O’Melissokomos
The Bee Keeper

The TAIL of Donny Keigh (mm hypno fet)

by Purplebootsgywr

The din of the room was deafening.  Partygoers drank, schmoozed, shouted, laughed.  The beautiful country cottage was filled to bursting with everyone from the Greener Pastures Playhouse.  To see everyone together like this was unusual to say the least.  Greener Pastures had an exceptional reputation for bringing grand productions to local theaters.  In the past half dozen years, they built quite a reputation for presenting high-quality work in a way that made them easily accessible to a much broader audience than the usual season ticket holders.  The Playhouse also was known for signing up and coming talent of interest to do it.

The thing about Greener Pastures is that it didn't exist in a physical sense, as far as having its own theater, or a single location.  The production company was just that, but beyond a rented office in Albany and a small group of board members, there was no tangible presence of Greener Pastures, save when the oft-changing cast and director gathered together for rehearsals and when the curtain went up at a theater near you.  Greener Pastures Playhouse was a touring company, plain and simple.  The thing that made them stand head and shoulders above the average hodge-podge touring group of has-beens and never-weres was that the talent was first-rate, the effects and showmanship was always astounding, and the technical crew was without equal.  Greener Pastures had the jaws of critics dropping when the company introduced a series of high-brow productions of Oedipus Rex, Julius Caesar, and other noteworthy plays by the likes of Pirandello and Aristophanes to such places as Knoxville, Little Rock, and Birmingham.

With the killer combination of incredible presentation packed with special effects and astounding props brought forth by celebrated young talent, Greener Pastures took free previews of their productions to country fairs and ice cream socials.  The supposedly inaccessible, snooty programs caught the attention and interest of the so-called 'common man' and when the theater doors opened, the audience line went around the block.

Critics balked and raged against the odd choice of venue, but Greener Pastures quickly gained a reputation as the high-class touring company that sold out every show and had backwoods hicks rushing to see Sophocles and Shakespeare. By the time the Pastures Playhouse moved out of the Bible Belt and hit the Midwest and then the Coasts, its future was secured.  Established and aspiring talent came from all over to work with the geniuses behind Greener Pastures, undergo a grueling two-week boot camp-style rehearsal schedule, then take their considerable act on the road.  The one drawback of all this was that by tour's end, everyone scattered to the high winds.  Performers were anxious to get back home after a long haul on the road as well as use their newly-enhanced resume to secure new jobs.  The exhausted crew just wanted to hide away for a rest before the next tour. Cast parties to celebrate another successful run after that closing show were unheard of.

Until today.

Lester Yokum, a man whose name sounded as backwoods as any from the locations from the company's earliest outings, was hosting the cast party to end all cast parties.  Seven years previously, Greener pastures made one of its best decisions in hiring Lester (known as "Yoke" to his theater buddies) was the breakaway genius in theatrical makeup, costumes, and disguises.  Brandishing talents for masks, appliances, and puppetry that would seem to make him better suited for big-budget blockbuster films, Lester's hear—to the everlasting joy of the producers—remained in the theater. It was there he applied his craft with consummate skill. Thanks to his sizeable paycheck from a grateful production company as well as some handsome fees from film studios for his advisory contributions, Lester was able to afford a beautiful cottage on an impressive spread of land.  It was on this land that Lester hosted the first-ever Greener pastures full-company and crew cast party.  Lester had urged the company to close out its tour in a city near his lonely Texas home, and when they learned why they acquiesced happily.

The party was an unqualified success.  The cottage was expansive and afforded everyone room to mingle, wander, and socialize. A hired caterer kept everyone's munchies at bay with delicatessen sandwiches, meat and cheese trays, fruit platters, and an assortment or snacks and deserts that enchanted the eye and delighted the taste buds.  The tuxedoed gent behind the open bar poured on the charm along with the drinks and kept even the most overindulging boozehound happy.

The mood of the room was light and carefree. Everyone had been well paid and the reviews had been glowing, the houses packed and crowds receptive.  A feeling of camaraderie swept through the room.  The fat producer of sixty shared advice and anecdotes the scrawny teenage set dresser who wanted to get into theater. The leading lady with the flowing golden hair laughed uproariously at the off-color jokes spat at a steady flow by the mottled-faced lighting man with the bad haircut.  The atmosphere during the run of the show was often warm and inclusive, but nothing to equal the shared exuberance evident at Lester's party.  A few jokes were tossed around about there being "something in the drinks".

Everyone, or nearly so, wore a commemorative T-shirt from the show.  The title of the production was boldly emblazoned in fanciful gold letters across each person's chest.  The Golden Mule.  The play was based upon an archaic Roman novel originally entitled The Golden Ass. The title was changed when some theatergoers thought that the title referred to the posterior body part rather than the long-eared beast of burden. The sight of so many different people in one space all wearing the same shirt almost gave the appearance of some kind of elite league or exclusive club. In many ways, of course, it was.

The most elite of the group was undoubtedly Bretton Heyerson, the lead player and most beloved of the entire cast. Bretton had just the right height, appearance, and personality to perfectly fit the photo next to the definition of "heartthrob" on the dictionary.  Bretton played Lucius in Golden Mule, the young man who travels to the Greek town of Hypata where his misadventures begin as he's transformed into an ass. It was a testament to his good humor as well as his talent that he allowed his stunning looks and thick blond hair become lost under the incredible makeup and appliances of Lester.  It was a testament to his acting ability that his performance lost nothing to the extraordinary disguise. Bretton charmed everyone who was near him throughout the play and seemed in no shortage of same during the party.

The only one who commanded more compliments and admiration this night was Lester, the host himself.  Pats showered upon his back each time he passed.  The women hugged him and the girls gave him kisses. "Lester, darling, this cast party idea of yours was inspired!", gushed Beatrice the buxom wardrobe mistress. "I had no idea how badly we needed one."

"Fantastic sendoff, Yoke!", sound mixer Stanley crowed, his face partial hidden beneath the perpetual cloud of his cigar smoke. "Usually we all just seem to scatter after the last curtain falls. This is infinitely better!"

"Yokey, who knew you could put together a shindig as impressive as your special effects?", he shapely Lynette, the play's tavern wench, draped her arms around Lester and kissed his cheek playfully. Her sensuality was not lacking in the slightest despite the absence of the revealing costume she wore onstage. It looked as if the T-shirt she wore was a size too small for her.  No one objected.

Yoke smiled and nodded and worked the room like a pro. He saw to it that no plate was left empty, no glass dipped lower than half-full, no ashtray allowed to collect more than a couple butts before being cleaned.  Yoke was nothing if not a master of observing people and helping them to enjoy themselves.  Besides the glowing appreciation for Lester Yokum, all eyes remained on Bretton Heyerson.  All eyes but Lester's.

