Sip of the Ol' Moonshine
Drinking with a donkey guy leads to further donkey-fication. Explicit.
Amy's friend's dad knew someone who was friends with a guy who had a place out in the backwoods that, if the hype was true, was an 'awesome place for parties and shit'. This somehow meant that Amy had to be the one to go out and get the keys from the guy. There were like five people who had more of a connection to this guy than she did, but nope. It was her out rumbling in her mother's sports car down dirt roads so tiny that even her phone had given up trying to navigate.
The girl bouncing on the driver's seat was a little on the short side, and that fact did annoy her every so often. But the good side of being short was that even if you weren't that curvy, it was like an optical illusion that made it look like you had boobs, even if they would look a lot smaller on someone taller. Her ponytail bobbed with every big rock the tires rolled over. She had grit her teeth together to stop her jaw from clattering. And the road just kept on going.
It had been about an hour's drive into the middle of nowhere when she finally came to the end of what was now little more than a trail in front of a wooden cabin. It didn't look bad, to be honest—it was a decent size, had a porch out front, and even seemed to have a basement from the looks of it. She'd been worried there was going to be just a tin shack or something.
The guy she was supposed to met must have heard her pulling up, because as she was climbing out of the car, she heard the door of the cabin swinging open. She pushed the car door shut and rounded the car to see him coming out of the cabin.
He was damn near seven feet of gray fur wrapped around thick muscle, wearing just overalls with a bit of a dumb grin on his face. No one even told her the guy was a donkey. It's the kinda thing you might have mentioned, she thought, a little angry underneath the awe.
"Hi there! Yer the gal pickin' up the keys, right?" he asked.
It took Amy just a moment, since his accent had been a bit thick, to make sure that he had said 'keys' and not 'kids' or something.
"Yeah. I'm Amy," she said and held up her hand in a small wave.
"Clyde, an' nice ta meet ya. Probly a long drive fer you, huh? Kin getcha somethin ta drink while I show ya around," he offered.
Amy nodded, and Clyde turned around and clopped back into the cabin. She supposed he'd meant for her to follow, so she climbed onto the porch and went through the front door after him. The interior was kinda old and rustic, and kinda beat-up, but that meant they couldn't break anything while they were partying here.
She kept an eye on the place, still, a little wary to make sure it wasn't going to fall in on them. The old wooden floor looked pretty nice, even if it was scuffed with hoof-shaped marks. He was leading her into the kitchen-dining room, which was right off of the main hallway; to the left was what looked like a living room with an old TV up on a wooden crate. Down the hall itself was stairs leading down, and what she guessed were bedrooms in the back. She stepped into the kitchen-dining room, standing by the stained wooden table while Clyde came back from the cabinets by the sink.
"Here!" Clyde said, and handed her a mug of something. Cider? She lifted it to her lips and took a big gulp since it wasn't hot to the touch. In seconds was coughing and sputtering.
"What, you ain't never had somethin' ta drink?" Clyde asked almost innocently, while Amy was gasping for air.
"I'm eighteen! I've had beer and some wine. That was..." she made a disgusted face, trying to gulp down the residue of the burning drink just to get it out of her mouth. "...ughh!"
"Nothin' but a bit a' moonshine. Make it mahself in the basement," Clyde said, with a proud grin. "Tell ya what. You sit tight, I'll bring up a jug ta show you," he said, beaming as he left to go into the basement.
Amy plopped into one of the wooden chairs, rubbing her head and grimacing. A shiver ran up her spine, followed by the slow shifting of vertebrae, gently adding an inch, then two to her height. She felt like she'd gone straight to the hangover, like the pain in her skull was running down through all of her bones. To be fair, her bones were giving her jolts of pain as they thickened and grew, both sturdier and longer.
A hot flash ran across her skin, followed by breaking out into a cold sweat. As goosebumps popped up along her arms, her body hair began to grow steadily, very subtle for now, but growing wisps of hair along her legs and the tops of her arms.
God damn, it had hit her hard enough that even her clothes felt uncomfortable. She dug her darkening fingernails into the side of her ass, reaching through her jeans to tug at the cotton panties underneath, trying to get them to stop digging against her hips and giving her a wedgie.
This was her fucking friends' faults for being too lazy to come with her. She'd better not be too drunk to drive home or she was gonna be pissed. She stretched her bra by tugging on the front through her shirt, trying to get her breasts to settle comfortably, but the cups didn't want to sit straight and her nipples dug into the fabric and made it uncomfortable to move. Clyde wasn't coming up yet, right? She tugged up her shirt so she could reach under it, unhooked her bra, and pulled the bra out through her sleeve.
And now she had a bra she had to put somewhere. Shit, uh... Fuck, her head felt like it was squeezing her brain and making it...like...she was in too much pain to think of a good analogy. Trash can. Yeah, that worked. She moved to get up, but stumbled badly. Damn it, she thought, holding onto the table, trying to balance on her feet when her heels didn't want to touch the ground. Instead, she was half-propped up on her toes in shoes that fit her poorly now.
