In The Center Ring
#25 of Grant and Grace
"We want a mascot. You want to be famous. It's a perfect arrangement."
"Henrikson is a complete moron! I can't believe he pulled that on me." You shout to your cringing best friend passenger.
"I know, I know." Jorge groans. "But dude you were awesome. You did so good." His earnest smile and encouragement do nothing to quell your vexation.
"Thanks." You offer "But you know what I'm saying right?"
"I know it's frustrating--" He replies.
"Yeah, it's really frustrating." You add. Jorge frowns as he endures the tirade once more. "I've been practicing that routine multiple times a day for two weeks. You know that. That's why I've barely seen you. I was ready to go and Henrikson yanked me and put me in the rear. Frickin' Paul Woodrow."
"Heee was pretty terrible..." Jorge comments
"Right. He danced like... like everyone's hammered aunt at a wedding. Paul is an awful dancer, but Henrikson gave him the spotlight position." You spit.
"Well Drew," Jorge begins, "Do you think he's trying to push you? You know? Like really make you earn the front position? You said Henrikson likes you. He's probably trying to give you incentive to really improve. Not that you're not great already." You shrug and sigh. Despite the fact that your troupe won the dance competition you are depressed.
"If that is what he's doing he is a dummy." You joke, managing to elevate your mood a bit.
"Haha, yeah." Jorge laughs.
"I just want to be big, you know?" You say "Huge. I want to be a pro, but to get there I'm going to need to be front position. No one's going to scout me if I'm in the back row. I mean maybe you're right. Maybe I just need to try even harder." Jorge smiles and turns his attention to the zooming landscape out the window. Feeling impassioned you over-dramatically sing "I wish I was in the spotliiiiight." And you blink.
Upon opening your eyes from that nigh-instantaneous blink you find yourself hovering in a wholly lifeless and lightless void. The dashboard of your car and the suburbs beyond the windshield are gone. And so completely gone that you are scared you have lost consciousness or worse, crashed. The blackness is so complete that you can't see the tip of your nose or anything else for that matter. You are alarmed to find that you can't feel your arms and legs, or in fact and part of your body. You scream, or, you attempt you scream. You can't feel your mouth and the sound fails to travel through the nothingness. You flail helplessly.
You are freed from this terrifying state quickly, yet by degrees. In your ineffectual scrambling you begin to hear whispers. They originate in a wide circle on your present 'horizon.' The voices increase in volume while you begin to feel your body once again. With your whole body tingling as though recovering from numbness you find that you are standing. You swagger dumbly, too stunned to shout. Though you are unsure if your shout would be heard. The whispers have become an excited din, undeniably that of an audience. You hear footsteps approaching as you gain full control of your body once again.
"Huh? Who's there? What's going on?" You ask. You thought you were being loud, but your voice is nearly drowned by the presently invisible crowd.
"There he is." A voice whispers directly into your ear. You stumble away as it continues. "Just play along kid." You wheel around continuously looking for the owner of the voice or any glint of light.
Suddenly there is light. An array of lights, focused and blinding, are trained on you. You quickly cover your eyes and cringe. Between the loud audience and the sudden brightness your senses are totally overloaded. You stagger as your eyes slowly adjust.
"Is everyone ready for the main attraction!?" The same voice which had whispered into your ear booms through dozens of speakers around the space. The audience roars in reply. You squint and learn that you are in some kind of tent. Brightly colored and well lit. You are evidently in a circus tent and judging by your sudden appearance in the center ring you fear that you are the main attraction. Finally accustomed to the bright lights you examine your immediate vicinity. Upon turning around you find the apparent ringleader facing the audience. Something about his posture is unsettling.
As if sensing your stare the ringleader wheels around and looks directly into your eyes. Your predictions about his identity were correct. You stumble backward in shock. The ringleader, dressed in a bright red, patterned coat and white jodhpurs, is not a human, but an anthropomorphic dog. A white bull terrier, tall and moderately muscular, his naked chest peaks from beneath the coat. On his face is a wicked grin which nearly extends to his completely black eyes.
"Ahh! Geez, what are you?!" You ask. Your voice, projected by some unseen microphone, is heard by all in attendance.
"I am... The Mystical Mad Granter!" He announces. The crowd applauses excitedly.
"You, huh?" You stutter while backing away from the demonic-looking canine. "Where am I?"
"I am an all-powerful wish-granting being!" The dog explains while raising his hands triumphantly; evidently enjoying being a showman. "I heard through the extradimensional grapevine that you wish to be 'in the spotlight' is this true?" He asks.
"I, yeah I guess--" You begin before being cut off by the Granter.