In the far corner, enjoying the party in a more reserved manner, stood the one whom Lester admired.  His name was Donny.  He was the understudy for Bretton, but he often filled in with small parts and extra filler roles as well. Lester felt that if Bretton were not present, the spotlight would be naturally drawn to Donny.  Donny came from Italian blood, though his last name, Keigh, didn't readily indicate that. He was exactly 6 feet tall, although he seemed to stand taller. His hair, kept quite short, was jet black and glistened in the light even when free of any product.  His skin was without the slightest blemish and a constant golden tan, his physique trim but exceptionally defined. His attitude was amiable and his heart giving.  Yoke was drawn to him from the moment he first laid eyes on him.  Yoke simply followed that instinct as he crossed the room to greet the beautiful Donny.  Yoke had already tended to every other partygoer thus far, thanking each one for coming and seeing to their needs.  Donny was the only one left unattended. This was no oversight. Lester Yokum had saved him for last.

"Enjoying yourself, Donny?"

Donny had been preoccupied by a painting on the wall.  He turned to face Yoke and his face broke into a beautiful wide grin.  Donny had the kind of grin the was ever-so-slightly lopsided, a most endearing look, and his eyes squinted a bit as they gleamed at whomever he was addressing.  "Yoke, this party is awesome."

"Well, it seemed a shame to have everyone just break off never to see each other again without first offering some kind of grand finale", Yokum smiled, settling into an overstuffed chair. He reached for an appletini from a nearby tray.

"This sure qualifies", Donny said, his voice taking on a dreamy quality as he surveyed the room's occupants. Quite a few of whom he admired for their ability, many of whom he felt affection for their friendship, all of whom he knew he would miss.

"Y'know, Donny, I was just thinking what a shame it was that you never got to step up and play the lead role during this tour."

Donny looked at Yoke askance. "But I did! That one matinee."

Yoke's martini glass paused on the way to his lips as his memory scrambled, and then a light came on in his eye. "Ah! Of course. Cleveland." Donny nodded, grinning his lopsided grin wider, a look of pride on his face.  Yoke shook his head sadly. "Of all the days for me to miss the show."

"You'd seen it like 100 times by then", Donny reminded him.

"But never with you in the lead", Yoke pointed out. "I imagine you were magnificent."

Yoke took a slow sip of his drink as Donny gave him a sideways glance.  He knew that Yoke was fond of him, but it struck him as a strong compliment considering he'd never seen Donny in a central role.  "I held my own I guess", Donny said with a small nod.

"Pish-tosh", Yoke said.  "I'm sure you were exceptional.  Why didn't Bretton make that matinee, anyway?"

"Root canal."

Yoke grimaced.  "Ugh. I'd rather have a Greek witch turn me in to a jackass any day."

The sweetest girl in the room, Sarah, rushed up to Yoke flashing the smile of a chesire cat.  "Yo-oookkie", she cooed, leaning forward with her hand on her knees, revealing plenty of cleavage beneath the neckline of her XXL cast T-shirt, "do we finally get that special surprise you promised?"

Yoke glanced with total disinterest down Sarah's shirt. "You do realize that you're barkingup the wrong tree with that approach", he said offhandedly, tossing back the last of his appletini.  Donny ignored his remark and focused on Sarah's.

"What surprise?  You mean there's something else besides this party? How do you top this?"

Sarah's broad smile faltered and she looked at Donny cautiously.  Eyes fixed upon the adorable Donny, Sarah spoke out the corner of her mouth toward Yoke. "You haven't told him? I mean, I just assumed, since you were over here with him and all..."

Yokum waved the girl's concern away.  "Fear not. All is well. I was getting to it."

Sarah brightened. "So I can tell everybody?"

"Gather them 'round. The entertainment's about to begin. Have everyone who wants to see cluster in the living room.  No, the rec room is better.  More chairs. Off you go."  Sarah gave Yoke a quick peck on the forehead and skipped merrily off, arms waving and voice rising.

"It's on, everybody! It'll be in the rec room! C'mon!"  

Donny watched as the room rapidly began to clear, everyone grabbing up their drinks and plates and heading down the wide hallway to the rec room.  Several of the departing guests gave Donny the thumbs-up, a few tittered and pointed at him.  One stagehand jabbed a fist his way with extended pinky and index finger, telling Donny, "You rock, man."

"What's going on?", Donny asked.  "Where's everybody going—I mean, why are they going into the rec room?  What's in there? What's the entertainment?'

"You are", Yoke said.  

Donny was confounded.  "Wha--?"

"Donny, do you trust me?", Yoke asked him.

Donny didn't hesitate. "Well, sure!"

Yoke rested a hand upon his younger friend's shoulder and guided him to his feet.  "Then come with me."

By the time the duo made it to the rec room, every other person in the house was already there, crowded around.  Even the caterer and bartender were waiting.  Yoke patted Donny on the shoulder and indicated a spot beside Chris, the supporting male lead.  "Wait here."  Yoke then wandered to the front of the room, to much whooping and whistling from the crowd.  He quieted them with a raised hand.

"I cannot thank you enough for coming to the Greener Pastures Playhouse Golden Mule cast party."  More whistles and applause, and one of the more raucous crewmen hollered "It's Golden ASS!" much to everyone's amusement. Although Yoke had to raise his hand again to get some of the lingering laughter to die down.

"I knew with such a wonderful group of performers that it would be a crime not to have some kind of farewell party at the end of our run.  I know that's quite uncommon with touring groups, but I felt you all had more than earned it.  While the producer or director often hosts such shindigs, I wanted it to be me as I was the one with a cottage big enough to accommodate us—"

The same crewman piped up again, "A little cottage big enough to park a yacht in!"  He got a few more laughs, but not as many as before.  Yoke continued unperturbed.

"But beyond just a nice relaxing evening together, I felt a little extra...well, pizzazz was called for. I'd like to share that with you now, if I may."

The room exploded in happy applause and cheers.  Donny was confused. He felt like the only one left out of the loop. Supporting man Chris, seated beside Donny, clapped a hand upon the young man's knee and gave him a supportive pat. When Donny looked at Chris, he got a wink back.  Ohhhhh-kaayyy...

"As some of you already know", Yoke went on, "besides being rather versed in makeup and similar stage effects, I am also a certified hypnotist."

Donny sat up with stiff surprise. "I didn't know that!"

Sarah practically howled. "Honey, you're the only one!"  Everyone laughed at that.  Chris leaned over and whispered to Donny, "It's been driving us insane keeping it a secret, too."

"In any case", Yoke continued amid the ripples of laughter and good-humored remarks, "I would like nothing more than to give you a fun little demonstration of my abilities."  More applause.  "But of course, to do so, I will need a subject to work with.  For that, I can think of only one among you who was born for center stage but far too often is not featured there. It would be my privilege to bring him there for you all tonight."  Yoke extended a hand toward the end of the room near the door where his intended subject sat.

"Donny?"

Donny's jaw dropped.  Was he serious? His pal Yoke the special effects costume master was really a hypnotist?  And he wanted to put him under right here and now, without any warning or preparation, in front of his friends and fellow cast members? Possibly even make a fool of him for all to see?

