Stable Manners

{{#ifeq: | | {{#ifeq: White Lion | |

   {{#ifeq: White Lion | || 
     Author: White Lion  
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   {{#ifeq: White Lion | |
     Author: White Lion |
     Author: White Lion  
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 {{#ifeq: White Lion | |
   {{#ifeq: White Lion | | Authors: ' | 
     Authors: White Lion 
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   {{#ifeq: White Lion | |
     Authors: White Lion |
     Author: White Lion 
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}} {{#if:| — see also [[:Category:{{{category}}}|other works by this author]]}}

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As the two kissed, the Manor stable door was flung open. Gethin the farmer glaring at the startled young lovers. They hadn’t seen him in the dark of the New Moon creep up to the Barn. Curtis the stable lad jumped back, whilst Sarah tried to gesture to her Uncle in apology.

“You will pay for tarnishing my family’s honour.” Bellowed Gethin as he grabbed Sarah by the hair. Curtis tried to help his new girlfriend, but was flung back by Gethin’s strong left arm, and sprawled on to the floor. Gethin pushed Sarah into one of the stalls and clamped her arms into some loose shackles used for tethering excited mounts. Gethin then turned around and looked down at Curtis.

“So, I took into my confidence, my stable – and this is how you repay me. Well, here you shall always remain, never to cast your wanton eye on a female again.” sneered Gethin.

Gethin bent down, extended his index finger and touched Curtis on the hand. A strange tingling sensation flowed through the boy’s body. He rolled on the floor, clutching his stomach as a wave of pain hit him. Tears rolled down his eyes as Gethin just looked on, smiling.

“Help him!” shouted Sarah, but Gethin ignored her. She tried to break free from her shackles, but it was hopeless. Curtis stared at his hands in horror. They looked as if they were melting, the skin and bone began to ooze downwards, and his palms inflated to absorb them. His nails turned black and fused further down his shrinking fingers. Curtis lifted them up to his face, scratching one with the other to try and feel his fingers. Tufts of white hair began to sprout from his wrists, just like those he had seen on Gethin’s horses.

“Stop this please!” cried Curtis, but Gethin just walked casually over to the boy and rubbed him on the head. At that instance, Curtis’ ears began to itch, stretch and grow upwards – with sprigs of hair at their tops. Curtis squirmed uncomfortably on the floor. All his clothes began to feel far too constricting, pulling tightly about his arms, legs and torso.

Gethin now began to massage Curtis’s neck, his fingers brushing through Curtis’s collar length hair. At that moment Curtis’s hair began to grow, not only from his head but down the length of his neck and under his t-shirt and denim jacket. Gethin then grabbed a hold of Curtis’s jacket collar and yanked him up on to all fours. Gethin then continued to rub his hands along Curtis’s back. Curtis wriggled in great discomfort as his back started to arch upwards, and his belly formed a paunch.

Gethin then stroked Curtis’s sides, and they started to bulk up. His zipped up denim jacket now squeezed around him, the seams digging into his shoulders. Gethin now walked around to behind Curtis, and laid a hand on his rear end. Immediately, Curtis’s buttocks and thighs began to inflate inside his jeans, and he grimaced as the pressure grew and grew. His belt groaned under the strain, and the buckle exploded off, clattering onto the concrete floor.

A wicked grin formed on Gethin’s face, and he stooped down by Curtis and rubbed the youth’s ankles. Soon there was a creaking sound, and Curtis’s white sneakers began to deform, the canvas and soles bulging outwards. Both Sarah and Curtis were crying now, but Curtis’s whimpers had a very wheezing edge.

Gethin returned to Curtis’s belt line, and jabbed a finger directly between Curtis’s rear pockets. Now a new tail lump joined the already engorged spheres stuffed into the blue jeans. Some of the bristles were beginning to poke out from the top of the belt, however the bulk of it pushed down one of the legs of the jeans.

The pain was becoming excruciating as Curtis grew bigger. He could feel his thighs being squashed by his jeans, and his shoulders ached to be free of his tightening jacket. Gethin reached over to the side of the stall, and grabbed a bridle. He forced the bit into Curtis’s mouth by holding his nose shut. As Curtis gasped, the bridle was pulled over his head and fastened behind his neck. Curtis face began to push forward into the muzzle, and he snorted in terror.

Curtis was now getting much bigger, gaining about 100 lbs every minute. The canvas of his sneakers started to tear away. The laces snapped one by one, and deformed socks poked their way through the ripping shoes. Not long after his feet had emerged from the mess of rubber and canvas that were once his sneakers, the socks split open too. A pair of shiny hooves now scraped along the ground.

Curtis’s clothes were starting to cut off the circulation to his arms and legs. Gethin, not wanting his prized new mare damaged, laid a hand on Curtis’s back and rubbed hard. His growth accelerated and soon stitches were beginning to pop in Curtis’s garments. Suddenly a large rip split in the back of the jacket. It grew with each breath, revealing the smooth brown horsehair back underneath. The sleeves, stretched to the point of bursting, could take no more and exploded off Curtis in a shower of denim rags.

Curtis was now very much equine, his cries totally given way to whinnies. His huge muscular buttocks continued to try and expand their way through his jeans. Gethin began to kneed the horse’s behind and thighs. A small tear formed at the pockets of the jeans, and the seams split slowly down the length of the leg, every inch a blessed relief. Finally, with a thunderous boom – the seat of the jeans burst open and Curtis’s tail swished in the air.

Gethin turned to Sarah with an evil grin, “Now it’s your turn my stallion!”