A commissioner requested an additional chapter to this story from earlier this year. Here’s where you can find part’s one, two, and three. Also, this chapter’s a bit out there–animal hybrids, and castration.
“I’m very disappointed, Mr. Grant. I’ve made you a very comfortable home here, you know. To have my generosity thrown back at me in my face, well…what do they say about the hand that feeds you?”
“Fuck you, you fucking piece of shit!”
“Now, I don’t know quite how you managed to untwist your way out of my programming, but I am still the master of this house, and you will still treat me with the respect I require.”
“I’m not treating you for shit! You fucked me up! I’m some old fucking man, and that…that thing fucks me fucking twice a day! No, I’m going to get out of here, and I’m going to expose you, and you’re going to fucking jail.”
“Do you honestly believe that you’re the first one of my staff to have gotten their wits about and run off to your holy ‘authorities’? Please, I have an excellent relationship with the entire local government. I can assure you. even if you had gotten away without being caught, your feat would have amounted to nothing.”
“…”
“Silence? Fine. Still, we will have to punish you, I can assure you.”
“Edufuck me all you fucking want, I’ll just beat it again.”
“Oh, edification will be necessary, yes, but I think this situation calls for more…extreme measures. No, good night, Mr. Grant. I’ll see you in a few days.”
Mr. Grant smelled manure. It was a scent he’d grown accustomed to over the last few months, since when he first displeased the Master of Fitzroy Abbey, but not one he’d ever learned to enjoy. No, he hated it more with each day. But now, waking up slowly, it…comforted him. It smelled like home, somehow.
He was lying on straw, but why was he sleeping in the stable? Had he passed out? Slipped away for a nap? Master would be very unhappy with either possibility, and he didn’t want to upset master, no, not that–
He shook his head, trying to clear it, but it felt so…thick, all of a sudden. It wasn’t like Mr. Grant had ever been the smartest person, but before he’d been able to manage. Now, it felt like his thoughts were running through molasses. Had…had something happened to him again? He could remember a conversation, dimly. Master had been angry. He’d been angry too, but also…terrified. But what he’d done, he couldn’t recall at all. He opened his eyes, and where he was propped against the side of the stable, he had a clear view of his body, and that was what caused the scream which echoed across the grounds of the entire Abbey gardens.
His legs, what the fuck had happened to his legs! The terror cut through the static clogging his mind, and he ran his old hands over the furry flanks his ass and thighs had become, then down further, to his knee, the slender leg ending in a thick, solid brown hoof. He felt the whole thing with his hands, unable to believe it, but it was him, his body. The static was returning, and as it did, some of his shock and surprise faded as well. Had things been different? He couldn’t actually remember being different, so it was possible he’d always been this way, right? The one thing he definitely appreciated was his cock, the sheath running from the base of his heavy balls all the way up his slightly elongated torso, where the head of his cock began to emerge. He forced himself upright, finding it relatively easy to balance on the wide hooves, and with his hands, felt the shaft. He had to piss–and as soon as he’d thought it, the urine poured out of him in a torrent with no control at all–he barely managed to aim it at a corner, away from the straw where he’d been laying. The scent was strong, but not at all unpleasant, similar to the manure. He…liked it here actually…but didn’t he have work to do? Hadn’t he been…trying to get somewhere? The thoughts didn’t seem to connect up to anything, but he pushed open the door to the stable, and walked out, smelling the air. Something…else was in his nose, something…wonderful. Chopper. Chopper, he definitely knew, his new horse tail flicking at the thought, ass clenching.
Whistling a little tune, he took off, following the scent of his favorite horse. He smelled something else, but realized what–or rather, who–it was, too late. Master was waiting for him as well, with two burly servants of the house.
“Ah, Mr. Grant. I trust you’ve found your new accommodations acceptable? You’ll be staying here with the horses from now on, considering you’re mostly horse yourself now. You’re usual duties will be the same, though with that new brain of yours, I doubt you’ll have much time to think of escaping again. Still, there is one last thing I’d like to take care of. I did so love that tiny cock of yours, but gene manipulation…we can’t always have everything we want. Still, I think having you as a gelding will work out fine–calm you down a bit, make you more…pliable.”
The two men tackled Mr. Grant to the grubby floor of the stable, holding him down, allowing the master of the abbey to first, bind his huge balls with a series of bands, and once they’d turned a deep, blackish blue, to cut open the sack and extract both of his testicles, before sewing up the incision. Mr. Grant just stared, dumbfounded, but once they were gone he…felt better. Calmer. The panic in him died back a bit, and he got a stupid grin on his face. He was all too happy to let Chopper fuck his new hole–a wonderful new experience, since his wider frame could better take the huge shaft, and from them on, Mr. Grant settled into his new life, that of a grubby stable man gelding–and always ready for any of the stallions to mount him, if need be.
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