(M to Donkey, M to Dog)

It had seemed like a good idea when they were sober, so there was no reason to suspect that anything had changed now. Still, Scott couldn’t shake the suspicion that something was going to go wrong. His brain kept jogging back to the theater’s ‘no pets allowed’ policy, despite his attempts to refocus on the previews.

“Damn, you really weren’t kidding about this being your first time taking a TFable, huh?” Rocco sent a sidelong glance to his friend, the usual smirk on his face. Inwardly, he was practically bouncing with excitement – it wasn’t every day that you’d transform in a theater, after all.

“Y-yeah, but like. I mean.” Scott took a deep breath. “You’re sure that this is fine?”

Already he could feel something at play. There was an itching all over his body, and he felt warmer, almost feverish. Of course, there was a nonzero chance that this was just nerves talking, but he liked to think otherwise.

Plus Rocco was already sporting a little more golden fuzz on his face than he’d walked in with. The bright light of the theater’s screen reflected against the short curly hairs, which seemed to sway as the man smiled. “Sure I’m sure.”

“And you promise you know the projectionist?” Scott gulped. He wiggled his toes in his socks, having already taken off his shoes at Rocco’s insistence.

“Promise. Besides, there’s barely anyone here.” Rocco peered over the seats behind him, squinted, and shrugged. “Ah, eyes’ve already changed.”

“I thought dogs could see in the dark!” Hissed Scott, feeling a hint of apprehension.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t change the fact that they’re nearsighted. Speaking of, shouldn’t you take the glasses off?” Rocco smacked his lips a little as though he was applying chapstick. Each time, they darkened slightly, taking on a rubbery texture.

Scott squirmed in his seat, wondering at what point sitting down would start to feel uncomfortable. His shirt was already feeling slightly tight around his chest, too. “They’re spares. You know… So I could feel them break on my stretching face.”

“Kinky.”

“Shut up.” Scott blushed. He reached over and grabbed one of his friend’s lengthening ears, scratching behind it, feeling the thick hairs against his fingernails.

A high-pitched whimper formed in Rocco’s throat, cut off by a hasty attempt to mask the sound with a cough. “Hey, what’s that for!?”

Scott rolled his eyes. “Teasing me-” Rocco’s hands darted towards Scott’s ears, grabbing them and tugging them upward. It felt good, a warm pleasure making Scott’s eyes roll slightly, his chest hitching mid-word. “-eeEEAAUW!”

Fortunately, one of the previews’ explosions was loud enough to cover the noise. Not that it kept Scott from covering his mouth with both hands, shuddering in quiet pleasure at just how large and heavy his ears felt now.

When his heart finally slowed enough to allow speech, Scott hissed. “A donkey? Really?”

“Well, you did tell me to pick ‘whatever I wanted,’ so…” Rocco’s smirk took on a slightly canine quality as his cheeks puffed. He wriggled a little, feeling the fuzz beneath his shirt start to fluff up the fabric.

“From dog breeds! You’re going to be a labradoodle, the worst thing that’ll happen to you is a lady’ll give you free scritches!”

“Aw, I’m sure you’ll get plenty of scritches too. Scritchy Scotty.” For good measure, Rocco started to run his sharpening nails along the back of his friend’s growing ears, itching them from base to tip back to base.

Scott went limp, as though all his nerves were cut. The feeling was too good, too new, too pleasurable. He curled his toes tightly in pleasure, too tightly. They clumped together, bulging in his socks, stretching the fabric.

“See? You’re just a big softie,” Rocco chuckled.

“Hee, hee, hee,” Scott really tried to keep it in. His chest hiked, each breath in bulging it more, each breath out only forcing short gray hairs out from his skin. Small pops sounded from his socks, as stitches and elastic started to give way.

“Careful, buddy. I’ve seen this ad before.” Rocco looked back to the screen. “Which means that there’s going to be a few big explosions in three… Two… And…”

“AUWWW! HEEAUWW! HEE-HAW HEE-HAW HEEHAWW!” Scott let it out, with enough force that his shirt forcibly burst off of him. His belt snapped too, exposing a pudgy donkey’s belly to the cool theater air.

“Good boy,” Rocco smirked, only to feel a trembling in his hands. He paused, looking up to them and pouting at his fingers started to quiver. “Aw, no more playing with the donkey, huh?”

One by one, his fingers locked into a new position on his hands, swelling and shortening at the same time. The tips of each finger drew out into soft, plump pads, while the rest was soon covered in curly, blonde fur.

Free of the pleasurable scratches, Scott shook his head to regain his bearings. His large ears thwapped from side to side, catching the air like fuzzy scoops. They both flicked towards the speakers to the pair’s left, and he smirked.

“Hey, this ad’s one I’ve seen before.” Scott said with a malicious grin.

