January 23rd, 2001
  12:59pm
  Dallas, Texas
  "Welcome back from lunch, guys. Hope it was a good one, at least better than that Quarter Pounder that I had." I politely stifled a huge burp, grimacing slightly and pursing my lips, letting the stinging gas hiss out through my nose as I exhaled. Man, what was wrong with that burger, I wondered. I actually felt nauseous, and after feeding on my favorite heart-attack-in-a-sack, I hoped it would not put me off my much-loved fodder in the future, like that green onion and ham rollup incident 10 years back. Believe me, you haven't seen it all until someone near you vomits up masticated red pig meat, mashed with pungent dark green tubular bits of onion stems, coagulating in grayish cream cheese based stomach acid. 10 years and counting, and I still can't look at a rollup on a plate, let alone touch it to my lips. Shudder.
  "If you think you had trouble staying awake this morning through the chapters on FPS, y'all ain't seen nothin' yet!" I quipped in my deepest western drawl, the one I reserve for my most northern students to make sure they got a little local color while staying in Dallas. It is the least I can do, since under Yankee occupation these days, Dallas has become a suburb of Chicago, all the self respecting Texans having fled to Mesquite and Fort Worth. Happily, these latter-day carpetbaggers seem more than content to establish their self-imposed isolation from each other and Mother Nature, behind the high walls and electric gates of their '1/4 acre lot, planned communities' in Plano and Richardson. And all the while congratulating themselves on becoming a part of a 'gen-yoo-wine' remnant of authentic western culture, with their boots-as-family-room-decor, and saddle topped poolside bar stools. Between my accent, my Lucchese boots, and my beloved 100X chocolate Stetson, I was about as close to a cowboy as my students were likely to get during their two week stay. Little did they know that they were looking at not only a horseman, but a man-horse as well! Not merely the cowboy, but the cowpony too. Ah, but sadly, that was a secret that they were unlikely to ever know. Or so I thought at that moment.
  "Lets look at chapter 26, and next we are going to turn our attention to the Scheduled Processing System, or SPS as we like to call it. SPS has changed a great deal in the last 20 years, from its original concept as a utility language running under the Umbrella, into its current camouflage of a report writer... blah... blah... blah..." I lectured on, trying not to drone, my mind entering automatic mode. Don't get me wrong. I love teaching this class, but after about 80 sets of students in the last 4 years, I had my patter down so well that I could sometimes let my forebrain take over, while my hindbrain considered other contemplations. Right now hindbrain was wondering what the hell was wrong with my stomach.
  The aforementioned organ was abusing me. I could actually feel and hear it, sloshing about in agitation in my abdomen, like a cantankerous organic Insinkerator, dutifully trying its damnedest to dispose of some plastic Coke cap stupidly washed down its throat. I slowly became aware that I had stopped talking, and was, as was everyone in the classroom, staring stupidly down at my crotch. More precisely, at the outline of the huge globes hanging down inside my right pant leg. In my stupor, I swore to myself that there hadn't been anything like that there last time I looked. It's probably a good thing that I habitually wear Levis' 517 stretch dress jeans. If I hadn't, the sudden outlined appearance of two baseball sized testicles dangling between my legs would have resulted in extreme pain, or a split pair of pants and extreme pain. As it was, the material was stretched to the limit, clearly outlining two spheres, one above the other, and leaving only such attributes as skin color and hairiness to the imagination.
  "Ahhoooooouuuuu..." escaped my lips softly, as my balls (yes they were indeed that, dictated by every measure my brain could interpret) gave up that dull ache that only a male can know and understand but can never accurately describe. I bent over and knocked-kneed my legs, searching for every last bit of room in my confinement. Everyone sat there silently as though stupefied, mouths and eyes agape, some brows furrowed with fear, some with shock, and others with humorous curiosity.
  Nancy, the class clown, cliched "Are you planning to play racquetball after class, or are you just glad to see me?"
  I looked up, the shock my mind was trying to cope with clearly visible on my face. My mouth hung open while I tried to comprehend what she had just said. I never had the chance to answer back before I doubled over in pain and hit the floor on hands and knees.
