Week 1

Gabriel's olive skin was drenched with sweat, and he hoped he didn't smell too much like horse shit. Mucking the stalls was always the worst part of the job: he'd learned that very quickly, after having been at it for only a week. Still, there were worse things than shovelling shit, and the extra money was always helpful at home. It wasn't enough to pay for helping out his parents with the costs of his brother and sisters as well as junior college: rich people, he knew, got rich by being careful with their money. However, he hoped that if Mrs. Miller saw what a good job he was doing, he might get a promotion from stable boy. That's what had got him through cleaning out the stalls in record time, all ready for when she usually came out to see how he was going.

Glancing around to check if he should expect her, Gabriel noticed she wasn't about. He smiled, then grunted as he lifted up the bucket. The gardeners used the manure in the gardens, and since there was plenty they usually bagged the rest for sale. Lifting up the last of the thick plastic bags, Gabriel headed out of the stables into the fresh air. The sweat on his body glistened in the sun, making him shine.

All his chores were done for the moment, so he took off his gloves, fanning his singlet against him. "If I keep this up," he thought as he felt the muscles in his arm burning from shovelling and lifting hay bales to break up into the stall, "I may not need to go to the gym any more!" Laughing easily, he fanned himself some more. The singlet had gradually become a sweaty mess as it soaked up the sweat around his crotch and butt. Resting his hand on it made him feel the burn of his abdomen, muscles clenched and rippling.

Suddenly feeling eyes on him, he looked over towards the house. Gabriel wasn't supposed to go up there - he didn't need to - although he had been on the first day when he was introduced to the Millers. He waved to Mrs. Miller, who had appeared on the balcony, looking at him as the ice of whatever liquor she was drinking melted in her glass on the warm late summer day. His lips parted, showing off his gleaming white teeth. He stretched, letting his sweaty singlet ride up, just so there would be no confusion about what was causing the bulge in the white shorts he was wearing. Not that there probably would be: they had soaked in the sweat as well, giving his thick cock an extra layer that was almost see-through.

Gabriel had noticed the way Mrs. Miller's eyes had come upon him on his first day. His parents would have been furious, of course, if they knew how he planned to get his promotions. "They'd still take the money, though," he reminded himself. They couldn't afford pride.

Besides, bedding Mrs. Miller would be enjoyable even if she was close to his own mother's age. She had a pretty good body - not as big in the hips as Gabriel preferred, nor in the breast department - and she had that imperious look that seemed to be popular in film stars well before Gabriel had been born. There was something magical about her, he thought, and not just because he was sure he could fuck her into a better job. Gabriel knew he was good-looking, and had had the girlfriends to back it up.

He only felt a tiny stab of remorse as he rolled up the soaked singlet fabric and gracefully pulled it up over his head, before he sauntered back into the stalls, tucking the singlet so it swished above his nice, toned ass.

Week 2

The horses in the Miller's stable always seemed quite nice to Gabriel when they weren't shitting up the place. They usually weren't in their stalls while Gabriel was working, although Charlie Boy was staying today because one of the mares was in heat, and the girls were having a run-around in the field outside because Mr. Miller had wanted them to get some exercise. Bessie, the lucky girl who was wanting horse cock in question, was eagerly awaiting the arrival of a neighbour's stallion who was currently in the process of being tuckered out. Mr. Miller and this neighbour seemed to be doing it as an excuse to bond: the two men were standing out there, staring at the mares running around and eating whatever grass was long enough.

Gabriel pet the amorous, confined Clydesdale on the nose, and decided to give him an extra carrot. "Sorry, buddy," he told the horse. "I feel your pain, dude." He turned, his eyes seeking out Mrs. Miller. He'd never paid much attention to the clothes rich people wore when they rode horses, but something about it was making him feel as horny as Charlie Boy.

The lady in question turned, moving towards him. Gabriel's shaft throbbed. With the cockiness that comes with being an attractive young man, he was dead certain she was interested in him. He imagined her, lying in bed, Mr. Miller sleeping beside her - or maybe not, if he was out on a business trip - as her hands slipped down to her mound, her thoughts going towards the firm, young brown muscles of the guy who worked in her stables. Thinking about that certainly didn't help stop his erection from thickening, but then right now he didn't want that. He wanted Mrs. Miller: her body, and the money she would lavish on him for his body.

"And how's my young stud doing?" Mrs. Miller asked, reaching a beckoning hand to Charlie Boy's brown-furred face.

"Hello, Mrs. Miller," Gabriel answered, lowering his voice down a little to play up his masculinity. For a brief moment, he was intensely jealous of the focus she seemed to be giving the big Clydesdale. "Charlie Boy seems fine, if a little pent up."

"I guess we can't blame him for that." She laughed. Her voice was deeper than he expected - it had a smoker's husk to it - and even though she certainly sounded well-schooled, Mrs. Miller always sounded to Gabriel like one of the women who had appeared in the first pornographic video his friends had shared with him online. "After all, we all have to fight our temptations, don't we, Gabriel?"

"I suppose we do." Gabriel wasn't sure what to say that would give the effect he wanted. He'd had experienced with women before, but usually the ones his own age or close enough. Most of them hadn't had the experience to make them as sophisticated as Mrs. Miller, nor the wariness. Right now, he just banked on being agreeable. He followed her eyes to the massive drooling cock dangling under Charlie Boy's body as he reared and stomped in frustration.

She didn't even turn away, she simply stepped a little closer to him. Then her hand was on him. Not on his shoulder, or even around his waist. It grabbed onto the swollen lump formed by his erect cock, trapped in his pants. She gave it a squeeze, and he felt a trickle of pre-cum escape him.

"Gotcha," he thought, and smiled.

Week 3

Mrs. Miller had been sending signals to Gabriel whenever they both were at the stables. Gabriel worked every day, though he wasn't given all that many chores to do from his technical boss, Mr. Abernathy. The steely-eyed old man kept the Miller's estate running nicely, freeing up Mr. Miller to spend long days - sometimes weeks - in the city, and Mrs. Miller to, well...

Gabriel wondered how many guys had been in his position before with the bored, rich housewife.

The first grope about a week ago had been the invitation he'd been hoping to get. Gropes of him turned to gropes of her when Mr. Abernathy wasn't looking, which was a lot considering how much he usually hovered when Gabriel was about. Groping seemed to take a back step to kissing, not long afterwards.

Gabriel thrust forward energetically. His condom-wrapped cock sunk into her mound: it was as sopping wet as Bessie's had been. She had been waiting for a stud to mount her too, it seemed. He still had his dusty jeans on, and she was fully dressed. More or less. Her skirt was short and she wasn't wearing any panties. They probably would have been sopping wet as well.

"Yes!" she breathed in his ear as he thrust into her again. "That's it! Right there!"

During their first time, she'd told him she didn't like dirty talk from him. It was best not to say anything: just to huff and snort and groan deeply as he pressed her up against the thick wall in one of the stable's stalls, with Bessie and Charlie Boy and all of the other horses who weren't running outside watching them. That had taken some getting used to.

Another thrust: this time, she just squealed, her fingernails digging into his back. While she was fully dressed, he usually went shirtless. It seemed more natural that way, and him working topless could really only be expected from a sweaty, young labourer. His parents had noticed the marks that appeared on his back. His mother, God bless her, thought someone was whipping him. His father, however, had figured it out. "Don't be stupid, Gabriel," he had warned.

Gabriel wasn't done being stupid. He pushed his mouth onto hers, and her lips opened. Their tongues pressed together. Saliva splattered across his bare chest as he wriggled his hard cock into her pussy at the angle she'd taught him that she liked. In the next stall, Charlie Boy whickered. Gabriel wondered if he approved.

Penetration usually lasted at most five minutes. The whole thing took about ten to fifteen, long enough for Abernathy's lunch break, and before he came sniffing around to bark things at Gabriel during the hours he was under his control. It wasn't long enough for either of them: Gabriel had only ejaculated once, and Mrs. Miller seemed insatiable for the stimulation. When any unexpected sound broke you apart, you were usually left unfulfilled.

Gabriel thrust faster: Mrs. Miller didn't seem to mind, and all the jizz left buzzing around in his body when they didn't finish always left him feeling irritable until he could get some private time at home and take care of things himself. He hated that. What he really wanted to do was flood her pussy, leaving it dripping as her sexy body swayed up back to the house.

"Gabriel?" a stern voice called out. Gabriel snorted loudly, pulling out as Mrs. Miller smoothed down her clothes.

Week 4

Sweat gleamed on Gabriel's back. He surged forward, thrusting his tool into warm wetness. "Thanks a lot, Charlie Boy," he grumbled. He'd just finished mucking the stalls when the Clydesdale stallion decided to come in from the field and make a fresh deposit in his stall. Gabriel guessed that the horse had smelled him and had expected to get a treat out of him. "No treat for you today," he told the stallion.

Gabriel was already in a foul mood. Mrs. Miller had gone out of town, leaving him high and dry. That would have been fine, but after the last couple of weeks his body had gotten used to the schedule of sexual stimulation the two of them had had together. Turning it off was impossible. Every second made his cock stretch out, or throb, or something else that made his work jeans tighten in the front. When he went to piss earlier, he'd noticed a big wet spot on his boxers.

Grunting in frustration, he went into the stall that Mrs. Miller had chosen for their love-making. Gabriel's face grinned: it wasn't really that. It was more like wild rutting. Sure, they kissed and fondled each other, but there wasn't a lot of foreplay going on. Most women wanted to be worked up to sex, but worrying about getting caught and the time pressures seem to get her wild and wet. It didn't help that, for the last week or so, he'd been going home with blue balls.

Gabriel removed his gloves, his breathing coming fast and heavy. His freed hands found their way down to his fly, which was then opened up. He reached in, fishing out his cock and threading it through the gap. Just being here got him riled up. He imagined her warmth, her wet pussy, her fingers digging into his shoulder as she clawed and moaned his name.

Gabriel's hands gripped his cock firmly. He closed his eyes. Getting caught didn't matter. He just needed a moment to get off, clear his head of all the thoughts of her and what he'd felt but hadn't seen below those outfits of hers that were growing more and more appealing. The riding one was the worst - or best - and the idea of her whipping him as they fulfilled their roles as wealthy woman and lowly stable boy was enough to get him to moan.

It really didn't matter: the worst thing Abernathy or Mr. Miller would do if they caught him would be to fire him. He could find another job. Maybe get a real girlfriend. Put this whole stupid idea of his out of his head. Only now he couldn't. Mrs. Miller was waiting for him when he closed his eyes at night, in this very stall. In his fantasies, they had as long as they wanted. They bled into the dreams, and even though he'd jerk off before going to bed every night, he'd wake up stiff and freshly sticky each morning.

Charlie Boy whickered in the next stall. Not even that could put him off. Gabriel thought he was probably jealous: the poor stallion had to put up with the heat of his stable-mates while getting no satisfaction of playing with them. He tried to think what it would be like to be a stallion, being unable to have sex or jerk off for a month.

Then Mrs. Miller was back, and she was everything.

Gabriel grunted, his tanned cock splattering the stall's wall and hay with heavy, smelly, dripping semen. The first spray was to thick and wet that it splattered like paint. His breath became shallow as his body filled with orgasm. Panting, he wondered if stallions actually could masturbate.

Week 5

"Hello, Gabriel," the feminine voice said.

Gabriel's racing heart jumped up into his chest at the voice. His hands guiltily flew away from his erection, which started to wither, and to hastily yank up the jeans he'd let slide down his rump, to give him a sense of freedom. "Penny." Then name leapt to his head. Mr. Miller's cute assistant with the big tits never came down here. "Of course she'd come down here now." Then he realised the voice sounded a lot more certain of herself than a twenty-something would.

"Don't stop on my account, darling." Mrs. Miller chuckled as Gabriel's hot face turned around. "I didn't know you were so daring."

"I... I didn't think you were coming back until, uh, next week, wasn't it?" Gabriel blurted. Suddenly the panic was gone. The buttons coming undone from Mrs. Miller's blouse certainly helped get his heart thrumming away back in the right place: what else was going to keep his cock hard and ready?

"Wasn't it...?" Mrs. Miller prompted.

"Wasn't it, ma'am." Gabriel grinned, reaching out for the braless breasts sliding out of the blouse.

His hands froze as she waved her finger before them. "Oh, no. They're just as dirty as the rest of you. No, you just keep on doing what you were doing when I interrupted you." Both her breasts were hanging free now, Gabriel's eyes magnetised to the nipples that seemed very juicy all of a sudden. "You can look, but today your hands are your own."

Gabriel felt awkward masturbating for an audience. He shook his cock back into hardness, trying to chase the silly feelings of shame from his head. "I've put it into her cunt before," he thought. She seemed to read his mind: her hands moved down her blouse, deftly opening the buttons on the way down. Only they didn't stop when her soft, smooth midriff was showing: her fingers slid between the clean black fabric of her pants and the pink, frilly panties she was wearing underneath. They came down after a little grunt and the loosening of the front button. Her scent, strangely powerful, washed over him. He rose to full mast, hot breath panting from leering lips.

Sliding his hand down along the curve of his flesh, and back up, Gabriel never felt bigger, never more like a man. Although she'd forbidden him to touch her, that certainly didn't stop her from using her hands on herself, as she made him do to himself. She first teased her nipples, since she knew how much he liked doing that to her, pulling him more under her power, his hand moving faster. Then they moved down, her fingers slipping in and out of her, her scent becoming more potent.

Gabriel stepped forwards. His jeans had slipped down all the way, his brown legs stretching apart, but he'd walked like this plenty of times before. Mrs. Miller was about to warn him that she meant business when he fell down on his knees in front of her.

"What do you think you're doing?" she demanded.

"Not using my hands," he answered, his tongue sliding over her lips.

"Maybe I should go away more often," she said, moving her hands out of Gabriel's way.

Week 6

"Whoa, boy!" Gabriel tried to calm down the enraged stallion. Charlie Boy snorted, his muzzle lunging out as he tried to bite at the unwary hand Gabriel moved too closely. He yelped, pulling back. Charlie Boy whinnied loudly, and slammed his head into the stall's door. "What's gotten into you?"

Gabriel was shocked: Charlie Boy had always been so placid before, always a great horse when it came to moving stalls. While Gabriel hadn't worked with horses himself before now, Abernathy had gone through the basics on his first day, and it had all seemed pretty reasonable. He'd tried extra-hard to get the horses to like him by sneaking them treats from home, if only to make his job easier. But Charlie Boy's attitude today seemed to throw all of that into the trash.

"Well, fuck you too, horse," Gabriel gave the Clydesdale the finger. "I don't mind doing things the hard way."

"Maybe he's jealous?" a voice proposed.

Gabriel's problem with Charlie boy seemed to disappear when he heard Mrs. Miller come in. "Jealous?" he asked.

Mrs. Miller laughed, "Why, of the sexy new addition to the stable, of course! He can probably smell our love-making, and it's turning him blind with rage!"

Gabriel smiled. He felt out of his element. Was she just kidding around, or did horses actually act like that? He didn't really want to have that kind of talk with Abernathy, but if he wanted to keep fucking Mrs. Miller - which he did, since it hadn't paid off yet and was pretty fucking hot - he needed to keep working here. Right now, that meant keeping the horses happy.

"Maybe you should get him laid, ma'am?" Gabriel suggested. He stepped as close as he could to Mrs. Miller, putting his tight bulge within easy reach of her hands, should she want to have a touch. "Males tend to get frustrated and pent up when we don't get our just rewards for our labours."

"You think our stall stud is being neglected?" Mrs. Miller's hands avoided the easy bait. Instead, she chose to slide her hand up along Gabriel's chest. It ran through the light dusting of light hairs that seemed to have grown in the last few weeks. Gabriel had meant to shave them, as he'd been doing once the novelty of having them wore off and girls were more impressed by a smooth chest. Mrs. Miller didn't seem to mind, though, and she let him know right then. "I'm all for big, strong, hairy beasts getting to have their fun. Maybe I should arrange a double date?"

That's when she went for his dick.

"Mmh!" Gabriel moaned, letting Mrs. Miller push him into the stall. His heart started to race. He tried to warn her - an angry horse drew Abernathy like horse shit did flies - but it didn't seem to matter when she started to unbuckle his belt.

It didn't matter if Abernathy saw them.

It didn't matter if Charlie Boy saw them.

It didn't matter if anyone saw them.

Week 7

Gabriel shut the bathroom door behind him. It closed him off from the delicious scents permeating the house from the kitchen, certainly; but he was sure if he didn't he'd get complaints about his own smells. Sweat and horse shit, he'd been informed by his brother not long after he started his job, wasn't appetising and that he came home stinking of horses more and more. Although that earned Diego a clip around the ear, he could tell from the looks on his parents faces that it was always best if he showered as soon as he went home. According to Diego, it wasn't helping, but then who believed little brothers anyway?

Grunting and swearing, he struggled to pull himself out of his T-shirt. Gabriel had been noticing that a lot lately: his clothes feeling too tight. Not that it was a bad thing, since the extra weight looked like pure muscle. Hard physical labour all day - which included seeing to Mrs. Miller's needs - seemed to be turning him from a slender boy into a big, strong man. Going by the widening bit of flesh visible between the top of his jeans and his T-shirt, he might have been growing taller too.

