?"

"Plenty! Hope you don't mind, Doc here said it was all for science," Rowan grinned, "I just think he's a dirty old man." Looking at Owen's cock, he offered, "Wanting some help with that, though?"

Wriggling carefully on the bed - Owen didn't want it collapsing or flipping over with him trapped naked on it - he countered, "Could you get me out of this and help me to the bathroom?" He noticed Rowan struggling to keep his equine lips from curling back. Not that he could blame him: he felt like doing the same thing. His scent had changed so much, his brain hadn't quite gotten used to it yet, and Owen was turning himself on.

"I'll be getting him a walker eventually," Paul clarified, "but for the next couple of days at least, I'll need at least one of you down here to help him get around."

Owen enjoyed the feeling of the other guys' hands on his body, undoing the straps. Once he was free, he breathed out heavily, thrilled by the novelty of his huge chest rising and falling. With Paul instructing, Rowan and Quentin helped to pull him off the bed, Owen aiding by sliding his hooves around. Each one grabbed one of Owen's arms and draped it around their shoulders.

"Ready?" Quentin stated.

Owen nodded, and the other two big guys helped him up. "Whoa! Whoa!" he called out, his head spinning. His cock fell forward, pre-cum splattering to the ground. He started to laugh: here he was, standing between two huge guys - on hooves, no less - while his own head could see clearly over Quentin's horns and Rowan's ears. Once he steadied himself, Owen took a tentative step forward, hearing the sound of his hoof clopping against the hard floor. "That's so weird!"

"You'll get used to it, big guy," Rowan chuckled quietly as they tried for another step. Then another, slowly working their way to the bathroom. Owen grunted and sighed: he felt so frustratingly big-yet-useless, but he was happy to be off of that bed, finally.

Catching himself in the bathroom mirror startled Owen. He had to bow his head to even see it in the mirror. "Can you take me to the shower?" he requested, stepping forward slowly on each hoof as Quentin and Rowan patiently supported his weight. Once he got to the shower, he had them help to get seated on the stool, his back leaning up against the wall, legs spread wide with his cock sagging against his chest and his balls bouncing underneath. "Uuh," he moaned, satisfied to be off his legs, "thanks, guys."

Owen moved his hands, slowly acclimatising himself to the added bulk they'd gained while he'd been unconscious. Naturally, once he felt more sure of himself, he grabbed his cock. It was quite obviously bigger, but it even felt bigger compared to the rest of him. His hand didn't quite wrap around it, and they had seemed enormous. His other hand wandered down, feeling the weight of his balls resting against the edge of the stool. "This is fucking wild!" he exclaimed.

"And you aren't even fully cooked yet," observed Quentin, lifting his tail as he plonked his thick, hairy butt down onto the toilet. Rowan leaned up against the wall. "I'm really going to miss having my huge cock when I go back home."

Owen stroked his shaft gently, licking his lips. Touching himself was far more intense; he guessed his cock had become even more sensitive in addition to the gains in length and girth. Using his thumb, he toyed with the tip, wincing and breathing heavily as he traced around the opening on the centre of his glans, pre-cum sticking to his thumb. It smeared over the path his thumb traced, more drooling out. "Oh fuck," he whined, barely able to stand how satisfying it felt. "How do you guys stand it?"

"You'll get used to it after a while," Rowan promised, a smirk of cockiness on his face. "It stops being so bad after you've cum, or you've been out in the fields working all day. Course, then you're all lathered up, and there's no better way to getting some rest than having a good crank, or maybe getting someone to help you out a bit."

Owen looked down. They'd been making him ejaculate, but he didn't remember that; his mind was pretty hungry for sex, and curious to try out his new junk. "You offering?" he asked, eyes flicking between the bull-man and the horse-man looking at him sitting under the shower.

"If you're offering a bit of tit-for-tat," Rowan grinned. Then he seemed to remember where they were, and his grin turned a little guilty. He added lamely, kicking his hoof about, "Well, uh, assuming you're up for it. You'll probably be pretty knackered for a bit."

"Paul will probably want a sample at some point today," Quentin pointed out. "And it ain't like he's not a cum fountain. But yeah, don't push yourself. We're just, uh, kind of interested to get to know the new you a bit more. We heard some stuff, like you turned into a hot, ripped stud who's a massive slut while you were gone."

Owen couldn't keep the smile off his face. Being here, going through this with these guys felt amazingly good. Before he realised it, he was telling them the story of what Paul and he had gotten up to in the pub bathroom. Meanwhile, his hands started stroking his cock, using his pre-cum to keep the tip slick.

