by LLLama

There was a timeless, mesmerizing quality about the drive: the road dipped and arced and then dipped and arced again, over and over for endless miles through the mountains. Down through valleys, then across another peak for more long miles. At last Jeff could see a substantial grouping of buildings in the distance after interminable hours of nothing but wilderness. Surprising how well kept the road is for such a long seemingly unused stretch. I haven't passed anyone in at least an hour.
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"The Story"

Coming out of a curve, he could see the driveway just ahead on the right that lead to the compound. Ah, so this is Ultima Thule, Doctor Thule's estate, private laboratory and retreat, at least that's how he described over the phone. He turned the car into the half mile driveway, leaving the road to continue on its empty winding way. The forested glade was relieved by meadows carpeting the gently sloping bottom of the valley. Jeff could see parallel lines of fencing of several different kinds, from fifteen foot tall security fence to four strands of barb wire range fencing, each creating grazing ground of fairly substantial acreage. Some stretches were tightly woven right to the ground, looking like a rat couldn't get through it. The fenced pastures circled around behind the maze of buildings. Whew! This is some layout. Certainly much, much larger than anything I had expected. He parked next to a car with New York State plates on it. I sure hope that doesn't belong to my competition.

Doctor Thule emerged from the huge doors beneath the port cochere just as Jeff drove past it and was alongside the driverside door as he stopped the car. His hand gripped Jeff¹s with a strong squeeze. "I'm really very pleased you could make this long trip for our interview. I know it's a long way from the city. I needed to be sure you were aware how far away from civilization we are here." Dr. Thule not only shook Jeff's hand, but held it in his as he wrapped his other arm around Jeff¹s shoulder and began to guide him around the edge of the parking lot, circling back toward the buildings.

"I've enjoyed every bit of the drive. I'm so glad to see how remote the place is. It's exactly what I've been looking for - a place to be near to nature and a place to be natural, to be who I am: to become who I might become in a wooded agrarian environment like this. You know, for being in my feelings and not so lost in my intellect and ego as often happens in the city. I might spend a lot of my free time in the forest. Would you care if I made a camp out there?"

"Hmm, yes, it is a good place for that kind of thing, I believe. Man is not really at home in concrete and steel alone. Our hearts yearn for the unspoiled out-of-doors. Our animal natures long inwardly for arcadian peace. We¹ve got plenty of that here. Did you ever want to be an animal? You know, unspoiled by a sense of right and wrong."

"Oh, you mean because of my desire for being closer and more nearly a part of nature? No. No, I can't say I really ever thought of that. It's an interesting idea. I'll meditate on it."

"Yes, animals are not stuck in their intellects. You just said you wanted to be who you are. If I may say without seeming too presumptious, I infer you had a fairly unhappy childhood. As I remember, you said your parents had divorced when you were quite young."

"Yes. They each remarried. I have step brothers and sisters on both sides. But I never felt very close to either of my parents. Their interests always went toward their new families. So, after spending a lot of years in boarding school, I pretty much went my own way. I haven't seen them or really talked with them for several years. I'm twenty seven now and I really want to find my place in the world. This could be it for me, if you hire me."

"One of the requirements for the job is to be able to care for the animals I have. On our way to the house I will show you one which, um, recently arrived here. There. You see her? That¹s Teddie. Tethered under the trees. We can walk over and you can pet her, if you like. She is an American buffalo, a bison."

Jeff, a city boy, had never seen a buffalo before and he was stunned by her size as he moved near her. Her great shoulders, head and horns stood above his head height. He reached out to touch her thick haired shoulder and matted brisket and thought of her and her herd grazing on the great plains. Her aroma put him off some as he was still used to the human and mechanical smells of the city. He wasn't afraid, but was kind of apprehensive and tentative about being so close to such a large beast. "Is she really tame?"

"She is as docile as any domesticated creature I've seen. She apparently understands a lot about human beings and I don't think she would ever be able to hurt one." They moved on under the port cochere and into the building.

After dinner, later that evening, Thule pushed his chair back and smiled. "You won't sleep long, my friend." He got up and moved around the table into an alcove off the dining room. He returned with a wheelchair. "Good old handy wheelchair, how could I ever elucidate my guests without it?" He maneuvered Jeff's limp body onto the wheelchair and strapped Jeff's legs and feet to it. Then he injected a half dozen syringes of chemicals into Jeff's arms, taking care to make certain some were intravenous and others intramuscular. Finishing the injections, he strapped Jeff's arms and hands to the chair's armrests. He checked his work and finding it completed, he gave Jeff one final injection--to wake him up. Then the good Doctor sat down again and took another sip of his wine.

Jeff moved about some, lifted his head and, looking at Thule, said sheepishly, "I must have dozed off. The wine and the food and the fresh country air have relaxed me incredibly much."

"Yes, that and the sedative I gave you," replied Thule.

