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Jockey's Day Off Costumes for Sunkit by Draconicon

It was one thing to be a winning jockey. When you brought in the money for the manager, and you kept pulling in trophies, people looked past your smaller stature and actually gave you a bit of respect. When you didn't do either of those things, when you were a loser that lost more money than you brought in, you were lucky to keep your job, let alone any respect.

John was, unfortunately, one of the latter ones. Everything he did on the track was just enough to keep his job and keep the boss's horse from falling into last place. What little pay he got was enough to keep him fed and not much else; he'd even had to take with 'rooming' with the horse he worked with, traveling in the trailer that the horse occupied, and dealing with the stink that came with it.

He could have dealt with that, however. It was part of the life of a jockey, dealing with all the horse stuff, never getting paid what he was worth, and everything else that was in his life. But there was one thing that he couldn't deal with.

"Hey, watch where you're going, tiny!"

John gritted his teeth as he watched the random dude walk by. He shook his head, looking down at the ground again as he walked on.

That was what bothered him most. Yes, his height meant that he was uniquely qualified to be a jockey. Standing no more than 4'9", he was probably one of the shorter jockeys out there, and it meant that he had a guaranteed job. However, it meant that anyone looking at him immediately seemed to discount him as anything worthwhile. The few times he'd tried to get another job, or tried to get the attention of someone else, he'd always been dismissed, and every time, it was because of his height.

The little jockey could barely stand it. He needed some way to feel better about himself, or he was going to explode. He almost wished someone else would insult him, just so he could deck the guy.

With his eyes on the ground, John couldn't see where he was going. So it was to the surprise of no one but himself when he ran into a pole.

"OW!"

He rubbed his face as he fell back, shaking his head. Looking up, he saw that the pole was much taller than the usual telephone or power line. He kept following it up and up and up, until he saw the sign at the top.

"New in Town! Jockey's Day Off, the premier shop for racers and riders who want to feel great when they're not on the job."

John shook his head at the sign.

"I'm just desperate enough to try it. So, down here...couple blocks..."

The store wasn't anything spectacular, really. The front of it was no different than the other barred up windows that he could see down the streets, and the windows were just as cluttered with knick-knacks as anywhere else. Only the sign, written in the same golden letters as the billboard, told him that he'd found the right place.

"They'd better have something."

John pushed the door open, shaking his head. The smell of leather and horses hit him hard, familiar but strong.

"Geez, I thought they wanted to give people something new to...think...about..."

Waving the smell away, John got a good look around the shop, finally. The walls were lined with various costume heads, all looking equine in appearance, and the shelves between them covered in whips, reins, and riding crops. Not the stuff that he used on the job, either, but something softer, more padded for use on things without tougher flesh.

He didn't need to see the thick dildos and strap-ons that were further down the shelves to know what he'd walked in, but they definitely confirmed the idea that he'd walked into a sex shop.

"Aaaaand with that, I'm -"

"Sorry, sorry, didn't hear you come in."

John paused in mid-turn at the voice, looking up at the sweaty little man running out from behind some curtains. The jockey really hoped that the clerk - at least, he assumed he was a clerk - hadn't been doing something kinky back there. The stranger was panting enough to make it a definite possibility.

He stopped at the door as the clerk leaned over the counter.

"So, uh, welcome to the Jockey's Day Off. What can I get you?"

"Um, nothing, thanks. I'm just gonna...go."

"What's the rush?"

"I thought...I don't know what I thought. I just wasn't looking for a sex shop."

"Oh, please, that's not all we are."

John raised an eyebrow, gesturing towards the various sex toys on the shelves. The clerk blushed.

"Okay, it's one thing that we are, but it's not the only thing. We also sell costumes, and lifts, and supplements -"

"What was that?"

"Supplements?"

"No, the one before it."

"Oh, lifts. Yes, really popular. Do you want to try some?"

"Yeah!"

"Okay, follow me."

It was almost against his will that he went to the back rooms, but the idea of having decent lifts - and if these guys knew jockeys, they knew that height was a touchy thing - was something he really looked forward to. He just hoped that they had some good ones.