When Rowan came over, bending over carefully and grunting as he sat on the floor right in front of him, Owen didn't bother to fight or resist. Rowan's muzzle opened, the horse's two huge hands sliding over his shaft to guide it inside. Feeling the insides of his thighs turning into a quivering mass of muscles, he just let whatever was going to happen happen, with his body and with Rowan.

And, it seemed, Quentin, who came over, sliding behind Owen and hoisting up off the stool. Even though he'd been able to more or less toss Owen around before, Quentin grunted and huffed, his arms trembling a little as he supported the new Owen. Rowan, letting his bobbing head keep things going with Owen's cock, stretched his arms up as Owen's weight shifted forward.

Quentin slid onto the stool, his arms sliding around. "Bet you've gotten used to a little prostate stimulation while you were out cold," he explained, grunting as his cock slowly slipped inside Owen's body. "Paul's got an electrostimulator for your prostate that helps with the 'sample collection'."

"Hngh!" Owen winced, feeling his body slide down, the thick, pointy bull shaft fitting inside him a lot easier after the first big round of changes gave him a wider body and a thicker sphincter, heavier on the donkey-side than the human-side. But it did feel good, having a hot cock throbbing and dripping and rubbing his prostate. The only problem was energy: he had enough to feel aroused, but not enough to bounce up and down on the bull cock like he wanted.

Quentin helped to take up the slack, bending Owen over slightly, giving him enough room and leverage to thrust a little bit, providing the prostate stimulation both of them wanted from this configuration of bodies. "Feels nice to have someone else around I can sink the whole thing into," Quentin grunted, his hips slapping into Owen's butt, "let me get a bit more use out of the whole thing before I have to give it up for good."

"Feels nice - to be able - to take - it all," Owen replied, between heavy breaths. They'd barely gotten started, and his body was feeling like he was just about to orgasm, at least with his old body. With all the enhancements and alterations, he had no idea if this was normal for donkeys, a natural result of the hybridisation, or just the deliberate tweaking of Paul to make his "stable" of guys ready to give their guests a good time.

Owen rested his arms on Rowan's shoulders, nestling his head on top of the horses. It was easy to ignore the scratching of the stallion's brush-like hair on his throat when you were dealing with the combination of a "welcome back" three-way with two big, strong, hung guys and having just recovered from having your whole body pushed pretty far along to being a mix with a different species all together.

Neither of the other guys got even close before Owen was firing his load, moaning as his massive balls seemed to just keep loading an endless supply of cum into his huge cannon. With his cheeks bulging out from the fluid gushing into him, Rowan suddenly opened his eyes. Swallowing abruptly, he wriggled backwards, out of the shower. Swearing, "Fuck! Paul's sample!" he crawled towards the door, using the thick metal bar to hoist himself on to his hooves and out to collect a container to keep Owen's sperm into.

"Mind if I, uh, keep going?" Quentin asked.

Shrugging contentedly, Owen drooled as he answered, "Sure!" Stars danced in front of his eyes, vacantly staring ahead as his brain tried to cope. The endorphins had given him a donkey-punch to the head, and he just stood there, Quentin slamming into his ass, barely able to comprehend what was happening, only that he'd done something really, really good, according to the parts of his brain that decided on those things.

Rowan quickly came back, Owen giggling as the horse collected a line of spunk running down the donkey cock. It was still leaking, seemingly unable to stop. Vaguely out of earshot, through the fog of chemicals in his head, Owen heard Rowan say, "I hope that's enough."

"Pretty horsey!" Owen giggled, trying to grab on to Rowan and nearly pulling Quentin and himself off the stool. Miraculously though, the stool managed to not only support their combined weight, but also managed to not break under the force of the pounding and this near-incident. Rowan left the room, reappearing a few moments later without the sample jar.

"I think he needs a cold shower," Rowan said, stroking the bridge of his nose. He snapped his fingers in front of Owen's face, which got him a giggle in reply.

"Maybe we pushed him a bit far?" Quentin mumbled, giving one more thrust in before having Rowan help him slide Owen's huge frame off of him. "Still, it was nice to really go at it with someone new for a bit."

"Why don't we wash him up," Rowan suggested, "get him back into bed and come back and we can finish each other off?"

"Sounds like a plan," Quentin grunted.

Owen finally started coming out of his reverie when the cold shower water splashed all over him, lasting a couple of seconds before it started to warm up. He tilted his head up at the sound of loud squelching as Quentin and Rowan took turns dispensing liquid soap into their hands. "Fuck guys," he mumbled, still coming down, "that was great! Thank you so much!"

