(F to M Donkey)

“Tch!” Jeanne D’Arc Alter, or ‘Jalter’ to her closer friends, scowled. She looked down again at the note in her hand, crinkling it for what felt like the dozenth time. “Just what in the hell is the big idea, huh!?”

The annoying duo of Mordred and Caenis had insisted she check out a new bar with them. It was supposed to be some kind of throwback to a classical tavern, and sure enough it looked the part from the outside. ‘But…’

“Where the hell are they, huh!?” Jalter shouted, her cry echoing for a moment before an animalistic bray startled her.

The white-haired woman circled to the side of the tavern, spotting what was labeled as a ‘Petting Zoo.’ However, instead of sporting the usual sheep, goats, or even llamas; this housed a pair of irritable donkeys.

Jalter blinked at them, a small frown tugging at the corners of her mouth. “The hell is this supposed to be? Does this place even serve booze?”

The golden-maned donkey didn’t reply, instead dimly chewing from her trough. The silver-furred one agitatedly turned in a small circle, tail waving in the air as though she was trying to fan around her scent. Jalter snickered at that.

“You lonely too, girl? Hey, maybe I’ll join you after a few drinks!” guffawed the fallen saint. She turned back towards the tavern’s wooden doors, placing one of her gauntlets against the oak and shoving it open with a crash.

“Hey! Got anything to drink!” She called out, eyes closed. It was a perfectly impressive entrance, one that was sure to catch the eyes of everyone in the room and let them know who was in charge.

But not a sound came to greet her. ‘Either I’ve scared everyone stiff, or…’

Jalter cracked an eye open, then widened the other in shock. The tavern looked perfectly fine, with carved chairs and tables, wooden caskets on tap, and even a pool table. So then why the hell was it empty?

She stomped in with a huff, looking around the room. Her eyes alighted upon a pair of empty glass steins at a table. One was finished upside-down in familiar Anglo-Saxon fashion, while the other rested on its side as though the owner had been too careless to pick it up.

“Those bastards were here after all, huh?” Fumed the girl. As she swore, her ears twitched slightly. Unbeknownst to her, they tugged upwards on her head, growing longer. New muscles kept them from brushing against the sides of her face, so she didn’t notice their change—nor did she feel coarse, brown hairs grow to coat them.

Jalter folded her arms, strutting to the counter and grabbing a mug from behind it. Her feet cramped a little as she did, but she was too pissed off to care about that. “Probably took all the people here out to see some showboaty fight between them. Well, fine! I don’t need them to have a good time!”

In an empty bar like this, her protests seemed even more pathetic than usual. They even echoed slightly.

“Nobody asked you!” She shouted at her own voice, boots clomping on the ground. Impatiently, Jalter turned the spigot on a keg, filling her stein. She didn’t pause to turn the tap off before drinking, instead letting the beer spill freely onto the ground as she upended her glass, before returning to give it another pint.

An ache in her belly gave her a moment’s pause. It wasn’t quite a stomachache as much as it was pressure, a bulging sensation combined with a tightening in her clothes. Little did she know, the simplest solution was correct: the feeling was because she was in the process of growing a fat pot belly, one that itched with the growth of hair to match her ears.

‘Strange. It normally doesn’t fill me up this much…’ Jalter’s brow furrowed, and she pressed a gauntlet to her plackart, as though rubbing that would help the cramp in her belly. Of course it didn’t do her any good, so she opted to down another flagon to try and ease her gut.

The moment she finished the last drop, her stomach rumbled once more. Her armor creaked as her belly stretched further and as she pursed her lips, those too thickened. Her broadening nose crinkled, and she pressed a palm against her belly. “Gh! Must be some kind of foreign beer.”

She filled her glass a third time, this time staggering over towards an empty table. She deliberately steered clear of the one she suspected Mordred and Caenis had used. If they came back, she’d be in no mood to talk to them. Her changed ears twitched irritatedly at the thought of them, and she dropped her ass into a booth.

‘Might as well get comfy for the long haul…’ Jalter thought miserably, slipping her gauntlets off. She reached a hand to her side to unfasten some of her armor, hoping that might help with the pressure.

Her other hand snaked around her glass, and she took another hearty swig of pilfered beer. This time her shoulders and hips ached, forcing her to slouch over the table with a grimace. “Or not!” She shouted, upset by her body’s betrayal. She rudely lifted her legs and dropped them on the table before her, only to wince as both of them cramped.

It was like someone was squeezing her legs in a vise, one that tightened further and further with every passing second. Tears dewed at her eyes, and she reached out towards them—only to flinch back as they snapped, broken from within.

Her thighs had grown muscled and large, big enough to strain buckles that had borne her across countless battlefields, and her calves weren’t much better. Brown hair covered both, a shade completely at odds with her naturally shock-white hair. Even that was nothing compared to the sight of her feet.