"Yes of course. Now being the kind-hearted and generous dog that I am I decided to make you into my humble circuses new mascot! How does that sound?" He explains while parading around the center ring. You suddenly feel trapped. You don't know where you are or how you came ot be there, but there is an oppressive character about the entire situation. You want to run, but are sure you would be stopped, presumably by whatever force teleported you in the first place. You shy away from the dog at every turn.
"That's um, very nice Mad Granter but I kind of wanted to be in the spotlight for dancing." You meekly explain. The audience boos in response. You cower.
"Drew that's nonsense. Do you know how popular the B.A. Jackass circus is?" You are stunned not only by the dog's knowledge of your own name but by the ludicrous name of the circus. You bite your lip to hold in the nervous laughter. He continues "You're going to be famous!"
You hold up your hands in protest. "No thanks, really. I should probably get home." You begin to walk out of the ring. "Thanks for the offer, bu--"
"Donkyuu!" He shouts causing you to freeze mid-step. The audience applauds at the name. You turn to see the dog pointing savagely at you. "I'm afraid I can't take no for an answer. You are going to be our mascot whether you like it or not." You reel away from him in confusion.
"How did you know that name?" You ask. The dog ignores you as he turns to the crowd. He opens his arms wide.
"Audience, tell him!" The crowd explodes with applause. Grant turns gloating toward you. "The crowd has spoken Drew. I am going to make an ass out of you." You've fallen to the ground and are backing away. You raise your hand in protest.
"Wait, what are you talking about?!" You shout.
"And heeerree we go!" Grant says while snapping his fingers. The crowd oohs.
The arm which was outstretched has been transformed. You are instead looking down a shiny, translucent limb which ends in a big, rounded hoof instead of a hand. You bend it squeaking toward yourself in disbelief. Above the hoof are two black, wristband-like markings. This is intriguing because these markings match those of your donkey fursona whose name the Mad Granter had announced moments earlier. When you understand Grant's plan you are terrified. The squishy, rubbery appendage before you only frightens you further. You hold it out with your other warm which has likewise transformed.
"Ahhhh! My arms... my hands. What did, what did you do?!" You shout. The throng of watchers laughs.
"Come on Drew, donkeys don't have hands. If you're going to be our mascot you have to look the part. It is honestly a coincidence that you happen to have a donkey as an alternate persona so I figured I'd make use of him. Haha." Grant stands with his hands on his hips watching as you prod and pull your plastic, inflated arms. You have sensation, but the arms feel light and distant. You are aware of both the air filling you and the pressure it causes on the plastic skin. While you can bend your arms at the elbows your hooves are immobile and useless.
Before you can adjust to this change Grant poses and snaps twice causing your legs to change. With a steady hissing your pants expand. You aren't in pain, but the shock is traumatizing enough. You grab at your legs to find they are already soft and squishy. *Trrshh* Strained by the inflation your pants split before falling away completely. You're left nude from the waist down. You instinctively cover your crotch before slowly realizing that there is nothing to cover. You look down to find, as expected, two reverse-jointed legs with goofy, cartoonish hooves. And after slowly removing your hand-hooves from your crotch you find only shining creases of plastic where your manhood once was. You look up at Grant mouth agape. The dog only grins before turning again to the crowd.
"What do you think huh? Looking good so far?" He asks. The crowd cheers in response. A couple of noisy hecklers begin 'hee-haw-ing.' You shrink and cover your face with an inflated hoof which unfortunately, given its see-through material, doesn't succeed in hiding you very well. You decide that you would preserve some dignity by standing instead of cowering on the ground and so decide to try to stand up. With some careful balancing you totter onto your feet-hooves. They are strange to stand upon. The feeling is similar to standing upon a soft pillow, but in this case the 'pillows' are your own inflated donkey legs and hooves. At one point you stumbled backward and fell onto your butt which caused a wave of laughter to your embarrassment.
"Whoops. Better get used to those hooves Donkyuu, haha." Grant chided.
Eventually you rise to your hooves and stand swaying. You are presently an odd creature with brown, inflated limbs with hooves yet still possessing a solid human torso and head. Though The Mad Granter soon remedies this with another snap of his fingers. Your torso balloons outward, particularly around the stomach. Your skin takes on a brown hue and you watch as it becomes shiny and clear. Your insides, impossibly, cease to be leaving you with a hollow plastic belly containing nothing but air. On your abdomen precisely where your bellybutton was seconds before is a nozzle, presently closed, which can presumably be used to inflate you further.
"S-s-stop! This isn't what I wanted." You beg.
"We want a mascot. You want to be famous. It's a perfect arrangement." Grant states before preparing to snap again. "Last one! Ready?!" He asks the crowd as much as yourself. The audience applauses and brays.