Rocco blinked, remembering too late that his friend had an almost obsessive need to repay all things, whether they were gifts or pranks. “N-now hold on a moment, the only way we’ll break the thycul awf vehngunth-”

His tongue bulged in his mouth as he spoke, and with a “bluhhh” he let it wetly unfurl past his chin. It dangled there, waiting for his mouth to stretch into a muzzle, sending drool splatting onto his thighs.

“What’s the matter there? Dog got your tongue?” Scott grinned, revealing that his own mouth was changing too. His front teeth were thicker and a little bucked, giving him a goofy appearance. Fortunately for him, he’d had severe buck teeth before getting braces, so he was used to talking around them. At least, to an extent. If they got much bigger, he’d start having trouble. But that was a problem for later.

Not that he was planning on talking for much longer. He went straight for Rocco’s belly, lifting his friend’s shirt and scratching the furry belly beneath. Rocco fell back against his chair, large kicking, arms snapping ahead like he was begging for a treat.

“HuhuhauwrrrRROOOF!” Rocco couldn’t contain himself. A pressure built and built at the base of his spine, only to finally free itself in the form of a wagging tail. He shifted slightly in his seat to wag it better, trying not to drum it against the chair’s leather too loudly.

A few heads turned, looking around for whatever animals were ‘let into’ the theater. Scott’s eyesight was getting worse, even beyond his glasses, but he could see the movement clear enough, and his ears flicked towards the sound. He belly-flopped onto the dog-man beneath him, driving the air from Rocco’s lungs.

“Hee-whoops.” Scott rolled onto the theater floor and off of his friend, who took in a deep sucking breath of air then started to pant as though that would better help him fill his lungs. “Thorry. Thorry? Thuh. Thuh. Ssssuh. Thorry. … Damn it.”

Rocco snickered quietly, tilting his head down to look at the donkey-to-be. “Grrrrt’s fine. Hyyy’m not the one hoooos change’s gonnawrrr last awrrrl night.”

Scott took a moment to parse through this information. There was no way Rocco would do that, ri-no, actually, he absolutely would. He flicked his longer ears irritably, waiting for the fanfare that would mark the beginning of the movie. As soon as it began, he brayed out, “ThEEEAUUWEEEriouthly!?”

Rocco near-collapsed into quiet muffled bark-snickers, only stopping when his growing muzzle thumped against the chair a little too hard, dazing him for a moment. He twitched his darkening nose, taking in a deep whiff of the theater’s unique mix of spilled popcorn and soda. Idly, he wondered if Scott would find the floor as sticky on his fur as he did his shoes.

Scott wouldn’t be able to tell him until the next morning, but the answer was a surprising ‘no.’ His new body was made for getting dirty, and the thick gray fur of his asinine form wasn’t bothered by the judicious application of drying sucrose.

What Scott was bothered by; however, was the fact that he wasn’t quite able to see the movie. He rolled his shoulders as they started to push forward, bringing his arms to awkwardly dangle before him. Then he pushed his hips to the side, thumping onto all fours.

He’d barely even noticed his hands and feet change into hooves, thanks to how numb they now were. Funnier still, he didn’t feel like they were nearly as heavy as they should be. A plow beast’s muscles had replaced his own, leaving him with the odd state of feeling fatter than he’d been in his life, but also the strongest he’d ever been.

Rocco could literally smell the smugness coming from Scott’s furry body. Still, he decided to metaphorically hold his tongue for now, and let Scott enjoy the change. He watched Scott’s ears perk over the seat in front of him, before the rest of his friend’s changing head made its way over the theater chair. It gave Rocco the image of a dinosaur poking its head over a treetop, and he huffed quietly in amusement.

Scott flicked his ears gently at the sound, but soon found himself distracted by the moment he’d been waiting for: the last bit of his face changing. To his surprise, his glasses had stubbornly remained on his face, even with the change to his ears. Sure, they were pushed a little higher up, but he was still impressed.

They didn’t last for much longer though, not with how much his face needed to widen. His nostrils flared with each breath he took, and he could feel his mucus thickening to better protect his much larger sinus cavities. “HEEE-TCCH!” He sneezed, and God bless one of the other theatergoers for mumbling a quiet ‘Gesundheit.’

The man’s face continued to widen, bending his glasses at their frames, far beyond what they were supposed to take. There was a gratifyingly solid snapping, then they slipped off either side of his new muzzle. Scott could see it happen on both sides of his face, thanks to his eyes spreading further apart.

His new prey-vision gave him a dizzying view of the screen. Even though he couldn’t make out most of what was happening, he could see so much of it, and the walls around him. His jaw fell slack as he marveled at his new vision, and he didn’t even notice that he was drooling onto his own chest.

Of course Rocco noticed, not that the Labradoodle was one to judge. He’d matted enough of his own fur with drool, after all. Still, he imagined he did it in a less goofy way. For a moment, he watched the last of his friend’s new mane come in, then he turned his attention to the movie as well, content to lie down in the cozy chair’s leather.

As for if they’d be human again before the end credits rolled, well, that was a story for another day…