Finally slipping free of his T-shirt, Gabriel admired himself in the mirror, rubbing his hands over the thick, firm muscle covered in thickening body hair. He'd started to like scratching it, hearing it crackle, and the way it marked out his muscles when his shirt was soaked with sweat. The muscles appealed more, though: the slabs of flesh burned constantly, making him feel warm, hungry and horny. His hands moved to his jeans, unbuttoning them with a satisfied grunt as the bulging snake was finally let free.

Gabriel's cock glistened with sweat and fluids from the trip home. He'd been thinking of Mrs. Miller on the bus, and the tightness of his jeans around the crotch, stretched by his growing leg muscles, had given him a painful semi-erection with nowhere to move then. Now, he winced, seeing the temporary veins caused by the fabric pushing tightly against him. He swore, feeling the comforting strip of fabric writhe about and flop to the floor. His underwear had ripped right through. Without the jeans, his ass would have been flapping around in the wind. That was the only bit he didn't like: he knew the V-shape was the lady-killer, but Mrs. Miller didn't seem to mind, and it meant he could hold her up against the wall of the stable longer, with her legs wrapped around his waist.

Suddenly panting, Gabriel tore off his socks, cursing as he saw the hole in the toe had grown wider. His aching tool had swollen to full thickness. Mrs. Miller seemed to bring out the best of him: he'd never felt as big and manly as he had with her. Too bad they always had to be careful, with Mr. Miller and Abernathy always about.

Naked, he stepped into the water. He shivered as the icy spray hit him. Someone else had used up all the hot water. It didn't stop Gabriel; summer in the too-small house for the too-big family meant things were usually too hot, and that extra hair and muscle was always useful at times like this.

Leaning his bulging pectorals against the shower wall, Gabriel felt himself stretching on to his tiptoes as his hands took turns sliding over the throbbing cock ignoring the chill of the water. A stream ran over his swaying balls, the splashing sound covering his moans as he thrust into his tight grip. His lips curled back, face contorting into a grotesque grin as he tried to tame the lust threatening to throw him out of his own body by giving it a little breathing room to buck around.

Week 8

Gabriel stood upright, hands trying to work through the denim and into the sweaty patch in between his buttocks. It was futile: between the jeans and the underwear holding his lower half in a vice grip, his buttocks were clenched tighter than a virgin's lips. His prickly shirt was already dangling out of one pocket: today he'd taken it off more to get it off his skin than to show off the burgeoning bulk swelling him bigger. Unfortunately, he didn't have a good excuse to do the same with his pants, because he was thinking about doing just that.

Bending down again, Gabriel grabbed up another bunch of hay. Even that, pressed against his bare chest, bits of old, dried grass mingling with the black streaks of hair clinging to his torso, patterned by perspiration, was more bearable than his shirt.

The clothes had been a big mistake. He shouldn't have gone to the store with blue balls, his dick making most of the choices based on what he thought showed off his body to Mrs. Miller best. He'd tried on some clothes that felt snug, enough for work until he could afford more. That was the only blessing: they hadn't even been broken in yet, and he was ready to throw them out. They must have shrunk in the wash, he'd thought when he'd dressed that morning, and hadn't expected he'd still be putting on muscle. His arms were starting to look kind of awkward: his shoulders matched the rest, but although they had gotten bigger, the muscles weren't bulging the way his torso had. The same thing had happened to his legs, at least below the knee. It made him look a little mismatched.

Chucking the hay into the old, rusting metal wheelbarrow, Gabriel growled in frustration, his gloved hands clenching as tightly into fists as the thick leather allowed. The empty stables echoed the sound back at him, as he leaned over the stall, swinging his foot. "If only - "

Gabriel froze. Why couldn't he take off his jeans? Abernathy's stern eye was focused on him less these days, and sometimes he didn't see the man at all until he had to check on whatever else needed doing once his regular chores were done. The only time he came into the stables now was when one of the horses was being troublesome, and Charlie Boy had been loaned out to stud, getting rid of his biggest problem.

Feeling a lecherous grin streak across his face, Gabriel thought of another point in favour of his idea: if Mrs. Miller came along, it'd almost be like doing it in the nude.

Thick gloves weren't made for unfastening fiddly things like buttons and zips, but Gabriel refused to give up. He managed to free himself, sighing in relief as the tight jeans oozed down his legs, falling into a blue puddle around his feet. Through the sweat-translucent white boxers he'd been wearing, he could see his coiled, sleeping python kick into action. "Not now, boy," he told it, wrenching his boots off just long enough to slide the jeans off, leaving them in a pile on the corner.

With that done, Gabriel felt so much better. He stretched, ignoring the dirty, harsh gloves as he ran his hands all over his chest and thighs, scratching at his frame. His body shuddered as he breathed out, bending over some more to finally scratch his ass. The sweat made the skin sting, but he was just so glad to be free he didn't care.

A cool breeze blew through. The growing hairs on Gabriel's body seemed to stiffen, breaking free from the sweat-induced patterns on his body. He could have sworn he could feel it growing for the few seconds he allowed himself to slack off further, before continuing with his chores.

Week 9

Mrs. Miller ran a hand over the thick bristles on Gabriel's chest. He moaned, feeling her warm touch brush over the wide pectorals that were on full display. Her smile - the particular one that caused his loins to quicken - tightened his boxers so much that he could feel the elastic strap groaning. His boxers always felt even tighter than usual when she was around.

A playful gleam entered Mrs. Miller's eyes as she gazed down at her lover's fuzzy muscles, following the flow of his mountainous pectorals down to the undulating hills of his abdominals.

Gabriel's arms slackened from where he had been pawing at her buttocks. "I've got a surprise for you too." His voice was breathy and aggressive. He grunted as he slipped his hands down the sweaty waistband of his tight underwear, the damp material clinging to the lengthy bristles sprouting from his legs. The bulging head squirmed out, the shaft large and thick, as it quivered to the pounding that filled his body. His hands kept moving, dropping the underwear down into the hay around his feet. His eyes snapped to the glint of metal he could see; the pitchfork, he noticed particularly had landed prongs down when she had surprised him.

Mrs. Miller laughed, turning away from him for a moment, ignoring the mussed state of the front of her half-buttoned blouse. "It's not a surprise if it's expected," she pointed out. Gabriel watched her rear hungrily as she bent over to the handbag she had brought with her. It was only then he realised he'd never seen her bring her purse here before: why would she? His eyes fell down the crease in her skin that should have been covered in panties, and he had to close his eyes for a moment as a shudder shot through him, lightning trying to find the ground.

Gabriel wasn't exactly sure what he was seeing in her hands when she stood up: leather straps, mostly, put together in some way that was nibbling at a familiar image in the back of his head, but that his hormone-soaked mind couldn't place.

"I've been wanting to try this with you for a while." Mrs. Miller was speaking normally, but her voice was only a whisper as she stepped forward, the leather brushing up against his bare skin. "I had to guess your size. I hope it fits."

It clicked to Gabriel that this was dirty, naughty, some secret fantasy of hers. "Nasty slut," he thought appreciatively as she spread the bondage gear out between her hands. She continued to talk - something about having extra privacy now, and feeling safe - but he didn't care: her voice seemed to bypass his brain as he reached up to take the harness from her.

"Oh no." She quickly knocked his hands away. "I need to put it on you."

It was strange at first. His body wasn't used to the feeling of leather against his skin, particularly some of the sensitive spots the harness went, but it was well-made and didn't chafe. It was a bit snug in some spots, and loose in others, but it seemed to fit well enough. He felt his cock swelling and dripping excitedly as Mrs. Miller's hands moved about his body, tightening the straps until everything was fastened. Her hands didn't stop there though: her fingers followed the strap around his waist both hands converging on the swollen organ in front of her. She gave it a gentle squeeze with one, and he grunted; her hands found his heavy balls, and weighed them in her hands.

"My stud." She seemed to approve; then she got to her knees in front of him.

Week 10

Sitting on his jeans, Gabriel fumbled again at the harness's buckles as his aching, stubborn cock rubbed up against the strap lining the centre of his chest. It had been on him for almost two whole days now, ever since Penny had nearly caught Mrs. Miller riding him like a pony, her juices flowing and his building up inside him as she called him her champion stud.

He hadn't cut the harness off because he liked the extra sexual appetite it gave her. Whatever her thing was for stallions, he was profiting from it: a hung stud in the stables she could actually fuck must have plagued her mind. The way she treated him afterwards had slowly infected him with the same kink. No matter how demeaning it felt when she treated him like an animal, he always felt incredibly potent.

Still no good: Gabriel's fingers felt even bigger and clumsier today than they had yesterday, or the day before. It wasn't just with trying to remove the straps, either: holding things for too long made him feel uncomfortable. He'd hidden that from his parents, worried they'd take him to the doctors, and how would he explain the harness then without dying of embarrassment? Abernathy had, thankfully, not been up his ass for quite some time. Still fumbling, he grunted and swore. The harness he liked; what he didn't like was how it seemed increasingly eager to bite into his flesh.

If Gabriel hated the pain of the harness, he hated Penny more. She was the one who had stuck him with the harness full-time. She was young and beautiful - and going by the way she eyed him over, clearly hot for what she saw - and invigorating in a way Mrs. Miller really couldn't be, but she never just came over to talk to them.

Peeking through the boards in the stables, Gabriel cursed. Not that he needed to to know it was Penny: he could recognise that scent anywhere. No wonder his cock was going haywire, thick tendrils of pre-cum dripping down the surface: her fresh scent seemed so much potent than Mrs. Miller's that a man couldn't help but feel it burn into his head. Part of him wanted to stand up, to grab her and hold her to him; he seemed to know she wouldn't turn away if she pulled her in with him, and took her right here on the straw and dirt. She'd probably enjoy that.

The harness, appropriately enough, held Gabriel back. No matter what, she'd ask about it, and he didn't have a lie prepared to explain that away. Even so, his body felt sex-starved, and was tempted to make a move anyway when Mr. Miller suddenly appeared behind her.

Gabriel hadn't really noticed the guy he'd been cuckolding before; then again, he'd always seen him wearing a suit rather than... nothing. Even though he was old - at least from the point of view of the young - he was still in good shape, and seemed to be ageing well. The swinging erection wasn't exactly small either, although it didn't stay in sight long, when he stepped behind Penny, who turned. She started to remove her blouse, sinking onto the floor.

Forgetting about the straps, Gabriel shifted off of his jeans, continuing to peek as he slid onto his hands and knees. The itchy coarseness of the hay didn't register, not even the bits that came up with his hands as he started to stroke himself to the display. All of his attention was on the wide, gyrating female hips as Penny's head was cupped in Mr. Miller's large hands as she serviced him.

Despite the warmth, Gabriel's breath came out shivering as his lips instinctively curled up.

Week 11

Gabriel's mouth felt lopsided as he returned Mr. Miller's smile. His lips stretched open too far, and his teeth smashed together when he wasn't paying attention. He had bitten the inside of his mouth a couple of times so far that week, and he could feel the blistering flesh slide over his enamel and bump up against the flesh of his gums.

Most of the time Gabriel had no reason to interact with Mr. Miller, or go into the main house. Today he was doing both. Despite the aches in his joints - which his father had told him all honest working men got - he felt pretty good. There was no mistaking the looks he shared with Penny as he waited for his appointment. If their ultimate boss wasn't likely to burst out any minute, the percolating hormones in the room would have boiled over, and they would have been caught because there was no way the two of them wouldn't have brought the whole farm running.

Mr. Miller was congratulating him on the work he'd been doing so far after they'd shaken hands and they sat across from each other. Gabriel's shuddering, quivering manhood was hidden behind the desk: he couldn't tell for sure, but Mr. Miller surely would have mentioned it if he had. Though he might not have heard it at all. All Gabriel was thinking was about the naked version of the man he had caught a couple of weeks ago, and how sure he was that, pretty soon, Gabriel was going to be cuckolding the guy with both his wife and his mistress. His grin got a cocky tilt to it that made it even more uneven.

If Mr. Miller knew anything about what was going on, he seemed to not give any sign as the platitudes and pleasantries came to an end. "Summer's almost over, and from what I've heard from Abernathy and my wife you've been doing very well. I know this was only going to be a summer job for you, but I wanted to offer you something a little more permanent."

"Permanent?" Gabriel hadn't really thought about what was next for him. His plans to get out of the stables kind of ground to a halt, and he knew there was better jobs for him out there. There was maybe some college courses or training he could take, ones that would make his parents happier about his future. They meant giving up the amazing kinky sex with Mrs. Miller, though, the sex that had addled up his head.

"You'd be here around the clock... room and board covered... small increase in pay..."

Gabriel felt himself slowly checking out, the leather scraping up against his nipples, the hair on his body prickling up under the nice shirt and tie Mrs. Miller had chosen from him. Since school went out he didn't think he'd listened to anyone talk as long as Mr. Miller was. He seemed to get the gist: move into a room above the stables, get paid more and have more time to keep the wife content. An in-house toy-boy, with an added Penny thrown his way now and then.

"That all sounds great, sir." Gabriel knew he shouldn't have cut him off, but he felt as though his balls were going to burst. The clothes seemed to be tickling his cock, as though the starchy fabric had wrapped around his shaft and had started to gently pump him.

"Fantastic, uh, Gabriel! I'll make the arrangements, you just get ready to move in!"

Gabriel nodded, squirming uncomfortably in the chair. "Thank you, sir. I - I should really be getting back to work." His muscles quivered: it was almost as if the pants had squeezed his balls.

Week 12

Gabriel stretched out languidly on the wide wooden bed, the smell of hay and horse manure and something foreign - but strangely potent and alluring - mingled and migrated up the steps. The air flowing through the window in the loft was slightly cool, they way it did sometimes when summer was handing the baton to autumn. The chilly, breathy fingers glided over his skin, ruffling the thick black hairs that flowed over most of his body. They caressed the burning muscles underneath as they gasped and wriggled when his own hands touched some sensitive spot on the massive tool throbbing between his hands. His bulging lips - allergies, he guessed - still curled up at the extra spicy scent wafting upstairs, stirring up the memories he had below: being ridden and then fucking Mrs. Miller, watching Mr. Miller and Penny going at it, having Penny sneak up to his room earlier, before Abernathy had almost caught them. He was still pent up from that near-encounter.

Sliding his finger around the large, almost flat tip of his cock with his thumb, Gabriel imagined Penny naked, spread out before him with those wide hips spread apart and her warm pussy oozing with excitement. The feeling of her warm body underneath him as he mounted her filled his imagination, and down the veiny, swollen manhood oozed some more of his fluids, following the tight flesh all the way down to the thick tube of foreskin wrapped around the base of his shaft. His balls jostled around, bloated and full and eager to not be either. Not too eager though: that would ruin the mood.

Gabriel rested his legs on the gym bag containing most of his work clothes. He hadn't touched it yet: the only thing he wore most of the time was the leather harness, and even Abernathy hadn't said anything about it. Mrs. Miller had adjusted the straps, making it a bit more comfortable after he complained about it; he thought she might have been angry, but she seemed very excited about the news: she had ridden him harder than ever, in both senses. He'd stopped bathing too: her smell on his back seemed to make the nights were she wasn't around more bearable, and now he didn't need to worry about it.

The veins on his cock bulged out as he slipped both hands down, trying to grip around the mass of flesh spilling through his fingers. Gabriel's hands ached more and more: they felt clumsier, and these nightly releases - made all the more intense on being on his own for even more of the day - were starting to get uncomfortable. He wanted to thrust into a warm hole, something that wrapped around his massive rod and warmed him while he warmed it right back. It didn't help he always ended up forgetting about washing his hands. His cock was like the princess from the story: every grain of dust or fragment of hay from his dirt stained fingers was like a pea, making his relaxation impossible.

Gabriel thought about the artificial vagina that was somewhere downstairs. Charlie Boy had gotten friskier and even more irritable than ever once he was around all day. One of the neighbouring mares was in heat, and her oestrus scent was thick on the air. They had wheeled it out to let him have at it, the frame shaking under his weight. Gabriel thought about it, wondering how close it felt to the real thing.

His body shuddered, undulating like a long, hairy snake on the bed. It creaked underneath his weight. Frustrated pre-cum slashed across his face. "It's big enough to..." Gabriel's thought was only passing at first. It revolted him, but not too much not to try. "Nobody would have to know..."

Week 13

"It's huge!" Penny exclaimed. Gabriel grinned as her hands slipped down his fleshy erection. His mind edited her next observation. "The head's kind of wide too, like the horses downstairs." He just heard her complimenting him on his size further, telling him he was hung like a horse.

Gabriel's sprawling legs felt like they were going to cramp up again, but he wasn't going to turn down this chance. He'd not even bothered to hide when Penny came into the stables. He didn't have to: he could smell why she had come here. Part of him wanted to fuck her on all fours in the stables, like he had been with Mrs. Miller, but instead he'd taken her up to his room, presenting himself to her - straps and all - and watched her eyes as his cock thickened as he leered at her.

