|The Transformation Story Archive||Horses and Doggies and Cats, Oh my...|
(NOTE: This story was written for TC Lin, and is based on Chinese and Mongolian legends and history, as well as original ideas)
Zhihua shivered slightly in the darkness, watching the flap of the tent's entrance. A flickering torch outside cast the guard's shadow against the coarse cloth next to the opening, his massive sword making its own dark and more ominous shape.
The young man was completely bewildered by his surroundings. A native of Hsinchu, he was used to the busy streets and crowds of a modern city, not the silence of this remote plateau. Even if he could somehow escape, he was naked and defenseless, with no idea of where he was.
He should have known better, but everything had happened so fast. Desperate for a job, he'd answered the small ad for a delivery man, and found himself hired and on his way to Nei Monggol in a matter of hours. The northern province was more than a 1,000 miles from Taiwan, where Zhihua had spent his entire life.
His new employer, a swarthy man named Ah-xiong, had asked only if Zhihua was in good health, was free of obligations to family or friends, and was available to travel immediately. The man had been delighted when Zhihua admitted that he was new to Taipei, and that all of his belongings were held in the knapsack he had with him. To Zhihua's amazement, he was offered the job on the spot.
The moment he agreed, Ah-xiong had taken the young man into a small room decorated with rich tapestries and ancient weapons. There, he picked up a small enameled box inlaid with gold and silver. "This is part of a special gift to my father. He is the Khan of a Mongol tribe which roams far from here."
He stroked the polished images of horses which raced across the box's surface. "This is from the Empire of Jagatai, more than 700 years old. It cost me much more than you can imagine to obtain it. And I have been looking for many months for the right person to deliver it. You are that person."
Zhihua had blushed, though he could not understand what made him different from any of the others who must have applied for this position. He was of average height and build, 24, sharing the dark hair and eyes of most Chinese. He did consider himself to be fairly handsome, but the only distinguishing feature he had was his rather long and wild hair.
The man might have waited two months to find the right person, but he had wasted no time sending Zhihua on his mission. Ah-xiong had spared no expense. The car which rushed him to the airport was a Hongki limousine, one of the few Chinese made vehicles of its type. And the aircraft was a private jet, outfitted inside with comfortable chairs, and even a kitchen. His employer had carried the carved box all of the way to the airplane, handing it to Zhihua only when he was safely aboard. Then he pulled out a scroll, and handed it to the young man. "Make sure that you give this to my father. It will introduce you, and explain my , ah, gift to him."
The flight had been very long. Even so, he was not prepared for the drastic change when he stepped out of the plane. Wherever this was, he was far from Taipei. Dry, barren, and utterly empty, the plains extended as far as he could see.
Despite the rushed arrangements, a battered truck was waiting for him. The driver, a huge man dressed as a Mongol tribesman, said nothing. It was just as well, since Zhihua did not understand the dialect.
By the time they had reached the Mongol camp, Zhihua felt as if he had been beaten. Any trace of a road had vanished quickly, yet the driver did not slow his pace. They were airborne as often as they were rolling on the rough ground, and the strange collection of round tents had been a welcome sight.
Zhihua was taken to the largest of tents, where his scroll was presented to the Khan. The old man was large and powerful despite his obvious years, and nearly crushed Zhihua in a welcoming embrace. The box itself had been received with awe and reverence, placed on a pillow next to the Khan's seat.
A clap of the Khan's hand had signaled the entrance of four boys, all carrying jars, brushes, and a bucket. They formed a circle around him, and started removing his clothing. Too bewildered to resist, Zhihua stood there as the boys went through an elaborate cleaning ritual which was extremely pleasant, if embarrassing.
It wasn't until the Khan threw Zhihua's belongings in the roaring fire that the young man had started to become frightened. The old man smiled at him, and then knelt to open the ancient box. He seemed to utter a prayer or invocation of some sort, and drew out a plain clay jar. Then he had pulled out what appeared to be a dark silk glove.
Pulling on the glove, he had stood and approached Zhihua. The young man had actually backed away, only to be stopped by the huge bodyguards. His reluctance did not seem to bother the Khan, who knelt in front of him and drew a huge, curved dagger. Zhihua felt a scream rising in his throat, only to nearly faint in relief as the old man used the blade to cut through a wax seal around the top of the jar.