Jeff suddenly realized he was strapped to his chair. "What's going on?" He struggled against his bonds. "Why have you done this?"

"I've decided to give the management of my land and animals over to a another young man I interviewed earlier today, but I have other equally permanent employment for you. The other lad has always had, he tells me, a desire to be part horse and I have encouraged him in this. It would be the very best place for him as his desire is a part of my speciality. If I help him to achieve his goal, he will be able to help me care for my animals and I will then have little fear that he would let my particular secret out to

the world. The other capacity which I have in mind for you I need as urgently."

"Excuse me. I'm sorry. I don't understand at all. I think you're saying you will help him to become partly a horse?"

"Yes, that's right. You see, my work combines several disciplines. As far as my customers are concerned, I sell them exotic, often endangered species, and sometimes common domestic animals for their private collections. Whatever they want, they can order. Some of them have quite extensive personal zoos. The black market in rare species is brutal and prices are much higher than for a reputable legal sale ... of almost any animal. A large part of my work is to provide marketably profitable animals of any species--like the bison you were petting--to persons or organizations who want them and have no ability to enter into a market with such limited offerings at anywhere near the going rate. Economically, it is the closest thing to a true sellers market that exists.

"That's the sales side. On the procurement side, I have about the largest collection of genetic material of mammalia, reptilia, aves,

pices, and, ah, what is that other one, amphibia in the world. I have an extensive network and I frequently get new genetic material from sources all over the world. Naturally these are all confidential. In fact, most of my sources I don't know personally. The greater part of my acquired DNA samples I have not yet had a call to use. It is a truism that a busy man can always handle more work and I am considering branching out into the plant world, if you'll pardon the pun, especially into trees. I can grow the equivalent of a ten to twenty year old tree in a large pot inside of a month. Think of the advantage. Excuse me for throwing out so many concepts that are new to you in such a short time.

"But, down to the nitty-gritty. I advertise for individuals in the employment columns and lonely hearts adverts of hundreds of newspapers. I interview these persons and, using the genetic material for a requested animal, I alter--transform, if you will--a particular person into a particular animal. My cost is minimal: care and feeding for a short period of time. I don't need to wait for long periods of development and maturation. I don't need to be concerned with breeding practices or manage many different herds. I can create a yearling heifer or a mature crocodile in a matter of days.

"I am, in short, a genetic engineer and artist. I alter and create bodies. I have the ability to put hooves or paws on any or every person on the planet. Think what that would do to the shoe industry! Paws and hooves are so much more adapted for pavements and sidewalks. But I would be crucified if the press got wind of this. Vigilantes would search me out and murder me to 'protect' their children's feet. No, it is not yet time. Advance work must be done. The public has to be educated first and when they are, the market will be there for any preference of alteration. But, I digress again."

"You expect me to believe ... this ... this ... this ... incredible bullshit story? I suppose such a farfetched tale means that the bison I petted this afternoon used to be a human being. I'm sorry if I stayed too long or wasn't the right person for the job you have. Perhaps you've had too much wine. I don't know you very well. I really better start back to the city tonight. I passed a nice motel about ninety-five miles back. I don't want you to tell me any more. I really don't believe you. I'm glad the other guy got the job. Just untie me and let me leave now and I'll forget I was here. I promise."

"I'm sorry I can't allow that to happen. In fact, I've already sold the animal you'll become. You're to be part of a trio," Thule replied. "I needed to give you several injections - along the lines of the discussion we had been having this afternoon about DNA replacement and replication - and I did this while you were unconscious. You assumed our discussion was a theoretical one. I knew you would not believe me about the process I have developed; no casual acquaintance ever does."

"I decided you might benefit from observing a transmorphing human first hand. Not that it really matters whether you believe me or not. I don't care. I will transform you anyway. I really don't need or care for the approval of my subjects-cum-animals. It may be nonconsensual at first, but by the time they are transformed, they are contented, happy and cooperative. No animal I've made has ever been able to talk about their experience much less point an accusing finger at me for underhanded or illegal activity. I don't believe they would want to if they could. By the way, I don't believe transforming persons into animals is illegal. Still, I like to keep a low profile. Sometimes I consider it a moral and an ethical obligation to engage my subjects before hand and discuss the most extraordinary experience they will ever undergo in their lives: changing into a different species, a totally nonhuman, animal species. And, in that, becoming completely a beast. Most of those who come here I don't really talk with, but, under some pretext, I inject them with the necessary genetic material and chemicals and get them locked into their own pen."

"Their own pen! Whatever are you talking about?"

