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"It will not stand, Sir!" Charles Cunningham slammed the packet of papers down on the desk with as close to a snarl as a horse could manage. "You have defiled my daughter and tarnished my family name!"

"Have I now?" Jonathan ran one dark thick nail over the rim of his crystal glass of bourbon. "And how do you believe I've done this, Charles?"

"How? HOW?!" The grey stallion nearly squealed the words out with his rage. "You ask me how? When my daughter, who I had arranged a marriage to a fine upstanding gentleman, is already showing your bastard foal!"

"Really? Is that what Emily has told you?" The bay stallion gave his head a mocking shake before lifting his glass to sip the aged liquor slowly. "I'm shocked that you'd believe such a thing. After all, I've never had more than a handful of words with the girl. Honestly, Charles! How could you come here throwing about such accusations?"

"How can I? Easily! The entire town knows of your appetites, Jonathan! All of us!" Charles snarled the words and twisted his lips back. "How many of your mules have that bay coat, eh? How many brood mares have you hired? Two! Two for your entire plantation!"

The younger stallion lunged upwards with his ears back. The movement was fast and violent enough that his tricorn hat was knocked backwards. "What are you trying to say, Charles?"

"You know what I'm saying." The flea-bitten grey stallion glared at him. "You have three days to respond to these charges before I bring this matter up publicly. You've ruined my daughter, my only daughter, and I will have reparations!"

Charles dropped his hand down to tap the papers before shoving them across the desk. Jonathan didn't make a move to take them, instead he smoothed his features so that he looked bored as the stallion stormed out of his office. The door slammed behind him hard enough that a few of the statues that he had decorating the shelves along the wall. He didn't stir from behind his desk, but half closed his eyes so he could hear the snapping voice calling for his carriage and the scramble of his servants to try and move fast enough to please the strange guest. It was almost a pity that the grey stallion hadn't turned about to continue their argument. He could have used a good excuse to pressing charges against his neighbor.

The glossy bay stallion stretched himself out with an arch of his back and stifled a yawn as he heard the carriage arriving at the front of his house. The tension in the Colonies had started to grow to a breaking point in the last five years. He let his legs stretch out beneath his desk as he mulled over the discontent that was starting to grow in the various towns. At times he could agree with their anger as the taxes continue to rise higher and more pressure was being put on the wealthy to maintain their shipping companies. At other times, he longed to return home to England where he could get out of this savage place and enjoy the windfall of money that came from being a younger son of someone who sat on the King's council.

"Sir, Master Cunningham has left." He glanced up to see the pale grey shape of his housejack standing quietly at the door. "Shall I summon your solicitor?"

"We won't need that." Jonathan flicked his fingers slightly. "I'd like you to send out Timothy and see what the slaves on Cunningham's plantation are saying. I'd also request that you find one of the young mules that we can slip into the next shipment into town that we can arrange to be bought by his estate. I want an ear in the household itself."

"Yes, sir." The jack gave a slow bow and took the last words as a dismissal.

Jonathan suppressed a smile as he stood up and gave his back a slight arch. The humidity of the lower states made it almost unbearably hot in the summer and it made his joints ache at the oddest moments. He had been so pleased when he'd moved here as little more than a colt. He'd found the warm weather welcoming and a change from the chilly familial manor where he'd grown up. As the years past, the more annoyed he got at the constant heat and it made him look forward to the trips up to Boston towards the winter where the cold chill was a welcome change. But, no matter how hit made his bones ache at times or his fur feel lank, he wouldn't stand down from his plantation. He had worked too hard and too long to want to risk losing what he had built up over the years.

When they had first settled the area there had been dozens of plantation homes that had sprang up overnight. They had all had high hopes for the fertile ground and the cheap slave trade that filtered through the area due to the ships that came to dock in the south. He and a handful of others had managed to settle the area with an eye to the future. The other plantation owners had rose and fell with the hardships that came from settling the area or simply bad business decisions and that's where he'd made a good part of his fortune. He knew how and when to buy out those that had gotten in too deep. Slowly, but surely, he had spread his lands out from their borders until he dominated most of South Carolina and a small chunk of North Carolina.

He had two oppositions. The governor had firmed his first one when he'd started to nibble away at North Carolina. He'd only managed a few hundred acres before he found himself stopped with a carefully worded mandate that politely informed him that he would be facing musket fire if he continued. His second opposition was to the south and that of his neighbor Charles Cunningham. The stallion was older than Jonathan, but had a sly business sense that kept his plantation up and flourishing. His land provided nearly a fourth of the sugar and cotton that went up north and there was no way the stallion would budge for what he considered an upstart colt.

Damn and blast him. I wouldn't put it past him to have a word with our Governor about the state of my plantation. And where I get my mules. Jonathan flattened his ears back and suppressed the desire to kick the edge of his desk as he moved around it.

Jonathan felt no shame for what he did, but he knew society and he knew what it would mean to his local military support and government contracts. Donkeys were hard working and prized as slaves, but the mules were better. The mules could work harder and longer than any donkey, the mules could be trusted to serve the family household due to more civilized blood running through their veins, mules brought well over twice the price of a donkey. Why should he pay for drunken stallions to stay in his manor and breed his jennies? He'd seen them in the slave market offering their services and he had no wish to keep them in his home nor pay them so they could fuck the beasts. Not when he could do the service free of charge and get better blood into his stock.