As the anticipatory applause and words of encouragement filled the room, Yoke waved his hands to get everyone to compose themselves.  He asked again, "Donny?  Would you be good enough to let me hypnotize you for these fine people?"

Donny's was truly stunned, but his trademark lopsided grin spread across his entire face.  "Are you kidding me??  HELL yeah!"

The room went wild and Yoke gestured for the adorable Donny to approach him.  Donny stepped lively and moved quickly toward his makeup artist friend.  A few cast members gave Donny pats on the shoulder as he passed.  Many were already chattering amongst themselves trying to guess what tricks were in store for Donny at Yokum's hand.  Yokum extended that hand in a warm gesture as Donny drew near him.

"I cannot thank-you enough for this, my boy!  I have no doubt you will be a most excellent subject.  Put 'er there!"  Donny, all smiles and excitement, extended his hand to shake Yokum's.

Yoke's movement was almost too fast for the eye to follow. Rather than shaking Donny's hand as was expected (by Donny and everyone else in the room), Yoke rapidly reached around and firmly gripped Donny by the elbow.  At the precise split-second of contact, Yoke spoke firmly, "SLEEP!"

Donny fell into Yoke's arms like a limp rag. The entire room fell silent instantly. All that lingered in the air were a few audible intakes of breath. Yoke held Donny before him, but the boy's body was without life, without movement, and in so advanced a state of relaxation, he may as well have been composed of rubber and fluff as flesh and bone.

Yoke turned the handsome young man over in his arms to better show him to the group.  They could see that Donny's eyes were closed, his face placid, his breathing soft and easy, his expression utterly peaceful.  No one said a word.  After another moment, Yoke said clearly and with a soothing voice, "That is what is called an instant handshake induction. As I suspected, Donny is an exemplary subject."

Yoke looked around the room behind him and saw a soft chair that one of the sound men was occupying. "If I might have a chair", Yokum hinted.  The sound man, like everyone else, just sat slack-jawed at the proceedings, not getting Yokum's message.  Yoke nodded his head toward the chair again.  "It will be easier if I don't have to hold him up all night, please."

The clouds lifted for the sound man and he quickly vacated his chair and slid it across the floor to Yoke.  The certified hypnotist poured the beautiful young man into the chair, where he settled silently and heavily.  Yoke straightened his shirt, which had become a bit ruffled as he supported Donny, and strolled casually around the chair to grasp Donny's wrist.  Yoke lifted Donny's arm and then let it go. It dropped like a lead weight onto the thick cushions of the chair.

Yoke turned out to the crowd and smiled.  "Let's begin, shall we?"

*   *   *

Donny had never felt better.  He had no idea if he was sitting or standing, but he felt so incredibly comfortable he really didn't give a shit.  He was only vaguely aware of his body and what he did notice was so relaxed and resting so fully that it was almost as if he were made entirely from marshmallow cream. He loved it.

Donny had a vague memory of being at a party, of volunteering for something, and then not much after that. He had been overcome by total relaxation and an almost overwhelming sensation of, for lack of a better word, joy.  It was as if some fairy tale version of a kindly grandmother has knitted a huge afghan made entirely of contentment and wrapped him up in it.  While wrapped up in his magical afghan—which he felt he never wanted to take off—Donny dimly recalled his arm being held out in front of him by gentle fingers and then having that arm transform into a rigid steel bar. It was amazing. He couldn't move it. He couldn't lower it, raise it, or bend it at the elbow.  He could see in his mind that from his shoulder down was an immovable steel pipe or great thickness. For whatever reason, he loved it.  Then his arm was his arm again, and a thousand beautiful, giant red balloons were tied to his wrist. Gently and irresistibly, the beautiful shiny balloons lifted his arm into the air until it floated above his head.  He had done nothing. The balloons did all the work. Once hovering there, he could feel his arm absorbing little, almost electrical, streams of happiness that filtered down through the balloon strings and filled his entire body.  He never wanted any of this to stop.

Donny was only peripherally aware that as he experienced these strange and wonderful things that somebody, a lot of somebodies, were applauding and commenting how much they were enjoying it, too.  That made Donny happy.  He had no idea why, but it did.  A voice he recognized but could not place told Donny something about endorphins, and how they were naturally released into the body when a person smiled.  The voice reminded Donny how good it felt to smile and how much he enjoyed doing so.  That was true.  All of it was true.  He knew that because the voice had told him so.  He trusted the voice.  It made him happy.

"Open your eyes."  The command came from the happy voice and so Donny obeyed.

There beside him was his friend Yoke.  All around him were his other friends in the cast and crew from the show.  He felt happy that they were there.  He felt happy, period.

"How do you feel, Donny?", Yoke asked. Donny was amused to find that Yoke sounded just like the happy voice, but he didn't remark on it. Instead he simply answered him.

"Reeeally good", Donny said.  

"Nicely relaxed?"

Donny leaned toward Yoke just a bit, confiding, "Totally. It's kinda like I'm stoned."  Laughter all around.  Donny was okay with that. Then he added, "Without the time delay."  More laughter.

Yoke did not lose pace due to either Donny's mild disorientation or the group's laughter and continued on. "That's wonderful, Donny. You're doing just splendidly."  Yoke began to busy himself with something. Donny couldn't see what, because he had momentarily turned his back to him. "You like to smile, don't you, Donny?"

"Um...yeah", Donny answered, uncertain why he'd be asked such an odd question.

"Of course you do", Yoke said.  A few anticipatory titters came from around the room.

Yoke produced a makeup brush from what Donny could now see was one of his portable makeup/disguise kits.  The brush was not unlike a small paintbrush used for painting window sills and door trim.  As with all of Yoke's makeup paraphernalia, it was in beautiful shape, and kept immaculately clean when not in use.  Yoke ran his thumb over the soft bristles of the brush to show everyone that it was fresh and dry.

"Now Donny, what I have here is an oversized makeup brush, is that correct? Can you see that?"

Donny nodded.  "Yep."

"What you may not know is that I am now coating the brush", Yoke said, dipping the brush with flair into an empty jar. "with a special facial smile paint."  Donny's eyes widened. What was that? What did that stuff do? Was Yoke going to use it on him?  Yoke raised the brush from the clear, empty jar with grand gestures, as if he were letting lingering streams and drops of paint drizzle off the bristles.  "And what happens when it is applied to the lips is that it dries very, very rapidly and spreads the mouth of the wearer in a broad smile.  It's like a super epoxy glue. Donny. Irresistible, unbreakable."

Donny fidgeted in his chair, not sure he liked the sound of this.  he even started to rise a bit, but Yoke held up his free hand, "You stay in your seat, Donny, your lower half so relaxed, you won't be getting up." His wording did not indicate that this was a suggestion. 

Donny's behind fell back down into the chair and from the waist down his body felt like jelly. He was not going to escape.

"Take a look at my brush, Donny", Yoke told him. "You can see the powerfully sticky paint, can't you?"

Donny nodded, a bit afraid. "Y-yeah...it's pink, and r-really thick..."

