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This story was written for Serling as part of his Patreon commission reward for the month of January 2019. It contains massage and related goo-play/transformation, and also alcohol use/drunkenness related shenanigans.

A Miscalculation

Serling had been lying on the massage table, waiting for Dave to arrive for almost ten minutes. This might not have been so unusual had Serling arrived early as he sometimes did; whoever was working at reception at the time always happy to let him go and get ready before the time of his massage actually arrived if the room was free. But, on this particular day Serling had only been able to book an early morning appointment, coming here straight from his house and only arriving at the Spa with a minute or so to spare before nine-thirty, when the Spa started to offer its very first appointments of the day. The fact he was still waiting ten minutes later therefore suggested not only that Dave was running late, but that he was running late in a way that the Spa's staff did not know about. After all, had he called in sick or phoned to say that he in turn was somehow delayed they would have sent in someone else to replace him, or at the very least told Serling to expect him as soon as possible.

The coyote wondered if some people might have been frustrated by such a delay, angry at Dave or the Spa in general and ready to demand recompense in some way. Perhaps, but not him. Honestly, all he could feel in that moment was worried. He hoped that Dave was okay, and that wherever he was, it wasn't anything particularly dire keeping him away.

Thankfully, before Serling could get too worried about his massage therapist and quite honestly the man with whom he had come to feel pretty friendly with over the last couple of years, the door to the massage room in which he was waiting burst open. Dave raced in, looking rather flustered and off-balance as he did so. Steadying himself, pulling his body upright after pressing the door closed and leaning back against it for a moment, Dave cleared his throat and tried to walk across the room towards Serling. Tried being the operative word, because while the equine male definitely was able to remain on his feet, he waved considerably from side to side as he walked. Beyond that he was clearly trying to keep a neutral expression on his face, though the actual result of that was him approaching Serling with an overly toothy grin and almost insanely wide eyes.

"Heeeyyyy Serling, buddy!"

Dave placed his hands on Serling's shoulders, and squeezed gently as though beginning the first strokes of a massage right off the bat. A moment after doing so though, he doubled over with laughter, almost burying his face in the now equally wide eyed coyote's back, and whinnied in his own amusement.

"Ohhmygosh, I didn't even get the oils! Serling, I've gottatellyasomething..."

His voice slurred several of his words together, and as Dave teetered and staggered his way up the table until he was leaning awkwardly forward directly in front of Serling, face to face with the still surprised but honestly pretty amused coyote, Serling could smell the alcohol on the horse's breath.

"...but you've gotta promise me, buddy, pal, my squishy 'yote friend. You've gotta promise youwon'ttellanyone... coz, I could get in soooooo much trouble, so we've gotta keep it like... like..."

Dave pressed two fingers together tip to tip as though that made his point, then brought them to rest against his lips in kinda a sealing motion, but not really.

"Last night, therewasthispartyIwentto... and well, I was suuuuuure that I'd be sensible and a good sweet boy and just have the tiiiiniest little drink, and I totally was gonna!! But then someone bought a round. And then someone else bought one. And like, how do you turn down freedrinks? Free! That's like, better than half price! So I had more than one tiiiiiiiiny little drink... and then like... eight more. But I knew if I could get home and go to sleeeeeeeepytimes by midnight, I'd be all good!"

Dave paused as though he was just going to draw breath and then continue on, but when Serling waited in expectation of the stallion continuing there was just silence as Dave stared off into space. A vague smile lingered upon his muzzle as even while bent over with both hands now supporting himself on the edge of the massage table, he weaved slightly from left to right, like a boat restless in its moorings as the tide came in. Serling giggled, unable to help but be amused by the horse's state, and gave him a gentle prompting.

"But?"

The horse's nostrils flared, his eyes widened again, and he picked up where he'd left off like there had been no delay at all, or at the very least no memory of the delay.

"WellIkindadidgethomeandsleep... buuuuut it was a little later than midnight. Just the teensiest, tiniest, weeeeeniest bit later. Like... five thirty. But I totally slept!! And then I woke up, and it was time for me to have breakfast and shower and get ready to come into work and give you a massage just like I always do, but you'll never guess what, Serling!!"

The horse paused again, and whether or not Serling was actually meant to guess, he did so with a smirk.

"You were still drunk!"

Dave jumped up and down with a loud thud of his hooves against the wooden floor, and pointed repeatedly at the coyote lying before him like he was pointing out a lottery winner to the gaming commission.