What should have been slender arches and slim toes were instead merged, clumped mass of thick enamel. They were heavy, even with her changed legs’ new muscle, and they scuffed at the table as Jalter kicked out in surprise.

“What the HAWW-ll!?” She screamed, only to cup her hands over her mouth with a squeak. “Wh-wha…”

‘Did I just… No. There’s no way. I can’t have just brayed, right? I mean, the legs are one thing, but maybe I’m drunk?’ Jalter’s mind raced, and she quickly looked around the room to check for a fact that she was alone.

This time, she noticed a sign above the counter. An image of a donkey had been clearly etched onto its surface. In perfect print next to the donkey was carved: Sinners will be transformed.

“Sinners… Wha?” Jalter blinked. “The fHHAWck is that sssHAAAWEAUWWW!” Her throat itched, and her neck stretched as though it was between two invisible hands. She pawed at her neck uselessly, fingers pressing against it to feel stubble that would soon become a full coat of fur.

“GhhHAAW! HEEEURK!” Each bray made her jerk and kick in her seat. Her thrashing legs kicked out at her glass, knocking it against a wall and spilling the remainder of her beer against the floor. Such waste spurred a sharp tug at her tailbone, resulting in more and more dumb brays spilling from her mouth.

It felt like an hour, but it couldn’t have been more than another minute of pressure before the pressure at both ends relented. But by then the damage had been done. Her neck was at least three times as long as it had been, and she could feel a tail whipping at the backs of her thighs.

‘This can’t be real, can it!?’ Jalter squeezed her eyes shut, desperately trying to wake herself up from this nightmare. The pressure from her stretching spine was enough to drive her onto her side, and another strong kick from her legs shot her off her booth onto the floor.

Her teeth clacked together loudly, an embarrassingly loud and dull chomp that sent a shiver down her increasingly hairy back. ‘Oh damn, it is!’ She forced her eyes open miserably, looking to her backside to see how much had changed.

Sure enough, a long tail had snaked out from past a backside that was swelling before her eyes. She grimaced at how hairy it was, and how long the fur at its tip looked. The motion was reflected in the polished metal along the table’s base, and Jalter realized she could see some of her own reflection.

She leaned in a little closer, only to flinch back. Her nose had stretched large and wide, and her teeth were overgrown and blocky to match. If a donkey really was this bar’s logo, she’d make a perfect mascot.

“As if!” Jalter glared, kicking a hoof out to the booth, denting away her reflection. Then she blinked. “Oh crap is that a sin-HGGHAW!!!” Her voice had deepened slightly with the change to her throat, but now it started to take on a different tone. This was throatier, bestial, and masculine.

Jalter felt it between her legs: an ache, a pressure. She didn’t know what was happening, only that something was stretching out of herself. And, strangest of all, it felt good. Her eyes rolled in her head slightly, heart hammering as the strange pleasurable pressure pressed against her skirt, tenting it.

Her hands brushed against it, and a sharp, wonderful sensation tore through her body. She slammed her back against the booth, a bit of drool trailing past her pale chin. ‘W-what the hell is that? It feels so good!’

Despite all appearances, Jalter was a virgin. She’d drawn her share of doujins, sure—but there was a reason her male characters always faced away from the reader. She had no idea what a dick looked like, and certainly no idea what it felt like.

She wrapped her hands around it with a dimwitted smile, a faint whimper of delight escaping her stretched throat. ‘So, I guess the more I sin the more I change, right? Well, that’s fine. I just need to keep touching this and everything’s okay!’

It was as adorably innocent as it was utterly wrong.  More pressure built within her groin, and her breathing sharpened. “Huhh! HuhhuhhUUHUHHEEAUUW!” She kicked her legs, slamming her head against the booth, tilting her head to the side to rub it against the wood.

With each nuzzle, her jawline stretched. It was growing broader, and was taking her nose with it. Her nostrils flared, and she snorted out a gobbet of asinine mucus. It was a humiliating display, but she felt too good to be embarrassed… For now.

Jalter’s eyes refocused, only to widen at the sight of her new snout. She couldn’t escape it, no matter where her eyes wandered. “Muh! Muh face! HEEAWWW! Nuht muh faythe!”

Her voice sounded absolutely moronic. Her front teeth had grown thick and unkempt, forcing a lisp to her every word. Her wider sinuses added a nasally tone to her every word. And her thick asinine throat deepened every syllable into a guttural bray.

“Nuhh! Uh wuth good!” She wailed, shaking her head so violently that her big ears thumped against her tiara. They flicked towards the sound of it skidding across the room and she whined, noticing for the first time just how much they’d changed.

‘I can’t have been sinning, right? I was just touching that new changed part of me, right? Unless… Touching it is a sin? But if that’s the case, it would mean it’s…’

“HEEAWWW! Nuh!!! Nuht uh c… Kuh… KHHAWWWK!” Spittle flecked against her dress, her cheeks reddening in shame. ‘I… I grew a dick and then I immediately started to touch it? Oh damn, now I really am glad the others aren’t here!’