Yoke smiled warmly. "You seem nervous, don't be. This will feel great."  Yoke moved closer with the brush and Donny jerked his head away.  "What's the matter?", Yoke asked.

"It really smells", Donny insisted. "Like...like latex or spirit glue."  People around the room looked at one another with expressions of awe. The brush was spotlessly clean, yet Donny could see and smell what he had been told was on it.

"That fades away almost immediately", Yoke ad-libbed.  "Now turn your head forward", and Donny did, "and close your lips tightly. We don't want any getting into your mouth."  Donny closed his lips as tight as he could and even bit down on them from inside.  With a lavish swipe of the wrist, Yoke ran the brush across the adorable young man's mouth in a sweeping, curved gesture, creating the arc of an invisible smile from cheek to cheek.  Then he stepped back.

"You can see that chemical smell is fading away already, isn't it?"

Donny inhaled through his nose. Gingerly, he began to open his mouth.  Finding it was safe, with no lingering gobs of paint leaking past his lips, he answered, "Yeah! I can't smell it at all anymore!"

"But you can feel it", Yoke told him.  "Feel it tightening over your lips, along your face."

Donny reached up with both hands and felt his face.  Yes, it was true, he could feel it. As if some invisible force that seeped into his skin was tugging his lips up at the corners.  "This part also goes very fast", Yoke announced.  "And in a few seconds, you'll have a permanent, painted-on smile."

Yoke wasn't even done describing it when Donny's face had stretched his mouth to capacity.  His endearing, lop-sided grin was now a massive, crooked smile, bearing his white teeth and straining his cheeks.  Everyone laughed loudly.  He looked like a little kid forcing his expression, trying too hard to look good for his first school photo.  Yoke smiled, too, more from enjoyment of working with such a receptive subject than thinking that Donny might be embarrassed.  

"You look good, Donny."

"Do I?", Donny asked through clenched teeth and stretched lips.  Everyone was howling.

"Why don't you stop smiling for a second?", Yoke suggested.

"I gan't!", Donny cried, as best he could through his plastered smile.  he even reached up to his face with his fingers and tried to push his face back to normal, but to no avail.  Everyone only found that funnier.  Yoke came up to Donny and put a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Remember what I told you about endorphins, Donny. And how smiling naturally releases them into your body.  Well, considering how hard you're smiling, I'd say you're going to experience the most wonderful, intoxicating rush of endorphins right about, 3...2...1...NOW."

Donny's eyes lit up and his shoulders slumped forward. His face, still smiling terribly, took on the appearance of the classic college stoner.  He chuckled through his bright white teeth and muttered, "Oohhhh...woaaoooowww..."

"Get up and take a stroll, Donny", Yoke told him. "Enjoy all those fine endorphins that happy smile is giving you."

Donny pulled himself out of his chair and stumbled around the room like a man drunk off his ass.  He looked to be having a glorious time, buzzed out of his mind, although those watching him were having an even better one.  Donny tripped over empty air and nearly landed in the lap of one of the prop girls.  "This is a reealllly great party", he slurred to her through his Cheshire smile and she almost spit up her drink laughing.  Donny sauntered over to the director and leaned on his shoulder, speaking through his tightly-closed teeth.  "You, sir, are wiffout a doutd the best damn direcker EVER. And I mean it. Really a lot."  

The ordinarily reserved man with the silver hair bit his lip to contain himself and answered, "I truly appreciate that, Donny. Thank-you."

"S'allight", Donny said, giving the director a loving pat on the cheek.  Yoke allowed Donny to work the room in his endorphin-drunken capacity for a little while longer, gushing to the lighting crew, flattering set dresser, and even the complimenting colors of the rec room's dartboard.  Eventually, Yoke sidled up to Donny and said, "I think maybe you've smiled enough, dear boy."

Donny shook his head like the man reluctant to leave the bar after last call.  "Nnnoooo... I wanna keep smiling and gooshing dorfins!"  Unheeding, Yoke produced a second makeup brush, smaller than the first, and waved it before Donny.

"This is saturated with the only solvent that can remove the facial smile paint. It takes it off instantly and is completely nontoxic.  So."  Before Donny could protest, Yoke skillfully wiped the clean brush up and down, up and down, over the handsome boy's lips, from left to right.  Within a heartbeat, Donny's smile dropped.  He seemed a bit dazed.  Yoke added, "And you'll find that your endorphin levels return to normal just as fast."  Donny shook his head and blinked his eyes.  Then he rubbed his temple.

"Oh, man. What was I doing??", Donny spun on his heel and looked to the wardrobe mistress.  "Miss Williams, I am so sorry! Your dresses look way prettier than sailboat cover!"  All in the room, particularly Miss Williams, laughed with delight.

Yoke stepped beside Donny and, slipping an arm around him, gave his shoulder a reassuring pat.  "Fear not, my lad.  All you need now is a bit of", and he lightly tapped Donny's forehead, "sleep."  At that word, Donny slumped forward like a rag doll and Yoke caught him easily.  Everyone applauded as Yoke carried the slender understudy back to his chair and poured his totally relaxed body into it.

It looked for all the world that Donny was more soundly asleep than an enchanted fairy tale character, so everyone was quite surprised when Yokum asked, "Donny, can you hear me?", that the handsome lad responded from his slumped head and rag doll form, "Yes."

"You really loved this show, didn't you, Donny?"

"Yes."

"In fact, it's not just the people here, you love the story of the play, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"Even just being an understudy, you were thrilled to be part of it, weren't you?"

"Yes."

"You did a show right before this, didn't you, Donny? You toured with Shakespearean Sunsets, didn't you?  What show were they doing?"

"Midsummer Night's Dream."

Yoke turned to the room, remarking, "I think I see a pattern here."  Then to Donny, "You were a principal character, you told me. What part did you play?"

"Bottom."

Yoke beamed. "I definitely see a pattern forming here! So every night, you got to be transformed into a donkey, correct?"

"Yes."

"And what was the highlight for you of this tour with Greener Pastures?"

"Matinee. Filling in for Bretton. Got to play Lucius."

"So would you like to be the donkey again, Donny?"

"Yes."  At this point, the assembled friends realized that after leading Donny to so many positive response, he'd probably have said "yes" if he were asked if he'd like to shove his head into a big bowl of humus.

Yoke rested his largish hand very gently atop Donny's head.  "Donny I want you to think of everything about this group, and this tour, that made you smile. Everything that made you happy.  The people, the crowds, the rush of activity, the friendship. In fact, I'd like you to think of everything that has ever made you happy, be in the theater or anywhere else.  Latch on to how you felt when you stood center stage as Lucius during that matinee.  Think of how it felt to be the donkey.  Being everyone's donkey."

Donny let out a soft, satisfied moan of pleasant remembrance.

Yoke continued, "Donny, feel that wonderful sense of pleasure, of accomplishment, of joy, bubble up inside you and come to rest in your heart, in your chest. All the happiness you have ever experienced transformed into the most wonderful and intoxicating laughter you have ever enjoyed.  Thing of how good it feels to laugh uncontrollably, Donny. Think of everything happy and joyous.  Funny.  Think funny."

