(Warhammer 40,000; F to Donkey)

Rasa, 9 002 935.M41

“Do you know why you’re here?”

Priscelia’s whipcrack-like voice makes Rasa flinch, but she still keeps her eyes focused on her mistress’s feet. “I am here to serve you, madam. You are the heir to the von Leitgow estate.”

The words come naturally to Rasa. She’s been preparing them all her life, just as her grandmother and her mother had taught her. They taught her everything she needed to know about serving the von Leitgows… And of the woman’s ‘condition.’

Priscelia’s quiet pacing slowed, then stopped. “You may face me.”

Rasa looked up, and was surprised. She’d thought that a noblewoman would look somewhat… Different. Instead, all she saw was a normal girl, and one that was a little apprehensive at that. It was almost comical, but Rasa had done well learning to keep her emotions hidden.

“I am quite sure that your family has taught you of what ails me. It is a recent development, and I had hoped to keep it a secret just to your mother, your grandmother, and I. Then your grandmother had to die on the job.”

The chirugeon had said Rasa’s nana had another of her strokes. The von Leitgow’s augmentation had allowed the woman to keep working long after her mind had failed her, and typically would have jolted her back to her feet after restarting her heart. However, this seizure occurred when she’d been doing laundry, and the woman had drowned.

Priscelia had called the death an ‘unfortunate workplace hazard’ and had threatened to have Rasa’s mother lobotomized unless a replacement was found. This was precisely why Rasa was here today, even though her mother had insisted she remain at the schola.

“You have our condolences for that,” Rasa replied flatly. “Nonetheless, you need not worry. My family knows the secret of your affliction, and I have been trained to handle it with all due discretion.”

“Well, you’re certainly boring. I was hoping to get more a rise out of you than that.” Priscelia huffed. She folded her arms, scowling. “I’d hoped here that I wouldn’t be the only one to be irritated.”

“Irritated, my lady?” Rasa noticed that much of the formality had bled from the room. Nonetheless, she chose her words carefully, like she’d need to for the rest of her service.

“Having someone see me like this for the first time, it’s… Well, it’s simply disgraceful. But…” Priscelia turned and spread her arms to her sides. “You may disrobe me. It’s better this way.”

“I am sure it is,” Rasa walked up to her new master, expertly working at the woman’s voluminous dress. There was a reason for her dress to sport such an extravagant hem. Beneath it lay a mutation, one that was within acceptable Imperial standards—though that would not spare the noblewoman the dishonor the court would bring.

Soon, Priscelia’s shapely posterior was bare, though her new appendage flicked from time to time. It was a long, ropey tail that had been covered in gray fur. The black hair at its tip was at stark contrast to Priscelia’s naturally blonde hair.

It was why Rasa’s family had to be the only ones to take care of Priscelia. There was simply no other alternative. They could not let this mutation be brought before the Imperial Ecclesiarchy.

Priscelia, 9 051 935.M41

“It’s getting worse! Why is it getting worse?” Priscelia tugged at her ears worriedly. This had to be some sort of ill omen. First her most useful servant dies; then just a little under three weeks…

Her ears were longer now, well above her head. Worse, her perfect teeth were unkempt. The ears could be hidden easily enough, but there was simply no way she was going to subject herself to more dental work like a common peasant.

The woman impatiently thumbed her communicator, and the doors opened to reveal Ahra’s kindly face.

“Yes, madam?” The woman asked, eyes half-closed. Priscelia hated that about her. She never knew just where the woman was staring.

“Not you. Your daughter.” Priscelia turned in a huff.

“She is away, procuring more medicine to conceal your affliction.” Ahra clearly could sense the anger those words had caused, because she bowed her head. “My lady, you must have patience. The best work takes the longest time.”

Priscelia glared. The stupid woman thought to lecture her? She made a note to arrange for a public flogging. Perhaps Priscelia might even attend, albeit wearing a hat and face mask. “I utterly detest speaking with you, you know. Rasa is far more amenable to my noble tastes.”