The bay stallion stormed down his halls and heard the soft sound of hooves skittering away from him. The slaves knew his mood and were purposefully avoiding him. He suppressed a snarl as he took the stares two at a time to get to the lower level of his home and pushed the back doors open. Charles Cunningham had stood in his way for the last five years and refused to give him any chance to extending his borders. With the Colonies starting to get themselves in an uproar up north and through Virginia it was likely that a rebellion was in the offing. Once that rebellion kicked off he'd be unable to legally enlarge his estate. And his last attempt in seducing Charles' daughter was blowing up in his face. He didn't have to look through the papers to know that his neighbor was demanding payment and refuting his claim to the foal.

To think I bedded that boney thing he calls a daughter! _ He snarled to himself. _There has to be a way around him or through him.

Jonathan gave his head a short shake as he walked through the yard to a rough grey shack that was built against the barn. His braided tail lashed back and forth as he tried to come to a reasonable choice of action, but the thoughts were only passing through. As he opened the door he felt the anger and worries smoothing away at the first sweet scent of heat and need on the air. His nostrils flared and he ducked his head beneath the low door way to see the young slave huddled against the wall. Her patchy fur dusty from sleeping on the straw and her nude form curled about itself as if hiding from him. His lips curved up in a smile as he pulled the door shut behind him.

"Hello, little whore, are you ready for your foal?" He spoke slowly and watched the girls eyes widen. The sight of her trembling in fear a few steps away from him made his mind drift towards Emily and a thought teased his mind. His lips curved up in a smile as he paused in his advance and turned on a hoof towards the door. There wasn't a minute to waste if he wanted to make his plan come to fruition.

~ ~ * ~ ~

"Papa, please. You can't!" Emily's hand gripped against Charles' lower arm, but he shrugged his daughter's hold off of him and frowned at her. "He'll kill you!!"

"Up to your room, girl. I've given the swine a chance to make amends, but he has refused me. Now, I will ensure that he answers with his life!" The stallion flared his nostrils a bit and watched the slender girl stumble back from him.

"Tilly! Take your Mistress to her bedroom and bar the door! She's not to come out!" He barked the words and watched the elderly mule awkwardly curtsey towards him before he turned away. He didn't look back at his disgraced daughter once as he strode from the house and towards the donkey holding his horse's head.

Jonathan DeVante had been a thorn in his side ever since the young stallion had claimed a patch of land as his own. The englishhorse was from some family of some repute across the ocean and seemed to believe that the world owed him recompense for not inheriting his father's lands. For years Charles had watched the vain creature cut away at other land owners and his techniques bordered on warfare as he glutted himself on the New World. It was sickening, but Charles had held his tongue and kept his own lands secure with the help of his overseers and slaves. It wasn't until the brash stallion had seduced his only daughter and dared lay seed within her that he had bestirred himself beyond simple wariness. It was dishonorable and had tarnished his heir's reputation to find a suitable match.

The grey stallion swung himself up into his mare's stirrup with his thoughts blackening with anger. Emily was a young fifteen years old and had spoken passionately that Jonathan only wished to love her and join their families. But the older stallion knew the young colt's tricks. Charles dug his heels into his mare's side and set off at a trot along the winding lane that led to his home. He would sooner be in the ground before seeing that perverted creature set foot on his plantation. Jonathan had all the morals of a dog sniffing after a bitch in heat. The fact that most of his mules turned out with white stars and stockings like their master only sealed Charles' opinion of the stallion. No gentleman would lower himself to breed the slaves, that's why they could hire it done.

Charles' mind darkened at the idea of his daughter letting their neighbor touch her in that manner. Whatever foal she birthed would be no heir of his. He only had to prove the lineage went to Jonathan and then he could leave the foal to being raised there and attempt to salvage his heir's reputation. Not that the bay stallion had made any attempt at being honorable. Every note and demand that Charles had sent had been returned to him unopened. Every threat responded to by a solicitor. It was until Jonathan had delivered a challenge to settle the matter with dueling pistols had he been answered. And no matter what that young upstart believed, Charles had been well schooled in arms and had little doubt that he would win.

_I'll kill the bastard if I have to. But better to wound him and leave him to crawl home. Let the country know what sort of creature he is. _ He snarled to himself as his mare picked her way along the path that led towards the open field that crossed their properties.

"Ho! Charles!!" A voice echoed along the edge of the woods a breath before he spied one of their mutual neighbors riding up.

"Jean, a pleasure as always." Charles slowed his horse to allow the black French horse to catch up. "You got the announcement then."

Jean's eyes flickered towards him and away again nervously. "I did. It's a foolish waste coming to blows over this, Charles. You should let the matter drop. I wouldn't think less of you if you were to call off the duel."

"And allow that.. that.. pervert to sully my family name with his misbegotten bastard!?" Charles jerked the reins of his mare back hard enough that she sidled to one side. "I will defend my honor and that of my family's!"

"Well said, Charles! Well said!" The genial voice came with a hint of mocking laughter as Jean and Charles turned their horses to walk along the wall. "I see our last witness has shown up as well."

Jonathan stood in a perfect pose with his slender muzzle lifted high and every inch of him groomed and gleaming. His black mane was braided neatly along the line of his neck and trailed down between his shoulders. His back rested against a stallion that matched his coat pattern perfectly, the creature was just as well groomed. Master and horse alike wore dark red colors that nearly mimicked blood. Trust Jonathan to make a spectacle of himself at such a somber occasion. Beyond him several of their neighbors stood in various states of tension. The governor had officially outlawed duels so they no longer could count on an impartial third party, but their neighbors would at least be honest and fair as they could.

"Are you ready to claim what you've done to my family, sir?" Charles spoke stiffly as he swung out of the saddle. "Declare yourself before witnesses and we shall call the matter settled."