"No problem, bro," Quentin replied, squatting down to lather Owen up, "just as long as we didn't damage you or anything."

"I think I'll be fine," Owen assured them as Rowan joined them, relaxing as he sprawled in the shower, being soaped up and then rinsed off.

"Good," Rowan added. "Paul's kind of pissed at us, since we were supposed to be looking after you."

"I think you did that pretty well," Owen joked. "But, trust me, I've never felt better. Just really tired, mostly."

Once Owen had successfully been showered off, Quentin and Rowan helped him back into bed. It felt a little undignified, being strapped back in, but with his head pushed right up against the top middle of the bed, bits of him still hung over and he didn't want to argue with practicalities. Fortunately, Paul let him keep his arms out so he could do things, and get out if he needed to in a hurry. Using the excuse of "finishing up in the bathroom" Quentin and Rowan went into the other room, leaving Owen with a clearly irritated Paul.

"I didn't think I'd need to say it," Paul grunted, inspecting Owen's body, "but I would really prefer it if you took a couple of days to relax before you started getting adventurous. I'm not blaming you, but I'm telling you now to take it easy."

A loud moan came out of the bathroom, not particularly muffled by the door. Paul casually walked over towards it, opened up and growled, "Try to keep it down, guys, and clean up once you're done." Slamming the door shut, he walked over to Owen's temporary closet, carrying a thick book. "As promised," he said, permitting himself to relax a little, "you can have a look back at your before and after photos while I take some other samples and run a few tests."

The photo album made Owen grin. He flipped through it while Paul took a blood sample and changed his IV bags. Someone had printed out the photos from his phone, too; giving a nice documentation of his toning up before arriving on the farm, then the larger-scale changes. Picture after picture showing his body growing, various measurements in the section on the side.

Owen laughed: a lot of the guys had popped into the pictures, either just to wave high to him when he woke up, or showing off in sexual poses, taking advantage of his growing cock. There was one - Vince straddling his legs, Owen's mostly-finished cock erect and pressed into Vince's fur - that he particularly liked.

Putting it aside on the table, he lay back, enjoying the sounds of Quentin and Rowan vigorously fucking in the bathroom. Falling asleep again, his mind seemed content and spared Owen any dreams. Waking up, he found Quentin there, flicking through the photo album, snapping it shut when he noticed Owen's body shifting more deliberately.

Once Rowan had joined them, they helped put Owen on the road to recovery. Unstrapping him from the bed, they helped him walk around the room, making sure he didn't stumble or slip, performing laps until Owen complained about being tired. At that point, they returned to the bed, Quentin leaving while Rowan took up the position of watcher, catching Owen up on what had been happening, and explaining some of the situations behind the pictures.

The next few days were more or less the same. Owen would get a stream of visitors, usually around meal-times, joining in as he slowly got used to eating solid foods again, Quentin or Rowan or both on hand to help him to the bathroom when he needed it or to help him walk around the room. Paul would shoo them all out after breakfast, taking blood samples and letting Owen provide him with the semen samples, before being taken into the showers. After lunch had been eaten, and those visitors chased off, he started working on building up his muscles again, getting into a gentle regime that he could mostly do while strapped in bed or with Quentin and Rowan's support. Then it was dinner, someone usually staying behind to give Owen a shower; this usually turned into a conjugal visit to help tire him out before bed.

Once Paul was sure he was strong enough on his feet, Owen moved to using a walking frame and then crutches, each modified to suit his giant body. It kept growing for a few days, but once his measurements seemed to settle down enough for Paul's liking, Owen was relieved to find out that a new, customised bed had been ordered.

Gradually, his body changed further: Owen would wake up, the grey hairs longer, his jaw numbed as his teeth started falling out as his skull started pushing out into a more normal equine shape. Surprising even himself, Owen remained generally upbeat, even when the dulled pain was at his greatest.

After another couple of days of induced unconsciousness, Owen woke up to a completely changed head. Training now was in having him practice speaking and eating, and learning how to handle his new tail. Eventually the crutches were removed, and one day - Owen couldn't remember how long it had been - Paul interrupted his afternoon weight session. "All the metrics and lab work says you're done," he explained.

It was pretty clear Owen was going to need to sleep in the stables: none of the rooms in the house were really big enough for him, and he'd have to duck down all the time, which would eventually give him back and neck pain. "That's fine," Owen replied, grabbing all of his stuff to put into the very small-looking bags he had brought in with him. "After being cooped up inside for so long, I can't wait to get outside."