Amy shook her head, dug her toes into the backs of her shoes to peel her heels out of them, and kicked off her shoes. With each step she took, her dark toenails thickened, and merged, and curled, and her heels lifted up into the air, until she was standing on two large black hooves. She bent at the waist and stuffed the bra into the trash, burying it deep enough that Clyde wouldn't see. Her breasts hung down with a weight they'd never had, pressing against the fabric of her shirt, with both thick nipples neatly outlined in shadow.
Hearing a soft 'eee-haw' behind her, Amy straightened up, turning around, tugging up her jeans—they were riding down her stupid fat ass again, weren't they? Her cheeks and ears burned gently as she blushed. The burning feeling flowed outward; her ears elongated, cupped slightly, long and coming to a rounded point, covered in soft gray fur. They flipped back against her head out of embarrassment as soon as they could move.
"Sorry...you were bendin' over and yer ass was kinda...sorry, I ain't great with, uh...talkin' to ladies..." Clyde said. He'd brought a big ceramic jug with 'XXX' carved into the side with him, held under an arm.
Wait, Clyde thought her ass was hot? How...flattering! A giddy sort of delight ran through her at the thought that someone had gotten hot over her body. Usually she didn't care so much about her looks but they seemed more important now.
"Oh it ain—isn't a problem," she said, catching herself, shrugging and smiling.
"Anyway, this's the stuff I make. If ya want you and yer friends kin have some but take it easy. I know yer probly lightweights anyway," Clyde said with a little chuckle, lifting the jug by the handle on the spout and taking a few small gulps.
Lightweight!? She did take the first mug pretty hard, yeah, but she wasn't going to let anyone just call her that and get away with it. She was going to prove him wrong The fact that she wouldn't have cared half an hour ago didn't register to her. As she stomped over to him, her hooves clopped on the floorboards.
"Lemme have a sip! I'll show you lightweight," she said. Clyde shrugged and snorted in a short chuckle. She bumped her nose against the spout, finding that it seemed to be further out from her face than she was used to. She moved her head back and her lips connected with the rim. Clyde tilted the jug up, and Amy managed three big gulps before she pulled back, coughing, but trying to play it off.
"Hah, see? I fuckin' told you I kin drink that," Amy said, words slurred sideways, and sharpened by a drawl that was working its way into her voice.
Clyde set the jug down on the table. "Guess ya did. So, lemme show you the place," he said, nodding for her to follow.
Amy listened vaguely in the back of her mind, but she was paying more attention to keeping her hooves on the ground than to what Clyde was showing her. It felt like she was getting a better handle on how hard the booze had affected her.
Her thickening tongue grazed along her lips, licking up some of the remaining residue from her drink. The burn had been so bad at first that she hadn't gotten to taste it, and the taste was pretty good. Her lips were kinda thick and it felt good to push her tongue against them. She giggled to herself and toyed with her plump lips while Clyde was showing her the fridge.
Jesus, her head was like...fulla...cotton or something. It was really hard thinking about all of the stuff she'd been worrying about before. ...Driving and stuff. And a party? Was there gonna be a party? She hoped so, that sounded fun. Beyond that, it was kind of a drunken haze. That stuff Clyde had got you buzzed fast. She needed some more...but Clyde was still talking. Huh...stove? Yeah...
Her shirt had a neckline that fell maybe two inches down from her collarbone. Or at least, it did have that before—now it was about twice as deep, plunging to reveal a portion of her cleavage. Her tits were getting more insistent about standing out, jutting out into her shirt in perky, bouncing mounds that she could just barely fit her hands around if she tried.
And she did try, when Clyde wasn't looking, just in order to gauge their size. She could have sworn they were a different size but she was pretty smashed so she could have been wrong. She bit her soft lip as she squeezed, letting her breasts bulge between her fingers, then let go before Clyde saw her—though he still saw her stiff nipples digging into her shirt afterward.
Down below her waist, her hips were growing to a well-fed size, swaying beneath her when she walked, and pulling her jeans tight to the point that she had to undo the button in front to get enough slack to move around. She couldn't help stroking along those thick hips every so often. She loved how curvy she was already at eighteen. Tits could catch a guy's eyes but hips like hers got guys thinking about breeding her nice and hard.
Hell, they got her thinking about breeding. Big round ass in the air, hooves spread wide...she felt a small jolt at the base of her spine, and her nose tingled. A big guy holding onto her ass, tugging and ramming into her. Her broadening nose twitched and ached slightly. Her lips quivered a bit. And then when he starts cumming... At once, both a short tail tipped with a tassel shot out right above her plump ass, and she let out an "Eee-haw!".
"You feelin' all right?" Clyde asked, looking closer at Amy's face. Her human features were fading beneath an equine appearance.
"Y-yeah. Ain't no thing, just somethin' I was thinkin' about," she said. She shook her head to try to clear her mind, tossing around what had become black mane of hair, ears flopping against the sides of her face.
She knew she wasn't supposed to be braying like a donkey but she couldn't figure out just what was wrong with her. It was like her thoughts were all thick and sticky and she couldn't pull them out and think about what was going on. Plus Clyde was really distracting. Not what he was talking about, his muscles. She'd kind of recognized that he was good-looking before, but she hadn't felt how hot he was until now. She could even get past the whole hick thing. It didn't seem to bother her any more.