‘The others…’ Her nostrils twitched. She could smell them. She didn’t know how, but she could smell the others. ‘And… They smell good…’

Jalter’s new cock stiffened, and she pushed her skirt aside to stroke at it absently. Each touch grew it further, longer, harder. Her chest barreled outward, clattering her useless armor against the ground and exposing her chest to her growing member.

Its flared tip pressed against her large breasts, and the feeling of their softness forced another idiotic bray from her lips. “HGGHEEAAUUW!” Her tongue flopped uselessly in her mouth, all thought of words gone in the face of this new bliss.

She didn’t want to feel this good, didn’t want to turn into a donkey. But her body completely disagreed with her mind. After all, she was horny—and when a male body tastes arousal, all common sense goes completely out the window.

“HEEAAUUW!” Jalter rolled onto her knees, then fell onto her belly, pressing her dick up against its soft pudginess, smothering its tip between her breasts. Her hips started to jerk, pushing its tip against her fuzzy throat. Her hands slipped between her legs, rubbing against the base of her shaft.

Shamelessly, Jalter began to fuck herself in earnest. It hadn’t been long since she’d stepped into the tavern, just a few minutes. And that was all it had taken to reduce a curvaceous witch to a drooling, horny half-beast.

Her mouth fell slack, eyes glazed over. Her cheeks still blushed with a horrified shame, but that didn’t keep her from grinning in ecstasy. There was no room for words, or even brays. Only hedonistic, carnal delight. “UH! UHHH! HAAUHHUHUNHH!”

Of course, in doing so she’d fallen into horrible sin once more, and her body suffered the consequences. She didn’t care. Her arms growing thick and muscular made it feel even better when she rubbed them against her shaft. Her hair tugging back into a mane kept it from falling into her eyes. But her hands…

She felt them twitch; felt them start to stiffen. ‘N-no! Not when I’m so close!’ Her eyes watered, and she pumped her hips faster, letting out a stupid groan in distress. But despite her protests, she could do nothing to slow the changes.

Jalter’s fingers bunched together into useless, clumpy masses. They felt awkward and awful against her shaft, and she struggled to pull them out from under her body. Eventually, she managed to roll onto her ample backside. Her legs spread awkwardly, and her arms hung at funny angles from her changed chest.

She looked down at her inhumanly large erection, jaw slack. A bit of drool trailed from past one of her thick lips to fall onto her tip, and it throbbed with her pleasure. And it gave her a horrible, irreversible idea.

‘If I…’ She dipped her head towards her cockhead, so close she could feel her own breath against it. ‘Then… I can almost…’

Her wet, slimy, broad tongue pressed against it first. Then a powerful pump from her hips clogged her throat with her hot, aching muscle. “OGHHM! GHHK! HKKUH! GHHAUWGH!” She choked on her own length, struggling to breathe and fuck her mouth at the same time.

‘Yes… YES! This is it this is it this is is is-’ Jalter’s thoughts slammed into a wall as her cock throbbed, spilling a bit of hot, salty cum into her mouth. Her eyes rolled, and she started to slide back onto the floor. ‘Feels… Me feels… Whu? Me… Uh… Think…’

Her eyes widened, but she couldn’t stop from humping more. ‘Me… fuck brain dumb! No want!’ She squeezed her eyes shut, pulling her head back with a herculean effort. She snorted in a greedy gulp of air, one that sank her breasts into her chest… And also sucked in the smell coming from the two donkeys outside.

‘Friends… Mates… Jennies… Horny…’ New thoughts intruded on her mind. She couldn’t stop herself from imagining climbing atop them, emptying herself into them, feeling their heat beneath her body…

“Nuh! NGHHAW! HAAWR EEAUW HRRAWW!” She tried to bray out her denial, but just thinking about the jennies tipped her over the edge. ‘Oh no… This is…’

Her balls ached. Her cock spasmed. She looked down, begging herself not to cum herself stupid.

“NUHHT DUMMHHEEE! JHAAAWTUH! NHAAWW DUMMM!” Her last words were little more than a stupid bray as she shot her load into her own open muzzle, feeling thick ropes of donkey cum squirt up her shaft to explode from the flared head of her cock.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was the ragged breathing of a beast that had been a beauty, and the wet workings of its tongue as it tried to swallow its seed.

‘I… Me… Donkey… Mate…’ Thoughts slowed to a crawl and lost all sense.

The donkey knew he was a male. He knew there were females outside. The rest didn’t matter.

The jackass rolled to his hooves, clopping them against the ground. He pressed his flared nostrils to the ground, following the scent past the strange scraps of cloth, past the spilled alcohol on the ground, and into the pen that would house his new future.