There was a lot to admire about her, Gabriel found as he leaned forwards. His jaw cracked as he parted his lips wide enough to encompass one of her areolae. Penny's breasts weren't massive, but what she had was pert. Besides, Gabriel was more turned on by those wide hips of hers that didn't seem to want to stay contained long in the pants she'd been wearing a few moments ago. He liked the way the light hairs on her body glistened. They surrounded her mound as he left a sticky trail from her tit all the way down to her mound. He pressed his nose in, feeling his nostrils opening up like never before.

Gabriel parted his lips, his tongue sliding across her soft folds. Penny was wet down there: very wet. The back of his hand stroked her thigh: he didn't want his hands to spasm like they would occasionally. Not when he was this close to that heavenly scent.

Penny didn't need much in the way of encouragement: Gabriel had only given her clitoris a couple of lips before she was moaning, turning over. Her breasts jiggled as she braced herself on the soft bag filled with his unused clothes, raising her well-toned rump into the air.

Gabriel didn't need to play around any longer. He forgot he was still wearing the harness - it just seemed part of him, now that he never had to take it off - and his weight pressed down on her. His cock rose, the thick foreskin helping to aim for the right spot. His head rubbed over the sopping wetness. A flash of greed made him wonder what would happen if Mrs. Miller were to join them.

Then Gabriel plunged forward, feeling his cock slide into her. Penny moaned a little, but she didn't tell him to stop. He thrust again, his hot breath pouring over his neck as he pressed his hands down around her, the warmth of her breasts and her insides sliding over the coarse front of his body. She moaned and squirmed beneath him.

Gabriel felt his ears twitch, and almost twist, the tips flicking about as the horses downstairs seemed to catch the scent of the pair getting frisky upstairs. There was snorts and whickers, and Gabriel felt himself whickering back to them. He imagined giving Penny a ride - one day, he'd have to ask her to do that with him - his cock groaning and aching as Mrs. Miller fell underneath his thrusts. His thoughts drifted as his real-life thrusts continued: now he was coming back, exhausted from working in the fields. Penny was naked in a small field out front, dancing away from him and laughing. She wanted him to catch her, but only if he was male enough to do so. So he did, his cock flailing about as he caught her and started to probe clumsily.

It took Gabriel a few moments to realise he was still upstairs with Penny when his body started to shudder, his hairy arms holding her up as she writhed in her own ecstasy as his fluids filled her.

Week 14

The horses looked up at Gabriel. He could feel their dark eyes on him, and felt the muscles in the back of his neck twinge. The dark, thick hair that had started to leak down from his head in a long, coarse stripe spiked up, the muscles shifting the layer of hair that was close to covering his body. The light reflecting off it shifted to emphasise the line of his form.

Gabriel's eyes stared down at the shovel he'd been used to muck the stalls. Thankfully-dry horse shit had just sprayed out when the handle had twisted out of his hands. He had tried to fix his mistake by grabbing at it, but he'd missed out on his chance. He bared his teeth at Charlie Boy; for a moment, he wanted to lean over and bite him. Then Gabriel realised how dumb that was: it wasn't the stallion's fault that he dropped the shovel, and even if they were his piles of shit he'd been scooping up, well, he couldn't blame a horse for doing what was natural, could he?

Turning to look at the stallion, and feeling a hot wave of irritation back at him, Gabriel decided that yes, he could. "Bastard probably even enjoys doing it to me," he thought, grumbling as he bent over.

A spasm of pain danced up his spine, and he grunted. Lately, every time he bent over, it seemed harder to right himself afterwards. Gabriel wondered if, maybe, he should try to persuade Mrs. Miller to ease up on the fetish play for a bit, at least until his back stopped protesting so vigorously. They could still do some things, he thought. He still wore the leather harness he gave her. Each day it had chafed him less, especially when she would help him with the straps.

Not that Gabriel could manage them on his own anyway. He'd given up ages ago trying to work the straps. Instead, he relied on the frequent visitations from one of his two lovers to help loosen them up. Penny wasn't as practised with them as Mrs. Miller, and sometimes even she had trouble.

The shovel slipped out of his grip, and Gabriel shouted again, swearing at the horses. This time, he decided to blame Abernathy. His supervisor had, in Gabriel's estimation, switched shovels on him sometime, leaving him with one with a smaller handle. Maybe just to be an asshole. Gabriel found his intrusions less and less pleasant. Abernathy had almost stopped talking to him at all, and when he did it was to boss him around.

Ideas of vengeance pulsed through his brain, and he lifted up one thick, hairy arm to wipe the drool that had stumbled out of his mouth. Gabriel's body seemed to hate him these days: his head ached as much as his back did, maybe more. Focusing on doing something with the manure to Abernathy had its appeal, but that would mean actually getting it off the ground.

Eventually Gabriel cooled down: enough to decide against stepping over the line. Abernathy was a fucking bastard, but he didn't give Gabriel shit for working in the nude. He also got away without really doing all his chores properly or timely. It was nice to have the time to rest his sore muscles and bones, or to spend some time doing what Gabriel thought of as his real work: doing Mrs. Miller, and Penny, with a few self-service sessions in between. His room reeked of sex, not that he got much complaints from any guests he had up there. He was young and attractive enough for two girlfriends, and had some hefty balls that bubbled over with hot spunk.

Thinking about sex seemed to do the trick. Gabriel figured out how to hold the shovel the same way he'd started to hold his dick when his hands weren't working right, and resumed scooping poop.

Week 15

Following Mrs. Miller's instructions, Gabriel got down on all fours. He tried shifting into a comfortable position but found none. His knees protested if he put any weight on them, and his back throbbed and seemed to want to spring his legs or arms forward. He rose up onto the balls of his feet. Knobbly toes splayed about in the dirt and grime. It was better for his knees and back, but the weight felt uncomfortable on his feet, and his hands sunk further into the straw. There wasn't enough to support him.

Gabriel was about to ask if he could go get a stool or a hay bale or something to bring to his stall. He thought of it as his own, since none of the horses used it; the only use it got was in sessions like these, where Mrs. Miller was being particularly kinky. Today she had delayed a grateful Gabriel from another round of mucking stalls. Instead, she pulled out a thick brush; the same brush he himself had used earlier on the horses. He could still smell their scents on their, and when he turned he could see the mixture of equine hairs sticking out the end.

"Maybe this is a bit too much?" Gabriel grunted. It was too late: Mrs. Miller had brought the brush to his skin, the bristles slipping through the strands of thick, long hair that grew on his back. His balls throbbed, the metal ring giving a chill as it pressed against him. The cock ring was incredibly snug, and he worried about having to get it cut off, and if he would have died asking for help taking off the harness, getting help for that would have obliterated him.

The brush slipped along his back. Mrs. Miller cooed, "Shh, shh! Calm now, my beautiful stallion." She seemed to know exactly what to say, because her words killed his train of thought. Gabriel snorted as the brush continued to slide over him. He sneezed, warning him of the oncoming cold weather, and that no matter how much body hair he had, he couldn't just go around buck naked through the colder parts of autumn, let alone winter.

The coarse brush left the skin underneath pink and raw, but Gabriel still found it oddly arousing. What helped, he knew, were the constant reassurances of being a hot stud from the attractive older lady that was stroking the brush gently over his skin. It felt good. He felt his large cock slap up against his belly. Warm fluid splattered up against him, then trickled on the floor. His groaning balls kept Gabriel informed that it was just pre-cum, and not the main event. He'd put off masturbating that morning, and last night, in anticipation for today. When she just returned was when she was the most charged up to play. The pretence of normality must weigh heavily on her, he thought; that was why she was such a freak once she got comfortable.

Not that he mind freaks: he was one himself. She'd made him into one.

Gabriel pushed up against the brush, feeling the tingle of scraped skin underneath. It wasn't any difference, he thought, between those people who used whips or pinched each other's nipples. A bit of pain could be nice, and this hovered right in that bearable zone. Particularly when Mrs. Miller stepped in front of him, her naked body partially occluded from everyone else but him by the tall walls of the stall. He brushed the broad end of his nose in between her legs, smelling the excited sweat and other musky favourites emanating from her nether regions. He doubted she'd even showered since she got back this morning.

"Get your treat, big boy," Mrs. Miller said, pushing her pussy against his face.

Week 16

It had started simply enough: his mother had wanted Gabriel to send a picture of himself. "Just to know you're well," she insisted. He wanted to laugh. What she really wanted to know was if he'd gotten ultra skinny from working all day and "not eating right" or whatever the code word mothers used for making sure their kids got food.

He thought it was absurd, grinning as he hunted for his phone. If there was a "not eating right" then his mother really didn't need to worry about. Since starting working for the Millers, he'd definitely put on weight, but in a good way. His slender, athletic body had become heavier, sure, but most of that seemed to be muscle and whatever juice had been squeezing out of him at the tail-end of puberty to shoot him up a few more inches. He'd had to start watching his head when he came up the stairs at the end of the day. There was also the growth in his junk to be content about, but probably not to include in a picture for his parents.

The phone had slipped down the side of the bed; there he noticed that a previous tenant - someone named Chuck Matthews - had carved his name here a couple of years ago, along with a rather crude picture of a stick figure with a more-detailed cock sticking out between his legs. He got up, getting the camera ready to take the picture. He saw his own image on the screen, and suddenly his blood froze.

No, Gabriel thought, that was not his face showing back. He'd been handsome; sure, his features were a bit rugged, but they were the good kind of rugged. His nose didn't bulge out as big as a fist. Not his fist, but someone's fist. He looked at his hand curled around the phone, the middle finger looking oddly thick and healthy compared to the other one. The nail seemed dirty, even though he had just washed his hands before intending to use the phone. It was hairy too, in a way that he shouldn't have been hairy. He was too hairy, at least for a human. Even if he had that weird werewolf disease, it shouldn't have distorted his features like it did.

Too hairy for a human. Hands too weird to be normal. His huge cock that didn't have the smooth helmet on the end when it got hard and slipped out of his foreskin. Hell, whose cock poked out that much from your foreskin?

Gabriel knew of at least one other guy with a similar cock. He was hairy too, and had a long face and a wide mouth just like he seemed to have. Similar large ears sticking high and wide out of his face. Only he was downstairs, patiently waiting for Gabriel to go down and muck out his stall.

The phone clattered to the floor. He barely noticed it; Gabriel was too busy inspecting himself all over, looking at the shiny black coat his body had grown all on its own. He twisted about, feeling the discomforting pangs as his breath stretched over his teeth. He reached up, ignoring just how frighteningly wrong his hands seemed as he did so. They'd felt wobbly. Maybe the Millers would let him get a dentist to check? Or maybe a vet would be better?

Gabriel laughed. There was no joy in it; the tears that crawled out of his eyes and down his furry face weren't of happiness. His hands shook as he half-clawed at his head, trying to register with his other senses what his eyes had told him was the case.

He didn't even feel the sting of the needle until it was too late, and his head was spinning through a starry sky en route to the full blackness of the void.

Week 17

"Helllp meee."

Gabriel's voice was barely audible, even to his lengthening ears. His throat was all raw. He could only taste the plastic tube that had been shoved into him to keep him fed. He was a growing boy, after all. No, wait. A growing colt. He writhed weakly on the hard floor, his joints too filled with glass to want to move too much. Glass in his joints, and shards cutting up his throat: that's how he felt, lying there in the dark.

Half Gabriel's mind was on his own body, the one that for some reason he'd tuned out. Maybe that was part of it, he wondered. Maybe he wasn't supposed to notice until he was prancing happily into one of the stalls upstairs, another oblivious animal in the Miller stable. That wasn't how it had turned out. It was why he was down here. The chains weighing down his limbs rattled. He hoped the police might here it, and find him.

Gabriel doubted it, though. He spent months in the stables, and not once did he even notice the slightly off bit of wood behind the table that two people - Abernathy and Mr. Miller - could lift to reveal the stairs going down into the secret chamber. Who the hell had a fucking dungeon nowadays anyway?

Whatever they had added to the concoction they poured down his throat had done a number on his head. Either that, or the changes were getting into his brain. He tried to focus on escape, on calling out to the police whenever his throat obliged, but he was too weak, and being shocked into acknowledging all the aches and growth and strangeness were purposeful. That was the worst part: turning into a horse was - he thought - impossible, so he'd gone after what his previously limited experience suggested. The hair and growth was just about getting older, a delayed part of his puberty. All the aches and pains could be chalked up to his vigorous lifestyle, and all the weird quirks in his behaviour could have just been from loneliness. When, he thought, had he last talked to anyone but his family that weren't involved with the estate?

A harsh, slightly equine whine slumped out of Gabriel's mouth, his eyes staring up, trying to peek up the pants of the police as if they could feel him staring at their rumps and follow the heat coming off of him. The concrete underneath had sucked up the sweat that had dripped down his hairy flanks, leaving a human - but not human enough - outlined smeared in potently fragrant musk. That, at least, was one comfort.

"Help me," he pleaded silently.

Resting on his chest, which dripped with more than just sweat, was Gabriel's massive manhood, the first part that had turned traitor on him. It throbbed in arousal, no matter what the situation. After a steady stream of multiple sex sessions per day, the last few chaste days had been too much. The chains prevented him from reaching himself comfortably, and his body buzzed, aching for release. He'd been given nutrition, and cleaned when he made a mess, but he didn't notice when that happened, and whoever it was that was doing it was fine with ignoring other hungers.

Gabriel shuddered. Maybe that was how they intended to get him. Turn him crazy for fucking mares. He tried to call out, but the words stumbled in his throat.

Week 18

Gabriel felt Abernathy grab his strange, malformed arm, tugging it through the strap on the harness. The big harness. Not the one he had worn during the kinky sex he'd been having - he wondered if perhaps this was all payback on Mr. Miller's part for cuckolding him - but a proper thing that hung from the ceiling on thick hooks supported by chains. Strong enough to keep his growing body upright and, Gabriel noticed particularly, on all fours.

Not that he felt he could complain too much. For starters, it was a lot more comfortable than the floor, which he'd been shackled too for more than several days now. Gabriel had lost count: it was so dark, and with only the food tube and the recalcitrant Abernathy for company, he had no way of knowing how much time was passing.

His body reassured him that time was passing. Whenever the food tube ran dry, he'd start to feel a cramping hunger gnawing at his stomach. His bladder would fill, and when he had the energy and the speed, which was rare, he twisted around on the ground and aimed his cock at the wall. His bowels were a different story, but he got bathed pretty regularly. If he knew more about his own body, he might have been able to reckon the time from the mornings he woke up sticky and reeking of sex, sometimes having to slowly turn to peel his equine erection out of a thick puddle of semen that he'd spilled on the ground during the night.

And, of course, there was the transformation. The massive intake of nutrition had accelerated his growth; Abernathy weighed him daily, and he was up to about four hundred pounds. Most of that was muscle, the strangely taut muscle on an aching skeleton that was cracking and stretching in unnatural ways. Feet stretched, middle fingers elongated, and he started to notice the nails splitting as new, darker shade of keratin pushed out of them. Hooves. He could tell they were hooves.

Gabriel's whole body seemed lately to be getting ready for them. That's why he didn't mind the harness so much. It was just a lot more comfortable: being off the floor, with the weight of his growing muscles falling where they shouldn't, but were going to if a miracle didn't happen. He could move around a lot freer, and it gave him a good way to look around.

While Abernathy fidgeted with the strap on his leg, Gabriel realised just how small the man seemed. He could kick him, possibly, if he got careless. Abernathy was familiar with horses, and seemed quite wary during his imprisonment. All his moves had been careful. Gabriel still hoped he would slip up, and then...

Gabriel realised the "what next" was the hole. He had no way of getting out of here, and Abernathy was the one who was looking after him. What if the Millers had left, wanting to come back when their new stallion was done? What if he couldn't get out of here?

"Awwwawa," Gabriel tried to speak, and failed miserably. Not only did he have a thick tube running down his throat, but his mouth had stretched out so much his nose was noticeably deformed, and on the start to becoming the new muzzle he seemed he'd have for a while at least.

Abernathy just looked at him. Gabriel blinked, pleading for anything. He could deal with the harness. He could deal with the embarrassment of the pipe in his throat, and the cleaning, and all the rest of it, if he just had some explanation, some hint of human compassion. He got nothing.

Week 19

"He's up to four fifty... no, four seventy-five pounds today. The numbers don't want to stabilise."

Gabriel twitched in the harness. The forced chastity had been bearable. Now, though, seeing Mrs. Miller for the first time since this all happened, everything had come flooding back to him. It seemed almost like an extension of their game. He tried looking at her, but now the changes had spread to his head proper. Headaches were a constant hassle as his brain slowly shrank, and his eyes started to move to the side of his head with the expansion of his nose.

None of that mattered though, when she was here. He could tell she was coming by her scent wafting down the stairs. He'd felt himself immediately getting hard, wondering if, maybe, she would at least give him a good hand-job as she admired her handiwork. With the headaches, thinking was hard; with his cock smacking up against the thick, muscles barrelling out of his chest, thinking was impossible.

Gabriel barely paid attention to what Abernathy was saying as he and Mrs. Miller began to move around. "His coat's coming in nice, and he's got a good musculature on him, though he's still a little weedy still."

"Weedy?" Gabriel snorted. He'd given up trying to talk; the pipe inserted into him had been replaced with a larger one that oozed a green sludge into him. He could still snort, and curl his lips up at her, and ogle her body. "Ask her. I'm a fucking stud!"

