One small moment of passion, a desire for something I knew was wrong, and my entire life and being folded into a ball of fear.

It began with a fantasy, as if torn from those he loved and the place where he grew up. The breaking away of ties that meant the world to me, from deep in my personal sorrow I cried for help.

Help, maybe but what came to meet me head on and offered a way to accept my losses, was a Demon. She was of the female variety, as demons go they do not actually have any differing genders but stand between men and God as spiritual powers of extreme evil.

Therefore, it was for my lusty benefit stood this dark orb of demonic power, named Lysailea. In an hour of pain, she came offering me a suggestion, a way to return back, to my friends and the neighborhood I loved.

As I listened to her proposition, she made small motions of her hands. These motions at the time meant nothing to me and for as much I ignored them. Had I paid more attention to her movements I might have realized she was baiting me, urging my male parts to become enthused, and as such bending me toward agreement with her ideas?

The friendliest one in our neighborhood was Pat. He was a Shetland pony male owned by Mister and Misses Brown, and kept at their petting zoo. As he was an actually normal animal and born as an animal it was Lysailea’s contention, she could make us trade lives and bodies. Her suggestion was made more thrilling by the suggestion of possible sexual relationship I would find pleasing and fun.

Pat being without a soul was as open fodder to any demons use. Me being human and if wishing to make a trade of one immortal soul for some special delights, then this could become an even trade.

My sensual self being aroused, did make the suggestion of such a trade seem better than it really might. Her very easy ways of sounding like Pat was willing too, and in as much longed to be as like me! Now this was all she said but had I thought to ask of more details the ultimate truth would have told me I was a fool.

Her plan was simple, I should hitch hike my way back to Pat and the neighborhood. Once there I was to enter the petting zoo and with Pat in his stall should begin a demonic ritual. Lysailea said she would help me and make Pat be as friendly as a pony could become. This had me thinking she was on my side, a foolish thought when being the prey of a demon.

It was about ten O’clock one dark moonless evening, and I set out for the highway. A friendly man stopped and picked me up his face I remember to this very day. It was a short ride but gave me little time to talk or think as this man did all the talking. He being a handler of animals told me of many things, the most interesting was the mating ritual of a horse.

At last we came near my home street and I lighted from my free ride.

I walk through the night brought me to the front gate of the Brown’s private zoo. There were goats, and birds, two pigs in their sty and to one side stood Pat in his dusty small corral.

As I opened the gate to Pat’s corral, instantly I saw in the dull light from the street he was standing there totally erect and seemingly thrilled.

I approached him cautiously, wondering if Lysailea had talked this all over with him. He stood quietly his tail would occasionally sway, and his might male organ stiffened, rising up to bump his round belly, and then went limp swaying down until it bumped a hind hock.

“Go to him, feel of his male parts and do as I have told you to do!” said the voice of Lysailea.

I looked around for her but saw not a sole, human or demon I thought I was alone with Pat.

Kneeling down at his flank, I reached a trembling hand to touch his might male organ. It felt wrinkled and coated with dust from his corral. I knew it was black as I had seen it many a time in the light when we came to pet him.

Pat seemed interested in the strange touching of his male shaft, and also sniffed me as if wondering who I was?

“Take it, bend it and put the end in your mouth!’ said the voice of Lysailea to me.

Slowly I took a hold of the shaft and even in the dim light was able to see it for what it was, his cock! Dusty and I was sure the thing had become filthy over time and with the general lack of care he received. The end of his cock peeked open and closed like the lips of some snakes mouth, only round.

My mouth open I pushed the oily and salty flavored cock past my lips. I touched it with my tongue as Pat jerked backward a quarter of a full step. He snuffled a small whiny as if unsure what I was doing seemed even righteous to a male pony.

Tongue to the cock’s head I closed my mouth and began to suck as what Lysailea said was the correct way to begin the ritual.

The rank taste of salt and urine mixed with my saliva. My tongue danced about the cock’s end; as I was working open the lips of his pissing hole as if looking for some great prize.

Pat got quickly erect making his penis inflate and fill my mouth so full I could not remove it. The flattened head bloomed into some large mushroom shape constricting my tongue and making me choke. A few pelvic thrusts and from his cock’s end flowed out this smooth liquid. It coated my mouth, oozed down my throat, and turned my stomach.

His butt moved faster and with this he jerked forcing into my mouth his first load of pony stallion’s semen. Rank beyond any pre-thought I ever could imagine, the semen tasted like grass and piss.

I choked it down hearing in the back of my mind the voice of Lysailea urging me to continue and make the trade.