"Actually, I'm the one who will benefit, at least in the financial sense, while you will be much, much more as you put it, in touch with your feelings and senses ... ah, for the rest of your life. So, by changing you I am fulfilling your desires in a way. But, the real need for rendering you unconscious was to strap you into the wheelchair so that I can give you a 'grand tour' of my facilities and of my work without your attempting to escape or hurt me in fear of your own imaginings. It's about the only way I can share with others about my work. Of course, this knowledge will stay within you and can never get out into the world at large. I knew you would never let me change you, or even show you around, just as an amusement or for your edification. I knew you would bolt and run if I attempted to share about my work with you. And this is a practical way to get you to your own pen. Individual humans are usually quite timid when out of their milieu, but they will aggressively attempt to avoid new experiences which are preconceived to be unpleasant even with no basis in fact. With the need I have for a diversity of companionship, I find it helpful to get another's perspective on my work, even if only for a short time and in but a few words. If you are impressed by my work, I'll know it."

"You-- you're mad. Insane!"

Thule finished his wine, rose and moved up behind Jeff. "Before you say too much and put me out of my good mood, I'm going to stop your talking. I'm sure that the tour I'm about to give you will answer all your questions, and if not, your experiences in the next few weeks will. Of course, by then you won¹t concern yourself with concepts like hours or weeks, much less about concepts." He brought a heavy leather gag with a large, long knob on the inside, forced Jeff's mouth open, inserted the gag and then tied it behind Jeff's head. All Jeff could do now was grunt and not too effectively at that as his throat was mostly blocked by the gag and he could only breathe through his nose.

Thule took hold of the handles on the wheelchair and pushed Jeff through a short hallway that opened onto an aisleway extending for great length both to the left and to the right that Jeff thought looked like the aisle in a stables with stall doors on either side. At the end of the corridor were two immense wooden doors. "That double door leads out to the pastures and runs. You'll find out about that later." Thule seemed excited. "We have to go up in the lift. I haven't given a tour in a long time."

The lift carried them up a flight, ground to a halt, bounced once, and groaned to a complete stop. Thule pushed Jeff out onto a walkway with a very solid handrail along each side. At roughly the places where he had seen stall doors below were branchings off the walkway. Thule pushed him into the first one on the left. He propelled Jeff's chair to the very end of the walkway platform and began to describe the scene below.

Looking over the side, he intoned, "This pretty obviously is a great ape masturbating." Then with obvious pride in his voice he looked at Jeff and gestured toward the ape, "See, how his behavior changes as he looks up at us."

The ape below stopped stroking himself even as he looked up at them and began to bellow. Jeff was amazed that he could hear actual English words coming up from below. "...ape, get hold...you, want...body." Thule said, "This is a handy piece of work, don't you think. Only yesterday--" Thule looked at his watch. "Yes, about twenty-two hours ago, he was an ordinary person, like you or me. Now he's very nearly an ape who masturbates to climax about every five minutes. It does make the process go faster."

Jeff craned his head to see below as best he could being tied in the wheelchair. The pen floor was about twenty feet below. Thule was taking no chances on anyone climbing the walls and escaping. Jeff thought he now could see that the hairy ape below him was actually looking like a man with a lot of body hair, except his facial features were somewhat distorted and his skin was jet black and looked like thin, supple leather. Now and again, the ape-man lost his stance and went on to all fours loping around his pen. Then he would stand up erect and seem human for some time. Waving his arms and shaking his fists at Thule caused him to lose his unstable two footed posture and fall to all fours again. He continued to talk and rage as he moved agitatedly around in the area below. Occasionally, he would scratch himself.

"This guy is going to a private zoo in Ohio. By then he will be docile and tame. Apes are naturally pretty friendly animals and he will be well treated. There is a female there waiting for him. I made her last month. My client liked her so well he wants to breed her. This one arrived here yesterday morning, responding to an advert by a 'SWF'--placed by myself--and I began the process immediately. He was not a guest for dinner. I had a very tight schedule. We had no discussion about his treatment, but the process is probably obvious to him now. Once his large toe rotated, I believe he got the idea. I haven't talked to him except about the need for my giving him the injections before he could meet 'her'. I want to let him observe the changes without outside information. He is such a rush job that I must have him delivered in two days time, otherwise I would not speed his alteration to the family Pongidae and would give him the enjoyment of his new and changing feelings and changing shape for a longer period of time before the animal he becomes takes total active control of his nervous system. I plan an extended three weeks for you, with an emphasis on primary and secondary sexual characteristics first, while the whole body slowly fills in afterward. That's the most interesting way. That's what pleases my fantasy and how I like to see the process evolve. I don't think I would be doing this work at all if I didn¹t enjoy watching. It's not just the money. And, I feel I partially owe it to you as I didn't give you the job and I do want you to be happy when you leave here. Of course, on the other hand, no one leaves here on two legs regardless- unless that person has become a bird." He thought for a moment, "or no legs, possibly a snake." Pausing again, he blurted out, "Or a fish. I have a water tank deeper than an olympic pool."