By this time, Quentin was getting ready to go home. Owen went over to give his temporary room-mate a quick revenge-fuelled grope, his impressive shaft starting to shrink noticeably. "See you later, little man," he whispered, before heading to the door. No doubt Paul would have him in to help, he figured, but all of that was forgotten once he was outside. Owen stretched up his arms, arching his back and flicking his tail.

Owen was glad Paul was around, since he almost tripped over walking over to the stables. "Guess I'm not quite used to handling uneven ground yet," he explained, "but don't worry, I can manage on my own now."

One of the stalls had been converted into a proper bedroom: mattresses on the floor, a locker to stash his stuff into, and a new photo album - a secret gift from the other guys - waiting for him to find under the thick horse blankets draped on his bed. "Not Porn, huh?" he laughed, thumbing through the album.

Paul laughed, "Yeah, the boys went all out on this one. They didn't want you to feel lonely out here."

Owen's cock twitched a little, and he responded, "I guess I'll be busy thanking them tonight."

That night, they had a celebratory barbecue, joking and laughing with each other to welcome Owen officially given a "fit for work" evaluation from Paul. In a show of solidarity everyone except Rowan and Paul, who were on Quentin monitoring duty, were going to spend the night out in the stables with him.

"Just don't get used to it," Sam warned. "Some of us need our beauty sleep. Luckily, Owen, you're too ugly for it to matter." Then they all laughed and continued to drink. Owen hadn't been much of a drinker before, but now he'd had a fair bit but still only had a light buzz. Chalking that up to his new body, he enjoyed the rest of the party.

As the group walked towards the stables, mattresses carried between them - or in Owen's case, one tucked under each arm - as they headed in a loud procession towards the stables. "Now's the time for your real recovery!" Tom shouted. "Because you're not going to be doing much sleeping tonight, Owen!"

Everyone gave a drunken cheer and descended upon the stables. Stall doors swung open, hay was flattened down and mattresses were dumped in. The guest of honour was coaxed into the middle of the room, pulled down onto the ground on his hands and knees. Owen felt a tug on his tail as his work-mates started to give his completed body a very thorough inspection.

Holding up his hands, Tom waved to the gathered animal-men and announced, "Today we welcome a new brother of sorts."

"Does that make this incest?" Sam interrupted, calling out from underneath Owen, whose erect cock was suddenly being sucked on very loudly by the horny goat.

Tom's voice cut through the laughter. "Okay, now now, it's important that he knows how he fits in to this little patchwork family of ours. And that is... as a big dumb beast of burden. What have you got to say for yourself?"

Owen looked up, doing his best to bray convincingly. The guys loved it. Then they started really going at it. Sam continued to suck and stroke his cock. Vince started licking his ass, the dog's lean muzzle almost able to slide in through his sphincter. Tom went to the back of the stables, grunting as he returned, pulling on a huge fastened case.

When he opened the case, Tom grinned, showing off an impressive display of bondage gear and other sex toys. Tom knew exactly what he was looking for, a big grin on his snout as he slipped a custom bridle/gag over Owen's head. Tugging on some metal wires, Tom twisted the gag around Owen's muzzle, sliding in to keep his mouth open. Hoof-like mitts were strapped around Owen's hands. Finally Tom grabbed a camera, chuckling, "Here's one to add to the photo album," as he stroked his pig cock, making it nice and juicy as it moved up towards Owen's face.

"Aaaaa!" Owen grunted as Tom pushed the cock into Owen's forced-open mouth. The taste of pig cock on his tongue reminded him of pork sausages: he found out during the barbecue that, for obvious reasons but also because of the dietary needs, they tended to stick to vegetarian food which included the sausages and burgers they had: everything else was included in the dietary fluids Paul supplied. Besides, with this kind of extra-curricular activities, protein wasn't exactly lacking in their diets.

Turning his eye to the side, he watched an aroused, pre-cum-dripping Vince come up, rummaging through the case, pulling out a huge dildo that made Owen's eyes bulge. Grinning, he went back to Owen's ass; not too long after, he felt his ass being probed by the thick end of the dildo, sliding right in. Vince then climbed on his back, claws tugging on Owen's skin as he "rode" him. From the rapid vibrations, Owen could tell Vince was jerking off, occasionally taking breaks to slide the dildo in and out, or slap him on his rump.

Sam's foot-hooves rested against the skin of Owen's sheath, goat-legs sliding along his shaft as his arms jerked frantically on the head of Owen's shaft. Owen figured he was giving his mouth a break, since he could hear heavy breathing. Then again, it could have been Tom grunting as his round belly slapped into his face, or Vince working himself into a frenzy as he rode him like a jockey, or his own moans as his three friends used him like a big sex toy.