They reached the back room, but rather than pulling down some shoes or supports, the clerk yanked a horse costume off of the wall. John raised an eyebrow, looking at it. It was a ridiculous costume, some large thing that should have been for two people, but modified for one.

"What's this?"

"Well, the supports are inside. I'll just -"

"Hank!"

The clerk groaned, passing John the suit.

"Sorry, duty calls. Just pull 'em out. Try the suit on, too, if you like."

John was left holding the suit, and he shook his head. I should really just go... He looked towards the door, considering it, before glancing down at the suit again.

He had always admired the horses on the track. It wasn't something he generally admitted, but he did. They were powerful creatures, and quite large. He doubted that there were any other animals that people dealt with so often that were stronger.

"I bet if I were a horse, I'd get more respect than I do now."

The idea of trying on the costume, formerly so silly, felt a little bit more reasonable. And it didn't mean he had to buy it, after all. He could just try it on and let himself enjoy it, and then give it back.

Thus committed, John pulled open the zipper in the back. Sticking a leg inside, he groaned as he realized just how big the costume was. Just the legs were almost big enough to swallow his entire body, and he knew there was no way that he could reach up to the head. It was ridiculous to try.

But there was something that pushed him to try it on anyway. Pride, maybe. He didn't know, but he knew that he needed to get the damn thing on. Pulling at it, he dragged the legs tighter until his shoes fit into the bottom, and his groin was right where it should be in the costume. With that accomplished, the arms were easy to slide into, and he just needed to pull the head over his.

It felt...strange, to say the least, to have the head on his. It completely enclosed his head, and it felt rather hot inside. John zipped up the back before he could feel too stupid to stop himself, and waited to feel better.

He didn't. If anything, he felt sillier than ever, like a little kid inside of his father's clothes. Shaking his head, he reached back for the zipper...

Only to find it was gone. His eyes went wide, patting his back, feeling for anything that might have been the zipper, but finding nothing. It was well and truly gone.

Before he could call for help, the heat inside of the costume suddenly increased. He broke out in a sweat, panting hard as he felt like he was swelling, his entire body feeling tight as well as slick and wet. He groaned, falling to all fours.

Pulse.

The costume suddenly felt less baggy. John shook his head. It had to be a hallucination.

Pulse.

Once more it seemed to shrink, the legs getting tighter around his, and less wrinkled. He looked back, and he saw that they really were tighter.

Pulse.

It wasn't just the legs. The arms of the suit were getting tighter too, and he realized the suit wasn't shrinking. If anything, he was growing. He stared in awe, shaking his head back and forth.

Pulse.

The suit fit him perfectly. The eight foot tall suit was tight along his body, and as he moved his fingers in the gloves, he swore he could feel the ground beneath him. The suit was like a second skin. It was so strange, so weirdly intimate.

Pul-CRACK!

His eyes went wide as the suit suddenly tightened along his hips, forcing them into a different alignment, and his legs likewise. His legs were pulled up, and the joints in them misplaced. Everything below his waist felt wrong, like it was not human anymore.

Pul-CRACK!

He nearly collapsed as the same sensation hit his arms, bending them around and forcing them to bend in a completely different way. His chest felt like it was swelling outwards with muscle and size, holding him up while his legs thinned down to match the strange dimensions of the suit.

Pulse. Pulse. Pulse.

As the other changes settled in, a single consistent one started. John couldn't tell how it was happening, but the floor was getting further and further away. When he turned his head, the ceiling was closer. He wasn't lifting up, wasn't moving. He...

He was growing.

The top of his head thunked against the roof, followed by his back. He had to bend his legs so that he didn't go through it, and he whinnied. He couldn't even scream, he could just whinny.

The clerk stepped back in, smiling. He reached out on tiptoe, stroking his hand over John's muzzle.

"Hey there, big guy. Don't worry; I'm sure there's a couple of horse trainers that'd be happy to have a stud like you."

It looked like he'd have respect, but not the way he wanted it.

The End