Jeff thought he saw that the ape-man's legs were shifting to be shorter and thicker. Every time he went onto all fours, his arms and legs seemed to more apelike. Even as Thule wheeled him back to the central walkway, Jeff noticed that he was no longer able to discern any words in the man-beast's mouthings. He thought about what Thule had said--that he was going to change him into some kind of animal. He really couldn't believe it. Thule had to be playing a very extensive, complicated practical joke on him, he was sure, but why?.

"Its a funny thing, the morphing process always seems to increase libido. You like to f*** when you're changing form. Many of the muscular and bone shifts happen during the height of sexual functioning and especially just before, during and just after climax. I would have planned it this way if I hadn't found it occured naturally. The subject desires sex, sex creates transformation changes and that increases the need for sex. Each subject increasingly makes the change happen to himself. For this reason, I like to sell pairs and often will introduce two transforms of the same species into the same pen. Ah, the need to rut is indeed useful!"

"In your case, well, I'm keeping it a surprise til we get there. Do you have any particular desire to be either sex?

Below was a very large man. Out the upper sides of his forehead inch long horn stubs protruded in an obvious state of early growth. His blackened nostrils had spread and merged with his upper lip, which, with his long oval ears, made his lower face hint at being bovine. He seemed docile. His neck was very thick and shaggy with a hair coat. He was the most nearly completely human of all the animal-men Jeff had been shown in these pens. Jeff felt sorry for him and the changes he was being forced to go through. He wanted to talk to him. Mostly, he looked lonely to Jeff. The man was masturbating when they first looked down on him. After a few moments, he heard them and looked up and stopped jerking off. Jeff could see then that his small cock was a very deep red, much different than a normal human penis. It appeared, at this distance, to be pretty short and nestled in a larger opening that looked like a vulva.

"He's masturbating himself into a real cunt," Thule giggled.

Then Jeff realized he was smelling the scent of the being below him. Some instinct in Jeff made him know the man needed to be f*****, he was in heat. Suddenly, he found he was staring in fascination and desire. He wanted to f*** this man, who was turning into some kind of cow. As his mind raced with these feelings, his eyes locked into those of the man who was below. Then the guy turned away and bent over showing Jeff his wide open ass. Yes, it really had looked to Jeff like the guy's penis was shrinking to be inside a gigantic cunt. Immediately, Jeff felt he needed to smell it.

Embarrassed, Jeff turned toward Thule. He saw Thule was watching at him. "The man below us is on his way of transformation into a bison cow. Yes, yes, my little secret is out. Your body knows it, even if your mind doesn't. The transforming drugs I gave you have taken a hold of your body cells sometime ago. I have kept you distracted from feeling the beginning of the changes in yourself. Now you are having a rush of feeling and change, especially sexual desire. Meet Andie, a member of your new herd."

Leaning over the rail, he spoke loudly down to the man, "Here's the bull I've selected for you. His name is Jeff."

"I started Andie this morning. He arrived just after dawn. His car is still parked out there next to yours. I have friends who will remove both it and yours. The chop shop car business is one of my more profitable sidelines. I would like to have waited to start him until you or someone else were available at the same time, but I can't keep blank specimens in my barns without established movement toward their intended goal. Why, that would be inhumane. It would make me some kind of jailer. And, if you had told me you had a particular animal fantasym that would have lead to a different future for you. But don't let¹s worry now about alternative futures. There aren't any and you'll catch up with him."

"I'm sorry the other cow is already made, and so I can't have the three of you change together, but sometimes I have to take what I can get. I'll bring her in to you in a few hours, soon enough that you will still believe yourself human while you impregnate your first totally bestial cow. I don't suppose I'll ever really know if your personal inner human feelings will be really getting off when you are doing it with an total animal." Thule took out a pad and pencil, "I'm making a note to provide you with something to stand up higher on. You¹ll need it for a while."

Suddenly Jeff got the entire picture. This man below and the bison cow in the yard and he himself were all to be the same species. And he, Jeff, was to be the bull. The man and the cow were to be the start of his herd.

Jeff struggled to free himself from the chair. Then he stopped. He was sure he wanted to be free and to get away from this place. But he was also sure he wanted to get free to go below to f*** the man-cow. He couldn't fathom the intensity of the conflict in his feelings: to free himself to run and get away or to free himself to get downstairs and f***. His cock was hard under his chinos. It ached for fucking. It had slipped out beyond his underwear and showed itself to be already grown to more than half the length of his upper leg. There was an expanding wet spot on his chinos that was closer to his knee than to the top of his thigh. He could see the bulge under the fabric all the way to the middle of the stain. He couldn't believe his eyes.

"I guess you're beginning to realize now that I've been telling you the truth, Jeff. Soon each of your testicles will be bigger than your fist is now and your great ball sac will hang down to your knees. Of course, you won't have knees for very long, but you will have hocks. Tell me Jeff, which do you want more? To be free and away from this place or to be fucking your new mate, there, below? At the instant your transforming cock tip touches his ass, that lovely moist virgin cunt will truly open and take your lengthening dick in to the capacious vagina behind. He's prime for it."

