N.J. Lysk Books

 For Carmel Smith, on her birthday, January 7th.

 

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In truth, Damien would admit he deserved to be cursed. 

It was not the first time he had done it and he’d known the risks all along—he just couldn’t resist a good con and people were so truly naive… 

As he was led along by the bridle the witch had put on him, he tried to figure out what the purpose of the transformation could be—horses were expensive animals but surely the amount of magic it took to change him into one could have been used to better profit? 

And he really didn’t see why he’d been turned into a mare—he was slim, which was how he’d passed himself off as a damsel in distress to the witch’s son that had got him into this mess, but he was most definitely male. 

Except not so much at the moment. His missing cock and balls felt slightly odder than the knees bending the wrong way and the tail, but not that much. 

And he knew magic had a price and maintaining a spell of this magnitude had to be costing the witch a lot of power—and anger about her son’s broken heart and empty bank account could only last so long. Damien just had to wait her out. Either she’d get bored or the trick would get too expensive to maintain. 

 

*** 

 

The stall where they put him was nothing to write home about but it wasn’t like Damien was going to wander off like this—what was he meant to do? Go whine at people until someone realised he was either a very smart horse and sold him to a circus? Perhaps the spell would run out eventually, but at the moment he was hoping the witch would give him a good scare and let him off with a warning. After all, he hadn’t really hurt anyone, had he? And money came and went, that was common knowledge. 

There were other horses in the same square, he could hear them, and—oddly—smell them. It was odd because they did not smell like horses normally did to his human nose but he could recognize it anyway. There were two males and a female, he also somehow knew. 

 

*** 

 

The food left something to be desired, apparently even horses did not find hay all appetizing, but Damien ate it anyway—his huge new body seemed to burn energy much faster than his svelte figure and he’d never turned away a free meal before. 

 

Then the witch came to see him. He smelt her long before she stepped in front of him, her purple eyes marking her as a powerful practitioner of her craft. “You are settling in well, I see, Lucille.” 

 

Damien snorted. That had been the name he’d given her son, of course, but she’d already called him by his own name when she’d had him captured and brought before her to face the punishment for his crimes. If she was taunting anyone, it was her own kid. Damien had chosen the name because it sounded pretty, he  

 

“You will stay here until your debt is repaid in full,” she explained, ignoring him. “Then and only then will you be free to go.” 

 

Was she planning on making him plough the fields? What was the salary a horse could earn anyway? 

 

*** 

Being a horse was mostly really boring. They were allowed out into the fields—at least the other horses were, Damien had a long bridle tying him securely to the fence, only allowing him a short distance from the house. Where the hell could he ran off too? He was a horse, sure, but their property extended for miles and, more importantly, he couldn’t tell anyone he was under a spell. Plus, at least he was well-cared for; the hay didn’t taste of much but he’d eaten worse not to go hungry and the stalls were warm and dry—much better than some of the places he’d ended up holing up in after he’d run away from home and before he’d discovered what his wide eyes and bowed mouth could get people to do for him. 

 

It was boring, until one day when the carers came to his box, they didn’t get him out as usual. Instead they called the witch over. Damien would have been alarmed but anything that broke the monotony seemed like a blessing at this point and in any case, the crazy woman seemed pleased when she saw him. 

 

Then she spoke and he knew he should have been afraid. 

 

“It’s time. Prepare Magnus and put her in the shed.”  

 

By then, of course, it was too late. They called over another two guys and looped several ropes around his limbs before even opening the door. 

 

*** 

 

He figured out pretty quickly the shed had to be the strange open box kept empty next to the barn. Before, he’d thought it was unfinished, now he was starting to worry, though. Even so, with two grooms on either side keeping the ropes tight around his legs, it would have been difficult to get away without hurting himself. Once, when a doctor had come by to poke at him, he’d tried resisting their orders. That had been the day he’d learned lashes still hurt with thicker hide. 

 

He just needed to wait for the right moment and... 

 

Next to the shed, he saw a familiar figure, a tall dark haired man with a posture that spoke of comfort and decadence. Matthew. The witch’s son had ordinary brown eyes but his smile he’d got from his mother. Damien stopped walking and pulled on his bridle, trying to walk backwards. He got a slap to his left rump for his trouble. “Quit that!” the senior groom told him, twisting the reins until his mouth ached. He stopped struggling and when they tugged him forward in unison, he stumbled after them. 

 

What was he doing there? Damien hadn’t seen Matthew since the day his deception had been revealed. He remembered the pain on the other man’s face and his own utter contempt. Now there was nothing but open pleasure on those lips that had kissed Damien’s hands so carefully just a month ago. 

 

“Put him in,” Matthew told the handlers. It was the first time anyone had referred to Damien as male since he’d been transformed. But of course Matthew would remember, he must have felt like a right idiot when he’d realized the reason Damien had been so coy with his favours was that he was hiding he was a man and not protecting some delicate untouched flower. 

 

The odd cage was smaller than the stall, clearly meant to immobilize him, but one disadvantage to his larger size was that Damien found it hard to backtrack and manoeuvre in reduced spaces so when they shoved him inside, he went. 

 

He felt the door lock behind his thighs before he could think of how to get out of it and then the ropes tightened as they were tied to the sides of the cage. Then he struggled, trying to stand on his back legs. Among his panicked neighing, he heard Mathew laughing. 

 

*** 

 

They had left him alone after that. Alone and helpless; he’d tried to reach the ropes to bite at them but his neck wouldn’t arch that way. From the stables, he heard the sound of another horse whining. A stallion, he knew at once. 