“Oh my, have you taken a liking to her? That is wonderful news, if I may be so bold.” Ahra moved to close the door.

“Wait.” Priscelia could feel her tail curiously waving, its tip brushing against the backs of her knees. She hated the fact that she could tell what a ‘curious’ wag was, but that was beside the point. Something about what the peasant had said…

“My lady?”

“What do you mean, ‘wonderful news?’ That seems odd and I would like an explanation.” Priscelia hated that she had to explain herself so thoroughly around the lower class. But, needs must.

Ahra’s smile didn’t drop for a second, the imbecile. She far more a dolt than her expressionless daughter. “Oh, I simply meant that she has no friends her age. It would be good to grow fond of you. I am certain she will serve you even better.”

Priscelia ran her tongue along her enlarged teeth thoughtfully. Perhaps there was a reason for why she’d taken a liking to Rasa. The girl might well be a kindred spirit. Well, Priscelia would need to keep that mind should this affliction worsen. Throne knows, it would be good to have moderately entertaining company.

Speaking of entertainment… “I shall keep that in mind. Do not return to my quarters for the remainder of the week, but tell Rasa to buy me a new hat, and a mask. I’ve plans to make that involve me being outside.”

“Will that be all, my lady?” Ahra dipped her head, still smiling. Priscelia would have to pay the enforcer extra to do something about those teeth.

“One more thing. Tell her to find some new shoes. Mine are beginning to wear on me.

Rasa, 9 535 936.M41

Fur. That was the only word that could describe the long hairs that had marked Priscelia’s skin for the past few months. It was also Rasa’s morning chore, to ensure that her lady was properly shaved and lotioned.

“Are you done yet? There’s to be a meeting in a few hours.” Priscelia asked, though she knew fully well that she was only half-trimmed. Still, the woman scuffed her hooves anxiously. That change had come far sooner than the fur, though required much less maintenance on Rasa’s part.

Rasa didn’t like to be rushed. But she’d never tell her lady that. Instead, she nodded patiently, face held neutral. She trimmed the last hairs from Priscelia’s chest, taking a step back to admire her work.

The noblewoman looked like some sort of beastman. From her waist down, she was a gray-furred ass. It was thick and coarse, despite whatever conditioners Priscelia had ordered, and the only way to onceal it was to fully clip it away.

Still, even then, it would grow back in a matter of days.

“My lady, the best work takes the longest time,” said Rasa.

“So you and your mother love to remind me,” Priscelia huffed. She looked under her arms, her larger nostrils flaring as she crinkled her nose. “Emperor protect me, I’m even beginning to smell like some sort of barnyard beast.”

Rasa nodded. “I shall order extra shampoo for you, of the variety you like. It may feel better on your skin than the normal scrub.”

Priscelia mulled it over. She looked down at her body, then up at a mirror in the room. Seeing herself half-human, half-animal like this must have had some effect on her, because her lip quivered. “How can you stand to be in the same room as I?”

Rasa knew most servants would likely have reported such a mutation to the authorities. Priscelia’s condition was approaching an unacceptable deviation from humanity, and that would doubtless lead to her execution. Such an end was something Priscelia would give anything to prevent.

“Because, my lady,” Rasa spoke slowly, measuring her words. “I am still here because my family has served yours for generations. There may be some who do not value such things, but my family rewards such a rich history.”

“Rasa…” Priscelia chewed at her lip, revealing her unkempt, yellowing teeth. Despite her haughty nature, she was clearly touched. “There may just be a shred of nobility in your family after all.”

Priscelia, 9 723 937.M41

Priscelia hated her neck brace. She scratched at it, wincing at the nails-on-chalk sound that came from her thicker fingernail. No. It couldn’t be thicker. Not that much thicker, at least. She wouldn’t allow it.

She looked to the corner of the room to see if Rasa had heard, but the doll-like maid continued to rinse her hands quietly, washing the last of the dye from her fingers.

They needed to use nearly a full bottle a day to keep Priscelia’s locks a shining blonde, but she had to maintain that appearance. There was no way that she would suffer the indignity of dark hair. People might mistake her for one of her servants.