Jeff felt a tickling all about his neck and head. A place on each side of his forehead suddenly itched incredibly. He wanted to rub them against the wall. He wanted to scratch his neck and his forehead, but his hands and lower arms were tied fast to the chair's arms. He bent his head lower but couldn't reach his hands.

"I suppose you're feeling your horns buds starting to expand against the skin on your forehead. They will erupt pretty soon. You'll be able to rub your head against the sides of your stall in a few minutes, but you probably won't remember to do this in the sexual heat generated by you and Andy. You can probably feel that your neck is begining to thicken and is already quite hairy. As I've been told, a person changing often feels hair growth as a sort of tickling sensation that they want to scratch."

"As I said, sex and the urge for sex tends to spark the transformation in certain bursts of change. You know now that you are beginning to change. You can see as well as I can that the placement of the stain on your trouser leg does not relate to the size of the penis you brought here as a human being. I know that you are having strong sexual feelings from the changes I observe in you. If I untie you now, you would run downstairs and open the pen and go in. But we¹re going to do this my way. That man-cow below, your mate to be, would probably not now be so far transformed, even though it isn't really much, except that he has been masturbating. Well, now he'll have you. You will be satisfying his heightened sexual desires. He won't have a cock any longer, once you get started fucking him, but then with you around he won't want it, much less need it."

Thule wheeled Jeff's chair to the lift. After they got below, he pushed his newly started bison bull into a small holding pen behind which was the large stall with the man-cow in it. Thule stunned Jeff with a taser and released him from the chair. He moved Jeff's helpless body to the floor, pushed the wheelchair out into the corridor and then came back and removed Jeff's clothes and the gag. Taking the clothes with him he threw them into the wheelchair in the corridor. Then he bolted and locked the gate into Jeff¹s pen. He rotated a long lever which opened the inner gate joining the small holding area with the large pen. These things done, Thule hurried up the nearby stairs to watch the first sexual display between Jeff, who would be a bison bull inside of a month, and Andy, who was on his way to becoming a pregnant bison cow.

P.S. As additional information to the readers, Jeff began to change in a rapid transtition from human to that of a sex crazed bull Buffalo. He stood humping Teddy that very first night, imprenating her after just five sessions. His bovine shaped penis grew to buffalo size within a week; while his muscular body filled out after the third week.

teddy, Andie, and their bull Jeff learned the ways of instincts and living life as do grazing animals in just four weeks. It was with glee and delight the the Doctor watched from his front porch as the stock truck took the three new friends to their ultimate home on a game preserve.

No sooner they were gone from the property, than in drove Kyle, a young twenty three year old man looking to enter a life long employment as offered by the great doctor himself.
:please:

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:heart: Cool... Feels like more...

Keep breathing folks :clover:

Dee²

very very very nice

Thanks

Beatha

Prized graduates from Sunrise Research Foundation, a division of Thule Research:

Volunteer 21-9217 (Name is Bill)

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True devotion, brothers working together in the realm of science and the advancement of animal husbandry.

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A more recent picture of Kevin he having asked for a different assignment, stands feeling a bit camera shy.

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An industrial spy, caught and with some coaxing, agreed to consign a contract as another fine volunteer. His worst accomplishment thus far was to read, cover to cover, the sum of notes devised by our own Professor Thule.

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Very good story. Have you ever written one where a woman is transformed onto a male animal? I don't believe I've ever read, or even seen one like that.

Easy 10 Rooster

Pet :rolleyes:

Wow, I would love to do that to a few guys I know very well.

Sandra. XXXXX

Graduation Photo:

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well just a little too descriptive for me :\. took a while to read. but all together a wonderful story. got my blood runnin ;D

Living Safe & Secure
By Adobe Fats and Kevin Rooste
Series 2006

I want to tell you of my good friend, his name is Bill, as he had a situation that became a national incident.

One priority mail package, packed with exceptional care, tape on every flap of the box, top and bottom sealed, labeled to and from, a gift to the best friend a fellow could have. Bill got into car, placing the package on the passenger seat, backed out of his garage and drove like any other day or time to the local post office.

As of what was inside the box he planned mail that day had Bill chuckling to his self as he contemplated the reaction of the person receiving this special package. He felt so wonderful that seeing the local bread store on his way, he stopped and purchased his favorite treat, a small bottle of chocolate milk, and a dozen powdered donuts.

The day lent to the sense of his levity, Bill enjoyed giving friends occasional gifts like this one. He discovered the roads as rather busy on that sunny day, so it made the normally easy drive rather long across town to the post office.

Anxious feeling often led Bill to want something to eat, and eating meant he would need a drink as well. An enjoyable oasis soon presented itself, his favorite donut shop stop; and shortly there after a pint bottle of chocolate milk stood open in the drink holder of his car console.