 

Magnus. That must have been its name.  

 

He’d seen the three male horses in the field when they’d been allowed out, but he didn’t know which was which and now... He tugged harder, rubbing his skin against the ropes until he cut himself and not caring—he could hear the sounds the animal made as they brought it closer to Damien’s cage. 

 

He knew what would happen when he got there. 

 

He knew he shouldn’t, but like any man faced with great horrors, he could not help but look. The animal the grooms were leading his was huge, about a head taller than Damien in his current state and dwarfing the men guiding him. Men who’d have been easily twice as wide as Damien in his natural state. 

 

They were shushing him, petting his side and trying to keep him calm. Because if one thing was clear was that the beast did not wish to wait a second longer before. 

And Damien could see why as soon as he caught side of its profile; there was a huge cock—as long as Damien’s forearm—hanging erect between the horse’s legs. 

Damien whined low in his throat and desperate, begging to Gods he did not believe in and twisting his right foreleg a little as he once again tried to get free. 

It was useless. 

The horse was led around the stall, neighing and struggling all the way. 

“You sure this little mare can take ‘im?” One of the grooms asked the other from his right. Damien tried to twist around to keep them in his sight but he was caged in, only able to squirm in place, not truly move. 

“What?” His companion laughed. “You think we’re gonna stop him now to go make sure?” 

I’m a person, Damien thought in desperation. Don’t you know I’m a person? But maybe the grooms did not know, and no matter how much he whined, he couldn’t tell them.  

They were not worried about an animal suffering. 

Maybe they wouldn’t have cared about a man either. Matthew knew, after all, and he’d planned this. Damien had never been around horses before but he’d seen dogs go at it; he knew that although he couldn’t feel it, he— his body must have been… ready to mate. 

He could heard the sound of joy as they let Magnus go and then the true horror started. He felt the hooves scrap his rump once, then his sides—something hard and hot slapping him each time. The one step he could take forward and sideways made no difference at all to the stallion attempting to find purchase on top of him, and neither did his desperate begging coming out in whines and cries. It only too two thrusts for the huge cock to find its goal and slide in—all in one go, no stopping the huge thing went into him. He whined, overwhelmed by the sensation of being split open from an angle he’d never experienced, to a degree he’d never experienced either. He couldn’t— He was held in place by the forelegs placed on either side of his hips, he could stand and take it as the animal started mindlessly rutting in him. It seemed impossible but not only did it go in easily into his cunt but it soon started to feel good, the passage growing slicker and the friction becoming more a caress than a scrape. 

He tossed his head, trying to dislodge Magnus. 

He didn’t want it! It was not— Suddenly the animal in him stilled and a moment later Damien could feel its seed filling his insides, hot and… No! he screamed and he thought it almost came out from his mouth despite his form. The stallion didn’t stop, of course, in fact, it settled closer and lodged his cock deeper into Damien, then the thing seemed to grow in him. Painful, too tight… A knot. 

He’d seen dogs tied before but he hadn’t known horses… He cried out as the stallion’s cock lodged even deeper inside him, into… He closed his eyes, freezing in place. No, no, no, no. It was all that ran through his mind. He couldn’t... He wasn’t really a horse, it would not work, it could not… The witch, Matthew just wanted to scare him, the wouldn’t really… 

 

After a small eternity, the animal fucking him was done and it dismounted and was led away. Damien didn’t look but he couldn’t help but track the sounds. He must have lost track of time because when he next looked around, he saw the sun had gone down and one of the grooms was untangling the ropes they’d used to tie him to the breeding shed and complaining about them. “Why on earth would they need all this, not like…” He cut off, huffing and biting his lip in concentration. 

 

He didn’t seem to know. But Damien no longer cared.  

 

*** 

 

Later, once he was stashed into his own stall again, Mathew and his mother came to see him. A groom came with them and put a muzzle on him when they told him too, his young face puzzled. 

 

“There,” the witch told him with a cutting smile, then she reached out a bare hand and put it against his neck. Would she take it away? It was surely enough to pay for his crime— 

 

She turned to her son and nodded. “It’s taken, you will have a foal by Magnus next year.” 

 

Foal, Damien’s brain echoed dumbly. Next year. 

 

“Even better,” she added, patting him again. “Now the spell will hold on its own until the foal is born she gives birth.” 

 

“He,” Magnus corrected, his eyes were fixed on Damien. “He will give birth to my children, just like he promised.” 

She nodded and took a step back, allowing Damien’s spurned lover to come closer and hold of the muzzle, forcing Damien to meet his eyes. “You remember that, Lucille?” 

Damien whined. He did remember. Mathew had spoken of children and ‘Lucille’ had spoken of names she liked. He hadn’t really promised, it’d just been— “Well, that’s how my mother was able to work such a complex spell, you know? Your very lies. Magnus is my property, you see, so any children he fathers will be mine. Really, it’s exactly what you promised me.” 

 

Any children… Damien was too good with words to miss he’d spoken in the plural. But it was too much, he couldn’t— This couldn’t be happening, it couldn’t really work that way, no matter what he looked like at the moment, he was a man and most definitely not a horse, much less a female one. 

 

“I like your coat,” Mathew told him almost conversationally. “And Magnus is a thoroughbred, so the foal will be worth a lot if it’s a pretty one. And for the next one… well, I might have other stallions breed you instead—it’s good to have some variety in a herd.” 

 

[The end]