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"Bob was a good friend, a very good friend, and a friend in need becomes a friend indeed!"

We grew up in the same town, lived only a block away from the other, played sports went everywhere; or did until what happened one dark, moonless night.

The summer vacation after we graduated from high school and Bob who loved to ride his ten-speed bike would cycle over hill and dale if just for fun and having time alone to think of his future.

When the evening newspaper arrived, on the front page there placed a news article about a missing person, it was about Bob.

According to the reported accounting of the local Sheriff, good friend Bob as discovered lying naked in a farm barn, his clothing neatly folded and set outside the stall of a two-year old pony mare.

So suggested in the write up, but Bob tested and the mare too, it said he had molested the pony.

In the weeks that followed, Bob went through a hellish time of sneering friends and indignant people, all shaming him before the truth be known.

"Truth," a thing that is now days manufactured to draw people to listen and hear the advertisements for whatever the sponsor wishes to sell.

Judification of laws came then quickly and without any mercy for Bob or his stunned parents.

Sentencing, Bob would enter prison, serving at the least five years, and or twenty if he did not learn to behave in a prudent and properly moralistic fashion. The thought of Bob in prison, would he learn morality and modesty there, it seemed unlikely.

Bob wrote to try to explain to his good friend just what happened.

We communicated for many months, the post office clerk-taking note of the letters and to whom such bared as addressed. This caused more talk, innuendo flew about town and it happened one afternoon the Sheriff came visiting, he warning our family of continued conversing with a know sexual predator might bring charges against us all.

Bob was not a sexual anything; never a more moral person walked the earth than was such a good friend!

One letter arrived, it came from Bob, after his transfer from state prison to the Thule Research Foundation, and it located in Billings, Montana.

Bob received many a bad beating by inmates and others; they all had a bleak opinion of what was a nice person.

The prison Physiologist informed Bob of a medical study involving sex offending Zoophile's, and if mentioned of curing them permanently of ever again accused of that lurid offence. It was as if a cure for what the state thought ailed Bob. He made mention it seemed he had nothing to lose and only a more professional, peaceful place to serve out his sentence. Bob accepted the transfer, but after just the one letter, he never wrote again.

As months passed, and a year went by, there beget a thought of writing a letter to that foundation; as if only to inquire, wondering about whatever happened to friend Bob.

What came in response to many letters was from a Professor Haun, he, as according to his credentials suggested he was the managerial person over all bestiality offensive prisoners. He wrote of making great strides in both mental and physical adaptation, and of how friend Bob received a pardon and transfer to begin serious work as at a privately owned zoo.

Writing then to the zoo, asking about Bob, the zoo personnel department wrote back of they not having anybody employed there by that name, not even did they have an employee by the first name of Bob. In levity, the person writing back made mention the only Bob they had there at the zoo was a mature stallion Zebra by the name of Bob.

Waiting and wondering, the thought came of inquiring at the foundation in Montana about working there, of asking for a job of any kind.

Oddly, an application for employment and or volunteering arrived, shown to parents they were not too thrilled about their son moving far away and residing in Montana.

A quick reply and filling out the necessary information, the listing of friend Bob as a once employed person there at and by the foundation seemed a good way to introduce a person wishing to learn what happened to Bob.

Bob, Bob, Bob, all the time there was many questions as to what all happened, why did he do something so out of character to his true beliefs, it all made no sense!

"Greetings,

Your application for employ here at the foundation level is as denied. However, if still interested, entry-level status work is available, and by filling out the enclosed application, said such desired employment at Sunrise Research Farms of Appleton, Wisconsin has openings.

As made mention in the applications and letter, your friend Bob does work through the Wisconsin office, he presently is on a long-term sabbatical study of the mating rites of the African Zebra.

Most Sincerely,

Professor H. E. Haun

Deciding as to where one should begin looking for Bob, the rather obvious suggestion seemed the better course to follow. Accepting then to work in some menial manner is about what you might expect, but upon getting to Sunrise Research, they offered a few surprises.

Upon arrival, the meeting with a Doctor Luscious Dubois and his several associates, each of which looked at the new recruit, as if at an animal auction and planning to buy.

After handshakes all around the Doctor left and the technicians took over, conferring many tests, some mental awareness sessions, and physical enduring of challenges such as running, jumping, and standing on tiptoes, arms held front forward, yes closed, and in a continuous exercise of deep breathing and harsh exhaling of spent breath.