"How about potency?" Mrs. Miller asked.

"You kinky bitch." Gabriel leered at her as best he could. Since he'd not gotten used to seeing all he needed to yet, he mostly relied on his own mental image of her. He twitched the base of his shaft, causing the flared head to spank his chest and let out a bit of excited fluid, just to make Mrs. Miller aware that he was as potent as ever, and willing to give her first-hand knowledge. After she left, it occurred to Gabriel to wonder if his testicles were producing horse sperm now, or would that come later.

"I haven't put him on the artificial mare yet to collect a sample. He's a bit of a wild one, and I've had to accelerate things a little more than I'd like since I heard him freaking out upstairs. I'll give him a couple more weeks to get used to the harness, break him in a little bit more and give his changes more time to balance out. No point in checking his potency if his balls are still changing, after all."

Gabriel was suddenly aware of just how hefty his testicles had become. Memories of Charlie Boy flashed through his head, admiring the heavy orbs in the big black sack hanging between his legs. Suddenly being a stallion didn't seem too horrifying; the moment quickly passed, since his mind was explicitly distracted.

"He's very handsome," Mrs. Miller complimented. Gabriel almost whinnied then. His extending hooves, having grown considerably over the past days, clawed through the air. Long nubs of his other digits waggled about as they slowly became vestigial.

Abernathy nodded, "He should turn into a good piece of horse flesh." Gabriel snorted again, only this time in anger. How could that bastard not see what she had meant!

Week 20

Since he was still in the harness - and seemed to be filling it out a little better than even yesterday, which depressed him - when Gabriel needed to go, he usually waited for anyone else around to leave. Usually that was just Abernathy. Gabriel assumed, the thought corroding through to spoil the rest of his mind, that the Millers were too important to spend weeks watching one of their victims turning into another horse for their stables.

Abernathy, however, didn't seem like he was going anywhere soon.

As much as Abernathy had Gabriel under the control of his regimen, Gabriel was aware of what Abernathy's schedule. He would usually go off for a few hours spaced throughout the day, to tend to his own bladder, get his own food, probably jack off thinking of his prisoner writhing in the harness, unable to stop his body from transforming into that of some fancy horse. He seemed to leave at the same 'times', as Gabriel reckoned them.

Not today though. He'd brought in meals, as well as a bucket which he'd used. Gabriel could still smell it. Abernathy, it seemed, was not shy about pissing or shitting in front of another person. Gabriel wanted to cry, realising that to Abernathy he probably didn't count as another person any more. Of course, his changes had fucked up that one release as well, as the bones and muscles in his face twisted and cracked in a slow, horrible dance.

Gabriel couldn't be depressed for too long though. His bladder was full to bursting. He could go when he wanted to, of course. Just let his big dangly hose out and do a little watering. Only he was suddenly sure that was the lesson for today: horses shouldn't feel shy about doing their business in front of other people. He had, of course, suffered that humiliation, but that was in the early days of his confinement, when he didn't know what was going on and his body just reacted on instinct. He'd done his best to get himself together.

"Not going to give you the satisfaction," Gabriel thought as he glared at Abernathy, who just seemed to calmly look back. Fuck, did that guy even blink?

Gabriel felt his bladder squirm. He was going to pee, one way or the other. Maybe Abernathy had wanted a sample of him, one that wasn't contaminated by whatever else was on the floor? No, that couldn't be it; Gabriel knew the guy would have had some catheter stuck up his shaft in that case, or at least taped something around the head of his cock. He felt a pulse, and a sickly throbbing in his sack. Sometimes, when he woke up, he could smell he'd had a wet dream the night before. That took care of the physical needs, but after months and months of constant sex, the enforced chastity was starting to get to him.

His cock inched out a little.

Just turn your brain off, Gabriel decided. Let it happen. Be a horse. The sooner it happens, the sooner you can go upstairs. Nobody had told him that, but he felt it was true. Even being a horse was going to be better than being trapped down here until who knows what happened when it was over.

Gabriel let out a defeated grunt, feeling the warm urine splatter on the ground beneath him. It felt almost as good as sex, and he stared at Abernathy right in his face the whole time.

Week 21

Gabriel heard Abernathy curse. He twitched his ears towards the sound, hearing the regular thump of something round rolling down the stairs, followed by the frantic footprints as Abernathy chased after it. Something wafted down from the blast of fresh air from upstairs, and before Gabriel was aware of it, his mind had taken him upstairs, Mrs. Miller - no, Penny - on all fours in front of him, that big rump of hers revealing more and more. His lips tried to scoop up that scent as his cock spilled out of his sheath, ready for use. His legs swung frantically as he tried to make his way towards the scent, his neck thrashing as his lust overtook him.

Was it Penny? The long time with his own thoughts had gotten him thinking about her, and not always about feeling her body below his. He'd seen signs in her, and wondered if, perhaps, they were going to be brought together, stallion and mare. The scent spilling down the stairs was like that, but even more so. Gabriel thrashed in the air, the chains above him clinking like a slot machine that just hit a jackpot, the harness audibly groaning. At his last weighing, he was about six hundred pounds; he wondered how much longer it would support his weight. With the way his legs were growing, it didn't seem long before he'd be standing on them again. All four of them: it was hard to think of them as arms when the most prominent protrusion on each was a gradually-developing hoof.

The thing Abernathy was trying to move down the stairs was not Penny, although for a brief moment he thought it might have been. Gabriel's mind chugged, trying to place the fantastic-smelling object that seemed to carry a cloud of sex around it. Then he realised it was the artificial mare, and electricity shot through him.

Gabriel watched him setting it up, squirming to get close. He had had to get over feeling embarrassed. After Gabriel got used to performing his bathroom functions for an audience, there wasn't much point. Abernathy would watch, of course, but that was just part of the background that he grew to ignore.

Abernathy was swearing about the sample of what Gabriel guessed were mare pheromones, but he wasn't fussy. He almost knocked the thing down in his excitement; Abernathy had to dance around, trying to keep Gabriel and the device lined up in a way that his clumsy thrusts would find their mark.

Eventually they managed it. Clinically cold gel wrapped around his shaft as he plunged it in, feeling the huge condom-like collection bag waiting for his fluids slide over his cock as he pushed it through the thick, fake hole. It was nothing like real sex, other than the basics. Gabriel didn't mind though. His body had been aching for a real good release for longer than he could remember; the time before Under The Stables was starting to fade out of his mind.

The fake vagina squeezed the thick flesh near the base of his cock. Gabriel pumped it hard, a strange mixture of Penny and Mrs. Miller and - he denied it later - Bessie hovered over the crude shape like the ultimate shadowy lover. He could feel his balls churning after only a few thrusts.

Orgasm was a pleasing change of pace, a glorious bliss that helped to wash away, for a moment anyway, his chains and his changes. Gabriel grunted, the pipe in his throat having rubbed it raw. He quivered and slumped as his fluids fired into the collector. He didn't think of Abernathy once.

Week 22

Gabriel had a tail.

He'd been denying it for a while. He could, when it was only a couple of inches of extra-long hair sprouting out above his rump. Now, though, it was its own appendage. He'd moved it about, swishing it at Abernathy when he'd gotten annoyed at the latest glove-up-the-ass medical check the guy insisted upon doing. He always tried saving up whatever farts he could for that very occasion.

Gabriel didn't need to save his gas: Abernathy was absent for the time being, giving Gabriel a chance to collect his thoughts as well as he could. He couldn't tell if it was the transformation, the imprisonment or some internal protection, but things were starting to get a bit hazy in his head. He hadn't talked for a month; he couldn't at first with the feeding tube, but lately he was sure the thickening neck probably couldn't manage it. Words stumbled about in his head, like drunks at the end of a party, getting ready to leave but not without doing a bunch of damage.

Snorting his big nostrils, Gabriel's legs slumped in the harness. He was starting to feel it get to his head, the idea of being a horse. How could it not? His head didn't just look unlike him before, it didn't even look remotely human unless you squinted your eyes really closely. He was larger than any but the most morbidly obese, while still looking fast and athletic, since what he'd gained was going on a much larger frame. There was no chance to even stand up straight.

Gabriel's large, equine nostrils twitched; the scent was familiar, and he felt a shudder. Blood rushed down to his nether regions as his cock slowly pushed out a little from his leathery sheath. Abernathy must have been coming down with the mare scent. The artificial mare had been stashed in a corner, and he'd been quite happy when he was allowed to use it. He'd given up trying to figure out why Abernathy was doing it: even if it was just to get him to horse it up more authentically, he didn't care as long as he got his fix.

The scent was authentic, but it wasn't Abernathy swinging it around. Mrs. Miller's vague form stepped out of the shadows. She touched his head, her tiny hand stroking him as she wafted the scent under his nose. "You like that, don't you? I hope so. This might be my last chance for us to have fun."

The harness kept Gabriel's hooves just off the ground most of the time, so as Mrs. Miller slipped underneath him, there was no risk to her. Not that Gabriel had any intention of deliberately hurting her. Even if she had been the cause of him becoming a stallion, he had enjoyed what the two of them had done.

This just took it to the next level.

She teased him mercilessly, her hands feeling tiny on his massive organ, as she coaxed him to the edge of orgasm. Gabriel tried to keep the thoughts of how she was so practised on a horse out of his mind. He just wanted to enjoy this for what it was. She brushed him again; it felt a lot better now that his skin had toughened up somewhat under his fur. More teasing. No riding - too much hassle - and the feeding tube prevented him from tasting her, but she did him the service of moving the artificial mare over, her naked body pressed up against the long, hairy stretch of his head.

Heavy quantities of Gabriel's semen gushed out as he felt her arms wrap tenderly around his head.

Week 23

Abernathy glanced down, looking under Gabriel's lean, round belly. More particularly at the erection bobbing up and down. As always, he seemed to shake his head, then get on with the chore. Gabriel wanted to laugh: Abernathy never seemed to figure out why it was that the increasingly-frequent brushes he gave Gabriel seemed to stir up feelings of lust. Gabriel had to take his amusements where he could. It was the small things that had saved him from completely snapping. Like the farts, and mentally laughing whenever Abernathy got the brush out.

Gabriel had been breaking up the "days" according to what happened: when his nutrient bag was changed was the biggest ones, as was when he had to use the bathroom and when he slept. He couldn't quite figure out when Abernathy decided he should use the artificial mare, so he'd been on his best behaviour as much as possible, just in case that had an influence. Since that night, he'd not seen Mrs. Miller again, and he felt a strange sense of finality about that encounter that worried him. All of this horrible experience, and what was it for if not her?

Shaking his head, Gabriel shivered. The water was especially cold today, but it didn't seem to dampen his cock any. It was Gabriel's bath time: his internal organs had been acting up a bit more lately, and he'd ended up making all kinds of messes. Abernathy had taken to bathing him as part of the routine, even when Gabriel was sure he didn't need it. Unlike with Mrs. Miller, this time the brush had been squirted with soap. Abernathy scrubbed him clean, using sponges and gloves on the more sensitive parts. Including the penis that was stubbornly sticking out.

Gabriel swayed gently on the harness. His head felt heavy. He closed his eyes, and tried to remember what he looked like when he was a human. It was getting harder. For one, the changes to his eyes seemed to infest his memories. He remembered red and green existed, but he couldn't tell them apart any more, and the farther away the memories got, everything seemed to be cast in the same palette of yellows and blues. It was getting harder to think of himself as a person when he comfortably had a man's whole hand up his ass without screaming in pain, when he was covered in shiny, wet black hair all over, and when for all intents and purposes he looked like a horse; a colt well on his way to being a full-grown stallion.

That's where the mantra had come in. Gabriel repeated his full name, and that he had been a human. He repeated everything he wanted to remember, no matter what happened to him. The names of his parents and his siblings were first. That he had liked to play the guitar for fun, but wasn't any good. That he had been a young, attractive human male. That Abernathy and the Millers should not be trusted. That he could not forget. He thought of it now, warm water flowing out of the sponge sliding over the taut flesh of his cock as Abernathy cleaned his foreskin.

Gabriel tried thinking about guitars. He knew he liked to play them. He could remember their shape, but he couldn't remember when he last played one. It seemed like ages ago. It was during that big black pit in his head, which swallowed up all the things you let slip away from you when you didn't think about them too much. The thing that helped keep your head clean, only when you wanted to remember...

Shaking off his moroseness, Gabriel heard the gentle whirring. The thing Abernathy had looked like a big, thick gun. Gabriel remembered guns were bad. This wasn't a gun. It sprayed drying hot air over him, and felt strangely good as it washed over his dripping hide. He eyed the artificial mare.

Week 24

Abernathy pressed the button, lowering the weighing platform out from under Gabriel's hooves. Gabriel hadn't been updated on his progress there for a while: turning and angling his head to get one eye on the display way too difficult. It was just a number anyway; in the end, he'd be a horse no matter how big he got.

Gabriel's legs went limp, his heavy body pressing against the supporting straps. The straps groaned, but the chain didn't even tinkle. What was the point? His hands were gone. He had a tail. Whenever he smelled a mare in heat, he got horny real quick. If it weren't for the lingering thoughts in his head, and whatever else Abernathy was measuring him for, there'd be nothing a stranger could do to tell him apart from a real horse.

Abernathy moved slowly around to the front of his body, taking gradual steps. Gabriel only tilted his head slightly at the movement; Abernathy was approaching his head. A gloved hand came out and rubbed his muzzle. "Okay, boy, I'm sure you're going to be happy about this."

Gabriel didn't try to correct him that he probably would never be happy again.

Abernathy's hand gently gripped the tube running into Gabriel's throat. Gabriel tasted bile and hot acid crawl up his throat as the pipe was removed from his stomach. Gabriel wondered about that: some animals had multiple stomachs, like cows. Horses he couldn't remember. The amount of tubing being pulled out of him seemed quite impressive. White goo trailed out after it, a foul-tasting mixture of all kinds of things.

While Abernathy rolled the tube away, Gabriel shuddered. He really was just a horse now: he didn't need the extra calories to burn as his transformation continued, since it was more or less completed. At least enough to satisfy Abernathy.

Being left alone as Abernathy disappeared upstairs with the hose, Gabriel felt a strange itchiness in his throat, followed by an intense rush of acid in his stomach - or stomachs - as his body registered the removal of food. His thick, long lips moved along the edge of his muzzle. It didn't take long; the gentle gnawing turned into a rapacious starving gurgle.

Abernathy's grunts got Gabriel to turn his head to the stairs: Abernathy's arms bulged, gloved hands holding onto the thick strings holding the hay together in a rectangular block. "He doesn't expect me to eat that, does he?" Whatever Gabriel thought Abernathy might want, his new body certainly knew what it needed. His long, slender jaw moved up and down as Abernathy brought it to the bottom of the stairs.

Then he dropped it and headed back up.

Gabriel wasn't sure what he should do. Laugh? Could horses laugh? Cry? Go mad? Get mad? Gabriel decided to just hang there for a while, the strange smell of the hay - which his body insisted was very much edible - getting him to stretch out, as if he could grow even more. Maybe, if he stretched hard enough, he could turn into a giraffe. That thought made him laugh, but the noise coming out of his throat was weak and sounded more like a grunt.

Abernathy wobbled back into Gabriel's view. Gabriel could smell his sweat: the wooden trough wasn't as light as it looked. For a moment, he was happy to see Abernathy, until he remembered.

Week 25

"How's the new stallion coming along?"

Gabriel blinked, wondering why his eyelids felt so heavy. His heart started to race as the new smell became more prominent. His mind shuddered, trying to place the scent - the face - the mannerisms - anything of the man reaching out to rub his long, distorted face.

Abernathy's response answered Gabriel's unspoken question. "Pretty solidly I'd say, sir. He's still changing, and needs some filling out, but the transformation's slowed down and it's about time we get him settled into his new routine. We'll have him out of the harness soon, and he should be in the stables just about when winter starts."

Gabriel opened his mouth: he already knew talking was no good - even if he could be understood, they just ignored him anyway - but that didn't mean he wasn't helpless. Mr. Miller might have lost a bit of finger if he hadn't somehow sensed what Gabriel was going to try and tucked his hand back in by his sides.

"Pretty spirited," Mr. Miller noticed.

Abernathy shrugged. "He might look enough like a horse, but he's got plenty of human left in him. Don't be fooling yourself, at least not until summer's come in."

Summer. Gabriel shuddered. What would happen then? Would he just keep changing into some dumb, unthinking animal. A frightened, rough whinny coughed out of his mouth.

Mr. Miller ignored him, rubbing one hand along Gabriel's flank now that his mouth was out of range. Gabriel twisted his ears, feeling a hand slap against his rump. He felt a cold chill: that hand felt so tiny. The hand grasped on to his tail.

"And what about potency?"

"Too early to tell, really, but I'd say he'll be fine in that regards."

"My wife certainly has a good eye for that kind of thing. Old Charlie Boy's been doing fabulously as a stud so far."

The chill in Gabriel turned into a knife. That drained away the last dregs of confusion about the Millers. He'd gone after Mrs. Miller, but she had gone after him just as readily. They had worked together to ensnare him, and change him into a horse.

"I imagine he'll do just as well. We should get some nice racers out of him after a few years. I bet you'd like that work, huh G-"

Abernathy cut off Mr. Miller. "Don't keep stimulating his brain, sir."