The bright light of a clear morning hit my eyes and slowly I got to my feet.

Looking around I was filled full of fear for I might be caught inside Pat’s stall. It was a place we as visiting kids, we were never allowed to enter, and I was inside to be sure!

The sound of Mister Brown coming out in the morning as greeted his animal friends. He fumbled around feeding the goats, and pigs, then went into the henhouse for some morning eggs. I stood in the corner of Pat’s small barn shaking from head to foot.

“Pat, Pat come out and eat this, your breakfast!” called Mister Brown.

I looked around the small 12 x 12 barn and saw not a sign of Pat. It had but one real stall and to one side a stack of hay bales. Slowly I inched out of the barn and stood shaking, scared to death of what he was going to say to me. Worse yet would be when my wife would be called to pick me up and what she would ask of my strange excursion.

“Good morning Pat I see you in fine form today!” said Mister Brown.

Indeed, I was so scared and wondering about my becoming caught in the act; I failed to even notice that I was now inside Pat’s body and mind. Mister Brown being a farmer long ago knew when a horse or pony was thinking hard he usually got a hard on. My pony size of a penis was out rigid and looking as if me this pony was thinking of something wonderfully sensual.

Still it did not strike my clouded mind and standing there with legs stretched to the breaking point of joints, I began to masturbate, as would any other pony stallion. Up, down, up, down was my erect shaft doing its thing and making my mind dream of mares, vulvas, the delights of doing sex equine style.

The rush of my pony stallion semen streaming out the opened end of what was a real cock of the animal named Pat, the animal I had become. I felt it, relished it, was thrilled by the feelings, bug eyed I stood there on all four gawking toward Mister Brown.

“My goodness there Pat, you sure had some delighted delight this morning!” said a man who was now my owner.

It struck then full force, mind smaller brain caught the thought and when the sexual romp of masturbation had subsided, and I began to take inventory of this new me. Turning and walking with my pony cock swaying side to side, smacking the thighs and giving me a new realization of the meaning of joy. It felt joyful to be like this, naked yet coated in a black thick hide and cloaked in pony hair.

Never did I think that Pat being as an animal was anything all too much different, then being as a human. Yet animals are different and God made them with those abilities they needed to survive. Some of my senses advanced beyond those granted unto men, as others such as eyesight are limited. So it was for me, my first and foremost sense and ability found Pat’s pony eyes as two fixed focus lens making me quite nearsighted. This caused me some foreboding over my life ahead as a pony.

Now hearing and the mobility I had with my pony ears did have its delights. As if my ears were similar to radar but used to search out and collect sounds, they worked extremely well. My height and this ability could hear Mister Brown coming my way at over a hundred yards. Like Pat, would jump his head up being suddenly alert to the coming footsteps of children intent on petting him, I too now did the same thing.

When I was human the ability to taste was far more acute than the way my tongue now acquaints me to what I eat or lick. The smaller pony brain has a little spot for the sensorial lobes. This means that eating hay or grass comes to me as something comfortable and relaxing. At times and for his own reasons Mister Brown brings me a plastic pail having a mixed allotment of grains and to my thrill he has poured into this a bottle of dark beer.

Breathing is as being human but when I inhale one can feel the massive lungs fill, it relates to stamina. Although I have but this small corral as my range to walk, stamina means little except when the urge to mate or masturbate stops me in my tracks. As I breathe, I smell the scents of what is around me but only up wind. This sense is also very acute relating to my brain the simple thoughts of friend or foe.

Part of my thinking ability Lysailea has allowed me to remember people and friends, family members, my wife, and from Pat’s lifetime comes the memories of mares he mounted, and enjoyed. It is the last item to which Pat’s brain overwhelms those memories of my life. As being now myself an animal, the passion for life is to procreate, while enjoying the sensation of my so ordained, long cock.

The future means nothing to me, my only delight is in things right now. Life for me is of the very moment I am alive and for this I feel longings for those pleasures I longingly enjoy, wishing they would continue.

Those that come and pet my hairy body find glee in touching a true to life animal. Their hands roam most everywhere but just a few dare to touch my cock or under my tail. Whether bold or passive in their ways, I enjoy their very sensual touching it lets me enjoy what I am, a pony, and without human hands.

My tail, now this is a true God given delight that considering the limitations I have being as a pony animal, this gifts me something to express myself. Whipping it forcibly side to side shows me as anxious, lifting it up foretells of coming filth. If I raise my tail when walking or during a short prancing run, it would be a symbol of my personal happiness for being alive. When I stand and stare at something, my tail hangs down. As if to chart my thinking when feeling uneasy about what I see, hear, or can smell, it might rise up off my hairy butt an inch or two.