"Jean, my dear stallion! How good of you to come, I had hoped you wouldn't stay at home after our talk yesterday." Charles bristled as Jonathan deliberately ignored him and turned to the black stallion genially. He wanted to snap out, but the words died on his tongue as he saw the creature that stood in her master's shadow.

Zebra's were not unheard of, but they were uncommon. They came from a land far to the south of Europe and were incredibly hard to capture and tame. Their bright patterns of black and white made them exotic and much sought after as house slaves and for brothels, but Charles had only seen a handful. The zebra that stood beside the riding horse stared at him aloofly from over a dark black nose and stripes that formed diamond patterns along her head. The bristling mane rose up in alternating bars of black and white all the way down to the collar wrapped throat. She didn't look away from him or down the way a slave should, but met his gaze and seemed to measure him. She was dressed in a loose cloak, man's shirt and breeches making it clear that she was female. Despite himself he felt his heart beating a bit faster and it took him a moment to drag up feelings of anger and resentment.

"You bring this whore with you to a duel to settle the honor of my daughter!" Charles sputtered and turned to find Jean staring at him with the whites of his eyes showing. "How dare you, you will-"

"Now, Charles, do not call Meetya a whore. It is unfair." Jonathan stepped back and moved his hand up to stroke the edge of the zebra's collar.

"Jonathan, please." Jean's words trembled slightly. "We can't do this-"

"Shut up, Jean! We agreed!" One of his older neighbors barked the words out and turned his head to one side. "He won't be killed, take your comfort there!"

"What in bloody hell are you going on about?" Charles snapped his tail back and forth before lowering his hand to his pistol.

"Meetya, earn your reward." Jonathan spoke in a purr, an almost sensual tone as his fingers rubbed the zebra's throat and trailed over the collar.

Charles didn't know what happened, he didn't know what was going on. All he knew was that one moment he stood angry and ready to draw his gun and the next heat flared over him. His stomach cramped up as if it had been hit with a blow and he dropped forward with a wild short cry. His fingers hit the dirt as he arched upwards and the cramping of his stomach grew worse. The muscles tensed and spasmed as he lifted his head back and squealed out a sound of pain. His eyes blurred as he looked at his own white-grey muzzle and watched it start to grow larger and his clothing grew tight around his writhing form. The soft sound of chanting purred through his ears as the zebra stepped forward and held her hand out over his twisting body.

The sound of voices seemed far away as his heart pounded against his chest. He cried out again, but this time it sounded hoarse. His clothing tore along the seams as he twisted and jerked against the ground. His chest grew larger and larger until the buttons on his finely made shirt tore open and revealed his pale chest. He rolled onto his belly and tried to lurch to his hooves, but his fingers felt thick and ungainly as they pressed onto the ground. His eyes snapped open wide as he watched the perfectly trimmed and filed finger tips thickening and flowing over his digits. The bones retreated until he felt his entire hand changing under the rolling hoof that flowed upwards and bound his fingers together. But it was the sight of his fur that made him cry out in fear. His beautiful nearly white fur that had been the pride of his looks.

The coat darkened as the deep grey fur rippled over him. It wasn't the perfectly smooth coat that he normally boasted, but it grew thicker and looked puffy as it coated his forearms and rolled upwards. Not even the sound of his pants tearing from his body, nor the sensation of cool air along his naked hips distracted him from watching his lovely coat ruined. The thick fur was coarse as it grew in and grew darker as it rolled up his arms to flow over his chest. Charles pulled his ears back and squealed out, but to his horror it wasn't a squeal that erupted past his lips. An abrasive braying noise burst out of his throat as he dropped his hooves down and felt the bones in his arms fusing together and growing longer and more powerful.

"EEE-EEE-EEEEEHAAAW What are you doing to me-hee-hee-hee!" He brayed out as he felt his braided mane come undone as the long hairs shortened.

"Please, let's go." Jean's voice reached him as he rolled his eyes up and tried to watch his neighbors as well as the steel grey fur that was coating along his muzzle.

"You have no stomach, lad." Jonathan's voice was a drawling sound and amused. "It's a fitting end to him and you'll have my support when we divide up his lands."

"I still can't believe he'd have relations with his daughter." Charles flattened his lengthening ears down and twisted his head to look at the aged graying stallion who looked at him in disgust.

"I've told you what I know, Major. He has been trying to place the blame on me, but..." Jonathan spread his arms open in a shrug. "We know exactly what I prefer in my women."

"Not that that is much better, young sir." The Major barked the words while Charles reeled at what was being suggested. They thought he'd fathered a foal on his own daughter.

"I did noth-EEE-HEE-EEE-ing!" He brayed out as his voice roughened and he lumbered on the ground as he felt his naked form being looked over by those he counted as his neighbors and friends. Four of them.

"My tastes are my own and they have given us a reason to see him punished quite thoroughly without the nastiness of going up on murder charges or having to drag poor young Emily into a court setting. Poor lass." Jonathan's voice practically oozed sympathy and Charles brayed with his outrage as he stumbled up onto all fours shakily. "Meetya, you have earned your reward for your service. Here are the papers that mark you a free-woman. I will personally see that you and your young daughter are on the next ship to Africa and your home for this."

"T'ank you," The accented tone could have only been from the zebra. Her? What was going on. "De magic vill last 'til death breaks it, but I can no' bind de mind. Dat is up to you."

"Of course, I expect we shall come to terms." Jonathan's shadow loomed over Charles as he tried to raise his heavy head. He was towering over the stallion!

"Wh-what are we going to do now?" Jean's voice sounded young and uncertain.