Mr. Miller ran his hand through the thick hair covering Gabriel's back, fluffing it up. Abernathy produced a carrot, dangling it in front of Gabriel's nose. Suddenly his stomach rumbled, and his mouth watered. How long, he wondered, had it been since he was last fed?

He opened his mouth, his lips stretching out for the carrot. Mr. Miller continued to talk, but the crunch of the carrot cut up the words, and after a while Gabriel stopped trying to listen: Abernathy kept producing carrots to tempt him.

Week 26

Gabriel almost strutted around the room. He was surprised at how quickly he adapted to being out of the harness over the last week or two. Abernathy would always put him back in it after an hour of walking, but it was nice to get out. Everything but his trough - including, Gabriel had noticed with annoyance, the artificial mare - had been removed before he started. The first time, Gabriel was sure Abernathy was going to ride him, but the bridle had been put on him just so Abernathy had some control over him as he exercised his ward.

Abernathy approached him now; the same way, Gabriel believed, he would to any of the other horses. He could smell them quite strongly now: Abernathy must have forgotten to close the secret door completely. "Getting careless," Gabriel thought to his satisfaction.

When Abernathy grabbed the reins, Gabriel began the circuit. The strap pulled his head backwards. He studied Abernathy in confusion: why was he...? Then Gabriel understood, and his heart started to race in his chest. He almost bolted and knocked Abernathy off his feet, but all that caused was Gabriel's head yanking down as his neck suddenly had an Abernathy to support.

He was going upstairs.

Gabriel banged up against the boards of the stairs. As confident as he had become walking on four legs, stairs had not been included in the training before today. It was intensely awkward, especially the bend part-way up, but after a few false starts and what would have bruised him back when he was human, he moved up the stairs.

The sun hurt his eyes. He remembered the sun existed, that there were things called day and night, but for Gabriel they had become mythological. As he emerged from the secret cellar, he felt like Hercules would upon arriving on Mount Olympus. "No," the bitter part of him reminded himself, "more like Pegasus's grand return."

It surprised Gabriel how quickly everything came back to him: the layout of the stalls, the sights and smells of the other horses, even the landscape of the estate had some familiarity to it. There were differences: the wind was chillier - he could feel that even through the coat of black hair covering almost his entire body - and the trees had lost most, if not all, of their leaves. "Winter," Gabriel thought. He tried to do the mental arithmetic to figure out how long he'd been in the hole. His head started to hurt, so he stopped.

Gabriel followed Abernathy's lead, still in shock from his parole. He instinctively headed into his stall, only that now meant something other than the place he and Mrs. Miller used to fuck. Charlie Boy whickered out a welcome, and he whickered back. Gabriel could almost smell the jealousy: he was the hot new stud in the stable.

Abernathy removed the bridle once the gate had been fastened. Gabriel watched as he performed the same checks Gabriel had once done for the horses: once he was sure he had enough water and food, and wasn't liable to injure himself on anything, Abernathy left. He returned a moment later, but not for Gabriel: Charlie Boy was being guided out of the stables. Perhaps, Gabriel considered, to give him time to settle into his new home with some kind of privacy.

"Balls to that," Gabriel thought. Now he was outside, he started to think about escaping.

Week 27

It was strange being on the other side of the stall doors.

Gabriel lapped up the water Abernathy had brought for him during his rounds. It was icy, and didn't help with the chill from the wintry day that had dropped unannounced into an otherwise mild week. Drinking felt strange, but at least he had the other horses to learn from. Thirst was a great motivator too.

Leaning forward in his stall, Gabriel tried once again to grab at the latch with his mouth. The main problem was length: ironically, if he'd transformed just a little more, at least in terms of muzzle, then his teeth could grasp the latch. As it was, it just fumbled on the ends of his lips, with not enough traction. It was worth remembering, he thought, and added it to the personal mantra he ran through his head whenever he felt himself getting bored, or when he worried the horse was getting the better of him.

It happened a lot that early week. Abernathy still came around and tended to him specially, but it was mostly just extra attention that might be lavished on any new foal. That's what Gabriel had to think of himself; whether he liked it or not, he didn't really know how to be a horse. Not that he wanted to, but needs must, and he knew he wasn't going to escape until he learned how to be a horse well enough to not fall over as soon as he got out of the stall.

Gabriel hadn't been let out of the stall for a whole week, but it was bliss compared to the room downstairs. For one, the horses - the other horses, the depressed parts of his brain were only to quick to point out - were around, and they could keep him company. The cool weather seemed to have calmed down Charlie Boy in the temper department, and the other stallion seemed fine with having him around. For a brief moment after he first arrived, Gabriel felt Charlie Boy had given him a commiserating glance. The glance got Gabriel wondering just where the Millers got Charlie Boy and Bessie and all their other horses from.

There was also a lot more to see. It took a while not to feel panicked when the wind rustled through the trees, or when Abernathy flicked out of the corner of his vision. Gabriel always felt stupid when he got frightened, especially when he reminded himself they'd already hurt him just about as much as they could. He didn't like it either: it was like some instinctive horse inside him was breaking through at times, and he didn't like that idea at all.

Gabriel also learned how to sleep while standing. It was a strange feeling to get used to: he lay down quite often during the first few days out - thankfully there was enough room in his stall to do that - but although he liked doing it at least once a day, it always felt a little strange. The other horses seemed to do it, and the "inner horse" guided him on what he should do. He napped a lot, since there really was not much else to do. Nap, eat, drink, piss, shit, and the most necessary part: repeat his mantra and think of how to escape.

For the time being, Gabriel decided, he just needed to get used to being in his body. That meant letting his "inner horse" take control a lot while he repeated his mantra and kept his real mind busy on things. Like figuring how long Abernathy took when he was away at night, which Gabriel thought was probably the best time to do anything. He closed his eyes, his hooves locking into place, as he went over the faces of his family again.

Week 28

Gabriel actually looked forward to wearing the bridle. He tried not to fidget while Abernathy tightened the straps. He'd already guessed what was going to happen, and had been looking forward to this for the last few days.

Abernathy moved out of the way, and pulled the door open. Gabriel waited for a moment, just in case this was some mindfuck, then stepped out. Hay crunched under his hooves as he left his stall. It was the first time in several weeks - he didn't know how many - that he was actually free. A brief idea of rearing up and striking Abernathy down flashed through his head. It was an option, but Gabriel didn't want to fuck up his chance to escape. Not until he was certain he knew what to do next.

Gabriel followed along as Abernathy took him onto the weighing platform. Gabriel didn't care about the read-out, but it seemed to make Abernathy happy, since he gave Gabriel some slices of apple to munch on. A couple of seconds later, as they were walking away, Gabriel thought that maybe it hadn't made Abernathy happy, and that he was trying to fatten him up. Something familiar oozed around in his head, some story he should have been able to remember, but it didn't solidify.

Abernathy took his time with Gabriel, escorting him around the small field in front of the stables. Gabriel looked everywhere, seeing how things fitted in to his new world view, and matching things up as best he could to the fragments of memories the traumatic experience had left him with. The ground was muddy; it sloshed up around his hooves, and he wondered if he'd be given a bath later. He got the grand tour: Gabriel was an employee before, but now he was a guest. He wanted to laugh, or cry; instead he kept his eyes peeled, eyeing the fence. He wondered how high he could jump, and what kind of run-up he'd need. The fence had been designed to keep horses in; perhaps not those with a human's intelligence, he hoped.

They finished their circuit, then Abernathy reached up to his head. Gabriel jerked back, then realised he was going to remove the bridle. If he hadn't been covered in shiny black hairs, Abernathy would have seen him blush. "If horses blush," he added.

Finally allowed on his own, Gabriel spent about ten seconds looking around and feeling great at the extra freedom he now had. Then he lowered his head, his stomach complaining, and bit into the cold, muddy blades of grass. He tried to remember if Abernathy had given him less food that morning, but he couldn't remember.

The grass wasn't long, and he had to move around a lot. From time to time, a sound would perk up his ears, or something would pass his eye and he'd jerk his head up. It was always something benign: Abernathy taking one of the other horses out into a larger field, the wind blowing some strange bit of rubbish, or a bird swooping in to perch on the fence; some pit stop on their migration south.

"I wish I could fly," Gabriel thought at one bird that landed near him. A brave bird, he thought, since it was clearly a lot smaller than Gabriel was, but was quite content with sitting around, preening and shitting and ignoring the huge animal nearby. He tried to place it, but the changes to his vision made it difficult. At least that's what he told himself was what it was.

A few moments later, the bird flew away, and Gabriel went back to grazing.

Week 29

"We need a name to put on the form."

Voices were coming from upstairs. Gabriel strained to listen, even though he was losing what some of the words meant. Horses could be fine company, but they didn't speak much, and Abernathy had made sure Gabriel had spent a lot of time the past few months not hearing anyone speak. Eavesdropping was like trying to ride a rusty bicycle: he could stay upright, but he was being left behind. It wasn't a nice feeling.

He knew what a name was, though. It was part of his mantra: the one he used to remind himself of who he really was, and his family, during the weeks and days and hours and minutes and seconds that all seemed eternally long and dull. The one that he used to hold on to as much humanity as a horse could.

Other than the size, strength and colouring, there seemed to not be all that much difference between himself and Charlie Boy any more. Gabriel liked to think that he was the better looking stallion - it was a small comfort - since he had speed where the Clydesdale was built for strength. He likened it to an athlete versus a weight-lifter, two words that had very nebulous definitions, but that seemed to fit nicely. "We both lift our tails to shit," Gabriel thought, watching Charlie Boy doing exactly that.

He turned his attention to the voices. There was an argument; a discussion, really, but since the voices carried so well from the room that had been his, he liked to think they were talking louder than they meant. Gabriel also wondered if perhaps Abernathy had listened to him down here, when he was jerking off. Gabriel missed masturbating. Winter seemed to have shut down the mares' cycles, and although his dick felt the chill particularly when it peeked out when he pissed, he wouldn't have minded a little "attention" to that part. If they had turned him into a stallion stud, he reckoned, it would have been nice if they actually used him as one. Even if it was just the artificial mare. Hell, even if it was just a bit of that mare juice Abernathy saved for when he was on the artificial mare.

"Black Angel?"

Black Angel. Gabriel felt a shiver. He'd heard that a couple of times. Someone or someones kept coming back to it, and it started gaining traction. Gabriel raised his tail, and gave his response to his new name. "I guess it's cooler than Charlie Boy, at least," he thought, as he did his business.

Gabriel stopped paying attention to the conversation after that. Something about lineage, but whatever that meant had not stayed in his head. It worried him, but, Gabriel rationalised, it's not exactly useful to him now. It was the same with numeracy: he could relearn that all once he escaped and found out some way to convince them all that he was actually Gabriel, and - somehow - managed to get them to turn him back.

Someone's shoes clicked on the boards upstairs. Gabriel twitched his ears up. It was Mrs. Miller - he recognised her scent, and the sound of her footfalls, but whatever mental hold she had on him had weakened, it seemed, since that last night where she had tended to his needs.

She stopped to come by; he felt her looking at her. Suddenly the fact that he was pent up became far more important than the new name she used when she rubbed her fingers through his mane.

Week 30

Gabriel felt the hammer's blow shudder up his leg. Most of it was phantom sensation: the nails were being hammered into his hoof, and as far as Gabriel could tell there was no feeling in them. That they bothered doing this suggested the transformation was, indeed, permanent. That they got an outsider to do this suggested that his physical transformation must have been done enough that someone who probably knew horses pretty well wouldn't be able to tell the difference. Gabriel really wanted to shift his weight from hoof to hoof, but the poor guy doing his job didn't deserve a kick to the face. Abernathy, on the other hand...

Abernathy and the farrier chatted as the latter worked. Gabriel could feel Abernathy's eye on him, as though daring him to try to make himself known. Abernathy's knife bit into a piece of wood he was whittling; Gabriel didn't need to be told there was nothing he could really do if they decided to cut off his balls, or just slit his throat. Nothing but escape.

Either Gabriel's neck had gotten more flexible, or his muzzle had pushed out. It didn't matter. What mattered was that he could at last reach the latch on the stable and, after a bit, work it loose. He hadn't dared to move it much: he'd first managed it in the middle of the day, and didn't press his luck. He'd closed his eyes, seeing himself going home and then writing his initials with his hoof. He started to practice that out in the field: he'd tried his whole name at first, but that took too long, and he didn't want to risk wasting time. Initials he could do: they weren't as clear, but they were fast and something his horse brain could carry around.

Gabriel's mantra had shortened. He'd fought against it for as long as he could, but he had to give some things up. He could learn his sibling's name again, and choose new hobbies. He kept his name, and how to write his initials. His parents names and where they lived, and how to write their initials if they needed more convincing. He remembered that he was human, and that he very much wanted to be human again.

The farrier dropped his foot, stretching up as he continued to chat with Abernathy. They seemed to be wrapping things up, and the farrier gave him a comforting pat on the side. He was a nice man, Gabriel decided. Just a guy doing his job, just like he used to do. He wondered why they hadn't turned him into a horse as well.

Abernathy and the farrier's words flowed through his head like water. Gabriel had felt suddenly nervous, so had tuned out what they were saying to go over his mantra again. His "inner horse" had suddenly flared up like a bad case of the flu. That part of him was glad the farrier was going, because it would mean he could get out of the stall and eat. Gabriel didn't want that: he'd rather starve, because there was no way he could mouth his way out of the complicated devices that held the gate shut. Complicated for him, anyway.

The pressure in his bladder finally reached the tipping point. Gabriel didn't care, and the "inner horse" didn't view either of the two figures as a threat: one smelled intensely familiar, and the other he'd kept in sight for a while, and assumed that if he tried something it would have happened by now. Urinating in his stall, he felt Abernathy's hand hold him back as the two men exited the stall. The farrier was going home.

"Going home," Gabriel told himself, then resumed his mantra.

Week 31

Gabriel's heart pounded in his chest. The paved road washed by him, the sealed stones streaking by the corner of his eye as he galloped along the soft dirt lining the side of the road, the full moon making them gleam in the night sky. He could still taste the metal of the latch on his tongue. It was the taste of victory.

Gabriel didn't care that he was cold, or hungry. Sometimes his eye would catch the grass in the fields just over the fence, and his stomach would rumble, but he'd start his mantra again and his hooves would eventually pull his head away.

The estate house was a tiny, winking dot of light somewhere behind him. The sound of his heart seemed to deaden his ears: even the internal monologue of his mantra seemed quieter than the steady, speeding thump-thump-thump in his chest. Gabriel wondered if he had a horse heart: he suppose he'd have to, to not die, but tried not to think of it too much. "Just let it do its job," he thought, "and you do your job and get your ass out of here."

Gabriel reached the parallel bars at the front gate. The flanking brickwork had become terrifying bat wings to him, although he couldn't remember exactly what a bat was. The gate itself was closed, but Gabriel was sure he could jump over the brickwork. "Calm down and do it," he commanded his body, looking at it in the dark. He'd convinced his "inner horse" that getting over the gate was good: he hoped it would help him with more horsey things like this. Jumping would be the quietest thing to do, as his recently-shod hooves would have clanged bloody murder on the metal bars of the cattle guard, and that only worked under the false assumption that the gate was open. The Millers didn't keep cattle, but some of their neighbours did. He took a moment to wonder if the Millers ever helped out their neighbours. Then it didn't matter.

Gabriel ran like the wind. He had to admire the strength and speed he built up as he neared the gate. No human could match him. Being a stallion wasn't all that bad - he'd decided if he had to come back again as something else, a horse was a decent choice - but he missed his family (or did he?) and he was human and wanted to be so again (or did he?) and the only way to get that was to get over that fence.

Gabriel barely heard the gun fire, but he felt the bite of metal shooting into his skin.

The "inner horse" panicked, and Gabriel felt his body moving faster. Too fast, he realised, as he started to stumble along the ground. He kept waiting for the pain, for his body to black out. "At least I tried to escape," he thought sadly, wondering why Charlie Boy and the rest had given up so easily.

Gabriel's body slammed into the brickwork. The blow shook through his muscles; even his bones seemed to quiver. The panicking, shocked stallion bounced off the broken wall, turning and stumbling backwards. His head hit the paved driveway, and his consciousness had time enough to register the sound of footsteps closing upon him when the blackness crept through him.

In the morning, workmen would arrive to do repairs. The man who ran the estate for the owners informed them that a horse had gotten loose in the night and had tried to escape. One of the workmen thought that the poor guy or gal had bad luck, since the wall had fallen over. Gabriel, however, knew nothing of this.

Week 32

Gabriel's body still ached, but he barely noticed it. His body swung in the harness, his front legs in a cast. He supposed he was lucky (or not) that he hadn't damaged himself more. His head swam: he guessed they had pumped him with something like the stuff that had been in the tranquiliser dart that someone had shot into him. Not that it mattered much, since his head always seemed to swim these days.

The doctor - vet, she was a vet, he needed a vet because he (was) had the body of a horse - had taken her time with him. She'd seemed a little surprised, but Gabriel never found out why: her words had mumbled their way right through his brain. He was sure he could have understood them if he concentrated, but he didn't see the point.