  Not searing agonizing pain, but rather a cramping, bent out of shape ache that clamped into my intestines and onto my crotch and made me wish I could fold in two. The grip of it made me grimace and hold my breath. Gradually, over the next 60 seconds or so, I could feel my penis swelling up. Now, I am not speaking of an erection. There was nothing erotic feeling about it at the time, and it is only in replaying the memory of that minute that my brain finds such enormous excitement in it. All my focus was locked onto my dick and balls. My nerves reported that it was getting longer and wider at the same time. There was also an electrically charged twitching in the skin above the root and all along its length, just like the prickling in a limb that has gone to sleep. That was maddening. But the stronger pain was being caused by the fact that my expanding stiffening cock was bent down my right leg with my already straining balls, and it wanted insistently to stand up along my abdomen. My pants were denying that need. The material outlined an elongating and thickening shaft slithering its way down my leg right next to the globes already trapped there.
  Rolling quickly to my back, I fumbled wildly for my belt and zipper, trying to get my pants open ASAP. I forgot my watching students in my self-centered world of throbbing alarm. Whipping my buckle open I yanked my waistband apart, making the zipper live up to its onomatopoetic name as it parted its teeth with protest. Sticking my thumbs into the band of my pants and the elastic of my black boxers, I wiggled across the floor trying to get them away from my crotch. I need not have struggled so hard for at the next thrust of my legs, the entire crotch of my pants seemed to vanish, taking with it my zipper, waist band, belt and favorite Montana Silversmiths belt buckle, all the way around to the pockets and their contents in back. My wallet, comb, change, nail clipper, everything, including the precious gift that Master had given me when he took ownership 2 years before. His Avatar that had for all that time ridden secretly in my left front pants pocket. All gone. Somewhere. Even the front of my shirt and half my tie disappeared. At the same instant, a rush of tingling energy, heat and electricity combined, crawled twitchingly towards my crotch making my skin jump and shiver like a low voltage shock. None of these facts interrupted my concentration on the events of the moment though. With a blast of exhaled breath that I was not aware that I was holding, I collapsed panting on my back on the floor.
  With its restraints suddenly dissolved, my penis whipped free. It arced upward through the air towards my face and hit my abdomen with a wet and meaty plop, and laid there, an impossibly huge and alien colored and shaped tube of flesh that did not belong to me. Yet my nerves testified that it did indeed. They swore under oath that this was my penis lying there. I could feel the ardent dampness of it, its startling weight; it's pulsating length all the way up my stomach. Simultaneously I could feel the irritating tickle of the hair from my abdomen brushing the top of the shaft and glans. There was no denying that this pink and black mottled tubular rod, as thick as my forearm and mushroom ended, was now mine, rooted as it was between my thighs. The skin of my scrotum however, was still pink and shiny, almost transparent in fact as it stretched heroically to its limits around its lately expanded contents. Apart from the sudden appearance of this pristine set of genitals and the obvious absence of some of my clothing, everything else about me seemed the same.
  The attention of my staring eyes was torn away from this sight by a loud thump from the back of the room. Pam was out of her chair and had backed up short against the supply cabinets, a look of near hysteria on here gaping face. I gaped back and shook my head in shock. Bruce vehemently whispered, "Jesus Christ". Everyone was standing and craning to see over the PC terminals. Every face I could see was distorted in a combination of astonishment first, some then overlaid with disgust, or fear, or concern depending on the person.
  Brian, silent introverted soft-spoken Brian, my least participative student sitting on the aisle in row 2, fell forward from his chair to his hands and finally contributed to the class. With a wrenching gag, he vomited his lunch onto the carpet. Even though I am not an empathic vomiter like my sister is, I rolled to my side and joined him.
  I can't bear throwing up. I have loathed it since I was a child and did it so often. I would rather be in pain than be sick to my stomach. And I don't mean the good kind of pain that I enjoy in a flogging or bondage session with Master either. I mean the real thing. But this time, as my lunch of Quarter Pounder with cheese and a small fry put in their final public appearance, my whole body was awash in relief. The sandwich, however, was something the worse for wear. It only has occurred to me these later days that I will never be bothered by vomiting again, for reasons that became clear with time.