Messy is the only word that could describe what Bill would choose for donuts and as his most favored treat. Although the special box he planned to send and his donut were to him an equal, the box became a platter to hold his powdered sugar fry cake donut.

Seventeen miles to the Post Office, and upon arriving Bill set the remaining few donuts on the car floor, grabbed his package and headed inside, eager to see his gift go out on its merry way.

The Post Office was quite busy, nine people ahead of Bill, but he stood patient and smiling, waiting for his turn at the service window.

Not too long of a wait and he was next to the service window. The busy day had continued as more people wishing to mail items now stood behind Bill. Then he heard the woman behind the counter say, “Next person please,” as this was his queue to step up to the service window, a smile on his face, Bill presented his box for weighing and payment of postage.

The woman took hold of the boxed gift, slamming it unceremoniously down quite hard on the weigh scale. She quoted the price of shipping, turned to face Bill, and saw collected about her scale a white ominous powder.

Suddenly a Caxton buzzer screamed its alert; men came from every direction, as the woman teller screamed, “Poison alert!”
The people standing behind Bill ran for their lives, one having a cell phone dialed a quick 911 call and alerted the local police; making mention of an ominous charge calling Bill a terrorist.

Screaming Caxton and wailing sirens all fell on poor Bill. In just minutes he was arrested, charged a terrorist, and on his way to meet the some new exotic department of the federal government.

Naturally, Bill pleaded he was innocent of the charges, but everyone who eyed him only thought the worst. His one free phone call to an attorney friend ended quickly, when hearing the charges, his friend just hung up the receiver.

That night the local and national news crucified Bill, demanding the death penalty, not even suggesting if he should be proved guilty, as that seemed a given already!

The government sent their top people to speak with Bill, asking questions of how many more boxes had he sent out dusted with poison, nary a wondering if the powder were sugar or something dangerous. Days went by, as time after grueling time, the governmental men questioned Bill, yelled at him, and warned if he dared not confess they would make him sorry he lived past his arrest.

On the morning on the third week of his constant interrogation, a tough faced man delivered a news bulletin to the men asking all the questions. The government men read it several times and then went into a huddle to discuss their options.

The laboratory report, a chemical analysis giving the properties of the alleged poison, telling the powder was a grade #2, white, powdered, sugar, “Most definitely NOT poisonous in the least!”

As usual, two men gruffly dragged Bill from the integration room back to his dark and dank cell three floors below the street level. There they tossed Bill into his cell, slamming the door as if angered that Bill was indeed innocent, and ruining their fun.

Excited as to the prospect of a lawsuit and tons of bad publicity, feeling more than foolish, the authorities realized Bill as innocent, but made no move to release or grant back to Bill his right of freedom.

Days turned to weeks and other than the guard bringing food and removing the trays, Bill sat alone and ignored.

Bill would scratch a mark in the gray plaster wall, one long scratch for every day of his incarceration. At last, on an afternoon of some unknown day, two men came to see him. In that dimly lighted dungeon of a jail cell, in walked two men dressed up in black business suits and wearing dark sunglasses.

Seeing this pair of truly government men, Bill smiled at them, he remembering of a movie he saw about two of the same characters, namely the Blues Brothers.

Bill listened to just how those in authority planned to let Bill slip out the rear door of the jailhouse, desiring no reporters to speak to him, wanting the legal dust to settle and push the embarrassing situation under some dirty rug.

Then Bill had his turn to speak, he laughing at the two, saying first he needed a statement read to the press admonishing him as innocent of all charges.

Secondly, he wanted a letter in writing, and signed by their director, also admonishing Bill of all charges.

Then with his a sense of justice to those who so wanted him to plead guilty, he told these two just how dumb this sham was, stupid to the extreme, and nothing more than some lame bureaucrats needing something to show they were doing something to protect the country.

Both men looked at the other and turned quickly to walk out of the cell. One turned, looking back, reached into his coat pocket, taking out a small package, and tossing it onto the cot in the cell.

As the cell door closed and locked, the man spoke to Bill saying, the package was an easier way for all concerned, it would put this situation to rest.

The men walked away quickly, stopping only to talk with the head guard for a few moments.

Bill sat there wondering if he had asked for too much. Shortly after the two brothers left the cell block, the guard came to the cell. He was all smiles and laughing at Bill, the man suggested Bill open his package and gain a guarantee of no public cynical accusation and a life of real freedom.

Flopping on his cot, Bill tore open the small paper wrapped package. Inside he found a note, and a syringe filled with a twinkling blue liquid.

Bill looked at the note, as he remembered to his last day of every word.

“You and of what you did to our agency has become a national embarrassment to us, and our associate departments.

Enclosed, is a syringe holding a top secret, and very special serum.

You may decide to remain permanently imprisoned!