Her shirt felt like it was constricting around her breasts, pulling tight across her back and wrapping around her chest so snugly that her nipples were aching. Her panties were digging deep against her crotch, and the elastic strained as she moved, trying to stay wrapped around her broad hips and heavy ass.
And on top of all of that, fur was now coming, spreading up from her hooves and out from her groin. Gray traveled up her legs, up along her back, while white splashed along her stomach and chest. She scratched at her clothes were the fur brushed up against them, but could do nothing to stop it. The tips of her fingers were black and thick like hooves. The fur spread out along her growing muzzle, spurring its development into a long equine shape.
"So that's the whole house. Got any questions fer me?" Clyde asked. They were back where they had started. The gray donkey girl had a slightly oblivious, slightly distant look in her eyes. She blinked, then looked up from Clyde's chest to his face.
Amy needed something to clear her head. Something that would help her think straight, and figure out what was happening to her.
"How about some more 'a yer moonshine?" she asked groggily.
Clyde beamed, and let her take the jug.
Just a sip. She needed to wake up.
Amy put the jug to her lips and tilted it back. As the alcohol started to flow down her throat, her eyelids drooped, and her eyes went unfocused. She was just drinking, as much as she could drink, savoring every gulp until the next came.
Her breasts were simply too big for her shirt, but as the shirt ripped, it rearranged; cotton became flannel, solid color became stripes, and the rip was bridged once again by a knot. The shirt tied across her chest left plenty of room for her tits, and the gray-furred mounds were all too happy to surge forward, heavier and yet still youthfully perky, just slightly bulging out of her shirt-turned-bikini top.
Her hips were likewise freed from the pants that were far too small for them, given plenty of room as her jeans devolved into tiny denim shorts, barely bigger than the panties she had been wearing, which now were conveniently absent. The sleek gray fur of her hips was shown off in full, and a portion of her ass cheeks lay just beyond the frayed white edge of her shorts.
"Aw hell Clyde, you always make the best stuff," Amy said, scrunching her nose and giggling at her own thick backwater drawl, before it dawned on her that it was how she always sounded.
Her plump pussy inside those shorts was getting hot just looking at Clyde. She grinned at him as she grew a slight overbite. A little gap formed between her front teeth, put on display by her smile. Her eyes had lost that intelligent spark, though they gained a hungry gleam as she looked Clyde up and down.
Amy had known Clyde for a while, she knew. More than a while, really. Since she was young. They'd played together when she was a little girl, though with five years ahead of her, Clyde had always been bigger. As a little girl that had made her upset but now she loved how big her cousin was. Yeah, of course, cousins, that's why they knew each other! Shit, she was going around forgetting her relatives? No wonder people thought she was a ditz.
"Thanks fer lettin' me use yer cabin, Clyde!" the donkey girl chirped, then let out a happy little 'ee-haw!' too.
"Heh, no problem fer my fav'rit cousin," Clyde said. His hand rested on Amy's ass, and she squeezed herself up against him, thighs locked over his waist, hands gently resting on his chest, lips pressed against his tightly. It was never hard to get Clyde to make moonshine for her, because he knew what he got in return.
Amy just didn't want to let on that she'd fuck him sober too.
"Maybe she got lost? Hell, maybe we're lost," Jack suggested.
"I've been following the directions, it's got to be the right way," Steven said, keeping his eyes on the winding dirt road.
Amy hadn't given them a call last night to say she'd got the keys, and she hadn't stopped by when they were supposed to meet, so they'd agreed she had to be at the cabin already and headed out to meet her in Steven's van,
"No, look—there's her car. She's here," Mary said, pointing from the back where she and Leah were sitting at the black car parked out in front of the cabin. They could just see it through the trees as they came closer. Steven slowed down and pulled the van into park next to Amy's car.
The car went a bit silent, all four of them staring, a little shocked, at the girl sitting out on the porch. A gray donkey girl with a black mane sat in an old chair with a banjo in her lap, singing loudly, with a thick accent, and not entirely on-key. When the car stopped, she set aside the banjo and stood up, smiling broadly.
Her heavy breasts defied alliteration and were only barely contained within the overalls she was wearing—which was, apparently, the only piece of clothing she was wearing. She had cut off the legs of the overalls so that she could show off her wide hips and her perky ass. She seemed just the slightest bit uncoordinated on her hooves; between that, her goofy, buck-toothed grin, and the big jug she had swinging on her finger, it wasn't hard to guess that she was drunk off her ass.
"Howdy!" she called out, loud enough for those in the car to hear. "C'mon in! I got some stuff ya gotta try," she said, lifting her jug up and wiggling it, then winking as she slipped away behind the door with a swish of her tail's tassel.
"Geez, who the hell is she?" Jack asked.
"Don't know. But I'm gonna go say hi," Steven said with a small grin.
Steven climbed out of the car, followed closely by Jack, who didn't want to give his friend a head start flirting with the smoking hot hillbilly girl.
"Bunch of asses," Mary muttered to Leah. The two of them climbed out of the back seat to follow their guy-friends into the cabin.