She caught sight of her reflection and corrected herself. No, there very likely wouldn’t be much cause for that. If anything, they’d mistake her for some foul xenos.

Her face bore a resemblance to humanity, but it was stretched, like an unfinished sculpture of an ass. The brace around her neck was custom-fitted to keep her throat from stretching any further, but already her neck was long enough to turn heads.

And her nose was abhumanly wide, as flared as she’d seen on some of the imbecilic oafs that had been in a circus. Still, it had some uses. For instance, she could smell a new, rich aroma coming from the doorway.

Ahra stood in it, not crossing the threshold like a good pet. The beatings had taught her that much. They’d also taught her to smile with her mouth closed, to avoid showing off her broken teeth. The resulting smile was unnerving, but at least it was better than a constant reminder of the changes to Priscelia’s own teeth.

“What is that?” Priscelia asked.

Rasa hurried to the doorway, taking the container from her mother and closing the door. That was for the best. Any longer, and Priscelia might just try and order another flogging, though she’d only be able to see it over a televised broadcast.

“The same medicine as always. This time, rather than grind it into a pill, I have brewed it into a tea.” Rasa bowed her head. “Your neck seemed to be bothering you, so…”

Priscelia smiled. “The mind of a commoner. I’m not sure that will work, so fetch me a usual dose as well.”

Rasa looked up sharply, concern in her eyes. It was quite touching. “My lady, I must warn you. I have never tried to give you such a dose before.”

And just like that, the sentiment was shattered. “You think you know better than a noble? Come now. I know my body, and I am quite sure of this. Give it here.”

Priscelia swallowed the pill with some water first, feeling its restorative effects in her belly immediately. Her belly… She tried not to think too much of it, but it was already rounding slightly from her time indoors.

Quickly, she decided to wash the pill down with some tea.

It was good. Hot, with a burn to it almost like alcohol. That brought a smile to her face despite herself. Only when she saw her yellowed grin in the mirror did she purse her lips tightly over her teeth.

“You’ve done-HEEK-well.” Priscelia blushed. Still, a hiccup was better than a burp. At least she hadn’t stooped so low as to humiliate herself in that regard. Just in case though, it would be far better to send the girl off to bed. “Off you go, then.”

Rasa dimmed the lights on her way out, precisely as Priscelia liked. The girl might be a commoner, but at least she could be taught gently.

Priscelia laid her head against her pillows, feeling her ears brush against the baseboards of her bed. Miserably, she tugged her pillows a little further down, so that she could sleep without that annoyance. But it was still hard to get comfortable.

Despite the tonic’s warm numbing, her throat still itched. Priscelia miserably slurped her longer tongue against her lips, hoping to get some of that pleasant sensation back.

Maybe… Just for the night… She could sleep without the brace on her neck.

Rasa, 9 724 937.M41

“HRRAWWW!”

The cry was loud enough to echo through the halls. Rasa hadn’t even had a full night’s sleep, and Priscelia was already braying a call for her.

Rasa slipped into the room, platter held in her hands. She looked levelly at the woman that her family served.

“My lady? Is all well?” She asked, eyes low. She didn’t want to risk staring, though she was tempted. Seeing her lady ailing so reached directly to her heart, and was the reason she served with such judicious attention. If Rasa saw her when tired, Rasa might get carried away.

“HEEAUW!” Priscelia pawed at her throat desperately, though instead of the fingers she’d sported hours ago, she now had a pair of hooves that matched her feet. They loudly thumped at a throat that was as long as her forearm, if not longer.

Was this some side effect of the second dose? Had it accelerated her changes that greatly? Rasa panicked. If Priscelia blamed her for this…

“My lady, please! Calm yourself!” Rasa rushed to the woman’s bed.

“GUHAAW! HEEAUUWWW!” Spittle flecked from Priscelia’s yellowed teeth and her eyes rolled in a blind panic.

Rasa didn’t know why she did it. It might have been some instinct, or something she’d learned. She cupped the woman’s head, pressing against Rasa’s own bosom and stroking her changed ears.