"Stop shivering like a leaf, lad. Black magic of the worst sort, but to force himself upon his own daughter. Well.. it's a fitting end." The Major's voice was thick with scorn. "I'll take an honest sinner over a viper in our midst any day. It'll be my sad duty to inform his wife and daughter that Charles ran from the duel. The daughter will no doubt take comfort that her father did not keep up this mad charade and I'll have some of my jacks go hunting for him. After a few days we'll bring back these clothes and that'll be the end of it. Poor bloke was terrified of being found out and made a run for it, bad luck that he got taken by thieves or wolves or what have you."

"And it would be my pleasure to take poor Emily beneath my wing, Major. She's been through such a horrible time of it and she'll need security and his widow." Jonathan's voice almost purred and Charles lurched forward braying roughly in outrage.

"Stand down, SIR!" The Major's voice came with the snap of a crop over his large muzzle and Charles stumbled into a rear as another pang of the change started to strengthen his hind quarters. "Be glad we didn't hang you! Yes, Jonathan, you can tend to Emily and her mother. Our agreement was you'd get the house and lands that butt up against your own grounds."

"Of course and, if you'll allow it Major, I'll arrange to claim her foal as my own so that she is not forced to be under such a horrible stain to her honor." Jonathan stepped forward and gave a bow. "My tastes are not to your liking, gentle sirs, but I am a man of honor still."

Charles stared at Jonathan in horror, he was proposing to wed his daughter and inherit everything that Charles had built in the last two decades. He brayed out weakly as his legs started to shudder and his tail jerked behind him. It was only when he felt the long strands hitting his hips that it hit home for him. He turned his head on his long net to look down the length of his grey body. It was so much larger then his natural one and far more muscular than any donkeys. A mule. They were turning him into a damned mule! A feral one at that. His skin trembled from nose to tail and suddenly his stomach tensed up. The sharp pain made him squeal out a bray and automatically kicked his haunches out into the air. His hind hooves whistled through the air, but it didn't stop the final change. He could feel his orbs being drawn into his body and melting away. The skin smoothed itself out just behind his weighty sheath. A gelding.

"You may go, good Sirs. Trust in me to see to the mule's comfort. He will be fed groomed and kept well until his dying die, I assure you. He will work off his debt for the evils he did to his daughter and no one need ever known of our justice. Meetya will be quiet. The price of her magic was her freedom and she will no longer been in the Colonies." Jonathan stepped forward with a dull halter and Charles jerked backwards trembling. This couldn't be happening! It couldn't!!

~ ~ * ~ ~

No matter how often he thought that it couldn't be happening, Charles was caught in a world where it was and did happen. He fought, kicked and brayed every step from the field that their lands met and was forced onto Jonathan's lands. The bay stallion snapped out with his crop and herded him. His sides grew damp with sweat as he constantly was stopped and yanking back against the lead before stumbling forward again. His hooves kicked and dragged against the ground, but in the end he had been forced into the courtyard of the stables near the edge of the fields. They weren't even the stables that were kept for the working horses on the out skirts of the slave houses.

"BOY! Get this mule in a stall this moment!" Jonathan's bellow brought out a patchy looking jack that limped towards them.

"Yessir, Master." The little jack brayed and skittered just beneath Charle's chin to grasp at the lead.

"Wipe him down and give him some hay, I'll be back shortly to tend to him." The stallion dropped the end of the lead. "And keep a good hold on him, if he gets free you'll be plowing the south fields!"

"Yessir, Master!" The little jack brayed out again, and the pale hands grasped the lead harder. "C'mon, fella, let's get ya seen to."

Charles wrinkled his lips back in distaste at the musky smell coming from the jack. The slave had obviously worked hard that day and not bothered to wash. On his plantation the slaves were required to wipe down after work, but Jonathan had never cared enough for his slaves to do more then to keep them fed enough to work. He wanted to yank his head back and kick the creature, but a lingering sense of honor kept him still. He wasn't going to crush a donkey, not when he could wait it out until he got Jonathan alone. The moment he did, he would pound the bay stallion into meat and find a way out of this trap and form.

He was led to a patch worn stall that was barely big enough for him to turn around. It smelled clean at least and he snuffed a bit at the dry scent of hay as it was tossed into a manger that was leaning towards one side. He lifted his head and shivered his skin and tried, again, to get a look at himself. His body was so roughly furred that it made his ears fold flat to his head. Most mules at least kept the smooth coats of their dams, but he was left with the ragged coat of a donkey. The grey was only relieved at his legs where darkened to pitch black save where one of his hind feet boasted a stocking. There was nothing left of his graceful powerful form, there was nothing left of his smooth gleaming coat, there was nothing left of him.

"Not bad, eh?" Charles jerked his head up with a bray as Jonathan's merry voice came from over the edge of planked stall door. "You! Boy! Ring to dinner bell, damnit. Do I have to tell you when to even piss?"

"Yessir, Master!" The yelp came from somewhere in the worn barn and Charles twisted his body and strained to turn around to face his abuser.

"Ah good, they'll be stuffing their mouths while you and I talk, hmm Charles?" Jonathan leaned over the top of the stall door with a grin on the edges of his mouth. "Well, while I talk and I'd enjoy it if I were you. This'll be the last time anyone ever talks to you as if you'd understand them."

Charles shifted and lowered his head slightly to watch the bay stallion. The lazy position of the arms draped over the stall door were at odds with the curiously bright look of the eyes that watched him. In answer the gelding launched forward and snapped his teeth towards one of the arms intent on grabbing it and yanking it over the edge to drag the stallion into the stall with him. Instead of having his teeth close on the arm, a leather crop came down and cracked hard over the bridge of his muzzle making him bray out in pain. His eyes watered and he gave his head a shake while the silvery voice of the dinner bell rang from somewhere in the distance.