That day and the next two weeks had much of the same odd testing and not a word to the recruit as for what this all meant to him.

Finally, the testing ceased and a weekend of free time had a tired person taking the bus to Milwaukee and the city zoo. Once on the inside the main fence, the plan was to venture to see the Zebra confinement.

Standing or seated, watching and waiting until such time seemed appropriate, then approaching the fence, the calling of the name Bob made even the caller think he was nuts.

"Bob...Bob...Bob...!"

As if from down and inside, there in the confinement came as an answer the whimpering sound of a Zebra as if in agony.

Moving toward where the sound seemed to originate, the sad looking Zebra stallion stood there listening to a name broadcast that he could recognize; as meanwhile the calling of his body tried to seduce him into acting like would a stallion stud of a Zebra.

"Bob...?" Said in a questioning tone, as for seeing what seemed as much to answer to the spoken name, the form did not look to this person like the person once called as a friend. Standing there stood a mature but still young and very sleek of form, male Zebra.

The young male had going an arousal of major proportions, he smelling the wafting musky scent of four Zebra mares also standing nearby.

The occasional calling the name Bob aloud caused the Zebra to turn around, and when facing the fence, it cut loose a braying cry that caused all walking past to stop and gawk.

"How, how could what stands there being of animal form and acting like an immoral uncaring stallion, this male Zebra acted as if he knew the name and wanted to express his feelings."

The clicking of a camera shutter was then the only sound this one would dare use as a reply. It meant a lot right then, but to the Zebra, it meant little as after twenty minutes of various callings and replies, he wandered to the Zebra mares, choose one of them and began his learn ritual to mate with one.

The constant watching of how any a Zebra stood there and did whatever seemed natural, held the attention of a young and still foolhardy young man, as the security cameras kept on eye for trouble and recorded who was close to the fence.

Upon the return trip back to Appleton and to the research center employee housing unit number two; when entering inside the considered private room, there sat a disgusted Doctor Dubois.

"Had a fun day, anything you would care to talk about?" The Doctor asked, he looked at his employee as if angered and like a father disgusted with one of his children.

"Yes, after a phone call to the Milwaukee zoo and speaking there with a rude woman by her name of Gisela, she made fun of the asking about Bob, the friend you said was on a long-term sabbatical there to learn more about Zebra mating rituals.

Even without her help, the calling of his name, yelling into the confinement, Bob, Bob, and a third time more Bob...! An answer came from one young but fully mature male stallion Zebra standing near the fence, butt toward the onlookers, as if a Zebra might feel somehow embarrassed.

After all, if you remember that giddy joke of what is black and white and red all over, why an embarrassed Zebra, right?

Well then Bob answered, and kept trying his darnedest to communicate his various feelings, especially those dealing with what all he had since learned about the mating rituals of Zebras.

Bob was there, he is as one of the Zebra stallions! Bob can remember his human name, he knew his good friend, feeling elated at the coming to visit him, he brayed loud and as if tickled. Yet his male Zebra inclinations won the day and he wandered off to meet and mate with a Zebra mare having her sensations of desire and bestial needs." So said I, and boldly to the manager and main scientist-curator there at Sunrise Research.

The doctor sat there for a long minute before he keenly stared at me, and asked then, "If offered would you care to join Bob, Robert in his long-term sabbatical there, you becoming as a Zebra stallion too?

Or, if that seems to tame for your liking, we have a very similar such volunteer duty scheduled, and you might like being a Cape buffalo bull for some five years or longer!"

"How was such thing possible, the massive and drastic changing of a human being into the form of an animal, a Zebra or some bull?" Surprised one did ask, as much as seeing of Bob to be then a Zebra stallion and liking it, the thought of joining him and be too a stallion Zebra made for some shaky feelings.

The doctor told me to consider the matter, as and since I had learned the secret of what about Bob, he assured then that something similar needed doing to assure the secret became again as a secret.

A pointed index finger detonated on the end table by the side of the bed set a thick ledger book, it a photo registry of all the previous transformations as done to the many people of who had learned too much, too quickly.

Was I working for Dr. Frankenstein, such things as transformation he say and from his notebook would seemingly show that such miracles in his realm of scientific knowledge were commonplace.