Donny's head nodded almost imperceptibly.  He mumbled softly, "...funny..."

"From now on, Donny, whenever you hear the word "funny" you will burst out in the most enjoyable, wondrous fit of laughter you have ever experienced. It will feel truly marvelous. It will make you feel so good. The more you laugh, the more you will laugh, the more you laugh, the better it will feel.  Every time you ear the word "funny". Do you understand."

Again, Donny limp head nodded, a bit more this time.  "Funny..."

"BUT, Donny! Every time you laugh, you will laugh with the voice of a Donkey. You want to be a donkey, isn't that right, Donny? Whether Bottom or Lucius...You love to be the donkey."

"...wanna be donkey..."

"That's right, Donny. That's excellent.  You laugh when you hear the trigger word "funny", you laugh like the donkey you so want to be, and you can only stop, when—" and Yoke leaned close to Donny and whispered something in his ear that no one else could hear.  He then stepped back and spoke loudly again.  "Do you understand?"  Donny nodded.  He was grinning now.  Yoke then stepped right up to the sleeping Donny and said, "On the count of three I'll tap your shoulder and you'll be wide awake, feeling great, with no memory of your command.  1, 2, 3—" and he tapped Donny once on the shoulder.

Donny's head popped up and he sat up straight.  He looked to be wide awake and very happy to be there. "How'd I do?", he asked.

Yoke threw his arms open to the room.  "Hasn't Donny been doing a fantastic job, everybody??"  The room exploded in applause and whistling.  "Isn't he the best sport ever?  Isn't he just too FUNNY?"

Now it was Donny' turn to explode.  He exploded with convulsive laughter, which came forth like this:  "HHEEE-Haaawww! Hee-HAW! Hee-hee-HEE-HHAAWWW!!!"  

Everyone present laughed uproariously, the most joyous among them was Donny himself. He was overcome with burst of jackass laughter, but seemed to be having the time of his life.  "Hee-haw! Hee-haw!  Haw-hee-haw-hee-HEE-HAAWW!!"  The wardrobe mistress Miss Williams look fit to burst, the sound man gripped his sides, the producer wiped tears from his eyes.  After a few moments of Donny finding himself unable to stop braying and seeming to love every minute of it, Yoke stepped up to him and whispered something into his ear.  Donny could then collect himself.  

Donny was rubbing his eyes, basking in the afterglow of his laughing fit.  "What the hell was that?!", he asked.  His query just made everyone laugh harder.  

"You wanted to be the donkey", Yoke told him simply.  "Now part of you is."

One of the girls was actually fanning herself with a small paper plate from which she'd previously enjoyed a piece of cake. "Oh my God", she gasped, "that was so funny!"

Donny was off again.  "Hee-haw! HEEE-haw!  Hee-HEE-HHAAAAWWW!!!"  he was having a wonderful time of it and so was everyone else.

"Holy crap", shouted Justin from tech crew. "It works no matter who says it! Funny, funny, funny!"  Donny was literally rocking back and forth in his chair, letting out the most horrendously absurd braying noises as he laughed uncontrollably.  Yoke stepped in and whispered his cue so Donny could take a break.  Everyone wondered what that safety cue was, but no one was sufficiently curious or forward enough to ask.

Donny was sliding down into his seat, breathing hard, a smile on his face that was so wide, despite the absence of any magical hypnotic glue on his lips.  "Whoa, baby", Donny sighed, "that was just too funny. HEEE-HAAWWW!!!"

"It even works when HE says it!", someone else cried.

And so it went for the next fifteen minutes or so.  Donny being prompted to fits of asinine laughter by all those present, Donny having a wonderful time being the center of attention (plus, the experience really did feel good), Yoke giving him breaks at regular intervals.  Eventually, Yoke asked everyone to compose themselves and stop cueing the poor donkeyfied lad as there were more treats in store.  Reluctantly, they did.  In short order, no one regretted doing so.

Yoke told Donny his feet were heavy hooves and he then dragged them across the floor as if he had large chunks of masonry tied to the soles of his shoes, much to everyone's delight.  Yoke then told Donny that he was mute, and sure enough, Donny could not utter a word.  In order to respond to questions, Donny had to stomp his hoof-heavy foot upon the floor like a performing mule.  Everyone present was enchanted and delighted, and none more so than Donny, the perfect good sport hypnosis subject.

To wrap things up, Yoke brought out another small box for his finale with his subject.  Donny's voice was back in working order and he was grinning his lopsided grin ear to ear.  It was clear he was having a better time than anyone present, and his eyes lit up even brighter when Yoke revealed what was inside the box.  It was a mask.  One of his lifelike latex wonders that, when slipped over the head of the wearer, transformed that person into whatever identity the mask was designed to convey.  And considering the company, this mask could not be more perfect.  It was, of course, a donkey head. A highly realistic donkey head mask.

"Oh my gosh, is that a taxidermied donkey head?", one of the girls exclaimed.

"Not exactly." Yoke squished the mask easily in one hand, showing it to be nothing more than hollow, if skillfully crafted, rubber.  "Here, give it a try."  Yoke tossed the mask to one of the stage crew, who fit it over his head with ease.  It was lightweight and flexible, settling onto his head with no trouble.

"What do you think", he asked, his voice echoing slightly from within the donkey mask, "is it me?"

Miss Williams chortled, "Oh, it's you, alright, Barry! We've finally found your look!"

The lightened mood of the room had everyone laughing even at that silly remark, and Donny commented, "That's pretty funny! Heee-HAWW! HEE-Haawww!!"  Quickly, Yoke leaned over and whispered in Donny's ear, stopping his braying outburst.  The laughter increased, Donny's most of all.  Donny waved his arms apologetically about.  "Sorry, sorry! Sorry everyone, I forgot for a second there! I can't hear the word fun—" Yoke clamped a hand over Donny's mouth, halting him right there.

"Later, Donny. Let me finish this first."  Donny nodded, clearly still grinning beneath Yoke's hand on his face.

Yoke patted Donny on the back and then approached one of the girls from the chorus.  "Go ahead and take the mask off of Barry, Lindsay."  The slender strawberry blonde reached over and gingerly fingered the bottom of the mask, trying to peel it off her friend's face as gently as possible.  Yoke stopped her.

"No, no, sweetie.  Just give it a good yank. Grab it by the ears and pull."

Barry, his head still inside the donkey mask, straightened his posture.  "Now just a minute, Yoke--!"  Yoke held up a palm.

"You'll be fine.  I want to show everyone something.  Go ahead, Linds."

The girl had taken the two big rubber donkey ears in her hands but had not even tightened her grip.  "I don't want to wreck it..."

"The mask'll be fine, too", Yoke assured her. "Just give it a good strong yank."  She squinted her eyes, clearly expecting the flexible rubber mask to tear apart, and did as she was told.  With an oddly humorous fluttering sound, the mask came off Barry's head easily, compacting like a donkey headed accordion and then flopping back to its original shape to hang from the ears in Lindsay's grasp.