Owen winked when Tom looked down, tilting the camera to one side to ask if he was okay. It was a lot kinkier than he expected, but it wasn't bad. Plus, how many guys would have three guys - and more - this eager to fuck him? Tom grinned back, going back to filming their stable orgy. Feeling his shaft starting to quiver, he felt Sam let go completely, leaving him hanging there infuriatingly pent up. Getting into character, he stomped his front left "hoof" on the ground, blowing hot air on Tom's long, twisted cock as it bobbed in and out of his mouth. He tried dropping his cock down, but Sam grabbed it impatiently. "It's not about you, you big oaf," he snapped, "it's about us doing what we think is fun, and you giving it to us. Did you think you could get a month of free hand-jobs without a little payback?"

Before Owen could respond, Tom came in his mouth. Thick salty cum drooling onto the dirt floor of the barn with each thrust. "God, just look at this slut!" Tom exclaimed, the camera buzzing as he stepped back, pulling his gushing cock out to show it off to the camera. Hands reached up, tweaking hard on Owen's nipples; he moaned, sending a sloshing wave of cum and saliva spilling out of his mouth.

Owen tried to enjoy the ride, but it was getting harder to ignore the straining need in his balls. It was getting painful. Normally, he'd have already had, or been in the middle of, an evening jerk-off session in the shower, helping him to wind down before going to sleep. Since he'd missed it, and was now being denied release while at least of of the other guys fucking him had already popped his cork - let alone being the focal person in an orgy - he was starting to climb the walls. His hands, already in fists in the "hooves" that had been put around them clenched further, his mouth aching as the metal bit into him as he needed to clench his jaws shut a bit, harnessing the energy to keep himself in control.

Tom laughed, still very drunk, "Whoa, one of you guys might want to do something about big boy here, he's starting to go bug-eyed."

Whatever protest was going to be mustered came too late. Owen lost control of his body, the hormones taking over. Vince yelped in surprise as Owen thrust his hips down, the dog tumbling over his body onto the floor. Sam tried to yell out, but didn't have the time. All Owen's cock was looking for was a little friction, a little contact against a warm body, and Sam's prone form provided enough of that.

"Oh shit!" Vince yelped staring at Owen's ass as it raised back up, "Tom, you need to get this."

Owen didn't hear anything. The heavy throb of his cock emptying out the load building into him from an entire evening's worth of teasing and denial. Sam's face was almost completely covered, the outline of his pissed-off face the only thing not covered by a thick load of spunk. Tom filmed it, while Tom and Vince burst into tears, wailing with laughter. The laughter renewed when the dildo, completely forgotten by everyone but Owen, shot out of his ass before landing with a wet plop onto the dirt. "Goddamned hare trigger," grumbled Sam, wiping his face off a little as his gruffness gave out to the infectious laughter.

It got to Owen as well, the wave of relief adding to him. Tom seemed to finally remember Owen still had the bridle on, and after wiping his face from laughter took it off. As soon as it came off, he erupted in a series of brays, losing control as he rolled over and away from Sam, grabbing him with his still-bound hands and pulling him in for a cuddle as their laughter slowly died down. Vince eagerly joined in, bounding on top of them; Tom, meanwhile, propped up the camera, before rolling down onto the mass of animal-men bodies.

Owen took the chance to take some control of his own, getting Vince and Sam to remove the mitts, he rewarded them by grabbing them with his big arms, each freed hand making its way to one of their crotches, slowly jerking them off while his legs grabbed Tom, pulling the pig-man onto his lap to clean off his own cock while he worked to add to the mess.

Sam came first - probably because his body decided it was already messy enough as it was - quickly followed by Vince. Still hugging them, they rested on the ground, excitement and post-orgasm exhaustion seeping in.

Owen stared upwards, the stable's ceiling blurry as sleep tried to conquer his brain. He enjoyed listening to the gentle slowing of his friends breathing from the intense rasping as they drew close to orgasm to the slow relaxed bliss of afterwards. He enjoyed the feeling of the mass of bodies, their different smells lingering on his nose. He enjoyed just getting to let his hair down, and make a big mess, consequence-free. Tonight had been fantastic.

He looked forwards to tomorrow as well: the guy with the donkey fetish was coming, and that meant getting started on his exercise routine to tone himself up again. Owen hoped it would be easier, since he'd done it before and his body was naturally built far better. Closing his eyes with a smile on his face, he squeezed all the guys that were nearby, completely certain he'd made the right choice.