If by your choice you decide using the syringe and its contents to assure your release, our agency offers then a place for you to live your life as a part of our witness protection service.

The liquid inside the syringe will, once injected into you, we expect to see some varied physiological changes, assuring a guarantee of no further reprises upon you from this sad incident. Expect some amount of discomfort, as well feelings of dementia, although temporary, what results is a new and stronger bodily self and a face different and quite handsome to females.

This should make your daily lifestyle much at ease with all others who live and or work around you.

Your government makes to you a solemn promise reassuring your future and new reputation shall be exhilarating as you stand up and take your proper place. Assured of becoming champion to your peers, and under a permanent term of protection against injury and or those who would wish to do you harm.

Once you utilized the syringe, call the guard, he will arrange your release and transport to what you can consider as home. We know you shall be safe and secure, where none there shall relate you to this unfortunate situation.

It seemed his release was not forthcoming as per his wish, but rather in some sneaky way for these government men to cover their mistake. The injection seemed his only way to get out of jail, and after a quick poke, he called for the Guard.

The syringe made Bill feel weird, sick to his stomach, and increased his feelings of anxiety.

When at last the Guard arrived to grant Bill his immediate and expected release, the reactions coming from the injection had Bill nearly unconscious. He knew the guard helped him to get to his feet and stumble along. He remembered a long waiting time, what seemed as days until the scent fresh rejuvenated his outlook.

Bill remembered two other men taking him by forceful manner and pushing him into a truck, making him feel as if he was little more than a sack of grain.

The truck moved with an odd vibration, it seemed to awaken Bill, making him alert, and he instinctively knew when it seemed best for him to make his escape by jumping out from the truck as it waited for a passing train.

Free for the moment, Bill staggered along as if drunk, but he had nothing to drink just an injection, something he thought then was maybe a mistake. A mind filled with foggy thoughts, Bill felt his guts growling, and he noticed how much his feet began to hurt.

Hitchhiking helped cut the distance and time for Bill to arrive at his apartment. As he stood there gawking at the curbside, seeing everything he owned, his furniture, clothing, and all what he had in his seven-room apartment now lay tossed in a pile.

Immediately he knocked on the apartment manager front door, angered and suspecting the governmental charges had a lot to do with this whole mess.

One angered woman answered the door screaming her disgust with his kind, she told how he was out, and she, or her husband wanted nothing more to do with him.

Noise from outside had Bill seeing a bunch of people sorting his stuff, taking what they wished and leaving him busted and broke.

Now anxiety and nervousness added to his many woes, he walked down the street, seeing people he knew and feeling their hatred, they all had passed judgment on Bill.

Come night he was really feeling down, a passing man had slugged him in the eye, turning to a dark red ring about eyes filled with tears. His eye hurt, head ached, as then too his groin, shoulders, legs and feet all had differing ways to exert on him pain.

The underside of an expressway bridge offered at least a dry place to rest.

Bill lay there hearing the roar of cars and trucks hurtling though the night.

Feeling tired, depressed, and exceptionally weak, he drifted off into a deep sleep and slumber.

It was near midday when Bill awoke, groggy, blurry eyed his headache much worse, and oddly, his shoes had fallen off from aching feet. Laying or sitting either felt bad, his butt ached as if he had fallen on his tail bone and injured it.

He lay there trying to think a clear idea for finding a friend, and a safe place to stay.

His mind seemed disjointed, try as he might, he could not think straight, a thought to sit up caused his head to become caught strangely in the open space between two of the iron beams that held up the roadway.

Nervous and very anxious moments passed, until with some rough effort, Bill wrenched his head free from the beams. The sensation brought on a feeling of anxiety, as if he felt claustrophobic about the small space he had to rest, sleep, and keep out of sight.

He did not remember the space seeming so tight, but his retreat from under the bridge girders required him to crawl out, ducking his head low for every iron beam along the way.

When Bill finally got himself out into the sunlight, he tried to stand up.

His legs felt weak and shaky, head ached yet, but what he noticed quite quickly was his shirt and pants had ripped and torn at their seams, lying in a heap on the ground.

Bill thought it odd he did not feel a chill, being he was mostly naked and minus much of his clothing. He thought it best to be clothed anyway, as he reached one hand to pick up his loosened clothing; he tried to scream from the surprise.

A truth was realized, he knew of what the blue twinkling liquid in the syringe could do, as Bill saw in place of a human hand, he had a cloven hoof.

His anxious anxiety feelings beget his snorting as if an anxious animal agitated by something it felt a lack of trust. Bill began to take note of different things, his head for one, was then larger, heavy of bone, and held on a massive neck made of enormous muscles.

Looking down along the length of his different body, Bill saw his skin had darkened, turning black and leathery to the touch. He felt how the black skin grew a coat of black furry hairs, as these seemed to cover him from head to hoof, and did well to keep him warm.