"That is so cool!", Barry commented, echoing what everyone was thinking.

Yoke retrieved the mask and then held it up to the group.  "As you can see, despite the detailing, the thickness of the rubber, the way it quickly conforms to the head of the wearer, it's equally designed to come right off at the slightest tug.  Here, try it out."

The donkey mask got passed around the room as just about everybody tried his or her hand at slipping the mason and then easily and painlessly pulling it back off.  Even Kirk, the executive producer, whose head was as big and round as a casaba melon, found that once the donkey mask was stretched in place around his huge gourd, it slipped back off as easy as pie. The skinny stagehand Jeremy, who knew how to tie a cherry stem into a knot with his tongue, let the mask drop into place, and then simply nodded his head forward in a harsh jerk, and the mask came flying off into someone else's lap.  Ladies and gentlemen donkeyfied and unmasked themselves one after the other for quite a few minutes until Yoke had to step in and stop them.

"Okay, okay, I only expected one or two of you to actually try it on", he admitted.  "I need to stop this before it becomes the new big craze in parlor games."  Yoke then sauntered over to Donny and said, "Now I do believe it's our star performer's turn.  What do you say, Donny?"

Donny's face lit up like a Christmas tree and he beamed, "You bet! Lemme try it!"

"What do you say?", Yoke teased, milking the moment.

"Please! Pretty please! I am begging you to put that donkey mask on me, Yoke! C'mon!"

"Very well.  Hold still."  Yoke had the mask hovering over Donny's head.  He left it drop by simply opening his hand.  Donny was so slender that the mask fell into place over his face with no adjustment needed at all.  From inside the mask, Donny was laughing with delight, and everyone else found the unceremonious dropping of the mask upon him highly amusing, too.

"Hey!", Donny's voice echoed from within the donkey mask, "I can breathe real good from in here!"

"It's designed for that, Donny", Yoke told him.  Donny was moving his head rapidly from side to side, turning his head left, then right, making the mask begin to spin a little on his head. Donny hunched down in his chair, and it was obvious that he was about to jerk himself up hard so that the mask would pop off, which it would have, had Yoke not rested a firm hand atop Donny's head, stopping him.

"There's something you need to know about this mask, Donny."  Yoke's voice was stern and serious, immediately causing Donny to pause and pay attention.  Donny looked up at his friend, waiting.  After another heartbeat of suspense, Yoke explained in a low, important voice.  "Donny, because of your very special connection to The Donkey, this mask will be impossible for you to remove."

Donny froze.  "...it will?"

"It will.  You have been Bottom, your moment of glory was being Lucius from the Golden Ass for just one day.  The mask is designed with extraordinary latex mixtures to sense who it was meant to be worn by.  Right now you can feel small, soothing, and unshakable rubber tendrils snaking out from the mask, web-like, and connecting to your skull, Donny...can't you?"

Donny's hand shot up to his face, but fond only mask.  "Holy shit! I CAN!"

"Now those soft, fibrous, sensory tendrils seep gently and comfortably from the interior of the top of the mask right down through your hair, your skull, to connect with your brain, making you and the mask one."

"Fuck!", Donny panicked.  "It is! It's doing it!!"

The room grew quiet and a few people shared glances that indicated this was no longer funny.  Yoke picked up on it and quickly amended his monologue.

"You'll find that it actually feels very, very good. As if you've found a lost part of yourself. It even tickles a little."

Donny's rising panic immediately subsided.  "Huh? Yeah...yeah, it does. Dude!"  he began to giggle, easing both his own anxiety and all tensions in the room.  "It's...it's really part of my head. How did you DO that?"  Donny grabbed at the top of the mask, tugged at the ears, snickered some more, and starting massaging the mask, declaring in amazement that it felt like it was grafted wonderfully to his head.  People began to nod and smile again. Their friend was okay. It was all part of the act.

"Now, Donny, to better emphasize that the mask is now forever attached to your skull", Yoke instructed, I'd like you to attempt to try to remove it."  Yoke's wording was impeccable. An 'attempt' indicated that removal of the mask was doubtful. But an 'attempt to try' was an unspoken signal of its impossibility.  It worked perfectly.

Donny tugged on the mask with all his might. It stretched and pulled in his firm grasp but went nowhere. "It is! It's part of my head! I'm bonded to the donkey mask! It's not coming off!  It can't!"  Donny's giggles starting to build to a real fit on laughter, but Yoke stepped up behind him and touched the top of the mask, stopping his hilarity short.

"Sleep."

Yoke then took the ears of the mask loosely in his hands and slipped the mask off Donny's head with no trouble at all.  Everyone in the room gaped in awe and began to smile. It was indeed merely a wonderful trick of the mind.  Yoke held the mask aloft, even turning it inside-out to reveal that it was still just a rubber mask.  With an easy flourish, Yoke turned the mask back to it's proper shape and dropped it gently back over Donny's handsome face.  He then tapped Donny's shoulder twice.  "Wide awake."

Donny continued taking as if he'd never stopped. "I'm serious! It won't come off, man!"  He continued his tugging, each inconsequential yank and pull solidifying in his mind that the lightweight, detailed rubber mask was now a part of him.  Yoke stepped forward and extended a hand in presentation to the donkey-faced young man in the soft chair.

"Ladies and gentleman, Donny Keigh."

The room burst into applause, laughter, and most of the cats and crew rose to their feet, whistling and cheering their resident hypnotist, but most especially, their beloved Donny, whom they never loved more than right now.  Donny took in the applause and realized that it was all for him.  He felt a glow of pride and appreciation inside him. But as the clapping subsided, Donny looked up to Yoke, through the eyes of his mask, and asked quietly, "Seriously, does this mean I have to spend the rest of my life in this thing?"  The room exploded in laughter again, and Donny soaked in the loving attention.  Beneath his donkey head, Donny smiled.  "Heh. I guess that was pretty funny—Hee-HHAWWW! Hee-HAW! He-hee-hehee-huhHAAAWWWRR!!"

The rest of the night was a blur of joyful fellowship.  The party ran for another few hours, but with the food and drinks disappearing, laughter coming in fewer out-of-control bursts, the stories growing shorter and softer. The one constant was that Donny remained the center of attention. Everyone wanted the donkey-headed boy to join in their chats, their shared reminiscences, their dinking games, their smokes out on the patio.  The word "funny" came up far more often than it normally would have, sending Donny into braying fits of laughter, sounding all the more hilarious for the echo with the mask, for his hee-haws issuing forth from his donkeyfied head.  Yoke was always quick to appear, whispering into the side of Donny's mask to calm him. At one point, one of the more smartalec stage hands sneaked up behind Donny and stole his mask, yanking it easily from his head. Donny was on his feet in an instant, racing after him as they chased around the cottage.  "Give that back!", Donny cried frantically. "Stop him! He's got my head! He took off part of my head! Don't wave it around like that—you're gonna spill my brains, dammitt! This isn't funny!!  Hee-HAAAWW!!"