"Wait wait!" You shout as the dog's fingers snap for the final time. You press your hooves to your face as it transforms. Firstly your mouth extends and, naturally, inflates. All you see is the bulbous, pink top of your muzzle extending. Your teeth become soft nubs and your throat uncomfortably becomes plastic. Then your two front incisors extend further, nearly past your chin. With your tongue you feel the backs of the cartoonish, huge buck teeth.
"Yikes, looks at those big donkey teeth." Grant jokes. The crowd again laughs cruelly at your goofy face. You are thankfully distracted by your hair dwindling and disappearing. You are left instead with a plastic brown 'mane.' Then your ears change shape squeaking audibly. You feel them extend and extend, almost beyond the reach of your hooves. They droop as soon as they are formed. You do not feel your eyes or skull change, but you decide this is to your benefit. Though you can tell the transformation is complete when upon flapping your jaw your whole face squeaks. You look down at your rounded and shiny body in disbelief. Shaking your head your ears flop back and forth. Grant, momentarily disregarding the crowd, is watching you avidly. The audience for its part gets a laugh out of seeing your confused fumbling and ridiculous buckteeth.
"Everyone I am overjoyed to present the brand new mascot of B.A. Jackass circus Donkyuu!" Grant shouts. Hollers and applause follow.
"No.... no.... no." You feel yourself over. Your whole body is soft and awkward. You naturally don't weigh very much so it's hard to walk. When you see the evil dog's turned back your feelings of indignation are inflamed. You stomp toward him as much as you are able. Though your anger sorely undermined by your cuddly features and the squeaks your hooves make with every step. "Hey Granter!" You shout while pointing a defiant hoof. The dog ignores. "Hey! Heeeey-HAW!? Hee-haw-hee--" You descend into a fit of braying. As you struggle to control yourself the Mad Granter slowly turns around. The audience dies of laughter at your uncontrollable paroxysm. The dog himself holds back tears.
"I'm sorry, what was that? Pffff ha ha." The dog gives in and laughs, pointing at you. You sulk as the braying fit finally calms down. You hold your hooves over your face and crouch facing away from Grant feeling completely crushed and embarrassed. Your ears perk as you hear another snap from behind. A tugging at the base of your back informs you of another change.
"Almost forgot the tail." Grant states, inciting chuckles from the audience. You turn and take your tufted brown tail in your hooves. You are soon interrupted by Grant who, suddenly by your side, lifts you up effortlessly with one hand and holds you up to the crowd.
"So what do we think of the new mascot huh?!" He asks. The excited audience claps and cheers but you wish you could disappear. Trapped in the cartoonish body and held high for all to see your face flushes red. Grant then tosses you skyward.
"Wwaahh! H-hey!" You shout. You are apparently near weightless as the dog flips and catches you with ease. When you are in his grip once more you attempt to fight free. You thrash and push against the dog's bare chest, but quickly learn the futility of your struggle. Your inflatable body, animated by Grant's magic no doubt, has no bones or muscle for support. Your squishy hooves press lightly into your captor's fur and do nothing whatsoever to slow him down. "H-huh?" You mutter.
"Easy Donkyuu. You wouldn't want to accidentally bump into one of my claws would you?" The dog runs a sharp claw edge against your bubbly rump threateningly. You freeze in place. You aren't sure what would happen if you were to ... pop, but you are certain you learn. You relax and fall limp against the dog. "There's a good donkey." The Mad Granter holds you close in a tight hug. You cringe and suffer it. You are powerless to remove him after all. He squeezes so tightly that your body stretches and conforms to him with a very bizarre sensation.
"Lets have some fun with him eh." Grant announces. He holds you, facing outward, against his body.
"Come on, let me go." You yell.
"But don't you want to explore this new body?" He asks while his hand is snaking its way around your midsection. He strokes your arms and chest while making every effort to cause your plastic body to squeak as much as possible. Against your tail you can feel the dog's dick growing beneath his pants. He clandestinely dry humps you while groping your every crevice. You sit scowling and blushing and nearly wishing you could pop to escape the embarrassing situation altogether.
"Mmm bray for me donkey." He groans into your long ears. The message is cast to the audience as well and you begin to wonder what kind of depraved circus this is exactly.
"What!? No, let me goooo." As you are protesting the dog's fingers find and pinch your nozzle. The big, plastic aperture is alive with pleasurable sensation. Grant tweaks the thing continually causing you to squirm and squeak in his arms. "Nooo, stop." The dog runs his long tongue over your slick cheek before putting you down. He walks to your front before kneeling before you. He holds you in place by your legs. He looks up at you with a suggestive grin.