  But once my stomach was emptied, the relief was so fresh and pure that I felt rejuvenated. It was as though my body had disposed of something dangerously toxic, and I had escaped an unrecognized hazard. I rolled and relaxed onto my back closing my eyes with a sigh and a cough to clear my throat, frowning only from the retched and acidic taste left in my mouth.
  Nancy was the first to speak. She came to my side and knelt by my head. She touched my forehead to test my temperature and in a concerned voice she asked, "Are you ok?" She pulled the strands of my disheveled ponytail off my face and out of my mouth.
  I looked up at her angelic concern and nodded. "I'm feeling better anyway" I answered, a tear, not of sadness but of physical strain from the violence of my abdominal contractions, dripped into my left ear. "Somebody see about Brian," I instructed.
  She tried to focus her attention on my face, but her eyes were inexorably pulled back to the sight of my prodigious penis. So was everyone else's, including mine. I swallowed hard and tried to clear my throat. Pushing with my elbows I levered my back up so that I could look down at my crotch. What I saw was so alien looking that I could not believe my own senses; alien, but not unfamiliar. I knew this dark dappled monster. I had seen it in my most vivid dreams. I even had a .JPG of it. It was my favorite horse cock. Last year an old friend on the Equine lovers mail group had sent me a photo of a stallions dropped and fully extended penis just before he was bred. For some reason, I had fallen in love with that picture. I had often enough seen other photos like it, and was familiar with the real living thing as well from my times on horseback. But this one spoke to me, so to speak. The colors of it, and its conformation were so handsome, and I had often stared at it hoping that when the day came and genetic manipulation would be a reality, that I would be blessed with a tool exactly like it. Weird, huh? And now, suddenly, there it was not only in front of me, but part of me. My mind did not even pause to ask unanswerable questions. Not yet anyway. There was no time for that, for further developments were beginning as we watched.
  There was a sharp tingling around my testicles. It was rather unpleasant to tell the truth, and I gritted my teeth in a grimace. I didn't like what I was feeling, and yet I didn't know what I could do about it. In pain I rolled oven on my stomach intending to get up, and I was immediately rewarded when the pain stopped. I pushed myself up onto my hands and knees and looked down between my arms. The first thing I noticed was that there was a small hole in the carpet tiles. The next thing of note was the further change between my legs.
  My new penis was no longer nakedly visible as it had been. Now in its place was a soft and pliable tube of skin, that attached itself to my abdomen from above where my navel used to be, which ran down to my crotch where it melded perfectly with the new skin of my scrotum. Much roomier than the old one, this new sac let its contents drop and sway smoothly back and forth bumping gently against my mid thighs. Staring at what were undeniably my genitals was not proof enough. I lifted my left hand off the floor and fearfully, I readily admit, I reached to touch them. Eyes and brains can play you false. Your hand may be temporarily fooled, but it will never lie. I felt the touch twice simultaneously, the personal confirmation of reality. My fingers felt warm, supple, living softness, wholly unlike any part of my so familiar body. My sheath felt gently probing manipulations through inexperienced nerve networks, which lent an effervescent energy to the sensation. Breathlessly I whispered, "Dear God. It's happening" and I gripped a handful of that skin and held on.
  For as long as I could remember, I had wanted to be a horse. Some of my earliest memories were of playing Cowboys and Indians with my friends on Westwood Drive in Flint, Michigan. Everyone wanted to be either of the game's namesakes, but not me. I wanted to be a horse; anybody's horse. A brave and noble servant of a cavalry peacemaker; or a fierce bareback Indian war pony, painted with sacred and protective colors to match my rider; or a tempestuous free mustang racing the wind across the grasslands, one hoof ahead of the humans trying to catch me (which they always did, much to the joy of the part of me who even to this day likes to be hobbled and harnessed). Or even the hard-working but unnoticed member of the stagecoach team, thundering down the Overland Trail on the way to golden lands in the west. As long as I had hooves, a mane, and a tail, I was happy to serve. As an adult, my childhood fantasies had taken a turn into reality, and 'pony play' as we call it had become one satisfying method of sexual and psychological self-expression.