The guards gripped his arms, preventing him from moving as the Khan scooped a black creme from the jar with the gloved hand and applied it to Zhihua's penis. The old man carefully pushed back his foreskin, and then spread the creme over his testicles. Despite Zhihua's fear, the handling caused him to pound erect. When his sexual equipment was fully coated, the Khan carefully wiped the excess creme from the glove, and closed the jar again. Standing, he bowed deeply to Zhihua, and then nodded to the guards. They had escorted him to this tent, and left him.
All that had taken place hours ago, and no one had come since. Zhihua's first action had been to try wiping off the creme, but it had either evaporated or been absorbed into his skin. Guards had been posted outside, and he had not worked up the courage to try leaving.
He shivered again. The night air was a little cool against his naked skin, and there was nothing here but straw and a strong animal smell he suspected was that of horses. Not that he had any experience to base that opinion on. There were few horses in Taipei or Hsinchu. But the animals seemed to be everywhere here, even inside the Khan's tent.
At least part of that odor was urine, and it prompted growing pressure in Zhihua's bladder. He tried to ignore the desire to piss, and was mildly surprised to feel his penis start to push out. For some reason, he couldn't make the sensation go away, and started to pace back and forth in discomfort. Not that there would be indoor plumbing in the camp, but he did not want to piss in the place he was locked up. Maybe if he tried talking to a guard, they would let him at least pee outside.
Before he could reach the opening, the decision was taken out of his hands. Urine shot from his swinging shaft in a hard stream, and he had no more control of it than an infant. However, as he looked down at himself, it was his penis, no the urine, which commanded his attention.
Even in the darkness, it was obvious that the organ which arched in front of him was not the one he had arrived with. It wasn't even fully erect, yet it was already far longer and thicker than any human penis he had ever seen. His fingers traced the impossible shaft, reporting a somewhat heavier foreskin, and testicles which felt swollen and hard. Even stranger, the coarse hair in which his penis normally nested was gone, leaving his groin as smooth as the rest of his body.
Zhihua stumbled backwards with a cry of horror. What was happening to him? His feet tangled under him, and he sat down hard in straw damp from his own piss. Confusion and fear combined with exhaustion from the long day, sending the room spinning around him until he finally passed out.
Small hands were massaging him when he woke. Startled, he opened his eyes to see the four boys who had stripped him. They all grinned broadly when they saw he was awake, and the eldest, a shaggy-haired youth of about 15, shouted something to the guard outside. One of the others took advantage of Zhihua's open mouth to push a thick pasty substance past his lips. Zhihua reacted instinctively, spitting out whatever it was.
It took a moment for him to remember where he was, and the events of last night. One of those memories prompted a look down, and he gaped at what he saw. Whatever was happening had not stopped when he lost consciousness. There was a thick sheath of black flesh between his legs, containing an equally dark penis which was larger completely withdrawn than he had ever been fully erect. And his testicles had doubled in size, like walnuts tightly covered by black skin.
He was still staring at himself when the Khan entered the tent. The boys immediately scrambled to their feet, and stood aside as the old man approached. The boy who had tried to force-feed him fell prostrate in obvious fear. The Khan clucked his tongue and took the bowl. Squatting in front of Zhihua, he grabbed the young man's face and turned it to meet his own fierce gaze. Dipping his fingers into the bowl, the Khan smiled, and placed some of the paste into his own mouth. After making a show of swallowing the stuff, he scooped up some more and held it in front of Zhihua's mouth.
In truth, it was hard to determine what prompted Zhihua to accept the food - the Khan's insistence, fear of the guards who stood behind him, or the realization that he was starving. The paste was a little bland, but not unpleasant. Some sort of grain mixture. He had barely swallowed the first mouthful before the boy had another ready. The paste went down faster and faster, until all four boys were kept busy trying to satisfy the frenzy of his appetite.
Control did not return until he fell back in the straw, so stuffed he could feel the backup in his throat. The boys giggled as they wiped his face clean. One of them inspected his penis, pulling the organ from its sheath and slipping his fingers under the foreskin. Zhihua was too dazed to protest. Actually, it felt pleasant. Everything felt pleasant. It was a little like being drunk. He started to drift off, this time into normal sleep.
The sun was still shining when he opened his eyes again. He could hear whispers, and turned his head to see the boys talking quietly among themselves. The movement felt odd, as did other things. And he itched. Not just where he was lying on the hay, but all over. One hand absently scratched at his belly.