"First rule, Charles, and only rule. You will obey me and you will not try to anger me in any way. It's natural for me to step up as your daughter's guardian after all the fuss you've raised and my marriage means I own a great deal of your land. Including the land your wife now lives on. For her sake, if not your own, I would behave." Jonathan shifted to stand on the bottom rung of the stall door. "Understand me, I can and will turn her out without a penny to her name if you escape, kick, bite or otherwise become a problem. And your dear little girl can be made to suffer as well, quite easily. After all, our neighbors sympathize with me taking such a hard blow to my reputation by claiming the foal as my own. I may even let it inherit!"

Charles brayed out and jerked his head up at the news. The threats were real, oh so very real. Somehow this piece of filth had convinced his neighbors that he had had relations with his own daughter. The idea made him sick, but the way Jonathan spoke, he was going to come clean as the foal's father while those who had delivered him into this fate would see it as a favor. His little girl, his Emily, tied forever to this creature! And his wife, Mary, she would be living on the beasts sufferance and would be comfortable as long as he was forced to act this way. His stomach turned and he bumped backwards a step before the riding crop slipped down and stroked right beneath his chin. He tried not to flinch away as the stallion pulled himself over the stall door.

"I see we understand each other. And now, we'll seal our bargain like gentlemen." The bay stallion dropped down and flared his nostrils. "Turn around, boy, turn around for your master. Time for you to be serviced. A gelding can be used for his master's pleasure, after all."

Charles stomped a hoof and his entire body stiffened at the tone as it changed. It started to ooze that sickening tone that women often gave to their dogs. And the suggestion. He snapped his tail down between his haunches in protest, and started to step back, but the walls of the stall blocked him from doing more than inch away. Jonathan didn't make a move to advance, but instead leaned back against the stall door with a grin on his face and the riding crop lightly tapping his leg. The young stallion's eyes were unnaturally bright as he watched, just watched and Charles trembled. If he refused, if he fought, would Jonathan truly impoverish his wife? Abuse his child?

The mule lowered his head as he felt the heat rising to his features, but the grey fur hid the flush as he awkwardly twisted about in the tight stall. The distant sound of the slaves barely reached the barn, only the sound of the other animals that gathered about could be heard. No one would see the stallion using an animal and any noise he made would be just another beast protesting his lot in life. He shifted his hind quarters to face the stallion and strained his head up to look out the edge of the window towards the fields. He tried to find a distraction as a strangely gentle touch teased beneath his tail and gave it a tug right at the ropey base.

"Present yourself, mule." Jonathan's command came with laughter and Charles flicked his tail up with a stab of humiliation and outrage. "Good good, mule. Always knew you had a fine ass."

Charles jerked as fingers rubbed up and he felt them stroking along his dark pucker. His tail trembled with the urge to jerk it downwards, but he was able to keep it up. He fingers left only briefly before returning and something slick was gathered on the tip as they curled inwards and pushed the virginal opening apart. The mule fought not to buck and kick the stallion behind him despite the instincts that screamed for him to do just that. The other hand moved down and rubbed where he had once possessed a set of proud virile balls. They played and fingered over the bare spot as if to make sure he knew that he possessed nothing, not even sterile orbs.

He could have tolerated rough touches, he could have tolerated abuse and outright rape, but the caresses felt as if they were meant for a lover. They were gentle and stroking as a finger pushed into his pucker and he clenched down around it instinctively. He tried to find something to stare at, to distract him, anything, but he was left shaking as the finger plunged inwards and pulled out again. He weakly brayed out as the thrusts happened several times before the finger slipped out and left him struggling to keep his tail up.

The only warning he had was the sound of the trough being emptied and dumped to the floor and then he felt hands moving up to grip his haunches. He shuddered as something hot and hard bumped against his inner thighs before dribbling out a viscous spill of precum. He clenched his ass hard, but Jonathan didn't seem to care about it or his protesting bray when the glans pushed up to nestle right against his taut pucker. The mule jerked his head up high and gaped his jaws in a squeal when the hips pushed forward and the head crammed up against his opening. The tight ring slowly started to spread open as the stallion pressed over his haunches and gripped his hips. It was humiliating, it was horrifying and he could feel the girth starting to pry his taut walls open.

A hot gush of precum drooled inside of him before the stallion drove forward and forced himself into the passage. Charles brayed and kicked a leg out at nothing as the hardened spire drove itself in and forced the walls to strain open. He clenched around the girth, but no matter how he tried to squeeze it out of him, Jonathan kept shoving forward. The hot puffs of breath hit against the scent of his back just as the medial ring popped into his passage and the hips drew back slightly before plunging forward again. He wanted to jerk his hips forward, but his chest pressed against the rail of his small stall as the stallion drove himself inwards until Charles felt the full balls rubbing right between his legs. Right where he should have had them himself.

He didn't realize his body was reacting, he didn't even realize that the medial ring placed pressure in places that were almost pleasant. Not enough Jonathan shifted on his haunches and something wrapped around the dangling soft length of his cock. He squealed out in shock only to feel the hips clap forward again. The stallion's fingers wrapped around the base of the cock and gave it a gentle squeeze before the mule jerked forward. He threw his head back and the whites of his eyes flashed as he felt the slow pulling stroke that tugged along his cock all the way down as far as the bay could reach. His walls clamped down tight around the drooling shaft in reaction making the stallion groan out and give a harder thrust.