One day led to the second and onward went time as I soon lost interest in remembering those who I knew and loved. As for those who came to be my friend and pet my hairy form, they are friends but only while doing me the sensual service of feeling my body for my personal delight. I was in this way sinking ever deeper into the trap Lysailea had planned for me, and my demise.

The chilly winds of a coming winter season had me enjoying the lack of insects and flies. My hairy coat is beginning to molt and I am gaining a shaggy thicker covering of body hairs. I feel the brisk breeze blowing that gives me the tickling sensations now, as the children are all in school and I stand day after day alone. I do not miss them and their strange smells of hands soaked in sweets.

My daily longing for sensual passion flares and I find myself masturbating four and five times each day. I think at times about me doing this sexual act and wonder if for the fact of being bored that it helps break up my dull life.

It happened one fall day, as I stood there near that four rail high fence as it is the thing that binds me to this place. At first it was something my nostrils suggested to be friendly. As eyesight found it and focus cleared I became slowly elated at the sight of one coming to greet me.

Deep dark and forgotten memories flooded to the forefront, I remembered his face I saw before me, it was once mine! It was Pat now in my body, he had returned to meet me, to talk, as if my weak pony brain could understand his words, as do humans.

“We know each the other, you are now the pony I was, and I am as you were in this wonderful body! I want to thank you but there is this unanswered question, why? Why, would you being as this in body, having all the neat comforts of being a human being, why would you want to be as I was, why?” he asked.

Snuffling a short whiny, snorting and flicking my tail I stood anxious to say my reasons and why, but words were wanting and I could not talk as a human. I pawed the ground with my right hand fore hoof, the gone sense that I might write my feelings ended up as me digging a small hole in the corral’s dirt.

“Lysailea!” her name stuck in my pony brain. My lips strained to say her name, it held on the very tip of my tongue as if to tell this would say all!

He reached out a friendly hand and smoothed it up and down my face. His nimble fingers tickled my soft nostrils and the lips I used to feed this animal body. It was when he took a hold to both of my ears one each in a hand that my minds thoughts and his blended into a mental conversation.

I thought of my reasons for being as he was a pony and living near my old friends. He told me of his awakening in my body just outside the fence. He wandered for a couple of days, confused and unable to place his life into a rational thinking plan. Then on his third day of being lost there came a sudden realization he was not as he was, he was no longer a pony, but human.

Those learned thinks, my memory patterns activated from a larger brain than what a pony has endowed by the maker. He understood his self, he could speak, talk, converse, and knew my past and the life I lived. He found my body a new thrill that continued to delight him in many ways. My life and those who loved me were to him as a clear drink of refreshing water on a scalding hot day. It was after being me these many months that he thought it as fun to meet his old self.

I like the old me and how Pat was so thrilled to be someone able to make a difference. He had great plans now and a way to meet his ambition with human abilities I had once. He could only stand there thanking me over and over again as for giving him his to live as a human. We felt the sense of belonging together, me as in his original body living where in the neighborhood I so loved. Pat as me in my body doing things outside the fence, enjoying life and the limitless possibilities he had being as a human.

This the pony standing there, would have cried from the emotion we both felt. Yet equines do not cry, as do humans, its one of those differences in us. I had found many such differing limitations hemmed me in as ignorant and beastly pony animal I need not have abilities that relate to human rational thinking.

My life was now a vain form of living for the moment. I stood thinking only of my sensual self and what momentary pleasures I might eek out of every long and boring day. I thought often how things might have become different had Mister Brown many acres for me to graze, run, and frolic. Yet there I stood in my dunged and dusty corral. The simple trappings of what a pony has for his needs, food, water, and two occasionally horny mares.

It is the one saving grace allowed to remind me I have yet some purpose in life. When the mare's call for my service, wanting me to quell their insatible desires, I stand tall, enjoying those few short moments, keeping them locked in my degraded mind for those hot mornings when to meet my need, I can but masturbate and remember better times.

So here I stand, just as Lysailea promised I would, I am in my old haunt of a neighborhood. I am surrounded by friends I knew when a human. Sorry to say those who were my friends know me not as their best buddy, but instead as Pat, the horny half gay, pony stallion at the Brown’s family petting zoo.

Please come and help me feel myself !

This post has been edited by K.Rooste on Jul 2 2006, 11:02 AM

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