  As a child, my deepest desires were to become an actual four-legged horse. All hooves, no digits. Four long legs, instead of 2. Gender hadn't really occurred to me then. I remember thinking in terms of stallion, but that was only because Trigger was one, and I was a one-child Trigger fan club. As I grew, and sexuality became a concern, stallion was the only possible option. No mare for this boy, I didn't care how pretty Buttermilk was. Somewhere along the line, I began to realize that I was unwilling to go all the way and be a four-on-the-floor. Two-would-do for me. I didn't want to lose my hands. They were just too... well, handy. And I was good at using them too. More importantly, my mind became my greatest possession, and the thought of trading it in for a species equivalent became the ultimate horror. As a result, my internal image changed to what I discovered was called anthropomorphic. I was very late in finding this out, and it was only after finding Master and His introducing me to mucking on Tapestries, that my understanding was completed. Just as I'd thought I was the only boy interested in other boys, so I had thought I was the only male mammalian bipedal hominid who knew he should have been a male mammalian bipedal equine. Then I found the TSA and the TSA List and I realized just how parochial my vision had been. My, how immature I still was at 49.
  Now, there I was holding in my hand a living symbol that wishes do come true. So why was I so damned terrified? My throat was so dry that my breathing rasped. I could feel my heart racing so fast that my head felt dizzy. My whole body was shaking and sweating with fright and I didn't know why. I could smell my own fear, a description that I had often read but never actually believed. I stank with it. It was pungently acidic and it burned my mucus membranes, and recognizing it for what it was made me almost panicky.
  As I type this in retrospect, I know exactly where my dread was entrenched: the change I lived and prayed for daily was happening. But exactly how far was it going to go? There were two sharply different possibilities. One, that I was about to become my most treasured dream, Equus Erectus Sapiens, the Wise Bipedal Horse. The cells of my being knew this shape, and needed little impetus to assume it. Or two, Equus Caballus, the common (please excuse the term) horse. Smart and resourceful, but hardly wise and innovative, and certainly handicapped physically. I was in terror of the unknown and the losses I stood to suffer.
  Pain brought my mind back into focus. Unconsciously I had been wrenching at the skin dangling from my abdomen, hurting myself by my own hand. My sheath was red and scratched from my own insentient attack. I sat up and back on my heels, kneeling on the floor, and tried to calm myself by reciting a mantra that I have often used in times of stress. "The true gentleman is the man whose conduct proceeds from goodwill and an acute sense of propriety, and whose self control is equal to all emergencies..." Equal to all emergencies. Here was one now, shrieking for attention, but was I self controlled enough to handle it?
  The sight of me kneeling in what was left of my pant legs and shirt, with my new-minted stallions genitals attached seamlessly to my belly and dangling low between my legs, was all that Brian and Pam could take. He grabbed his brief case and walk-ran out the door with Pam on his heels with one hand over her mouth to stifle her sobbing. Everything was happening so rapidly that I felt unable to think of what to do next.
  Nancy said quietly, "I'm calling 911," and stood up to leave. I grabbed her arm to stop her.
  "Unless the paramedics carry a paravet with them, that wo'nt do any good," I countered. "I know what is happening. I just don't know why or how this will end. But I am certain that by the time they get here, they won't find a man anymore. At least not a male human at any rate. And I'd rather not have to deal with them right now. Or anybody else for that matter. So if you guys don't mind, I'm canceling the rest of the class for today. I've got to be alone for a while to think this out..." I said, putting both hands on my head to steady it.
  As I was saying this, my head had begun to spin dizzily. As in vertigo, not around on my neck like Regan in The Exorcist. Suddenly I felt as if I was starving to death too. As if I hadn't eaten for days. I fell sideways off my knees and landed on my rump with a thump. Then there came again that rush of tingling energy, heat and electricity combined, crawling twitchingly towards my crotch, but this time across my butt from the top of the gluteal crease all the way to the steel ring in my perineum. I could feel my butt muscles jumping against the floor in galvanic reaction. This shock went for a much longer than the first one, perhaps 60 seconds or so, although it seemed like hours at the time. When it stopped at last, I was panting for breath and drenched with sweat everywhere. But the first thing I noticed was that I was in pain again, this time from my ass.