Craning his neck, Gabriel reached into his trough and grabbed a mouthful of hay. After several days of weakness, he finally felt physically strong again. Psychologically was another matter. The "inner horse" blamed him for getting them both injured, which was true, but that was a bug-bite.

The real wound was his failure. No matter if they let him out, he was sure they'd be watching him. He could already feel Abernathy's eyes staring at him all the time. They wouldn't have to keep it up for long, not with that "inner horse" raring at the bit to take over. Then he'd be a regular horse, like Charlie Boy. A big, dumb stallion; a living horse semen dispenser. His "inner horse" found that thought arousing, and his cock slipped out. The underground room was surprisingly warm, and he found the scents down here oddly invigorating.

Gabriel emptied the trough of all the hay he could reach before he really noticed what he was doing. It was getting easier to just turn off. His "inner horse" was fine with doing everything on its own if he just left it alone. He wondered, maybe, if it would be better just to let go and just let the "inner horse" take over. "At least one of us might be happy," he thought.

Time jumped around for Gabriel. He closed his eyes for a moment, only to wake to the creaking of steps. Abernathy was there, a treat in hand; if he'd had the shoulders to shrug, he would have as he opened his mouth for the treat. The carrot tasted wonderful after days of hay and water. He got a caring pat, and then a body brush-down. He tilted his head around; he was surprised at just how muddy he still was. "Maybe they didn't want to hurt me?" A mania took over him, and he started to neigh and snort. It was supposed to be laughter; nervous, high-pitched insane laughter. Abernathy stopped to pet his head. "You idiot!" Gabriel thought, "I'm a horse, not a dog!"

Gabriel felt a needle go in not long after Abernathy stepped away for a moment. Time jumped again; now he was dripping wet, and Abernathy was petting him down carefully. It was too cold to let him dry out, Gabriel guessed. He felt himself relax, releasing warm urine onto the floor. Steam rose off of the puddle of soapy water that drained away.

The cleaning wasn't finished, it seemed. Abernathy reached gloved hands around his shaft as he finished urinating, the last few drops being gulped back as the touch started to stiffen him up again. A soft sponge roamed over the surface of his shaft, and he felt warm arousal spread through him as Abernathy cleaned off his semi-erect penis.

Done with his chore, Abernathy stood up. He went over to pet Gabriel on the head again. When he started to speak to him, Gabriel's heart nearly stopped. "Don't worry, boy. Spring's coming fast."

Week 33

Gabriel felt almost frisky as he took the steps, although Abernathy didn't let him go too fast. He was still a little weak on his legs, but as warm as it was down in the basement, Gabriel knew that whatever there was that was left of him was going to blink out of existence if he stuck around. The change of scenery invigorated his mind, and he poked his nose around, taking in all the changes to scent and sound that he could.

It was raining outside; sheets of water turned the outside into a grey haze, and Gabriel was glad to be somewhere warm. The ground was muddy underneath his hooves, and he felt a little bad for Abernathy, who now had to clean after all the horses on his own again. "Maybe if you didn't turn all your aides into more work for you, you wouldn't have this problem?" Gabriel didn't laugh out loud, but he certainly thought it.

Over the last week, he had managed to shake off the sting of failure. Gabriel had woken up after a long nap with a sudden realisation: trying to escape had been a monumentally stupid idea. For one, with all of the sensory changes, as well as the results of trying to fit human thoughts into a horse brain, he didn't remember how to get home, and hadn't put that into his mantra. Even if he did get out, he wouldn't have been able to get home. There was a good chance he would have gotten lost, or stopped by (humans) the authorities. After that, he had to find his parents, write down his initials - a skill that was slowly fading from his mind - and theirs. They'd have to believe that he had been turned into a stallion. They would then have to help him find a way to turn back into a human.

For a brief moment, he had a completely clear mind: he would be there, weak and small (a foal) and with a story nobody would believe. If you hadn't seen it with your own eyes, you wouldn't have believed it, and if you did, you'd still not believe it.

Gabriel didn't want to be a horse, but he certainly wasn't going to risk his life to become a human again. What would the point be in that? Life as a horse - a good-looking stud, by all signs - was better than death as a horse trying to be human. There was also the hope that maybe, just maybe, they would turn him back if he behaved (if he wanted).

He passed one of the stalls, and a new scent filled his nose. It had the hints of something familiar to it, and his mind worked to place it as he caught sight of the beautiful white mare that had appeared in the stall before. Her nose pushed out to his, and they sniffed each other. He could smell her fear, her confusion and distrust; but there was also her curiosity towards him, as though she had noticed something about him that was familiar, the same way he had about her.

Penny.

Now that he could see it, there was no mistaking her. The concept of her in his head seemed to instantly be replaced by her mare from: they hadn't known her long when they were both human. Hell, Gabriel thought, he hadn't actually been all that human when they met properly. Now, though, it was another matter.

A sudden protective impulse flooded him. He wanted her to be safe: she would need help getting through the next part, and he wanted desperately to make sure he was there for her as much as he could. Gabriel was so distracted by her that he barely noticed the tug on the lead Abernathy had in his mouth, nor that the sliding bolt on his stall door had a combination lock on it.

Week 34

The rain had finally let up, and while Gabriel thought it was nice to be able to stretch his legs now that they were all fixed up, his stomach would have preferred if the field had been less muddy. Black Angel agreed with him; Gabriel had decided to give his "inner horse" an actual name, and that had been the most obvious thing to call it. He pawed at the dirt flicking it around as he snuffled around.

Gabriel leaned over the fence jealously. The mares were in the neighbouring field: there was more of them after all, so giving them more room made sense. He would have liked to have been in there with them though. Not for sex - it was way too cold for that, and the mares didn't seem particularly receptive - but it would have been nice to be with them. Especially since they field they were in sloped, and with the trees meant there was grass for them to eat and not the brown soup they had been left with. "We'll have hay later," he tried to explain to Black Angel, but the two sides of him were still working on their lines of communication.

The other reason Gabriel wanted to be in the other field came over to him again, as though he'd been busy watching the new stallion on the block and decided he was getting a little too uppity. "Stop looking at my girls," he could almost hear Charlie Boy saying, coming over and butting into him. There was a head butt, and a bite on his flank. Charlie Boy had a few hundred pounds of mass on him, so Gabriel and Black Angel agreed to just do what he wanted. Black Angel was willing to be submissive, for the time being at least, to the Clydesdale's whims. Gabriel knew better: it didn't matter what sort of pecking order they came up with, in the end it was Abernathy and the Millers who were the dominant beasts in these parts.

Gabriel caught Penny's eye. White Penny, the Millers had named her. He wished he could explain to her properly that he understood. That, no matter how his body responded to her, that he mostly just wanted her to know she wasn't alone. She blinked at him, his eyes catching the subtle details that separated her from the rest of the mares, and he hoped she understood.

Charlie Boy bit him again. Gabriel felt his blood boiling: the bossy stallion was pushing things too far, and he knew that (his mares) Penny would definitely not enjoy having that hulking brute bearing down upon her. He forgot that he wasn't all that much smaller than the other stallion; where (White) Penny was concerned, his thoughts were clouded.

The fight didn't last particularly long: Abernathy was on hand, and a couple of cattle prod jabs to the rump put them both off for the moment. Gabriel quivered and panted in the field, as Abernathy tied up a stunned Charlie Boy and took him away. The stallion gave him a look - a strange look, as though he'd been asleep for some time - and Gabriel felt a strange quiver down his neck.

Somewhere in his head, the name "Chuck" popped into view.

The moment was over; since he wasn't being dragged off, Gabriel went and scouted around for grass while taking chances to pop his head over and look (smell) the mares, and at Penny in particular. The thought still lingered with him. He looked over at the lanky figure of Abernathy walking away. He suddenly imagined a big, strong young man - a football player, maybe - standing beside him. Then the image was gone, and all that was left was Charlie Boy.

"Like me." That seemed to be another thought Gabriel and Black Angel could agree upon.

Week 35

The weather was getting warmer. Gabriel could feel it in his bones, but it was really Black Angel that seemed to know it instinctively. He looked forward to spring: sleeping in the stables probably beat sleeping outside in the wild, but the fading idea of inside reminded Gabriel that, yes, things could be better. He even found himself missing the enclosure of the warm basement room, the place that had been so horrible until he and Black Angel decided to work together, like a horse and rider. It made things bearable; that and making sure (the mare) Penny was okay.

He lifted up his head, looking across at (big stallion) Charlie Boy, off on his own. Part of Gabriel was glad that Abernathy kept the two apart, since his body still ached a little from the injuries he'd given himself, and a full-on brawl with someone with more horse-body-experience and muscle didn't sound fun. On the other hand, it meant he was alone most of the time they were let out. After a while, they both got lonely.

In addition, Gabriel felt curious. He wondered if his shifting brain had made something up about the Clydesdale stallion, or had grabbed some clue he'd overlooked at the time in the fog of his last few weeks of mostly-humanity, or if Charlie Boy had somehow told him that he had been some guy named Chuck before he, too, had been transformed. Gabriel would have believed it: he could very easily imagine some strong young guy coming to work here, suddenly drowning in kinky sex that slowly drained all the humanity out of him. How much of Chuck was left, though, sleeping away as Charlie Boy raised his tail to dump out the rest of this morning's breakfast, which is what Gabriel saw him currently doing? There were the mares as well: how many of them had been women before the Millers had swooped in?

A chilling thought hit Gabriel: foals were born, so at least some horses had never been people before. Had Charlie Boy fucked natural mares? Would some natural stallion be invited over to stud (his mare) Penny? Would he have to cover (mares yes mares) natural mares? The air wasn't so chilly that his body didn't enjoy itself as he got aroused, but it was the shameful type of arousal. A kind, Gabriel realised, that if he'd bothered having about fucking a married woman under her husband's nose, might have avoided this whole fate altogether.

Gabriel decided not to think about that too much, no matter how keen Black Angel and their shared body was on the idea. He distracted himself by going up to the fence. He walked along, looking for Penny (his mare) amongst the trees and other mares in the field.

A warm breeze rushed past him, and he felt the hairs of his tail tickle his balls as they swayed in the wind. Gabriel calmed Black Angel, who was seeing threats where he knew there weren't any. He moved his head slowly, making sure to show him that it was just the wind blowing through the branches.

Gabriel felt a warm pulse through his body as he noticed (his mare) Penny approaching. She was very pretty today, even though her legs were coated in mud, and that was drying in the wind. He wanted to laugh, and curled his lips instead, as she came up to the fence.

Stretching his neck over the fence, he rubbed her muzzle with his. "Hello, we knew each other before. I understand. Don't be scared. I'll help you." He didn't know how much of his thoughts got over to her, but he certainly felt a lot better for having tried (and her smell she smells good).

Week 36

Gabriel had learned that horses - or at least, he - didn't sleep through the night. He napped quite often during the day and night, with a bigger sleep at night. He hadn't really thought of it before, but it just seemed normal to him now. That's why he wasn't too surprised at waking up during this particular night, although his nose and ears suggested it wasn't just the normal break from napping.

Charlie Boy snorted loudly at him, and there was a distinctive wet sound as he grunted. His huge body smacked up against the wall as Gabriel's eyelid snapped open. He stirred, moving slowly to get his body ready for... whatever it was that Charlie Boy thought he needed to anticipate. The big stallion whickered and snorted, moving away as Gabriel tottered closer.

Gabriel, unsure he wanted to bother with the (other stallion) stallion's nightly strangeness, stepped away, but Charlie Boy bit the air and tilted his head. He clearly wanted Gabriel's attention, and only seemed to calm down when he stepped closer, lifting his head over the dividing wall of the stall.

Sleep and uncertainty kept Gabriel confused as he looked down into the stall: Charlie Boy was apparently horny, and wanted an audience, or so it seemed. Gabriel hadn't noticed Charlie Boy acting so strangely before. He'd gotten used to Abernathy and others watching him mounting the artificial mare and trying to pleasure himself, but he never sought it out. He watched as Charlie Boy thrust into the air, grunting as he rubbed his huge cock along his round, thick belly.

When Gabriel stepped back, to stretch out a knot that had started to grow in a muscle, Charlie Boy whinnied in frustration as he stopped. Gabriel returned, and the Clydesdale gave him a wink, then continued.

Suddenly Gabriel understood. Somewhere in there, after who knew how long as a stallion, there was some of Chuck left. Maybe it was something earlier, or something else stirring up the strange stew in the transformed human's now equine mind, but Chuck was trying to show him how to jack himself off without hands.

Gabriel snorted, blinked and bowed his head a little. Suddenly, things felt a little more comfortable. He imagined Charlie Boy and Black Angel would always be rivals, but he and Chuck could be friends. Who else but they, and whatever other victims their new owners collected, like (his mare) Penny, would understand what it would be like, where every day it was a struggle not to just go mad or fade away. Maybe that mental fog had gotten too thick, or too comforting, and he didn't have any other outlet until now? Gabriel hoped he'd never have to be in that same position.

He answered by knocking three times on the dividing wall, then doing his best to wink. Gabriel wanted to give Charlie Boy, Chuck, or whatever combination there was some privacy: the guy probably no longer cared, having become the horse equivalent to a porn star in some ways, but there were times you just wanted to be alone.

Besides, Gabriel thought, his nose filling with the weak, early scents of heat from some of the mares, it might be good if we both had some privacy.

Gabriel peered across the stall at (his mare) Penny. She was a far more pleasant thing to look at while he let out another inner animal: one he'd known a lot longer than he'd been a stallion, a beast that was even more bestial than the one his body had transformed into.

Week 37

The last time Gabriel had supported anyone else on his back, it had been part of a sexual fantasy. One that had, over time, become uncomfortably real, but it had been a fantasy. This was the real thing, and there was very little sexual about it. Even if Gabriel could find himself to be fond of Abernathy - he certainly seemed to care a great deal about the horse he had become, to his credit - he didn't exactly find it arousing to have his weight on his back.

This was his first time being ridden, and Gabriel found himself feeling quite nervous. Part of it was Black Angel's instinctive dislike of having the weight on his back. Despite his ambivalence to Abernathy, Gabriel had to remind his horse side that the human was the one who looked after his needs, and so as far as this went, he could be trusted. Gabriel wasn't sure he did a good job, but it was the best he could do. He promised both sides of himself that he, at least, would be the go-between: if they worked together, then it might be successful. It was easy to suggest the opportunity of treats to Black Angel, so Gabriel let out a sigh of relief when he didn't suddenly feel his own brain fight against him and panic when Abernathy mounted him.

Abernathy's instructions were easy to follow: Gabriel, after all, wasn't just a normal horse. They breezed through the basics, learning when to read when the rider wanted to stop quickly or speed up, when to turn and when to stand still. Thankfully, Abernathy was patient, and after a few mounts and dismounts to get the stallion used to that feeling, they set off on a small tour.

Gabriel felt a little spoiled: the riding lessons meant the mares and Charlie Boy were back in the stable. Sure, Abernathy had fed them and given them a few extra carrots for being well-behaved, but that didn't stop the guilt coming to Gabriel's mind.

After a while, Abernathy had them speed up. Gabriel kept himself controlled: he didn't panic at the rustling of the leaves and branches, or at the weight on his back. It was actually a little strange: a reminder that he, at some point, had been as small as Abernathy was. He could easily rear up, then bring down his hooves and dash the life out of him, a small payment for all the bad things that had been done to him. That would have unpleasant consequences though, and Gabriel found that being a stallion, while boring, wasn't exactly awful when Abernathy was looking after them. He didn't want to take that away from Charlie Boy, or (his mare) Penny or the other mares.

They stopped beside a stream; Abernathy climbed off of Gabriel's back, and Gabriel took the opportunity to eat. He went over towards the running water, his eyes nervously scanning the new place, when he saw something in the water. He tilted his head. It was his reflection, he guessed: the shadowy black outline, a spiky mane spilling between two long ears, and the wobbly markings of his nose.

That was when he panicked.

When he regained control, Abernathy was panting beside him. Gabriel looked around: they hadn't gone far - he could still hear the stream - but Abernathy stank of sweat, and it was clear as they walked back that he had gotten a fair way. If Black Angel hadn't been spooked by (the horrible shape) some shadow or other, then who knows what might have happened.

Apparently that was enough for Abernathy, and so after collecting up the scattered lunch that he had been unable to eat, Gabriel waited patiently behind him while he pulled himself onto his back.

Week 38

Gabriel wasn't entirely sure what Abernathy was up to: the last few days, he had been taken out of the stall early. The spring morning air had lost most of their bite, and the remaining chill was refreshing after a few minutes of running. It was a weird chimera: Abernathy's weight on his back, a bridle in his mouth, as they ran circuits around the field, his mind sandwiched between Abernathy's human commands and Black Angel's instincts. He felt diminished, but his body felt good. The blue-brown scenery blurred around him; his only part was keeping control of Black Angel, to stop his wild side from bucking off both mental and physical rider and doing whatever it is he wanted.

Abernathy brought him back with legs close to shaking, muscles burning pleasantly and steam wafting off his body. He felt (the human) Abernathy slide off his back as they came up through the gate into the field in front of the stables. Gabriel sniffed the air: there was another human there - not one he was familiar with - but that almost seemed secondary. What filled the air around him, and made his throbbing heart pound faster and caused his erection to appear in an instant was (his mare) Penny. She wanted him - needed him. Black Angel didn't complain while Gabriel's thoughts drifted towards the time he and Penny had fucked in his old room.