"Please don't..." You whisper, though it is heard by all. Grant responds by opening your nozzle, placing his lips around it, and blowing steadily. The corners of his mouth are pulled into a lascivious grin. He blows with abandon. You plant your hooves on his head and attempt to push him away, but as before you are helpless against the unfamiliar pleasure Grant forces on you.
"God it's so good." You moan, face beat red. You are beginning to realize that you are increasing in size. Your arms and legs are now plump and your stomach protrudes a bit. "Wait, staugh-hee-haw. Hee-HAW!" The dog has taken to sticking his wet tongue into the nozzle and licking it as he blows. In your surprise you fall into another fit of uncontrollable braying. The audience mocks by mimicking you and laughing. You want to stop, but it is truly beyond your control. With your big, buck-toothed mouth agape you bray loudly to the crowd while Grant slowly fills you with air. Finally when you are almost twice the height you were when he began Grant, with a visible wet patch on the front of his pants, seals your nozzle and stands.
"Now that is what I call a blow job! Haha!" He jokes. The crowd applauds as, again, all eyes are on you. Your body is now huge and chubby. You waddle dumbly away from Grant. It would be hard to walk if you had feet, but with the hooves it's nearly impossible. In your clumsy escape you trip over your own tail and fall slowly onto your big, soft bum. You are nunsure what to do with yourself. You are too slow to be able to escape and the crowd is on Grant's side. You find yourself hoping the entire situation is a terrible fever dream.
"Well that was fun but I'm sure you are all looking forward to the parade." The Mad Granter says to the crowd. "My assistants are going to help us inflate Donkyuu right now. He will be at the head of the parade making his first appearance on live TV!" Grant's announcement causes you to double-take.
"Wait on TV?!" You yell. The dog approaches and pats your fat belly.
"That's right Donkyuu. Like I said, the whole world is going to know your face." As he walks away his assistants step into the ring. Two dogs who look eerily similar to Grant himself, armed with boxy machines bearing tubes, step toward you. You are unable to get onto your hooves. The shady dogs brandish their tubes and turn on their machines. The one standing at your front reaches up and grabs your neck while the other lifts your tail.
"Wait, lets talk about thi--phmm!" You being to shout before the dog at your neck shoves the tube into your throat. Simultaneously the dog at your backside uses his tube to invade your anal hole. You tug at the throat hose fruitlessly. Though as you hear the whirring of the machines you begin to have a new concern. Your body is inflating at an incredible rate. Your midsection is already spherical and your limbs are stiff and unbendable.
"Mmph! Mmm!" You loudly groan. The thick tube filling most of your mouth. The assistance tie ropes around your hooves, then Grant personally ties a single rope to your nozzle while locking eyes with you. Your arms and legs flap uselessly as they too broaden into stiff, inflated cones tipped by hooves. You begin to lift off of the ground. Your increasingly huge and round body hovering slowly toward the tent ceiling. "Hmm?!? Mmph!" You shout. The relentless inflation caused by the vacuums slowly starts to die down. Your plastic skin is pulled completely taut. You can barely wriggle a hoof. So fat and huge, yet weightless. You finally reach the top of the tent. The assistants below yank on their tubes causing them to fall from your chubby mouth and gaping tail hole. You float helplessly for a moment before the ropes around your hooves are tugged.
"Hey, hey get me down! Somebody help m--" You begin to yell before Grant interrupts.
"Alright. Now that our big, fat Donkyuu is ready to go, enjoy the parade!"
Far below the audience roars. You can barely see over your inflated belly. You are pulled from below to the high-arched tent exit. You can hear another huge audience beyond. Thousands of twisted viewers waiting to see your struggling and helpless form floating down the street. You shut your eyes tightly as your handlers pull you out of the tent and into the night sky.
Both sides of what is apparently a main street are packed with parade-goers. Families and loners alike gather to watch. They point and even at your altitude you can hear the laughter. Your face flushes red. You look at the grand procession and are dismayed to see your own face on the jumbo screen of a sky scraper. Your face has inflated a bit, but you recognize the huge buck teeth and long ears. With the new folds and creases you look even goofier. The cartoonish donkey face is a mockery. You look away wishing you could disappear. You crane your neck to face the crowds below.
"He-hey up here. Someone help me! Grant changed me. He turned me into this stupid--" You begin to shout. Your voice, thankfully is still being broadcasted. Someone below pulls the chain attached to your delicate nozzle. The shocking sensation causes you to start braying. "Huh-Heeeee-HAW. Nooo-HAW-hee-HAW!" Somehow you begin to hear Grant's laughter. When you suddenly feel a weight on your back you are unsurprised to find the dog sitting cross-legged on the spot. HE simply wags a finger and glares into your panicked eyes. Floating above the city helplessly you bray for your new, adoring fans. Your normally brown face a bright, bright red.