  I rolled sideways away from the hurt and onto my left hip, causing my large testicles to roll off my lap and bounce with a jerk. "Oh, man, this is getting too damned weird!" Bruce shouted pointing behind me. "What the hell is that?"
  I looked over my shoulder at my butt. At the top of my crack was attached an appendage of naked pink flesh about 12 inches long with a tapering stubby end. As I looked at it, it raised itself up and swung in my direction. I swallowed to wet my throat. "That's my tail," I told him. "Or rather it's going to be when the hair starts growing." I reached back to feel it, out of habit I guess. It felt as real as any part of me ever had, but I found that I couldn't move it voluntarily. I hoped that I would be able to eventually. It moved around with a mind of its own, swinging back and forth quite rapidly as if it was wagging happily. I noted that the skin covering the shape of my gluteus muscles was of a different texture than the rest of me. Larger pores were apparent, and the muscles themselves were bigger and differently shaped. I moved my hand from my tail stump down the right side of my ass. My tail whipped up as far as it could manage in a helpful manner. Under my tail, I could see that I now had a new anus as well. I have been called a horse's ass before. Now it appeared that I really was one, or rather, had one. The dusky roseate pucker of the sphincter muscle showed clearly at the base of my tail. It had moved out from between my cheeks and positioned itself much closer and more open than a human's -- like a horse's, in fact. It was also huge by comparison to my previous one. As a gay man, my favorite way making love is anal sex. Well, one of my favorite ways. Obviously there would never be a size problem in that regard after this.
  Looking beyond my butt I saw that more of the carpeting had dissolved or evaporated or whatever. My panic was subsiding as my curiosity began to increase. There is one absolute rule that I have learned as a career data processor: there is no such thing as a coincidence. Every time something strange or unexpected happens, there is a quantifiable reason why. Every effect has a cause, whether you want to admit it or not. This disappearing carpet and clothes trick was a good one, but it couldn't be magic. Even the changes to my body had to have an explanation. My mind tentatively decided that the missing material was not missing, but rather was the victim of mass conversion. There is no doubt that the changes that had happened to me had resulted in increased mass. As big as I liked to tell everyone my penis and testes had been, even in my active imagination they had been nowhere near as large as the massive genitals I was growing accustomed to now. The extra mass must have come from the objects I was in touch with at the time. "Don't anybody touch me. Stay away in case I'm contagious or dangerous or something. I think I'm absorbing material when the changes happen and I wouldn't want you to get hurt the next time. I'm ok right now, really," I said in a quavering voice. "I really just want to go and lie down for a while and think this out. I'm asking you to keep this a secret, as a favor. I don't think it will be for long in any case, but I've got to get hold of myself and try to prepare somehow for what's happening. I don't know what to tell you about the rest of the class. Just call the office tomorrow and they will tell you what to do." I stood up, and the legs of my pants slid down and bunched around my boots like some old time silent comedy jape. I looked so stupid standing there that if I had been less frightened I would have laughed out loud. As it was, I picked up my briefcase and walked unsteadily out of the room towards my class wing office, with my scrotum bouncing right and left against my thighs like some living tennis ball. My office was behind a badge secured door, and I knew I would have some privacy for a while, since mine was the only class in session that week.
  I flopped into my chair, hurt my tail, and jumped up again. Then I thought better of it anyway and lay on the floor to think. The only issues on my mind at the time were selfish thoughts such as, what is happening, and why, and how far is going to go. What will I be when the changes stop. The larger implications to my life, responsibilities, relationships, and to humanity, never even crossed my mind. Damn! This is not how I had imagined it was going to happen at all!
  No, no, now wait a minute. There was one thing that was exactly right; the order of the changes. Every story I had ever written, every dream I had ever slept, every masturbation session I had ever creamed, had always begun with these extensive changes to my cock and balls. Also, I had to remember that the structure, the color, the size and look of my genitals right then were also exactly as I had imagined them to be. Exactly. Right down to the all black shaft with the pink saddle shaped marking on the upper side just behind the glans ridge. Not only that, but the changes had always proceeded to a tail being next. What did that mean then? Anything? Nothing? I searched my memory to see what was 'supposed' to happen next. As I designed it, the changes proceeded steadily up my torso, and down my legs, with equal amounts of internal and external changes occurring simultaneously. The last changes were always my feet changing into hooves. I always saved the best for last, for having hooves on my legs had always been the most desirable physical change, the hottest fantasy, and the most frightening one.