He felt Abernathy's weight on his head. Gabriel was slightly annoyed that he and the other (human) human was here while he was here with (his mare) his mare, pretty pretty Penny. She wanted to race away, to do the dance of seduction he could hear in her heart, but it didn't matter as the human had a grip on the reins. They were around to make sure they didn't hurt each other and got the job done. Gabriel and Black Angel agreed. "We don't need you around."

Not that it mattered much. Gabriel fell upon her back squarely, her smell growing over as his belly rubbed on her back. She squirmed underneath him as he began to thrust his crotch forward, hungry for the pungent beauty of her opening. He leaned over, not sure if he wanted to (bite her control her) kiss her or something else, to let her know he wasn't just a stallion covering his mare. He hoped she understood, but he wouldn't be sure until later, when they were alone in the stables and could look at each other.

Her opening accepted him easily. She felt wonderful, inch after inch disappearing through her black lips. Their flesh smacked, like satisfied lips after a delicious meal. His balls throbbed and pulsed. It felt like ages since he had had proper sex. Charlie Boy had showed him how to masturbate, but that was nowhere near the overwhelming pleasure that he felt in the few seconds it took to slam into her.

Gabriel wished it could have lasted longer, but Black Angel was impatient, and their pleasure belonged to both of them, as well as to (his mare) Penny. Her scent, her warmth, flooded through him. He squeezed his forelegs against her, hoping she accepted the hug the way he meant it.

The pressure filled him up like a fire hose. Horse seed flowed through his system, filling up her body. He hoped it would help to quell her heat, and that she had enjoyed their encounter - this one, and the last one when they were (human) more human - enough that she'd enjoy any others they had in the future. Gabriel sensed there would be plenty of follow-ups until she was pregnant.

"I'm going to be a father," Gabriel suddenly realised.

That, however, was a thought for another time: Gabriel led Black Angel into post-orgasm bliss.

Week 39

Gabriel's doze cut short. His ears perked up at the sound of voices coming closer. He raised his head: they were walking over from the house. Both of the Millers were there, as were Abernathy. The humans (smelled) seemed uncomfortable. No, not just that: even from over here, he could feel waves of grief from the big ones. The little ones seemed happier, but they didn't run around happily like he expected. The Millers and Abernathy talked to them briefly, pointing at the stables.

They weren't the first guests the Millers had brought over. There had been some guy, one who smelled like (mares) horses that was very interested in Gabriel. Black Angel crawled through the vague bits of Gabriel's old life and came out satisfied. Gabriel himself had been confused. Others had come, ones that smelled a lot like the Millers, only much less like horses. These new people, though, weren't that kind. They smelled very different, but there was something...

Black Angel didn't seem to like them. He wanted to run, but Gabriel was in his stall, and since Black Angel was a part of him, even if Gabriel had agreed or Black Angel was in control, they weren't going to go anywhere. He sniffed the air, and leaned out of the stall at the approaching people.

Suddenly Gabriel remembered: his parents. The people coming were his family.

All the thoughts of escape that had been buried deep after the first painful failure surged out. The idea of communicating with his family was overwhelming. He seemed to grow inside the black stallion's body, almost into a separate entity. If he just could...

When he thought about it later, he wondered if Black Angel had somehow sneaked back in control, of if, subconsciously, it was him all along. What happened was the same: he looked across at (his mare) Penny, and of (his foal) his child growing inside her - they'd certainly done it often enough, and both would have been in peak physical health - and wanted to cry in anguish.

Reality washed over him with icy droplets. What if the Millers turned his whole family into horses? What if he got turned back, but Penny was stuck here? What would happen to them if they were turned back? What if they couldn't be turned back? How would that affect his parents? What would they think of him, running around, fucking mares?

This was a test: another one from the Millers or Abernathy. Gabriel knew what he wanted to do, but he wasn't sure he even knew how to write anyway. There was nothing he could do that might convince (the humans) his family that he was their Gabriel. Even if he turned back, would he be their Gabriel any more anyway? How long would it take to relearn all the things he didn't even know he had forgotten.

He watched as they came up to the stall. Gabriel remained calm, only the slight bit of white showing around his eyes revealing his true feelings. He let his parents pet him, and his siblings. Black Angel remained thankfully absent from his thoughts as he gave his family a silent farewell. He could tell that his mother was still crying.

They didn't stay long; not long enough. The Millers took his family - his old family - upstairs. Gabriel remembered he still had belongings upstairs. Abernathy came over, giving him a carrot and an apple. He was practically spoiled as his legs shook, his heart slowly breaking.

Week 40

Gabriel snorted awake. Poking his head around the stall, he looked around. Some of the mares were up, but he had no idea who, if any, they had been "before". Penny and Charlie Boy were asleep, however. Dipping his snout into his water trough, Gabriel drank, trying to wash away the nightmarish images that were fading from his head.

He had dreamed about his family again.

His human family: a quick look (sniff) around the barn told him his new, horse family, were all right here. That, at least, was calming. Gabriel tried to remind himself that it had been his decision not to alert his family. He wondered what they thought happened to him. He hoped it wasn't that he had died; but he wasn't sure if that was better or worse than him just running away. It wasn't that he didn't love them. They were just...

Gabriel really wasn't sure how he was supposed to finish that thought. The lack of sleep made him exceptionally dozy. It even got to the point that Black Angel tried to play back the potent mist-like memories of he and (his mare) Penny together, trying to do something to break him out of himself. The only problem was: he wasn't himself.

That's when Gabriel decided what he needed to do. He and Black Angel, the other personality his horse-brain had developed to cope with all the animal instincts that he was experiencing, weren't a human and a horse, or even two horses. They were one. Black Angel and he were the same. They would be the same until either someone turned him back, or - more likely - he died of old age. He wondered how long horses lived, then tried to forget he thought that.

Gabriel decided to update his mantra.

"I am a stallion." Gabriel immediately discarded that idea: it was stupid for a horse to be trying to think in the way humans did. Reaching across his mind, he tried to gently probe at the bits of himself that had somehow figured all this out before he did, trying to figure out how best to represent himself and the things he wanted to take over.

Black Angel seemed confused at first, then fell into line. Gabriel would come up with a word or thought, and Black Angel would provide the mental stimulus Gabriel could translate it into. Words and images were paired up with sounds and smells, feelings and pulses were intermingled. In the end, both seemed to come away a little bit more together, more whole.

Gabriel began by thinking of himself, all the bits of him as they were now, easing away from the ghostly human form he hadn't realised he'd kept around. Instead, he was Black Angel: he remembered the sound of the (human) English words of that phrase, and associated them to his smell, the way his muscles felt when he moved, the heft of his balls and the feeling of his cock as he mounted (a mare) a mare. It was his ears and his muzzle, his hooves and his tail; not all separate but as one solid whole. He was a handsome, smart horse. A good horse. Charlie Boy - portrayed by his image and his smell - was his family, but also his rival. He had (his mare) his mare, the beautiful white filly, and he remembered her the most fondly. He remembered mounting her, and he saw himself protecting her. Then there were (the humans) the humans. They weren't part of his family, but they were friendly and... yes, he believed he should trust them. Gabriel repeated this, eyes closing.

Week 41

For a moment, when his dozing ears first picked up on the unfamiliar, loud sound that startled him awake, both Gabriel and Black Angel felt the panic racing through his body. His heart pounded, his strong, increasingly sure body ready to flee if his ears or twitching nostrils picked up on anything dangerous that might be coming happening. His drooping head raised up, neck twisting to look around. If Gabriel hadn't been nervous, and then worried that Black Angel was going to do something dangerous that might hurt him, he might have been a little pleased that his integration with his horse self had progressed that far.

Gabriel quickly got a hold of himself, then set to work calming the Black Angel side down as well. He had new equine mantras now, to go along with the one he practised daily to help with letting go of the past. One of them was a calming mantra that he brought up when they were actually safe, but Black Angel was being skittish. One that involved the familiar mares, and the stables that he now called home.

He was actually there right now, although not in his stall. He'd dozed off as Abernathy - the first of the safe humans in his mantra - was mucking it out. Gabriel could smell the fresh hay being put down, and his stomach rumbled. He wished he could go out and graze, but the gates were shut. He went over to test them: Abernathy (the safe human) might have gotten careless, or maybe the other human had come to let him out. Gabriel wondered how Abernathy might react if he were to escape, only so far as the field sitting there waiting for him.

The other human (safe?) wasn't as familiar to either Gabriel or Black Angel, and it took him some time to place the smell and the tone of the voice. It was Mr. Miller, calling out for Abernathy who stood up and left the mucking half-finished. Gabriel voiced his disapproval, but his whicker went unnoticed by the humans.

"He's my owner," Gabriel thought, before diving into his mantra. It helped to tune out the voices: he still caught snatches of the words, but had been doing his best to forget most of them. That was the only thing that kept him going insane at that point, and he felt that if this was going to be his life for what was left of it, he might as well be comfortable.

Gabriel did pay some attention though, since the name "Black Angel" - his name, he reminded himself - had been mentioned, along with a word that got Black Angel's attention when Gabriel had processed it. He didn't quite remember what it was, only that it conjured up feelings of strength and potency, of a particularly strong, attractive smell that got him going. He felt his cock sliding out, and his attention turned towards the mares grazing out in the field.

"He's putting me out to stud," Gabriel realised, his body surging with fresh hormones. The rest of the conversation was lost, but he could feel their eyes wandering over him. "They're probably wondering if I'm going to try to escape, or communicate that I'm - I was - a human."

Mr. Miller walked towards him, on the other side of a fence. Gabriel quickly repeated his mantra, linking Mr. Miller with a wise, older horse, perhaps a gelding: safe, cautious, protective. He leaned out his neck sniffing Mr. Miller's offered hand; the hand went up and stroked his nose.

"He could have at least brought a treat," Gabriel thought.

Week 42

Gabriel lifted up his head from the grass, bits of it still sliding down his throat. Abernathy (the safe human) had a rope in one hand and, more importantly, a treat in the other. Gabriel sniffed it: it was a carrot again. He licked the grass shreds off of his teeth and lips, and plodded over towards Abernathy. He vaguely remembered what this meant, and things became clearer as Abernathy led him towards the fence.

Abernathy hadn't taken him out riding for a long time. Not since before Gabriel's family had come. Gabriel's family, he thought as clinically as he could. Not Black Angel's family: his herd, his team, whatever it was, was right here, He'd been trying his best to think of "Gabriel" as another thing, and that he and Black Angel were one and the same, but it was hard not to fall into the familiar routine, no matter how much he thought he should think what he'd decided to put into his mantra.

Whatever hatred Gabriel had for Abernathy had faded away. He remembered that he had, at some point, but the reason was hard to remember. One thing that had carried over, however, was something that even Black Angel understood in his own equine way, was that Abernathy took good care of the horses in his care. He bowed his head, letting Gabriel slide the bridle over his head. A few moments later, he felt the human's weight land upon his back as Abernathy climbed onto him.

A simple gesture put Black Angel into motion. Both parts of him liked the freedom that being ridden allowed over being cooped up in one field, let alone the stall, and even though the wider world could be scary, he felt it was important to be brave. Black Angel, however seemed quite keen to go out again, and Gabriel felt the human side sleep. He didn't need to train Black Angel any more, and being able to participate as just a horse was far more relaxing. Black Angel had been trained by one human - Gabriel - so taking orders from another, while less direct, wasn't entirely foreign.

They walked for a while, before Abernathy coaxed him into a run. Black Angel found that appealing: he almost forgot about the human - the safe human, but still a human - on his back, and on the bit between his teeth. Abernathy didn't seem to be reigning him in very hard, leaving him to his own devices, and his athletic frame tore across the fields and along the paths. Muddy paths, he noticed, that had turned into a crusty dirt frosting now that summer had returned. It crunched beneath his hooves, which was kind of satisfying, as he pulled them up the hill.

He almost didn't realise where Abernathy had taken him until he saw his reflection in the stream as he bent down. He had been tied to a tree, and he was standing in a different position, but seeing his wavy reflection in the stream water brought Gabriel out of the dreamy state he'd been in as Black Angel came to the fore.

This time he didn't startle. He knew he looked like a horse. He was a horse. He looked at himself in the mirror-like water, and saw what he expected to see. Cool water dripped off his muzzle, and he went back to drinking. The water was actually quite fresh, and he enjoyed it. It seemed to pass through him quickly, and he felt his dick slide out a little, directing his urine away from himself. It trickled down into the stream, and although Gabriel blanched about drinking his own urine, Black Angel didn't mind and his body was too thirsty.

He was only startled a few moments later, as Abernathy appeared at his side to give him an apple.

Week 43

Black Angel was quite keen to go riding again, and he snorted in impatience. Gabriel was mildly curious too: Abernathy had him close to the fence and was holding him still. The bridle was on, and there was even a saddle on his back: one that smelled differently from the one Abernathy had been using the last couple of days when they had gone out, but it still felt the same latched around him, the leather straps digging into his flesh. He always felt a strange, erotic thrill when Abernathy put him into it, but that usually didn't last too long with the excitement of a good run on the horizon.

It was only until the human - a female human, Gabriel noticed - came over when he realised that today wasn't the normal run. A couple of moments later, and her smell hit his brain, and the tantalising sweetness hit him briefly. Mrs. Miller's scent did not affect him in quite the same way - she was a human, after all - and it wasn't near as strong and potent as a mare's either, but smell and memory were powerfully connected, and he felt himself getting hard, his cock waggling about as she mounted him.

He felt it retract, his balls slightly annoyed, as she kicked him into a run once she was in position. She rode well, and with all of the gates open, Black Angel felt the ground racing under him as she urged him faster and faster. A trail of dust followed him before it settled down, grass and trees flying by as wind buffered against him.

Mrs. Miller reined him in, and he reluctantly slowed down. He noticed he was panting, and Gabriel, whose human side having been "sleeping", realised just how far they had travelled without stopping. She was saying something, but the words were formless water, flowing through his head as just noises. He could tell, however, that she was quite turned on: her scent wasn't strong, but there was no mistaking it, especially when she slipped off his back to lead him, her hips closed to the tip of his bowed muzzle.

She ran her hands over him. Black Angel, who already knew her, decided that she was a nice lady. Gabriel agreed, his eyelids feeling heavy as he blinked. His racing heart, and Gabriel's memories mixed, making the head of his cock feel heavy again. It jutted out as he followed her along. She owned him, Gabriel reminded himself. He was her horse. It didn't help stop his cock from dangling, not for a while as they walked.

When they reached a small clearing, filled with tall grass, Mrs. Miller tied him to a tree. She ran her hand through the thick, spiky hairs making up his mane. Then she stepped away, almost laughing as she slowly undressed.

Gabriel watched her nude form slowly emerge from the riding outfit she had worn. Her smooth as wiggled with each step as she walked away, reclining on the ground just out of reach as she found a spot of sun to lie in, soaking in the warmth.

Gabriel licked his lips, watching her. He then closed his eyes, repeating his mantra; he pushed his head into the grass, grasping it with his teeth and tongue. His erection gradually receded as he retreated into Black Angel. He regretted not having a mare around, even the artificial one Abernathy got him to use quite regularly. That feeling didn't last long though, fading once his heart stopped racing and he realised just how hungry the run had left him.

Black Angel would occasionally eye the sunbathing woman, but his erection didn't return.

Week 44

The sun had been tremendously hot that day. The thick coating of black hairs over his body had trapped the growing summer sun's warmth quite well: a little too well, in fact, as Gabriel lifted his head up from grazing, looking about for some shade. Between the increased dominance of his Black Angel side, growing as he fed it, their halves going through the process to become a whole, he hadn't really thought about his past all that much. That's why it took some time for Gabriel to realise that it had almost been a year since he had come here. A lot of it was growing fuzzy, as though he'd dreamed that he'd been human, and his waking mind was just having a tough time shaking it out.

A rumbling noise broke him away from his grazing. He lifted his head up, twisting his ears to follow the loud sound of the engine as it rumbled up towards the stables. Gabriel noticed movement in the stables, responding to the approaching truck. Abernathy came out, watching as it turned around. Gabriel lowered his head back down, trying to forget about it: he repeated his mantra, and decided that if that truck actually did affect him, he would worry about it later. Right now, his mind was bus on how to graze while not getting too hot. He'd learned his integration went a lot better when he wasn't busy being curious about non-horse things.

However, Gabriel realised something might be up when the sound of a metal plate striking the dirt came to his ears. He glanced up, and Abernathy was approaching him slowly, a lasso of rope dangling from between his fingers. "Go. Treat?" He urged himself to move; the Black Angel part had picked up on the scent of foreign horses - only a whiff - but his curiosity had been piqued and Gabriel reckoned that he was about to go on a road trip.