A quick paging through his notebook reinforced the thought this fool was working for a lunatic, insane, he would take normal people and use them for scientific fodder. He would re-mold a human body, doing more and changing its skin, growing fur, adding tails, doing so much more and in the end time, that person would leave the foundation property as an animal in a livestock truck.

If not for the tested experience of finding Bob and speaking, we communicating, and of doing it with some fantasy dream like aberration, personally it would be similar to a Hollywood "B' class horror film.

And then, what about Bob, if he was again found and being where and what the doctor left him as, what was his future, and how could his friend help him. It seemed so impossible, but added to it was the fact of Professor Haun coming personally to inform, show, and tell of what he can do. He wanting a tight rein on security about his project, as to silence someone else, he tossed an offer of either join Bob and his life of living for the moment, or be some brute male animal hand do the same there as might by being a Zebra.

Fantasy foolishness, but suddenly all too real and reality standing there would expect an answer. To calmly choose of which animalistic form to become, to defile all and everything one has grown up to know is right and living a moral life; to throw it all to the winds of time and let this man change away everything. Would one want to be then as is Bob, he standing as when first seen, mentally elated and sexually aroused, doing his pride before all the onlookers present?

Privacy to a normal human is part of what each is and by being like is Bob that too is gone from him.

To become an object as such a piece of property, the sensing of such offered suddenly a taught lesson in school of those through history who became by whatever means as slaves. Men enslaved other men, mattering not of colors or race, but this, what Professor Haun proposes, this takes a scientific leap beyond enslavement. Why with just paging through the notebook of pictures and written fates of so many people, their were many terrors told of people changed, living as working animals, beasts of burden, truly they were then as slaves to an owner, their bestial feelings, and their own memories of what they were previous.

The thought to run, run away and never look back became a tried idea, but before one could get ten stepped strides outside the apartment door, two burly looking guards stood baring the way.

Some guards might verbal an order to return to the apartment and there decide of some beastly future. You might think that is what happened, but not, the one guard raised an arm and pointed a directing finger, as the other guard snorted beastly fashion, and tilting his head downward, eying down did give a stare like would a bull angered and pawing the ground, ready at any aggressive act to charge and subdue his enemy.

Returning to the apartment seemed the better of the choices offered then, and entering, slammed the door, feeling anger too, as one entrapped and waiting for judgment.

There lay that three-ring notebook with all the pictures and judgments made by the professor, he degrading people, dooming them, and leaving them as if cursed to live in an animalistic world.

Flopping into a chair, one hand reached for the notebook and with paging through it, some of what as shown caused an odd sense of intrigue.

Friend with Professor Haun, Misses Williamson wanted a divorce but her loving husband would not agree. Disgusted and wrought with anger, the subject came up in comment to the professor. He made Misses a lurid offer, one to match her hate for the man she wished desperately to be rid of, and the professor had a way to do it without leaving a corpse.

Kidnapped leaving his employment, wrestled into a waiting foundation van, sedated throughout the entire process of Reformation, Mr. Williamson awoke from his slumber into a nightmare lifestyle of being a pony stallion.

He must have known of what he became, and whom he was before so changed, as he hated then his family. Mean to his children, he likely felt embarrassment being naked even in a pony form. His only hope of leaving his humiliation behind was with acting spiteful to all. Children reacting to an unloving pet, bitten or kicked, their delight for the pet waned until the sadistic woman and ex-wife did return the pony husband to the Foundation for whatever use they could have for such an ungrateful beast.

After his humiliation feelings faded, he still acted meanly to those who knew him only as a pony stallion. It was later, months later when the Professor Haun felt the kick of a pony leg that he spitefully had Gerald gelded, and then sold at auction to a petting zoo. Pondering the attested accomplishments of all those who were Reformatted through the process invented by the Professors, would it be so wrong to be a volunteer?

If to join Bob in his perpetual, Zebra state of a male with many an arousal, if this be preferred, then to choose between what the Professor so blatantly having offered?

Yet another favorable view is of two who were student volunteers, one still male and very much aroused. As well with him there is she who was a girlfriend, both still lovers and loving each the other!

As per what the Professor remarked, the retaining of eye tone reflects the amount as well of what mental abilities remain. The more the eye be different from the dark orbs of an animal, the more the individual remembers, and can reason with concepts and where or what the Professor made of them.

A closer look at the picture of the two willing volunteers expecting payment for a five year contract, they will have their hopes dashed; as each retains some color in their eyes.