"I was still druuuuuuuunk, Serling! Can you believe it?? Not hung over, not sobering up, still drunk ass drunk! I showered. Still drunk. I ate cereal. Still drunk. I even had to take the bus because I'maresponsiblepersonandwouldn'teverdrivewhile... y'know..."

He seemed only then to remember that he was meant to be being subtle and quiet about the whole thing, swiftly returning his fingers to his muzzle in the same manner as before as he stage-whispered at almost the same volume as before.

"...intoxicated! Under the influence. Dee arr yew enn kayyyyyyy, drunk!"

Leaping back upright with another clatter of hooves and a helpless giggle from the coyote, Dave lurched off across the room.

"Andthat'swhyIwaslatetoday! But I'm heeere now, and that means it's time to give you a massage!"

Serling peered over his shoulder as he watched the horse begin to gather his normal supplies, though rather than placing the various bottles of massage oil and scents, towels and wipes neatly onto a tray, he simply bundled it all on in a far more haphazard manner. Immediately afterwards the horse raced back over with it all, only then attempting to actually turn the bottles right side up and peer at the labels like he wasn't quite sure what each one was meant to do.

"So, you're um... you're good to do this?"

Serling felt like he had to ask the question. He wasn't upset. In fact he was feeling pretty relaxed from laughing along with Dave's drunken silliness, even though a good quarter of his hour long massage had passed without a single drop of soothing oil having been placed upon his body as yet. But, while it was one thing to see his friend and massage therapist acting so goofily under the influence, it did seem like there was a certain risk involved in letting a drunk person act upon him with chemicals which in the hands of entire sober and supposedly trained people had caused rather... well... interesting experiences for Serling on multiple occasions in the past. Closing his eyes for a moment, he remembered the time he'd ended up melting into a mop bucket at the office. He remembered the time he'd been turned into candy canes and... his face flushed at the very recollection of that particular unexpected outcome. All of those times, alcohol hadn't even been remotely involved and they'd still gone way beyond what Serling had expected of his massage.

But... then again, the coyote's blush deepened, and he giggled to himself as he mused over a rather obvious fact. If it was so risky normally, and he kept on coming back anyway, maybe that was because he sometimes had even more fun when stuff went a bit wrong. And so maybe, just maybe, a drunk Dave wouldn't be the worst thing in the world at all.

"Um, well, I mean I think I am. Butifyoudon'twantmetothenIcancallsomeone and... and then I guess I'll uh... tell my boss what's going on..."

Dave murmured to the coyote in response after having obviously zoned out in thinking about it for a little while, but before he could pose any more relatively coherent thoughts on the matter, Serling cleared his throat again. He bashfully whimpered as he shook his head, and reached out to the side of the table, picking up the bottle of what both he and Dave assumed was regular massage oil and pushing it into the horse's own hands.

"Actually, y'know, I'm sure it'll be fine. I trust you, Dave, a-and... I really wouldn't wanna get you in trouble with anyone."

All of that was true, and the coyote blushed again as Dave beamed at him, cuddling the bottle of massage oil to his chest in tender gratitude.

"Wellthat'sverysweetofyou! I promise, I swearrrr this'll be the best of all the best massages you've ever had!"

The horse replied eagerly, and Serling just smiled. He nodded reassuringly and laid down on the table once more, hoping that Dave was right. He didn't mind if it was clumsy, or if it was a little less serious and sensual in its relaxation than normal. But at the same time, he really didn't want it to be bad. These massages meant a lot to him after all, and he really did come back here because they had a measurable impact on his mood for the rest of the week until his next one, not just because he found their particular, supernaturally efficient means of relaxing him particularly pleasant. Thus a bad massage didn't just mean an hour and some money wasted. It meant a whole week of not having that boost to get through the less pleasant stuff, and so as Serling heard the familiar sound of massage oil meeting hands and hands rubbing themselves together in preparation, he was perhaps understandably a little more, rather than less than when he'd first laid himself down there what was now almost twenty minutes ago.

With Dave humming to himself, occasionally starting to sing under his breath, though so mumble-y in his attempts to do so that Serling could only make out the tune rather than any specific lyrics, the horse's hands landed upon the coyote's back. They squeezed, they moved back and forth along tense muscles. They worked massage oil into the canine male's fur and flesh and immediately applied pressure as a familiar tingling began. A tingling which suggesting that Dave had, either by familiarity or by luck, picked up the right kind of massage oil that Serling had been expecting. But the more that Dave worked, and the more Serling felt his flesh and fur beginning to soften as gasps of relief and joy escaped him, the more something amazing occurred to the coyote. He whimpered. His toes curled and his tail flicked. He shuddered and groaned as knots of tension were teased out of his body while his torso was kneaded and flattened. The rest of him meanwhile remained firm enough that it couldn't yet be balled up, thus allowing the sensations being applied to his midsection to stand in an even more stark and pleasant contrast to the rest of his solid and still tense form.