  Again, what did it all mean? I felt a little better for realizing that I seemed to be living out my own paper wet dreams in the real world. If I was right, I knew where I was headed, and what I would be like when I got there. How long, I wondered, would it take? Now, there was a departure. The changes I had experienced were happening far more swiftly than I had allowed in my plans. I had always thought that for realism, a body couldn't simply change in a flash without some sort of unrealistic catalyst, such as the introduction of magic in the equation. I wanted it to happen for real so hard that I tended to reject anything the strayed too far from the realities of physics as we knew them.
  Sitting up, I looked at my watch. 1:10? That's all the time that had passed since lunch? I was struck with the thought of just how quickly a life and all that it encompasses can be changed. Thinking it out now, I realize that 10 minutes or so might as well be an eternity. Life can change from one heartbeat to the absence of the next. I was living my changes in tectonic slow motion by comparison.
  Shaking my head at my own narrow-mindedness, I began to feel the vast emptiness in my stomach and bowels again. Hunger so cavernous that I could feel the energy draining out of my body while I sat there. Closing my eyes I took a deep breath and let it out. Silently I repeated the invocation of my Master's love to center myself before the next shock would hit me. Only a moment later, everywhere that I had already changed began to prickle with energy again. It was almost more than I could stand, and I grunted with the effort of making myself endure it. It didn't hurt exactly. It was like a severe and ruthless tickling. Looking down at myself thru squinted eyes, I could see as well as feel my hair follicles go into frantic overproduction. As I watched, a girdle of chocolate brown began to spread across my abdomen and around my hips. The skin of my scrotum and sheath took on a softer look of creamy buff. The intense tickling on my tail stump told me without looking that its nakedness would soon be covered as well. My mind's eye told me what it would look like, and I resolved not to look until the change had completed, just to see if I was right. This was a long one too. A couple of minutes later at least, the process dwindled to a stop. This time, there didn't seem to be any missing material around me, but dear God was I hungry and exhausted. I almost crawled to my desk where I always kept a box of Wheat Thins for a healthier snack. It was a new box, and as I nearly ripped it apart to get inside, the delicious smell of them made my mouth salivate so much I actually drooled down my chin. I'm snacking on a few right now as I write this. I still love them.
  Well, I stuffed nearly the whole box down my throat before I began to feel any better. I decided that if I was going to get though this, I needed fuel, and plenty of it. My vision of myself was twenty-two hands in height, which is something like 7 feet, and that's a lot bigger than my original 5' 6" frame. If I didn't want to look like some equine scarecrow, I had to get some more input. Without leaving the building though, I had limited choices. The snack machine would provide some of course, and then there was the rest of my clothing if I could figure out how to go about consuming it. It seemed that all I needed to do was be touching something when the change hit, and it became a part of me.
  A part of me. I was suddenly struck with grief at the loss of Master's gift to me. I hadn't really lost it, it was a part of me somehow... but He had given it to me to care for in His absence, and now I would not be able to return it to Him should He ever require it. It had also become so much a part of my daily life that considering the idea of not being able to touch it, its comforting symbology in my pocket whenever I wanted to, was heartbreaking. After all, since early in 1999, it had not been away from my body more than a few feet, and usually it was in direct contact with me. I knew that it was a treasure of His, and I worried that His joy in my transformation would be degraded by its loss.
  But wait a second! If I were changing, wouldn't that mean that He would be too? After all, we both shared the desire to transform. We both mucked as anthro-stallions. We both wrote stories about it and waited in faith that genetic therapy would be available during our lifetimes that would grant our fondest desire. Wow! What a fantastic thought! I had to find out immediately. With shaking fingers, I dialed His number and waited impatiently. When I got His answering service, I sighed in disappointment. But at least I could alert Him to what was happening. At the beep, I rushingly explained my situation and asked Him to call me as soon as He got my message. I tried to make it sound like I was only excited and not worried at all, but I knew the shaking in my voice would tell Him otherwise. He always could read me like a book. I think somehow He knew me better than I did myself. He still does. It's almost psychic the way He sees into me.