The effect was immediate. Priscelia’s thrashing stilled, and her breathing slowed. “Mnhhuuww…” The woman moved her mouth slowly, as though frightened of what sounds might escape her lips. “What… Are… You… Doing?”

“I know not, I simply thought this might be… Calming.” Rasa pet the woman’s ears, marveling at how similar they were to a beast’s. Hopefully this wouldn’t lead to an untimely end to her work here.

“It ith. Uh… Ith.” Priscelia seemed to struggle with the word. “Awwth.” She opened her mouth, and a long tongue spilled out, thumping against her furry neck, matting the hairs down with slimy drool. Her eyes widened again.

Rasa hugged her tighter, forestalling the panic. “There, there… Rest. We can deal with this later. For now, please.”

Surprisingly, the donkey-woman soon fell asleep again, snoring and nuzzling into Rasa’s chest, leaving the maid alone with her thoughts.

That was dangerous, unexpected. She would need to lessen the dose in the future. There had to be a safe limit, something that would help her. For now, the best she could do would be to hold her lady like this, even if it was a little uncomfortable.

“The best work takes the longest time,” Rasa whispered to herself, bracing herself for the remainder of a restless night.

Priscelia, 9 002 940.M41

“Duh-drutth muh.” Priscelia closed her eyes, taking a deep breath in through her snout. She had to speak differently now, if she wanted to still sound feminine. She had to remind herself of that. “Dreth me.”

The sound was still nasally and a little too loud for her ears. She hoped that it didn’t sound that way to Rasa. Then again, the lowborn girl was likely used to the cries of beasts. Not that Priscelia sounded like a beast, of course.

“My lady? You haven’t worn clothes in a year.”

“You think I need to be ruhmHAAWNdud of THEEAWT!?” Priscelia snapped. She stomped a hoof against the floor, marring what was once smooth polished wood with yet another clumsy print. Her chest rose and fell, so abhorrently light without her breasts. She still hadn’t grown accustomed to their absence.

Nor had she grown used to the warm feeling of the udders between her legs. She pressed her thighs together self-consciously, hating how she could feel their fuzz against her dark udder.

Priscelia turned that hate into motivation, to force herself to speak clearly, properly, and dignified. “Today ith an important day,” she explained slowly. “Ith been five yearth thinthe you came here. I wanted to remember.”

Rasa blinked. A strange look was on her face, probably confusion. Honestly, Priscelia had assumed that the girl was quite illiterate, but to think she had no concept of time! It was laughable, and she would have laughed were she not terrified of braying.

“Thorree.” Priscelia managed. Her ears drooped slightly.

Rasa blinked again. A different look was on her face now. “My lady, was that…”

“I trutht you. And I want to commem… Commemmer…” She blinked. That was odd. The word was right on the tip of her swollen tongue. And yet it seemed so very, very far away. “Commemmumm…”

“Commemorate?” Rasa ventured.

If it was Ahra saying that, Priscelia might have given her a solid kick for her temerity. But not Rasa. “Thankth. Commemorate the occaythun.”

It was the highest compliment she could give Rasa, and it seemed the girl had taken it to heart. That was good. Despite their differences, Priscelia had taken a liking to her.

Rasa, 9 742 945.M41

“DUHN TUCH MEAUWW!” It was getting harder and harder to understand Priscelia. But still, the woman’s motions were clear enough. She tried to swat at Rasa’s grip, so Rasa let her fall onto all fours.

“My lady, you must keep at this.” Rasa didn’t reach out to the woman, despite her words. She took a step back, holding her hands out.

“Nuh… I know thuh-that.” Priscelia stumbled over the words. “It too hee… hard.” She fell onto her side, tears dewing at her eyes.

“So you have said for the past six hundred days. And yet you still remain on two legs.” Rasa regretted the words. She hoped that Priscelia wouldn’t take them out of turn. Even like this, the noblewoman still had enough influence to seen Rasa and her mother cast away.