The medial ring tugged and caressed him, it pulled gently and stroked outwards before plunging back in again with wet noises as the precum that spread through his passage. His ass felt slippery as the hips worked in slow firm movements designed to keep him on edge. He could feel his cock hanging heavy beneath him, the flesh filling out and growing swollen as the stallion gave a sharper thrust forward that drove the balls between his legs and pulled back again. Jonathan had tilted himself just enough that the fingers worked and squeezed against the base of his cock just adding to the humiliation. Charles felt splatters of his precum hitting against his forelegs as his cock tensed up and slapped his underbelly in a lewd noise.

His walls were constantly being stretched open by the powerful strokes and the sensations weren't unpleasant. He lowered his head slightly and whickered out a groan as the hips jerked back and he felt the tip nearly pulling free. A hot glob of precum spilled out before Jonathan drove forward again and the precum was forced out to dribble along the bare spot between his haunches. The muled flicked his ears back and tried to grasp onto his humiliation, his horror, his anger, but the touch along the base of his cock kept him worked up. He bucked and brayed out hoarsely when the stallion started to thrust in sharp hard movements. The powerful hips hit against his own as they sped up and the gelding was left working his jaws in abrasive sounds of pleasure.

Charles tried to fight back, he tried to get away from the building pressure, but Jonathan seemed to know how to work him. He pushed his medial in and over the spot time and again as the fingers squeezed and stroked around the base of his cock. It was almost too easy to imagine that grip being his wife's eager winking folds. The moment he imagined it he knew he shouldn't have. The trembling sweating gelding threw his head back as his body shuddered and hot ropes of sterile cum splattered out against his belly and legs. The rush of it being forced out of his flared cock tip before he heard Jonathan's hiss of satisfaction.

For the first time in his life the mule felt a stallion's hips snug up tight against his own and the cock tip started to flare open deep inside of his anal passage. His walls milked and squeezed in time with his orgasm as Jonathan gave another rough thrust and moaned before Charles felt hot thick seed erupting into his body. It plunged in deep and the flare kept it from leaking out as another hot rope spilled out and he could feel his own cock rapidly softening under him as it uselessly drooled out his gel plug. The gelding lowered his head with a despairing bray as he continued to milk his master. His body shuddered in disgust and embarrassment, but he could do nothing to save himself. He could only try to save his family. He could only try to keep them from harm.

"Mmph nearly as tight as your girl, mule." The mocking voice made him flinch, but he dared not kick out. As his lowered head picked up the musk of his own orgasm he felt tears rolling down along the length of his muzzle in misery. This was his life.

~ ~ * ~ ~

"Get that new mule and get 'em harnessed up to plow the north field!" Charles didn't lift his head at Jonathan's word. It had been days. Days since he had been brought here and all that had happened was a routine of humiliation.

The slaves groomed him, fed him, brushed him and mucked his stall out. He was little more then another one of them as they moved in and out under his chin and ignored him completely as long as he was tended. He had been shod the day before and had been forced to tremble as the farrier he had hired himself cut his hooves and shaped them for shoes. The man had given no hint that he realized he was shoeing Charles Cunningham. It had just been another blow. Just as being forced to raise tail to Jonathan was a blow. The stallion was ungodly eager to use his new mule and as Charles lifted his head to the donkeys coming towards him he could feel the faint sting still beneath his tail. He had been used that very morning, quite roughly and thoroughly before the slaves had awakened.

"Yes that one. What did you say you called it, boy?" Jonathan turned to the mule overseer who was helping a smaller jack with one of the plow horses.

"Ahh, Buckshot, Master." The mule had barely glanced at Charles and that made it worse. He brayed out at the taller jack that came to his stall and roughly grabbed his halter.

"Yes, get Buckshot harnessed up. The North Field hasn't been tilled this year and it'll need it if we're going to support my new wife. And you! What are you doing-" Jonathan turned away with no other words, but Charles was left with a tensing of his belly as he was pulled out of the stable and into the front yard.

So they were going to marry. His daughter to be shackled with a beast that raped her father and spent his days mounting every jenny in his stock. He had been around long enough that he had seen and heard Jonathan's nightly romps with his slaves as he ensured they carried mules. It was disgusting, as disgusting as mating with an animal! He flattened his ears and flinched back to attention as his halter was tied off to a post and several young mules started to use straw to roughly brush the worst of the dirt from his patched coat. He kept his tail clamped down. He had been humiliated enough, he didn't want to be even more humiliated by these creatures seeing him glistening with their master's seed.

"Easy, Buckie, yer a fine fella eh? Yeah, yeh are!" One of the younger jacks rubbed against his side and shoulders with a handful of straw. "Get yeh clean an' workin' an' then you'll get a good feed, eh?"

The words were the meaningless nonsense that any person offered an animal, but the tone was soothing as the straw brushed bits of muck from his thick fur and rubbed the worst of the itches. His small stall made it impossible for him to roll to take care of them, even if he would have lowered himself to doing it. The brisk rub down found places that had been a dull torment to him and brushed them out smoothly and carefully until he found himself pushing into them. The young donkey laughed as the hand brushed a bit harder just along the arch of his neck where he had been trying to itch earlier in that day. Charles closed his eyes and sighed out when the worst of it was gone and gave himself a shake to get rid of some of the powdered dust that had built up on his coat. The jack moved a hand to itch just behind the mule's ears and he found himself leaning into it happily as they worked at a sensitive spot right at the poll.

When it was over he lifted his head up and flicked his ears back against his head at his own behavior. He wasn't an animal. He snorted out and tried to take a step back, but the lead on the halter drew up tight forcing him to stay in place. The two other slaves that had helped with his grooming had moved onto a mammoth looking mule that looked as if he was part draft horse. His young jack didn't seem bothered, but instead came back with a dull looking harness and flung it up and over his back. The metal buckles jangled and clattered as they strands of leather hung against either side of his barreled chest and even smacked down over his rump.