Donny was soon remasked, much to his great relief and everyone else's delight.  Many pictures were taken, the most popular being of Donny both in his mask, and standing beside Yoke, his head slumped forward in hypnotic sleep, Yoke holding the limp mask aloft above his faithful subject. Before too much longer, the festivities died down, as they had to. Eventually there came the requisite hugs, a few more keepsake photographs snapped, programs and shirts autographed, and finally tearful goodbyes.  There was a cluster of people left on the front stoop, the last to depart, as only Yoke and the donkey-masked Donny remained inside.  It was the director, his wife, Miss Williams, and Lindsay from the chorus who closed down the house.

"Fantastic sendoff to a helluva tour", the director said, shaking Yoke's hand heartily. "And Donny, I will never again think of you as an understudy, my boy.  You are most definitely star material."  Both hypnotist host and party-going subject thanked him graciously.  A few more hugs for the ladies, one peck on the cheek, a pat or two atop Donny's donkey head, and the last revelers were off to their cars and their respective destinations.

Lindsay turned back to the masked Donny and said, "Don, aren't you coming?"  

Yoke said something under his breath that Lindsay did not catch and Donny piped up from within his mask, "I promised to stay and help clean up!", wondering the moment he said it when exactly he had offered such a thing.  

Yoke gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze.  "And I need him to linger a bit, to make certain that all his hypnotic suggestions have been successfully removed." Lindsay nodded at that.  It made sense.  They could hardly send the beautiful young Donny out into the world braying uncontrollably every time the word "funny" came up.  The others had already begun pulling out of the long driveway, but Lindsay lingered by her car, looking back at the remaining duo.  She had something of a small crush on Donny, so she wanted to ascertain that he was indeed going to be alright.  She watched with slightly squinted eyes as Yoke gently lifted the mask from Donny's head, his sleeping head slumped forward, his expression one of the most perfect peace.  She could make out just enough of Yoke's words to hear "...this mask is just a mask..." and "...feel wonderful, refreshed..."  Satisfied, she got into her subcompact and pulled out into the night.

Yoke closed the door, also satisfied, but that his performance of "fixing" Donny had been believed.  Eyeing the window beside the main door, Yoke watched Lindsay's taillights disappear.  He then reiterated, "Yes, Donny, to anyone else this mask is just a mask.  But to you, it is indeed a part of your head, attached to your body and soul, and wearing it makes you feel wonderful, refreshed, and whole."  Yoke jerked the mask firmly back down upon Donny's head and woke him back up.

"Man, that was a kickass party!", Donny's masked voice echoed.

Yoke patted him firmly on the shoulder. "Now, my little beast of burden, let's get to cleaning this place up like you promised, shall we?"  Donny nodded and happily set to work.  Yoke did very little of the cleanup, save to point out to Donny what needed sprucing and tidying.  Yoke found he was experiencing a kind of perverse joy at seeing this handsome lad slaving away for him, unknowingly humiliated within his donkey mask.  Twice while watching Donny gleefully slave away, Yoke had to adjust his pants to make a little more room for himself.

Far too soon, the house was clean and tidy, and as the clock crept up on three, the evening was at last over. This was to be the part where Yoke intended to let Donny go.  To remove his mask, return his perceptions to normal, and send him on his way.  Perhaps one last fit of "funny" braying laughter as a sendoff.  But after Yoke put Donny back to sleep, lifting the mask gently to reveal his fine features, his lopsided grin, his jet black hair plastered on his head by the constant wear of the mask, Yoke found that he couldn't part with this wonderful boy.  Yoke had always felt a twinge of melancholy as his partiers left any of his soirees, but never had the feeling been so intense as now.  He really, truly, did not want Donny to leave.

Yoke looked down the hallway at the door to the stairs that led to his expansive workshop.  He thought of the project, the massive undertaking that awaited him there tomorrow.  He looked at the sleeping Donny, standing there before him, his mind's triggers now erased of all need to laugh and bray, of any belief that the mask was attached to his head.  It had taken only a moment to undo everything. Then Yoke looked down the hallway at the door to his guest room, every ready to accept and welcome revelers who had over imbibed and were unsafe for the road.  Yoke felt a stab of guilt for a second for what he was thinking.  But only for a second.

With loving fingers, Yoke gently lowered the mask back onto Donny's head.  He had no intention of leaving Donny trapped within the mask.  This was part of verifying that the removal of all triggers had taken.  With a light tap on the shoulder, Donny awakened.  Without a second thought, Donny reached up and yanked the donkey mask off of his head.  It was only a mask to him, a party time plaything. That's all it had ever been.

Donny ran his fingers through his sweat-moistened black hair and smiled broadly.  "Yoke, that was the best party ever. I had so much fun with that hypnosis stuff.  Really had a ball.  It was even fun visiting with you for a while longer during cleanup. I'm glad I volunteered for that."  Well, almost everything had been undone.  Some manufactured thoughts were left in place.  Donny handed the mask to Yoke. "Thanks for making me the star of the show. That was all pretty damn funny." 

Yoke took the mask, noting the absence of any braying, forced a supportive grin.  "So what's next for you?"

Donny titled his head, lopsided grin back in place.  "I'm off.  Cycle's parked out front, no more than a 45-minute ride to my hotel, then off to my condo two states over. From there, I guess I start scoping out new tours.  Lion King's group is supposed to be going through my area, looking for performers.  Thought I'd try out. I think I'd make a pretty good giraffe."

Yoke's face fell. "You're leaving now?  But it's so late...do you want to risk falling asleep on the road, on a speeding motorcycle?  Is that safe?"

Donny waved his friend's concerns away.  "Naw! You kidding? I have never felt so awake. I am pumped! That hypnotism whammy of yours made me feel fantastic! I may not get back to sleep even when I reach my hotel. Besides, I had a two-hour nap right before the party, and I only ever sleep like 5-6 hours a night anyways. I'm good."

"I have a guest room right down the hall, Donny. I'd rather you stay and leave early than risk any traffic accidents for you."  

Donny clapped a friendly hand on Yoke's shoulder. "You are too nice a guy, Yokester. But really, I'm fine. I'm better than fine. Thanks again for everything."

Yoke rapidly grabbed hold of Donny's arm and with a gentle pulling motion said, "Sleep."  Donny slumped forward, Yoke pressed one palm firmly against the boy's forehead and another against his shoulder to prop him up.  Yoke's voice came soft and soothing, yet authoritative and firm.  

"You are not feeling awake. In fact, you have never felt so tired. You are completely drained and desperate for sleep. My guest room and its soft bed are the most inviting things in the world to you right now. Heed everything I tell you. Eyes open."

Donny's eyes blinked open, but his lids sagged heavily.  He slurred his words, saying as best he could,  "...ser'ously overestimated my stamina...can barely keep my eyes open...gotta get sum sleep..."  He swayed as he stood there, looking ready to drop at any moment.

"My invitation's open, Donny. You can stay here."

"...Yoke...y'r the best...guest room sounds soooo good ri' now..."

