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Revenge in Transformation: Goat

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A mini-story featuring NSFW transformation.

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Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)

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Clive gasped, clawing at his throat, twisting on the floor before the man that had knocked him down into the ditch. He stood over him, a flash of lightning illuminating the sky to his back, the dark of the night washing down in a deluge of rain. Yet the downpour was no problem at all to his assailant, his lips pressed together into a surly grimace, blood dripping down his face.

“You fucker…” He snarled. “If you’re going to act like an animal you can damn well be one then!”

And then he was gone, throwing his arms heavenward as the storm raged on, leaving Clive to deal with the consequences of getting into a fist fight on the way home from the pub. It was late but he didn’t know what time it was as he heaved and gasped, rolling in the mud, water soaking him through, though his clothes were not going to be much of a problem anymore for him. In fact, he was going to soon have fewer problems than he had ever had as a human being, even if he did not yet know it.

He felt him, too big to fit into his clothes, though the lack of breath was the most vicious of things. Clive wheezed and pounded his fist into the ground on all fours, shoulders rounding, shuddering, and then not quite shifting back into their normal position. His back rounded up and out, pushing a slight hump of definition between it and his back end, something else entirely pushing from the very base of his spine as he shrank down. The hedges were higher, the ditch deeper, and he quailed from the nightmare that so very clearly had him in its grip.

No…

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But, yes. Always, yes.

Perhaps the spell would never have been cast if he had not so infuriated a man with a few tricks up his sleeve. Maybe it would have happened to him anyway, at some point. Fate had a funny way about it.

His clothes fell limp on him, tugged tight in other places, soaked and twisted and clinging in all the wrong ways. Yet not even Clive could fail to notice how they hung around his back end. The rise of coarse hair, enough to form a layer that provided some protection from the elements, across his body was the least of it as he grunted and arched, trying to force it to stop, anything to make it stop. For his cock tingled, sinking back, the sensation of growing smaller and smaller not unlike when he softened after a randy round of sex. But, this time, it wasn’t going to stop at its natural conclusion, softening until it was nothing at all, nuts shrivelling up in its wake.

Clive may have howled but, with the thunder rolling, not a soul was going to come to his rescue.

Udders. They could only be called udders as they sank down heavily from the space between his legs, far enough forward that he thought he could walk, but his arms and legs were shrinking quickly too, his mind frantically pulled from on nuance to the next as he yearned for breath. The tightness in his lungs grew increasingly desperate, yet he never felt on the edge of blacking out, forced to live through every last sordid change as his life and his body were well and truly taken out of his hands.

Hands… No. No, he didn’t have those anymore. His fingers closed roughly into cloven hooves with a split in the middle, agile and light though not what he should ever have had for himself. It was wrong, all wrong, panic searing through him like a beam of blinding light that cut to the quick of his being. Hairier than ever (it may have been white fur but it was hard to tell as the rain plastered it flat to his hide), his head pushed out, re-shaping itself a little more delicately even as a groan sounded through his skull as two horns arched from it.

Nearly there.

Almost.

Yet he was not a goat that anyone would lavish attention on, just another farm animal that was not worthy of anyone’s attention, regardless of how they had come to be. Clive’s chest ached for breath, eyes dimming, the light of humanity fading from them as another fork of lightning slashed across the sky. Where his life had been torn in two, the rest of the world would go on, him in a shorter, chunkier stature, his udders heavy and full as if he was nursing kids even then.

There was one, final humiliation left in the absence of humanity and that was the fluff of a beard that twisted into life under his chin while his ears flopped down, coming into soft flaps that were not all that sensitive, not even by human standards. But he was not a human anymore and human standards ceased to matter as he became fully goat, a fluffy tail sticking up as if in warning, although there was nothing there that should have been any concern at all for him.

He… She. She was just a goat, after all. What could a goat on a farm have to worry about?

As a female goat, a nanny, she bleated and took a full, juddering breath into her lungs for the very first time. The rain hammered down, her ears flopping wetly against her skull, eyes dull with incomprehension. All she knew was that she was hungry, not that she had been a man before, fear seeping from her in the shelter of the ditch. She was safe there so what did she have to worry about?

Only food. She needed food.

There was plenty to graze on there, nothing to worry about. She could wait out the storm until someone came to find her and she was put back with the rest of the goats, water dripping from her beard. Chewing thoughtfully, she surveyed her little corner of the world.

Life would never be the same again.