"Easy, easy..." The jack moved a hand up when Charles tensed up in preparation to bucking off the equipment. "No need ta fuss, here, let's getcha untied and bridled eh? Then we won't be seeing anything scary, Buckshot."

The mule glared at his handler in disgust as the dirty hand moved up to rub his nose. The fingers rubbed either side as the other hand unhooked his lead from its ring. Charles nearly made a bolt, but his eyes caught sight of the bay stallion as he made his way through the workers and commented on one of the other mules. He froze and locked his legs in place before placidly lowering his head so that the slave could haul the bridle up and over his head. He wanted to be sick, but he couldn't disobey Jonathan. Not if he wanted to keep his family safe and secure. Instead he was forced to have his ears tugged through the bridle and smelled the sweaty-sweet scent of mule on the old leather. A set of blinders cupped around either side of his eyes so he could only look in front of him, no matter how hard he tried. He had to turn his head to see anything else. The bit pushed up against his mouth and he shuddered as he spread his lips to allow it to slip into his maw and over his tongue so that the bar rested in the gape of his teeth.

It tasted harsh and metallic as he chewed around it and rolled it over his tongue. It was enough to distract him as the bridle was buckled into place and tightened with the reins dangling down from the bit. He gave his head a rough shake when the donkey moved his hands away and picked up the large collar and flipped it upside down with a deft hand. He flattened his ears and made a muted bray as the ring was slipped up and over his head. It bumped against his ears as it dropped down over his neck and twisted around with an unsettling move so that the thicker portion of it rested on top of his neck and settled above his shoulders. It wasn't that heavy, but it was enough that he automatically gave a short buck and brayed out loudly.

"BOY! Keep that mule steady!" Jonathan's bark made Charles freeze and he twisted his head around to see the stallion tapping his leg with his riding crop.

"Yes, Master! Sorry master!" The donkey brayed out and trembled. Charles showed his teeth, but held still as the lad darted beneath him and started to fasten the harness into place. To his horror Jonathan moved up to slap his shoulder with one hand.

"There's a good lad, Buckshot. Fine mule." It was a dismissive series of words and the stallion was off. With no indication that Charles was any different than any of the other mules.

"There we go, fella." The young jack tugged the last strap into place. "C'mon, Bucky, yeh gotta work taday."

Charles sighed and followed as he was turned around and led by the reins away from the general chaos of the day that was starting around him. He didn't know the layout of Jonathan's plantation, he barely knew his way to the main house, but in this case he didn't need to know about it. He was led down along the fields with the harness jingling and creaking around him. He couldn't look to either side because of the blinders, but instead had to trust his groom to keep him from stumbling into something. It made him uneasy and his tail jerked back and forth behind him as he was led along a narrow row of corn stalks. But he grew mortified when he was pulled out to a field that had recently been partially plowed, but the rest was still waiting to be tended. It ran right along the road that led towards Raleigh.

He didn't even fight as he was pulled to the front of a heavy looking plow, his eyes were locked on the road and the distant sounds of voices. He knew this road. It was busy most of the time because travelers took it to and from the major city and did their trade throughout the smaller towns and villages. It was also the road that ran right between his and Jonathan's properties to create a natural divide. The mule ignored his young groom and twisted his head about to look in the direction of his home. From here he couldn't see his house, only a few fields that he had let go fallow for the season, but it made his heart ache as he stared after them.

"..Buckshot," Charles jerked his head back at his so called name and twisted his head about to see the groom talking to a heavy looking mule. "HE wants the field done this week, Josiah, an' not ta stop til ya hit the road."

"Eh? Yeh, bet he does." The mule snorted and Charles had to strain to see the worker moving behind the blow and picking up the handles. "G'wan boy, ye go see ta the stable an' Buckshot an' I'll take care o' this."

The little groom only grinned in answer before taking off like a rabbit and he was left with the mule Josiah. Charles kept his ears back as Josiah picked up the reins and looped them through guides on the blow before sliding them over his neck so the strands hung down. The creature was big, obviously bred from some large stock and didn't seem bothered as he shifted the plow to align it. When he was satisfied the slave picked up a long switch and cracked it out to hit against Charles' hips. If he hadn't of been watching he would of launched forward in shock at the sting, instead he brayed out in outrage and locked his legs in place.

"G'wan wit' yeah! AYUP!" Josiah brayed and the switch smacked out again, this time it cut right along his haunches hard enough that Charles shuddered.

The mule lowered his head and felt his cheeks darkening, but he shoved forward against the collar. The harness went tight around him as he strained and pulled forward against the plow. He lifted one leg and unsteadily placed it before him before he heard the "AYUP!" and the reins snapped against his back as he lunged forward. His nostrils flared and muscles tensed up as he felt the plow move behind him and the next step hauled it behind him as he puffed out a hot breath. The harness wasn't a perfect fit and it rubbed along his chest as he took another step and another. Each one made him want to stop, but the calls from behind him kept him going until something gave out in front of the plow and he nearly fell forward as the harness stopped biting at him so hard.

"There we go! Walk on! Walk on, Buckshot!" Josiah called out and Charles turned his head to see the plow had sank into the soil and was digging in deep the cut a furrow into it.

He let out a snort and turned his head back around before walking steadily forward. It was pure physical labor of a sort he hadn't done since he was a boy. When he had made his fortune he had pledged to himself he would never have to do such hard labor again, but now he was forced to do it again. His legs trembled slightly as he let the reins guide him and the plow as he walked down towards the road one step at a time. Once he had the plow in the earth he found it easier to pick his hooves up and walk forward. It was only the sun that made it hotter as his sides grew damp with sweat and he chewed around the bit in his mouth.