The coyote's gasps, whimpers, and wide eyed wonder all betrayed one strange but undeniable fact.

Dave had drunkenly promised Serling the best massage he had ever been given, and once again either by sheer luck or perhaps by the fact that no amount of alcohol could dull the stallion's highly honed skill when it came to massage therapy, it felt like he had been telling the truth. With Dave singing and swaying as he worked, with his hands occasionally starting to dance up and down Serling's increasingly squishy torso like he was playing an invisible piano in time with whatever music was running through his mind at that moment, Serling's eyes rolled back. He shuddered in pure, unfettered contentment at how every light-hearted prod and squeeze seemed to strike at just the right spots. He almost yelped loudly in embarrassingly intimate joy when Dave re-applied fresh oil to his hands and moved down to work on the coyote's feet. His legs were given the same treatment from the paws upward that his body had already received, leaving only Serling's solid but limp arms and his flushed, panting head at all solid and with even the slightest shreds of muscular tension within them. At that point Serling could do nothing to hold back his whimpers of elation and gratitude, and the horse picked up on that fact with none of his usual restraint.

"I always enjoy massaging you, Serling. You know, some folk get really self conscious about the sounds they make when you massage them... but you, you moan away like nobody's business and just don't care..."

Dave chuckled absent-mindedly as he kept working his hands over Serling's thighs. No matter how wide Serling's eyes bulged or how hot his face burned in utter humiliation as he was called out on his vocalisations though, there was nothing he could do to keep himself from whimpering and gasping every bit as loud as ever. The only difference now was that he was so, so much more aware of every sound he made, until before long even he couldn't help but see the silliness of just how happy he sounded, and started to giggle as Dave finally moved on from his now flattened legs to his still solid arms.

Of course, Serling's giggling proved incredibly infectious to the drunken horse, and so before long Dave was chuckling and snorting with mirth too. That in turn made Serling giggle harder and louder, and after a few minutes of both of them whimpering and whinnying with uncontrollable laughter. Finally Serling felt the horse double over and begin drumming against his flattened, squishy back with his fists in helpless, manic peals of amusement. He kept laughing along with Dave, but began to gasp and whimper all over again at how impossibly pleasant even those utterly wild impacts felt against his softened and receptive body. It felt so good in fact that Serling closed his eyes and simply tried to savour the sensation of being so thoroughly squished while having Dave's strong, shirt clad chest pressing down against him; warm and firm and ever so pleasant in an entirely different way from the drumming of the horse's fists. It felt so good and so relaxing that Serling barely even noticed when those sensations began to reduce in frequency. When Dave stopped pummelling his body in mirth, but the weight, the warmth, the pleasant touch of the drunken equine male remained.

It was only minutes later that Serling was drawn from his reverie by a strange sound which for a short while he sincerely couldn't identify, and which with only one arm and his head unflattened he was utterly helpless to look around and attempt to examine visually.

Dave shifted slightly against him once more, and Serling gasped as the sound grew suddenly muffled. All at once he felt the entirely unmistakable sensation of breath being blown out against his softened flesh at intensely close range.

He giggled, he blushed, and he whimpered all at once as yet again Dave made that sound; snoring loudly where he had seemingly fallen into a dead sleep half sprawled over the softened coyote's back.

"D-Dave?"

Serling whispered softly, knowing he should wake the stallion up, but at the same time not entirely wanting the pleasant, innocent contact between them to end as the stallion's warmth continued to soothe his already flattened, tensionless body.

"Dave I... I really should wake you up..."

He whispered again, no louder, his cheeks getting redder as he felt himself being talked out of doing so again by his own mind. Once more though the coyote did speak, but this time in a whisper that even he himself could barely hear. He spoke with a soft, contented sigh as he closed his eyes, laid down his head, and tried to rest himself just like the drunken stallion.

"...and, I will. I really will make sure you wake up, so no-one finds out about y-your... well... the way you are right now. Only... maybe, maybe just before our session is due to end, so you have a little more time to, uh... sleep it off?"

The horse murmured in his slumber, and with one arm absently gathered up a squishy pile of Serling to use as a pillow. Serling whimpered in delight, he blushed deeper still, and from that point onward for what remained of that hour long session... he didn't so much as whisper another word.

By Jeeves

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