Unknown to most who came and would voluntarily agree to give five to twenty years of their lives for the advancement of science, if given payment for their degraded lifestyle, and the bestial debauchery felt by those who were female in gender. Little did any ask, but looking with greed for a future reward, when they would later contemplate the amount of time spent and discover they had exceeded the set limitations, the realization become brutal, being what they were was then something permanent. Not all felt their choice of entering the "Reformation Process experiment as a curse upon their being alive, some as shown in the notebook thought highly of what they became and made the most of it!

Mr. Harold Beem sought out an interview with Professor Haun and from it he decided to take the plunge, making the professor the trustee of his wealth and belongings, He went through the process, coming out on the animal kingdom side, as then a Shetland stallion pony, he felt endowed and blessed with some thirty years of ongoing and constant pleasures.

The prospect of living another 30 years when you were sixty; and of being more the male than what was legal when human, all culminated into a sense of enjoyment, even after considering the degraded lifestyle. Sometimes when everything is going along smoothly, someone makes a goof!

Captain Andrews, a Navy officer earned an appointment to serve as the liaison officer for a tour of duty in Antarctica, lasting for six months. The duty there would assure him of a much more comfortable station of service, but he could not quit; as if he did, his days in the navy would come to an abrupt end.

The Captain had some medical troubles of his own, something that worried him, this being he suffered leg cramping from a D.V.T. (Blood clot) in his left leg.

As what worked best for this ailment was the keeping of his legs as insulated as possible, he wearing two or three layers of long underwear, morning, noon, and at night.

Chance happened he heard about the scientific breakthroughs happening at Sunrise Research, they there working miracles, using their special Reformation Process, they could take a hairless man and make him look beefy and exceptionally hairy, almost overnight.

The planned leaving for Antarctica just three weeks away, the concerned Captain bribed his way inside the Foundation, he asking for some special added, and natural insulation for his feet, legs, and body.

Later, after the facts came to the limelight, a technician in need of money to cover her gambling debts, removed an experimental ampule from the laboratory seven refrigerator. It given to the Captain and told to him he needed to inject the serum three times per day, and doing this for six days should cause sufficient leg and body-hair growth.

Maybe all would have worked properly, but on the second day of his self treatments, an e-mail arrived, ordering the Captain to pack and be on his way by the next week end.

Impatient with his planned progress, the Captain injected the remaining amount leftover in the ampule. This became a massive shock treatment to his system.

The sickly feeling began in his gut, moved up to his chest and down into his groin. A suggested burning sensation, the serum rushing to cause a massive thrust of change. In agony the 40-year old military man lay in his apartment bedroom, groping at the carpet, seething with pains, drooling and foaming about his mouth.

Chemical shock had his body systems surging, asserting growth in some areas, as well causing various bones to shift, joints popping, and somewhere in all this the manly mind winked into a dark void of boiling blackness.

A frothed cauldron of various body building and male enhancing products ingested daily mixed and blended with the Reformation Serum in the bloodstream of a man feeling the rush of massive change. He began to awaken two days later, groggy at first, like having a raunchy hangover coupled with the doldrums he got after using his favored brand of topical rush that made his penis swell.

Moaning, he thought at first viewing he was having some drug induced hallucinations, but after a phone call to the foundation his worse fears had just begun.

A special vehicle built exclusive for the Foundation, arrived and three brute big men helped the Captain to evade wondering eyes, and when inside the vehicle they wrapped him in blankets to keep his muscles from contracting with real screamer like cramps.

After the arrival at the main gate, the transfer vehicle drove to the unloading dock behind laboratory seven. The Captain unknowingly became sedated, he remaining is a coma state, allowing what would come, work to its procured ending.

Allowed to awaken, the man knew he was alive but had lost much of his memory and communication abilities.

The Foundation duly notated the demise of the Naval officer, explaining how he had overdosed on some drug. The accounting then was one of very vague on information, the unmarried man without family nearby, became instead another example of what this experimentation laboratory could do and make of a foolish man.

In a conversation with Professor Haun and a Admiral offered condolences for the loss of a good man, the Admiral did say, "That Captain Andrews was a real man, with big balls."

At the afternoon viewing and trying to console the Captain as he awaited sheepishly for the arrival of a vehicle as transport to his new station in life, a place of permanent duty; Professor Haun admitted as well that this fellow had big balls, and enough wool to keep away his leg cramps!