He felt horrified as the constant strain made something happen that he hadn't counted on. He could feel something thick and slippery being pushed out of his body. He could feel it in the way the strands of his tail caught against his inner thighs as Jonathan's cum oozed free. His cheeks burned as he realized it was impossible that Josiah didn't see what was leaking out of him. A slave knew that he was acting as someone's mare. He wanted to lay down and give up, but the firm hand on the reins and plow never gave him the choice. A constant voice came from behind.

"G'wan! Walk on! Good fella! Ayup!" Josiah's words were as often praise as they were curses. "Damn ya mule! Stop strayin'!"

The reins would tug hard each time he shifted directions or leaned too much to where it was going through easier. They would roughly jerk and force his jaws to open until white froth formed along his jaw and then he would go forward again. The sun beat down against his dark grey back while he kept his ears angled back and attempted to lose himself in what he was doing. It was harder then it seemed, especially as the first time he heard the sound of men talking and had jerked his head up to watch a cart rolling down the road with what looked like sacks of flower. A few fillies had glanced out as he hauled the plow to the road and had to wait and turn so the plow could be moved.

His ears burned with shame, but the steady guidance of Josiah made him lunge forward to return to his work. He could feel the sweat coating his sides and his nostrils flared open wide time and again. The only breaks came few and far between when he was offered scant amounts of water and a few rough scratches from his fellow worker. He wanted to completely horrified by what he was doing, he wanted to be enraged and find the strength to refuse, but some small part of him was thriving under the praise and the feel of the plow. Each time he turned his eyes more furrows had been cut into the field as they made their progress. He could hardly believe he had enough stamina to do it, but by the time the field was half done he realized they would likely finish it all in a day. His heart swelled unwillingly with pride at his own accomplishments.

"...Emily... here are the.... And..." His long ears quivered at the first word that wafted to him as the plow was turned and Josiah slapped the reins against his rump.

He didn't walk on, but instead turned his head all the way around to watch the horses that were coming down the road. His heart nearly broke as he recognized his daughter riding a slender little gelding he had trained for her. She rode him perfectly, but her attention wasn't entirely on him. Her attention was on that of the man that rode beside her. Jonathan held one of her hands as he spoke and gestured towards the field in a warm and engaging tone. Charles felt the world dropping out from under him as they trotted closer and closer.

"G'WAN!" Josiah's shout came with a stinging smack of the switch against his haunches, it was hard enough that he automatically kicked out and leapt forward.

Only the reins kept him from bolting plow and all. His jaws spread and he felt a splatter of foam hitting his chest as he fought the bit and pranced forward. His breath came in great gasps, but he went in a forced walk forward as his daughter and his tormentor rode along the road behind him. His ears spared him nothing as the horses halted and he heard Jonathan point him out to his daughter. He felt tears blurring his vision as he dared not look behind him as his daughter watched him plow the field. He lowered his head and let the weight rest on the collar as he hauled his burden up the hill, step by slow step. His hooves felt like led.

It wasn't until the hoof beats picked up again that he dared lift his head to watch his daughter ride on with her new husband. His stomach turned in knots, but he was given no chance to mourn. There was work to do, and he would do it. Step by step, inch by inch he plowed the field until his legs were shaking with exhaustion and his sweat soaked sides felt as if they were on fire. When the sun went down he was barely able to lift his head up and didn't fight when he was tugged in directions or adjusted. It was too much effort to fight, it was too much effort to even care. Josiah did the thinking for him because his mind refused to work. He only realized they were done when the clattering chains were unhooked from the harness.

"Isaac! C'mon, boyo, get yer mule!" Josiah's voice was exhausted and Charles blinked as his young groom came trotting from the fields. "Good fella, Bucky, ya done a good job."

The hand that patted his neck was rough, but with affection behind it. Charles was too tired to even care. He didn't fight or struggle as his reins were gripped, he only turned and placidly let the boy lead him back to the stables. His hooves felt as if they weighed twice what they had this morning and he was nearly trembling with exhaustion. Not even the feel of the young jack nearly climbing all over him to unhook buckles stirred more then a snort from him as the damp harness was hauled off him and the collar pulled over his head so that he could lift his neck a bit easier.

"Good boy, yeh are a fine fella." The young jack stroked his damp bridle marked cheek as he picked up the lead. "Let's get ya some mash eh?"

Buckshot flicked his ears up and felt his own stomach and its empty state. He lifted his head a bit higher as the young slave's voice murmured things that had no meaning except sounding good as he was led back into the stable. He barely had enough energy to plunge his muzzle into the warm soothing mash bucket that was hung from his stall. He inhaled it and felt his groom stroking and brushing out his sweat soaked hide. The fur that had been flattened by the harness was brushed smooth again while he was told how good he had been and how handsome he was. It was humiliating, but the small act of kindness warmed him as he finished the last swipe of mash from the bottom of the bucket.

"Don't yeh worry, Bucky, I'll take care of yeh." The small donkey gave a buck toothed grin and gave one final stroke to his neck. "We're a team yeh an' me."

Buckshot flicked his ears back as the lad pulled his halter down so that his larger head was pressed against the slave's chest and belly. As the evening darkened the boy murmured and stroked his ears. The kindness and warmth unthawed the mule as he drifted to sleep with that gentle touch and assurance that he was taken care of. The promise that his groom was near by. His exhaustion so complete he couldn't even focus on why he should be outraged. He had his groom, he had a full belly and had plowed the field by himself. The sense of well being flowed over him, the first small step of many that would lead him into forgetting who and what he had been.