Zhihua sat up suddenly, fingers frozen over the stubble they had discovered. The boys fell silent, but stayed where they were as he looked down and moaned softly. An even shadow of coarse hair covered his skin, which itself looked darker and coarser. And the shape of his body had changed slightly. His chest barreled out in the center, and his thighs had become flatter and deeper to better frame the sexual equipment between them.
It wasn't until the boys came over to him that he realized he had also become larger. He had trouble standing, for balance was off, and his center of gravity seemed to have shifted higher. However, even partially hunched over, he towered over the oldest of his keepers. As best he could tell, he was well over 6 feet tall.
He fought back panic. Until now, the changes had been strange, but not completely undesirable. Even though his penis no longer looked human, he would not have minded being left that way. Many of the women he had known would not have minded either. But the rest of him was being altered now. The question was, into what?
There was no mirth now from the boys. Perhaps now that the changes were obvious, they no longer thought his situation was funny. They surrounded him as before, providing needed help when he tried to walk. Zhihua's muscles and bones had changed along with his skin, and they did not work quite the way they used to. He was guided towards the tent's opening, which he suddenly realized was unguarded. Staggering forward with a cry, he tried to break free and run away, only to sprawl on the ground.
Shouts and cries sounded around him. He blinked in the unaccustomed brightness, and saw some of the Mongols gathering around him to stare. One had been leading a horse past the tent when he fell out, and the beast stood almost over top of him. From his position, Zhihua had a very good view of the horse's underside. The stallion's sexual equipment was both impressive and familiar. An almost identical set hung between his own legs.
With a strangled cry, he recoiled from the animal, seeking refuge back in the tent. His keepers followed, stroking him and speaking in soothing voices. Just as they would probably calm a frightened horse. A stiff brush was pulled through his hair, sliding down a mane-like growth which continued down his neck and back. Now that he knew what was happening, it was easier to feel the difference caused by his transformation.
The dark creme from that ancient box was somehow changing him into a horse. Magic? He'd always thought of such things as foolish superstition, or stories for children. Yet there was no denying the evidence of his own eyes. This was impossible, but also very real. So it must be magic.
Why him? Zhihua felt tears welling, and tried to blink them back. Ah-xiong had said he had searched for months for the right person. What could Zhihua have possibly done to deserve such a cruel trick? He had never even met the merchant before answering the ad, and had been both respectful and truthful.
The boys began to clean him again as he bemoaned his fate, running brushes gently over the new hair. They were almost reverent in their attention. That made sense in a strange sort of way. These people obviously treasured their horses, to the point that they ate and lived with them. A stallion created by the box's magic would have to be special, a gift from ancient and powerful Gods.
A series of spasms shook his body, and he choked back a cry. It wasn't painful, but he could actually feel a difference in his muscles as they passed. The boys pressed against him, reassuring him as they steadied his growing body. How could he be adding so much mass? Certainly he was double his original weight, if not tripled or more.
As if in answer, one of his keepers held a handful of paste up to his mouth. Zhihua automatically accepted it, only to remember the eating binge after he swallowed. How much of the paste had he consumed? Another mouthful went down, tasting thicker in consistency. It occurred to him that his mouth and lips were moving in an unfamiliar fashion. He longed for a mirror, but had to be satisfied with what information he could gather from his probing tongue and the general feel of his face.
It was hard to concentrate, but he managed to focus his eyes downward and make out the protrusion of his nose and mouth. They had grown tremendously, pushing out and becoming broader. His jaw felt loose, with more sideways motion than he remembered. It allowed his flatter teeth to grind bits of grain between them. Even his tongue has become thicker, and the formerly bland grain mixture tasted much richer.
Hunger began to grow again, and this time the boys brought huge buckets of a coarser grain and water for him. Zhihua tried to pick up some of the mixture, only to find that his arms and hands did not function well enough even for that simple task. The oldest boy solved that problem by lifting a grain bucket up to his questing lips, allowing him to pull food and water directly into his mouth.
Zhihua could feel control slipping again, and tried to resist. But the cravings of his body overpowered the fear in his mind, and he succumbed to another frenzy. As he devoured buckets of feed, their contents started to change. The initial soft mixture became thicker and drier, until they held dray, unhulled oats. His mouth seemed to adjust automatically, his jaw and teeth becoming larger and more powerful.
Though unable to stop, he was more aware of what was going on this time. And he was able to stop eating before the half-chewed oats filled his throat. This time, the buckets of grain and water were not removed once he was finished. The boys began to check him over again, more thoroughly than before.