Black Angel seemed interested this "horse trailer" concept that Gabriel had in his head, but it didn't matter as he realised he was about to get some first-hand knowledge of one was. Abernathy led them up to where the vehicle had been parked, a ramp lowered to allow them on. There was enough room for two of him - him and the larger Charlie Boy, even - but it ended up being just him that was led up the ramp. He stuck his nose around, sniffing at the old, fading scents of horses. That brought a little panic to Black Angel, but it passed because they both were rather curious about what this meant. Gabriel had a vague notion that this was tied to something else, and the idea blossomed. Right or wrong, the idea of performing stud duties made him very keen to go on this trip.

After a final parting nose-rub from Abernathy, Gabriel was locked inside. He stuck his nose out, peering and watching as the truck rumbled back into life, and he watched Abernathy and the stables shrink as he was driven back out to the driveway. It was scary, but exciting, as the truck drove.

Watching the gate disappear from view suddenly made Gabriel want to laugh. Earlier he might have cried, but he had made peace with that part already.

Seeing everything shrinking away, aside from faster cars passing them on the road, as new scents and sights whipped by got his heart racing. Black Angel didn't exactly know what "adventure" was, but he got a good impression of what one might entail from Gabriel's own feelings about it. The world seemed, suddenly, to be very large, and quite scary. He repeated his mantra: this time it wasn't for the benefit of his Gabriel side. Instead, Gabriel just wanted to reassure Black Angel that whatever happened to them, they would have themselves and their memories to hold on to.

Week 45

"I am a real horse."

Black Angel's body strained against the ropes, cock erect and teeth bared as he salivated over the thought of fast, raw rutting he wanted, but the humans - strangers, but safe - were restraining him somehow. It seemed wrong to him: he wanted the mare, and she wanted him. Could they not smell how badly she wanted him on top of her?

Gabriel's first night on the farm had been awkward. It occurred to him, all of a sudden, that the mares here had probably been born that way, knowing nothing of being human at all in their lives. It had seemed wrong to lust after them, even though his body, naturally, responded to their oestrus with the normal response of a healthy, virile stallion stud.

Black Angel pulled against the ropes as a little slack gave him some room to move forward. His nose pressed against her opening. As if he needed to check that scent! Any male for a mile around would react to the heat coming off this one. Oh yes, she was sopping wet for him!

It had been tough, especially since his body and the Black Angel parts of his mind were clearly eager to get on with the task. There were several mares here, each in season to be covered; he didn't particularly care if there were challengers. Black Angel was arrogant. Gabriel, though, had stumbled them up, to the point that that first attempt had been a failure. When they had been put back into their stall, Black Angel had forcefully reached into Gabriel's thoughts and dredged up an unpleasant nightmare of a knife and an operation, and then he was less of a man... less of a stallion.

Black Angel surged forward, his strong, graceful body landing on top of the bay mares back. His hips probed about as the head of his cock tasted around for her opening. He felt the humans touching him; Gabriel had told him they were only trying to help, but he was sure that he didn't need that at all.

In the end, it wasn't fear or lust that had gotten Gabriel to give up on the unpleasant feeling. It was his mantra. He'd been repeating it for so long that it had become rote. He'd said it, but he hadn't believed it. Now, though, it was in stark contrast with reality. His body was that of a stallion, and it was reacting naturally. Part of him - a part that he was trying to integrate with - was also that of a stallion. What was the point of the mantra if he didn't live it?

Black Angel felt his cock plunge into her, and heard a whinny from below. He squeezed his forelegs tightly on her as she shifted underneath his weight. His hips undulated, his flesh sinking deeper inside of her as the tension built up in his huge orbs.

He ate like a horse. Pissed like one. He'd even already fucked like one on multiple occasions. Was this any different? He wasn't human any more: he was a horse. A stallion. This is what stallions did.

Orgasm rippled through Black Angel's body. It shuddered through him, energy still crackling through his muscles, but the urgency quickly coming out of his actions. His fluids poured into her, replacing the ones she had leaked out as her body had hungered for this very moment. He had been with others before; quite a few over the last few days, but this had been his first time with her. He could tell: she was nervous around him, and she had the smell of a needy mare. His cock popped out of her like a cork, as he felt pride well through him, his hot semen dripping out of them both.

Week 46

Gabriel had tried many ways to cope with mounting the mares, and of the small, idle thoughts he had that they would lead to children. He would have foals, he realised. Foals with mares, ones that he would not see again. He tried to find human reasons to ignore these things: he was just a sperm donor; they were just horses after all; he wouldn't see a lot of people he once cared about. None of them seemed to fit in with his equine sensibility.

Black Angel did not share these concerns: for him, it was all about today. Today, and the days that he remembered the most, had been extremely enjoyable: racing around, the human - unfamiliar, and not as nice as Abernathy, but not cruel - feeling a bit heavy on his back. Gabriel thought snidely that the farmer, or rancher, or whatever the term was, could lose some weight, and for once Black Angel was in complete agreement. It was just a strange foreplay though; he would go out for a long run, coming back tired out but with an eager mare waiting for him. It was a nice holiday, one where he got to live out a satisfying life, the best any stallion could hope for. Black Angel was quite irritated with Gabriel. Why did he have to worry about foals and the nebulous grey of what would happen? He could die, and all these things would not matter.

Eventually, though, the mountings had gradually just worn Gabriel out. He didn't "sleep" - the feelings were too intense and frequent, and he felt dregs of nagging shame: less after each orgasm, but some still clung around. The mantra hadn't helped, neither had forcing himself into the mindset of a stallion.

A solution did arrive. It was a rutting, just like any other, when part of him had suddenly seemed to pop. Both Black Angel and Gabriel instinctively gripped onto the mare's back, both feeling his cock throbbing, his breath coming out of him as humans scattered around, watching them like some strange pornographic display, although he was sure they were just there to do their jobs to see neither animal hurt themselves.

Gabriel had been trying to imagine Mrs. Miller, hoping that his memories of the arousal of her could transfer over. Only he couldn't remember them with any intensity. She had taken him on numerous rides before he had been loaned out to stud, and each time he'd noticed her less and less. Now, though, it struck him she did not hold any sexual appeal to him at all. His entire sexuality had suddenly matched the stallion body that he possessed.

The line between Black Angel and Gabriel was suddenly gossamer thin, both thrusting and snorting, the wet sound of the servicing he gave the mare beneath him reaching his ears over the sound of his pounding heart. "This is normal. This is natural." The wave of acceptance washed through his head. Suddenly it all seemed so stupid.

The mare protested a little as Black Angel's thrusts became more eager, as though Gabriel's relief at not having to worry had overwhelmed him. He churned, not caring about what he was fucking, or what would happen after; just enjoying what was there right now - the mare, his need and hers - and continued until he felt he heavy pulses rush up as what felt like a gallon of semen squirted out of him and filled her up.

Black Angel breathed heavily, flopping off of her, his cock slowly retracting as it still trickled with seminal fluid. The buzz kept both parts of him quiet when he felt the rope drop over his head.

Week 47

Black Angel walked off of the trailer, the ramp protesting under his weight. He felt quite unsure, as it all seemed familiar, but strangely new as well. He had grown used to the other place, with all the needy mares that had been lined up for him. He had not wanted to leave, but the humans had pushed and pulled him into the trailer, and although he fought to get back to his mares, they took him away.

Being back here seemed to stir his human side up again, and Gabriel pulled together long enough to tell himself. "This is home. Remember? Safe humans. Your brother. Your mare."

Black Angel poked around. It did look familiar to him, but it was really the sounds and smells that calmed him. He felt a bit silly thinking of the white mare, as pretty as she was, as his mare though. He had other mares; many mares at the other place, although how they smelled and sounded and looked were starting to fade from his mind. He was here now, and there were many mares here, though none seemed to want his advances just yet.

Some humans were about, making the noises that humans made. Gabriel once tried to listen, but he no longer cared to, and besides Black Angel was no human. Human noises were of no concern if they were not threatening, and these were not. The fat one that had liked to ride him before the mares was there, talking with another human: this last human was safe, and like an old, unthreatening gelding in a lot of ways. Not a threat, and part of his herd; one to be respected, if not obeyed. Humans were strange, and seemed to know things: Black Angel was always surprised by how much the "Gabriel" in his head knew about such things.

Another of the safe humans - Abernathy, Gabriel reminded himself - led him back to his stall. The ride over had left him hungry and thirsty, and he was provided with a trough of hay and water to drink. Thirst seemed more urgent, and he lowered his muzzle into the water. The human's noises washed past his ears, and Black Angel settled back into his old home.

As he ate up the hay, which was, in Black Angel's opinion, nowhere near as nice as fresh grass, he looked up. Straws fell around as he tilted his ears at the humans. He wasn't interested in the noises they were making, but was kind of curious if they were talking about him. They seemed to be: Black Angel remembered the sound of his name. The sounds seemed happy, the Gabriel part of him thought, which made him feel happy. If the humans were happy, then they would give him treats and not hurt him.

No treats materialised from the two of them, although the safe human (Abernathy) looked at him closely, then came over again once he had finished eating and drinking to inspect him all over. This felt familiar, and Black Angel found himself relaxing. The memories felt stronger now: he felt at home. When the human (Abernathy) moved his hands down towards his genitals, he urinated. The human expressed disgust, but Black Angel felt a strange happiness, as though he had enjoyed it.

Doing that seemed to lose him a carrot; he could smell it on the safe human's body, but it was not given to him. He whuffed, and poked his head around, trying to get at the carrot, until the safe human (Abernathy) moved out of his way.

Even though the sun was still up in the sky, Black Angel felt quite tired. His eyes felt heavier than they would. It was the move: coming back here in the human's machine had been almost as tiring as actually walking or running had been. Black Angel closed his eyes, and quickly fell asleep.

Week 48

Black Angel's eyes opened up; he had been napping, although it had felt different. There had been two figures in his dream: himself, but also a human. The human was familiar: not one he saw every day, but one that he seemed very comfortable around. He smelled like a horse, then had started to become a horse, a mirror image of himself. They had started to move closer together, and that's when he woke up.

The strange thought - Gabriel - was on his mind. It felt strange, since he had not thought of it for quite some time. He knew it was a human name, but couldn't really remember the sound, only the slight feeling of sadness it gave him. Black Angel imaged that a human should not feel sad about becoming a horse. He had been a human once, this Gabriel he had dreamed about. But that felt a bit like a dream too, and even if he had been, he was a stallion now, with a stallion's concernes.

He looked about; in his stall, and into that of his neighbour. The other stallion (Charlie Boy) was stronger than he was, but not as fast. The humans took him out during the day, and he had been used to help pull up a tree that had fallen down. Black Angel had been quite annoyed, since it was clearly just for Charlie Boy to show off for the mares; he thought he could have done the job just as well if they had asked him.

They - the human female at least - had instead taken him out for a run. That had been enjoyable, even if she had acted oddly. He much preferred the human he saw every day: Abernathy, another human name, lingered in his head. He brought food and water, and cleaned it out even though Black Angel did not think that needed to happen. He brought treats, and let him in and out so he could eat the grass, and just run for himself. He could also go and have a look at the mares: some of them, he could tell, were admiring him. He hoped the other stallion would not get in a way, since Black Angel wasn't sure he could outfight him if it came to that. "I could be fast," he thought.

Gabriel looked over towards the human's stable. There was light like stars coming from over there. It was strange to see this late at night, but then humans were often strange. He wondered if he had been strange, when he had been the human Gabriel. He supposed, if he tried, he could remember, but then he didn't really want to. Sometimes it hurt, like he had been cut, when he thought about it for too long. "That must be why I do not," he decided.

He scanned around: at night, you had to be very careful, since you could not rely on your eyes as well. Things could hide in the shadows; bad things that used them to sneak up on you. That did not stop scents or sounds, though, and after carefully deducing the sounds of small furry things that would not harm him were all that were moving about, and that he would fight Charlie Boy if necessary for the mare that he could not help but smell was in need of a stallion's attention.

Tiredness crept up on him: he had assured himself it was safe, and as his trough was empty of hay, he couldn't satisfy the dull start of hunger quivering in his stomach. He dropped his head, letting his eyes close. Getting down to rest properly by lying down in his stall wasn't exactly graceful, so he was glad that he could not be seen doing just that.

Black Angel closed his eyes. It took him some time to get into the dream. This dream was strange again: he was human, only as big as he normally was. There was another human - a female - under him, and they were fucking in the manner of horses. For a dream about humans, it wasn't bad.

Week 49

The hot summer air seemed to carry the scent of the mares right to him. Black Angel's arousal was immediate, and he circled around, frustrated as the barrier (the fence) seemed to be everywhere. He thought about charging at it: it certainly looked flimsy, although a very small part of him told him it was a bad idea. That part summoned an old ache, and he remembered that running into things that the humans made could hurt a lot more than you thought.

What frustrated him most was that there was no contest: he could see the other stallion, Charlie Boy, over there. There were safe, familiar humans about, and Black Angel felt annoyed. The humans, as nice as they could be, clearly did not understand. He should have been at least given the chance to fight for the mares: that was the way things were done!

The scents and sounds of the massive stallion's thrusts burned Black Angel's thoughts. The mare was a sturdy sort, and the same small, wise part of him thought that might be why: he had a brief flash of foals, sturdy foals, following the mare around and drinking from her swollen teats.

Thinking of foals made him look towards the stables. One of the mares, at least, was his: the pretty white one. He had a dim memory of mounting her, from a time that seemed almost a lifetime ago. Black Angel was sure she was carrying a foal that they had made together. He hadn't seen her much: there were fresher memories of other mares in his head. Thinking about that made it all the more frustrating that he was being kept away from these ones. If the humans hadn't interfered, then he would probably have been able to have claimed some of them. They seemed to have allied themselves with Charlie Boy, however, and were determined to let him have all of them.

Charlie Boy was done: Black Angel felt the thud as his large hooves met with the ground again as he pulled off of her. The humans swarmed around to separate the horses. Black Angel distracted himself by lowering his head to the grass, but the scents had become strong again and the warmth stubbornly remained in his genitals.

It had weakened when the humans had returned for him: by then Charlie Boy and the mares had all disappeared from the field in front of the stables and into the stables themselves. Black Angel was frustrated, and tried to bite at the human who had come with the rope, as not even a carrot was going to make up for the frustration and indignity he had suffered. The human was a little rough with him, which caught him off guard, and Black Angel followed him in a very slow, deliberate manner.

They were at the stables, the scent of the mares who were still waiting their turn growing, when another, more potent version of the same smell reached Black Angel's head. His arousal returned quickly, following the scent with his large nose. He felt himself reacting to where his body told him there was a mare, although he couldn't hear her and his weight certainly felt wrong when he landed on top of where she should have been.

Her insides weren't as warm as he was expecting, but Black Angel was pent up, and thought perhaps that even a sicklier mare was still a mare. His balls were churning and throbbing from a day of Charlie Boy, and Black Angel took his aggression out on her, banging and slamming as her oddly hard body met his thrusts with eerily calm acceptance. His cock ached and throbbed, pushing through her uncomfortably tight lips as he strained for release.

Week 50

Black Angel's head swayed back and forth. A strange new scent - a human scent - had come in, covered with the foul smell that often came out of the machines the humans used, usually the ones that made the most noise. The human scent was unfamiliar, although it was surrounded by other familiar ones. The male that looked after them was the closest, moving over towards him. Black Angel wondered if perhaps they were about to fight, but the vague memories of having been human suggested that this was just how some humans greeted each other. Finding human customs silly, he listened idly as they made their noises at one another, still trying to get a better picture of what was going on.

There was another familiar human scent: Black Angel recognised the female who took him running regularly. Of human scents, the male and the female were the most familiar to him, and he decided if both of them accepted this stranger, then perhaps he was safe as well. Still, there was a curious part of him.

The three humans walked around, stretching their front hooves around at things in the strange manner of humans. Black Angel did not remember much of having been one of them once, at least not consciously, and was quite relieved that he did not need to bother with their strange customs and ways. Even if they were strange, though, the ones he knew best were usually very good about him. He wondered if the new one was the foal of the other two, or maybe a younger male that was a rival? Black Angel shook his head: no, no, there was something wrong about that image. The humans he knew best - the male and the female - did not mate. He thought that was foolish, but the other familiar male, less familiar since he rarely visited the stables, was the head of the human's herd. His smell was the one he sometimes smelled on the female, although lately there had been another.

When they came over, Black Angel was pleased at the new human: clearly he was sensible, since he was offering him an apple, one of his favourite treats. Still a bit wary, he still picked up the apple and ate it off of the new human's hands. He couldn't be too afraid, since he knew the mares were watching, and if they could see how brave he was, well, the humans might finally realise that he should be able to at least fight for the mares...

Something stirred in his head as the new human's arm ran up his nostril. The familiar scent of the human female was on it. Black Angel thought of something he hadn't done for quite some time - Gabriel, the human he had been before - and suddenly had thoughts of this new human and the female he knew, their bodies writhing on the hay in his stall. Only instead of the vague memory of his old body, which never really felt right to Black Angel anyway, it was this new human that had taken his place.

The apple had been eaten, and the humans were moving on to see Charlie Boy. The part in Black Angel that had been roused from sleep started to fall silent again. After all, humans could be kind, but they were strange, and their like not worth a stallion's time to think about.

Instead, Black Angel craned his neck, looking at the white mare that had been moved across from him. The humans had visited her first, and she seemed distressed about it. It seemed only natural that he should try to comfort her, his pretty mare. Let the humans worry about the human things.