“BHEEcawthe… betht work?” Priscelia’s ears twitched.

“Takes the longest time, yes. Very good.” Rasa let loose a sigh of relief she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

For a moment, the room was silent. The only sounds were the occasional thump of Priscelia’s tail on the floor, and the heavy snort of her breath.

This was new. Normally by now Priscelia would be stumbling back, trying to walk as though she could pretend nothing had happened. Rasa didn’t know how to approach this. She considered offering the girl her medicine, but it was still much too early for that. What, then?

Priscelia broke the pause by smacking her lips together. “Suh… Say thing.”

“My lady?” Rasa asked hesitantly.

“Nobuh… Nobblle…”

“Nobility?” Rasa ventured.

“Yuh.” Priscelia slopped her tongue against her thick lips. She shook her long neck, letting her mane fall behind her. “Hithtoree. Famlee.”

“Ah. Of my family’s history with yours?” Rasa blinked, surprised. She hadn’t expected that to resonate so well with Priscelia. It had to have been a decade ago since she’d let that slip, after all—and clearly the asinine woman was barely able to think for herself.

“Yuh. Pet me too. Head lap.”

Rasa sighed and knelt beside Priscelia, guiding the woman’s larger head onto her thighs. It was remarkable to think that just a few years ago, she’d had a passing resemblance to a person. Now it was much harder to see that.

Still, despite it all, Priscelia was as stubborn as… Well, an ass. And she’d clung to her mind as best she could.

“I am still here because my family has served yours for generations.” Rasa spoke slowly, running a hand along Priscelia’s furred cheek. “There may be some who do not value such things, but my family rewards such a rich history.”

The two stayed like that for hours, Rasa gently stroking at Priscelia’s long, furred ears while the noblewoman snored.

Priscelia, 9 303 950.M41

She didn’t think, not anymore. She moved on impulse, clopping towards the human who’d been taking such good care of her. People might not think that she could remember well, but she remembered the human.

Ra… Rasa. Rasa, and she was Priscelia.

Funny, how despite forgetting nearly everything else, all she could remember was her name. No, not funny. Upsetting. Scary. Scared.

She kicked her hooves, stomping them, crying out for someone to help. The human did. Her arms wrapped around Priscelia’s neck, comforting.

Words were said. Words in that same soothing tone. Priscelia could have sworn that she should understand them. But she didn’t. Still, it made her feel good. She liked it when this human talked to her.

Human…

Was she? She was. She was supposed to be human. But… That didn’t make sense. Not to her. She didn’t look like Rasa.

Before she could focus any more on this, a plate of food was dropped before her. She liked that. That was good.

Her fat rump wiggled eagerly, and her ropy tail beat against the back of her fat thighs. She didn’t have room to run freely, so she’d grown fat. That was fine. As long as Rasa was around, she was safe.

Rasa, 9 303 950.M41

Rasa slipped out of the donkey’s chambers, leaving the animal to her feast.

The walk used to take minutes, before Priscelia had ordered their quarters closer. It was one of the few kindnesses the noblewoman had shown them, because it let Rasa talk with Ahra all the sooner. She had to tell her the news.

Her mother looked much as her grandmother had, prior to her death. The juvenant treatments of nobility were far beyond them, of course. Nonetheless, Ahra sported the same smile, even if it had to be tighter-lipped.

“She no longer recognizes words, and barely her own name,” Rasa’s tone was level. She spoke the words slowly, letting their weight fill the air.

“Then the morning chores?” Ahra asked, a slight tilt to her head. She held the morning’s medicine platter in her hands, which shook ever so slightly. “And the medicine?”

“We no longer need them.” Rasa’s words were still flat. After two decades of hiding her emotions, the voice came naturally to her. But her expression mirrored her mother’s. “I suppose, for the first time, we’re free.”

After centuries of enslavement, her family’s history with Priscelia’s had come to its end. All it had taken was the youth of Rasa and her mother, the life of her grandmother, and thirty years of that strange herb Rasa found so long ago.

Rasa smile wider. “The best work takes the longest time.”