There was only mild fatigue this time, and he was able to stay awake. Attempting to sit only reinforced the amount of change, for his legs no longer worked that way. Standing was uncomfortable, and even crawling was impossible. Finally, he gave up and lay on his side in the hay. His keepers continued to groom him, their brushes finding thicker hair than before. One of them rubbed his penis, causing a dulling sensation of pleasure. This time, the stiffening organ continued to a full erection, and just before Zhihua fell asleep, he bathed the boy with a spray of fluid.
It was hard to breath. Zhihua struggled up, trying to relieve a heaviness in his belly which kept him from expanding his lungs. Unable to sit, he rolled up onto all fours and pushed himself off the ground. The pressure relaxed, and he drew in a deep gasp of air. Vision was terribly blurred and distorted. The tent was dark, but it was more than that. Even the torch-lit opening was hazy and oddly colored. And the odors which he had noticed before had become a hundred times stronger. He drew the rich scents into his nostrils, savoring the variety.
A thick male musk. His own ejaculation, providing an odor that was somehow more his identity than the sounds which made up "Zhihua." The boys were still here. He could smell them close by, similar, yet each easily distinguishable. The oldest boy still had Zhihua's fluid on him, the cum almost masking the youth's own odor.
That he was standing on all fours was proof of further change. Hands and feet had gone numb. If they were not fully hooves yet, they were not far from it. Movement was still difficult, but he managed to work his way to the buckets and get a drink of water. Lapping was automatic, and he found himself snuffling the refilled grain containers.
He should be afraid. Terrified. Zhihua shook his massive head and wondered at the easy calm which filled his being. The thought of becoming a horse was no longer frightening. Instead, there was a naturalness to the prospect that he found comforting, even desirable.
Not that there was any chance of avoiding the transformation. It was impossible to tell without light and better eyesight, but he was sure that the change was almost done. Oh, there were still parts of his body that pulled and twitched even now. Walking on all fours was already easier than it had been when he first woke.
A noise from behind drew his attention, and he made out the blurred figure of the oldest boy approaching him. It was something of a shock to see how much larger Zhihua had become. Even on all fours, his eyes were higher than the boy's head. The youth quickly awakened the others, and sent the youngest out. The remaining keepers began to groom him, brushing out the glossy black coat and flying mane and tail. It was as if they were molding him with their hands, providing the final details of the equine form as they worked.
The oldest one knelt under him when they were done, and once more coaxed Zhihua's massive organ from its sheath. This time, he lubricated the swelling shaft with oils, but did not bring him to climax. Zhihua became restless, frustration building in his loins. At the same time, a new scent drifted to his nostrils through the tent opening. It drew him toward it, awkwardly at first, but then with surer steps as movement grew automatic.
The Khan was there, as well as the rest of the tribe. Torch light made day out of night, illuminating both the people, and the mare they surrounded. Zhihua faltered. The mare's scent called out to him, awakening new desires and instincts. But those new instincts seemed to be replacing parts of his human mind.
The Khan approached, and bowed low. Then he grabbed Zhihua's mane and led him gently closer to the female. Her tail had been pulled aside, her opening cleaned and oiled in preparation. Zhihua's penis arched stiffly under him, and he moved towards her by choice. Her scent was overpowering, appealing not only to lust and pleasure, but deeper needs to mate, to procreate.
The rush of animal sensations shattered human consciousness, and Zhihua felt fear as his identity slipped away. Memories were fading, replaced by impressions and sensations of growing up as a horse. Yet he drank in the perfume of the mare's need, and pressed against her flank. She rolled her eyes, linking with him at some primal level.
He covered her with a fluid motion, the hard tip of his penis catching in her opening, and pushing in with brutal penetration. The stallion whinnied in triumph, locking his forelegs around her as he drove deep into his mate. The purity of sensation washed over what remained of Zhihua's mind, removing the last vestiges of fear. Life took on a clarity he had never experienced before, and he felt a sense of wonder.
Ah-xiong had not played a cruel trick after all. Instead, he had taken a struggling young man who had no future and no friends, and given him a chance to be something special. No doubt that the box had been sent to the Khan, and the stallion would be his as well. But as Zhihua surrendered happily to his new existence, his last human thought was that the greatest gift had been given to him.
The Gift copyright 1996 by Bob Stein.
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