  As I hung up the phone, I realized that I should have done something about food before I called Him. The unpleasant electricity had begun to build again. This time it seemed to center in my thighs, from my hips down to my knees. I wished I had a camera. Someone else should see it beside myself. The musculature and bone structure of my legs began to shift and flow in an almost liquid motion. The bones were lengthening certainly, but the size and shape of the muscles was the most drastic alteration. They grew massively thick from front to back, and yet somehow flatter in cross section. I gingerly pulled the remaining material of my pant legs upward, worried still about how selective this conversion could be in its choice of input. The cloth was jerked from my fingers and as I watched, it seemed as though it melted right into my skin. I felt a rush of energy as it happened, and decided that when this session was over, I would be better prepared with more offerings the next time. I could feel the carpet dissolving under my legs right down to the concrete floor, but there it stopped. I don't know why, but perhaps the fuel had to be somehow fibrous, or metallic, or even a product of living nature to start with before it was acceptable. Concrete is none of these after all. The result was what appeared to be the fully formed upper leg of a horse was attached at the knee to an otherwise human leg. Even the hair had grown in at the same time. I remember thinking, it's accelerating. I tried my new legs and discovered that I was already several inches taller. However, I found that I couldn't completely straighten out my legs anymore. The hip joint didn't seem to want to work that way. This made my worries of a total horse conversion come back, but then I remembered that all the furry pics of anthro-equines had that look of being very slightly stooped at the waist. These drawings, especially the ones by my muck-mate and old friend Steed, had helped form my self image, so the new change was probably right on target.
  In any case, I realized that what was happening was no more in my control than my body was when Master had it bound to the Maltese cross in the dungeon. Someone was making the decisions for me now. I was used to surrendering my will, body, and mind to Him. It became suddenly easier then to surrender to the fate that was controlling me at that moment.
  I walked cautiously to the snack machine, feeling like I was always going to topple forward. My center of gravity had shifted forward from where it used to be. Using money from the drawer of my desk, I selected things that I thought might give the most amount of energy rather than bulk. Apparently the carpet could provide all the bulk I might need. I practically poured 2 bags of Skittles into my stomach, and immediately felt better for it. Then I noticed the bags of trail mix. Wow, did they look delicious! I imagined I could suddenly smell them from inside the machine, and hastily dropped a few bags. Man, were they great! Especially the raisins. They were so sweet, they could have been candy themselves.
  Chewing with my mouth open because it was too full, it occurred to me that I hadn't seen my own tail yet. So I tried to look over my shoulder to see how it had turned out. I got two surprises at once then. It was beautiful, blond, and long. It swayed gently as I turned to try to see it. I still couldn't consciously move it so I tried to get a better look by bending over and looking between my legs. It hung there full and wonderful, longer than the tail I had Buck make for me. The hairs were just as coarse though, but it was so long and full that the coarseness wasn't even noticeable. I fell in love with my own tail. And while I stood there adoring it, my penis put in its next appearance. I had the perfect view of it, as it swelled my sheath and inched its way outward. It parted the pursed end and the head of it slid into view. This excited me even more and soon the entire length of it was exposed before my eyes. I decided that masturbation would be a very interesting experience, but that this was not the time for it.
  Standing back up, now with a black pole jutting out of my groin, I continued to dump edibles into my gut until I ran out of money. Going back to my office, I resolved to simply wait, and try to help the process instead of fight it. Almost as if reading my thoughts, the tingling began again, this time around my waist and lower back. Will, here comes your barrel boy, I thought to myself. But I was still scared, and the fear made my sexual excitement, and my penis, vanish like carpet under my butt. As before, the intense prickling took my breath away, or rather made me hold it in, as it proceeded very rapidly up my abs, across my pecs, and up my back. My spine seemed to creak and click as it lengthened, while my torso widened and bulked up in the shoulders. But the change didn't stop when I thought it should have. The upward motion ceased at my neck, but turned sideways and started down my arms. Here it comes, I thought. The question of whether you are going to be anthro or equine will soon be answered.