You just can't beat a good old fashioned hoofananny, Cletus thought happily as he took another beer from his flatbed truck. Just a bunch of good ol' boys gathering in the field to help catch those goshdarn rustlin' sons-of-bitches, all while having a grand time knocking back cold beers and homebrewed gene-tonics, just like his grandpappy used to make.

It was a hell of a turnout. Some thirty farmers had come from all over the county, leaving their wives snoozing in their beds to spend the night dishing out a little rural justice. Many had seen their herds targeted, and were thirsty for payback.

The finger plucking on the banjo was becoming more discordant. Cletus scraped at the ring tab on his beer with fingers that were already the consistency of mollasses. The skin of his digits flowed and fused together into pale, glossy collagen. It took some finesse with his forming trotters to crack open what would evidently have to be the last beer for the night. He slurped it, washing down the acric taste of fermented chromosomes from the tonic.

His britches were getting tight. With a grunt, he loosened them, allowing a curly pink pig tail to spring free from his rear. The other man had begun to strip down in the cold night air as the changes took effect.

"Now we ain't sure exactly where those rustlin' bastards is gonna strike tonight, or what exactly they're after," Cletus declared. "They'll snatch whatever critters they can get their hands on, which is why y'all are gonna be a mix tonight. Sheep, horses, goats, and the like. We got a big area to cover, so spread out, mingle in with the herds, and settle in for a long, cold night. And if you see those bastards, you give the signal, and we give them a hoofin they ain't never gonna forget."

That was met with a drunken murmur (and mooing) of agreement. The changes were accelerating, each man pitching forward onto hooves, trotters or paws. Cletus drained his beer and tossed it aside. His last act was to drag the keg of human genetic fluid over to the animal drinking trough beside the wall, and empty the shimmering slurry out into it.

"Now y'all remember to be back here in the mornin'" he squealed, before transforming fully into a plump, young sow.