Groaning, Bill knew down deep the syringe was the cause, but he did not believe his own eyes, until with the personal need to urinate, he watched as strained to let flow a stream of his pent urine. At first, it merely dribbled out of a hairy pouch attached to his belly. Nestled in thickening black fur and just below where he still had a navel, the urine trickled down his then sheath, the urine soaked his hair in its stench, trailing down to his groin and dribbling off two of the largest testicles he had ever seen!

Those wild sights and scenes added to his anxious feelings over what he saw, only making him feel his sense of anxiety bring a response as a bony tail swayed, swung, and slapped at his big butt and broader thighs.

Bill realized this must be what the memo spoke of, as those expected changes to his physique.

Instincts might have played a part, he remembering of me, as of where I lived, being so close to the highway. Bill arrived at my home on a cold and damp April afternoon. His face held still enough of his human characteristics, allowing me to recognize him after a moment of staring at this beast creature standing on my front porch.

Bug eyed, Bill made me feel uneasy. He had his human legs almost completely changed into hind legs, hocks, feet and cloven hooves like the bovine animal he would soon become.

Luckily, I live to myself, unwed and enjoying my manner of freedom.

Seeing Bill, as he most definitely looked the part of being something as part man and more like to some sort of animal, made me act cautious when making an offer, suggesting to Bill he might prefer residing in my barn stable. He saw my obvious concerns for my wellbeing and for his comfort, as my stables behind the main house, seemed a proper place to keep what soon would be but an animal.

He agreed with a nod of his big head. We walked around the outside of my house, up the gravel driveway to where set on a slight rise were the stables.

Horses and I was always a fun thing for me and the two I kept in the stables responded to me with cuteness, and their own ways of love.

When we entered, the stable Andy and Mable snorted, they became then alarmed by what followed me inside their home.

Bill moaned at the reaction of my two horses. I think he realized that the outcome of his changing would leave him as something of less of beauty than were my two champion Morgan horses.

Mumbling in a deep but soft tone as he spoke, Bill had great trouble forcing out his dehumanized mouth a sentence of intelligible words. He sighed, as if ready to give up all hope for his life ahead. Bill entered the box stall somewhat less than as begrudgingly as I might, if I were in his situation.

Once standing in where I thought it best he should stay, Bill knelt down and with his arms and cloven hands he scraped the straw laying as a covering of the cement floor, heaping it into a pile as if making a bed.

Moaning in a deep sounding tone, Bill snorted harshly, snuggling himself into a fetal position and went quickly to sleep.

I stood and watched my friend Bill, wondering if he could come the next day tell me more of the why, and reasoning as how my friend seemed to be changing into some bullish form. His ability to speak hampered by thickened lips and a tongue made for doing what a bull does with his tongue. I surmised what had happened, knowing Bill and the government boys, they being easily overwrought, brash, and bold, wanting to pin the tail on any donkey, rightly or otherwise; had pinned a bull tail on Bill.

The next morning when I came to feed my two horses, Bill stood up, leaning his bulk form over the gate to his stall; he kept pointing to his arm, making a gesture as if his arm received and injection.

He had held gripped with a clutched foreleg and hoof the last items of his torn clothing. As if satisfied and feeling safe, he dropped the worthless rags, as I scooped them up a paper note fell from his shirt pocket.

Reading the note I stopped to look at Bill, he listening began to snort as if becoming angry. The witness protection service was never like this, they placed people into society, not changed them into animals, like what had become of Bill.

I consoled my friend, offering he might stay and remain on my small country estate, living to his delight, safe and secure!

The words of safe and secure made Bill become angry, as if the thought of those words were some direct infuriation.

My next full week I cared for him during a time of pains and feelings of disgust about what and how he would need to live; Bill felt friendly toward me, as if from my acting like a good friend, he found some sort of acceptance for becoming a bull.

I thought of him as the perfect governmental covered up, no body to hide; the only trail leads to a stall, a pasture, and to a bull that under the law of this, our land, is without even a single right.

If after all he went through as his human body made the massive transition to becoming a bovine, Bill showed his worries about the drastic changes in his plumbing.

Bill stood bellowing his mooing call with a loudness I had not heard before. When after I dropped what I was doing and went to investigate, I saw Bill moving his pelvis and making huffing sounds as if he were sheath deep in a cow and going for broke.

He continued to make his changed leap from being human to becoming a bovine big black bull. I made a photo collection of his manner of changing, but the best of the lot was this one photo. I took a picture of Bill before he went to an adjoining big farm, there under a lease agreement he would remain and sire the beef cattle herd. I believe Bill thought well of me doing this with and for his delight, as the Killingsworth farm had to its asset a herd of six hundred healthy cows.

Bill became the epedemy of one stout and healthy bovine bull, worthy to place for sire, and once he got the hang of things, he too found a new joy for living free, set aside from the tethers which bind us, us who remain on as humans.

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