"You're more than welcome, Donny. It's down the hall."

"Don'...don't have any...didn't think to bring any pajamas..."

"You sleep in the nude."

Donny held up a finger, as if reminding himself.  "Sleep au naturale. Always have. Umm...bathroom I can change in...?"

"You can get undressed right here.  Feel totally at ease to do so."

Donny started stripping without a second thought.  "...you are the best host ever, Yoke..."  Donny let his clothes fall around his feet, and he stepped out of his shoes without pause.  His body was a delight.  As adorable as the rest of him.  Deeply tanned skin, defined, trim muscle structure, not a blemish anywhere on him.

"Freeze", Yoke said.  Donny froze in place like a statue, his eyes blank, his pose unmoving.  Gently, tenderly, Yoke let his fingers glide over the young man's smooth skin.  He explored his tight pecs, his small, compact washboard abs, his athletic runner's legs, his solid biceps. Yoke then fought back the feeling that he was sick or perverted as he traced the features of Donny's handsome face, traced the line of his spine, and kneaded his ass.  Finally, Yoke knelt before his frozen boy and fingered his cock. It too was delightful.  Not too large, about average in size and shape (Yoke estimated it might be about 6 inches if erect) but it felt wonderful in the makeup master's hands.  It remained limp despite being played with, as time had stopped for the handsome Donny.  He would have no reaction to Yoke's tender massaging unless told to do so.  Yoke fought back the urge to do just that.

Collecting himself, Yoke stood up and looked Donny over a bit longer, simply admiring him. Then after another minute or two, Yoke drew Donny close to him and kissed him on the forehead.  Then, putting him back in place, he said, "Time resumes."

Donny rubbed his eyes, having no idea that any time had passed, and mumbled, "...gotta get to bed..."

"First door on the left down that hallway", Yoke directed him.  "Bed's already made."

"Thanks, man..."

Yoke followed along behind the handsome lad and watched as he made his way to the very attractively decorated guest room.  Donny had a splendid ass.  As Donny stumbled sleepily onto the bed, pulled back the sheets, comforter and bedspread, he eyed Yoke staring at him from the doorway.  "You need somethin'...?"

"Just to tell you that I'll make us both breakfast in the morning before you head on your way."

"That would be awwwwesome..."

Yoke snapped his fingers.  "Sleep."

Donny collapsed headfirst into the soft bed and lay there like a brick, spread-eagled.  Yoke walked in and draped the covers around him.  "Donny, you will sleep the most wonderful, rejuvenating sleep of your life.  You will enjoy it thoroughly and awaken more refreshed than you ever have, but only when you hear my voice say 'Rise and shine'.  Deep sleep."

As Yoke left the room, closing the door behind him, he heard Donny begin to snore.  Yoke massaged the front of his pants as he whispered, "Sweet dreams, little donkey."  Donny would sleep well, but the real dreams, Yoke knew,  would begin in the morning.

*   *   *

Yoke awoke to stream of beautiful sunlight filling his room.  It was about half past nine and he felt completely rested and raring to go.  In a moment he was out of bed and dressed, and walked briskly to the guest room to check in on Donny.  Yoke opened the door a crack and peered in.  The lovely Italian boy lay there, partially uncovered (he must have moved during the night, though not much) his adorable firm ass bared to the ceiling, sleeping as peaceful as a lamb.  Yoke smiled, slipped off to the kitchen and started making breakfast.

As the eggs began to fry, the coffee began to brew, and the bacon sizzled, Yoke walked back to the guest room and stuck his head in.  It was almost a shame to wake the snoozing young man, he seemed so content, his face so relaxed, as he snored so quietly.  Still, it was time to do what Yoke had decided to do.  It wasn't quite a "no turning back now" moment, but Yoke had opted to look at it that way.  Raising his voice to a normal speaking level, Yoke gave his announcement.

"Rise and shine."

Donny stretched in the bed, extended his arms above him in fists, his legs moving under the covers, scissoring slightly as he curled and uncurled his toes.  Donny's eyes were still closed, and he let out a sigh that could only indicate pure satisfaction.  Yoke slipped back to the kitchen before Donny opened his eyes and took in his surroundings.  He thought it better if he were not hovering over the lad when he regained his bearings.  Less as if he were there by way of someone else's influence, and more along the lines of post-party disorientation.

Yoke busied himself about the large, open kitchen, making up two very handsome plates at the breakfast counter he called "the island", where only so many hours earlier catered delights had festooned it to its edges.  Now fresh-fried eggs, whole wheat toast, and bacon strips adorned two plates and filled the morning air with delectable scents.

Yoke could hear Donny rising, mumbling to himself about how good he felt, saying things such as "Man, I am ready to conquer the world! Woo!"  Yoke grinned to himself as he heard the athletic young man literally leap out of bed, and then, after a shuffle of bare feet upon the hardwood floor, everything came to a stop.  Yoke heard first silence, then confused and finally frantic bustling around, as Donny apparently realized that he had no idea where he was and then, of course, saw that he was buck naked.

Yoke suppressed the need to snigger as he heard the poor confused twinkish actor stumble around the room, pulling open drawers and closets, searching under the bed for some hint of his missing attire.  Donny opened the guest room door, closed the door.  Opened the door again, closed it again. Yoke heard him muttering in a panicked stage whisper, "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"  Donny finally scrambled out into the hallway, the soles of his bare size 12 feet slipping a bit on the highly polished floor.  "Yoke's house...I'm still at Yoke's house...how the fuck did I get back here from my hotel??"  He ran back into the guest room, slamming the door behind him.  Yoke finally gave in and snorted out a laugh despite himself.

Donny was still audibly pacing back and forth in the guest room, muttering obscenities under his breath when Yoke called out, "Breakfast is ready!"  Donny's padding footsteps stopped.  Yoke smiled inwardly, imagining the beautiful boy standing there, utterly baffled, completely nude, his adorable dick swinging a bit as his motion came to a halt.

"What?", Donny called.

Yoke answered back, "Breakfast is on, buddy! Come get your eggs or they'll get cold!"  Yes, he thought, come on out as is.  By all means.  After another few moments, Donny stepped cautiously out in the kitchen.  He held two pillows in his hands.  One in front of him, one behind him.  Yoke smiled at him warmly.  "Good morning, Donny."

"Dude, where are my clothes?"

"In the wash."  That was true, Yoke had made sure to run them to the laundry before he had retired the night before.  "They smelled of cigarette smoke, and the usual after-party remnant odors.  They must be clean by now."

"What am I doing here??"

Yoke titled his head, hoping his expression looked innocent.  "You stayed over. Why...don't you remember?"  He busied himself by laying out jars of jams and marmalade, pouring small glasses of orange juice.

Donny was searching his memory.  "I...I remember helping you clean up.  I remember feeling pumped, you worried about me taking my bike home.  Then...then...waking up in a strange room feeling great...then feeling totally lost and freaked out."

"Well, you were bushed", Yoke told him, setting out the silverware.

"I was? Really?"

"Oohhhh yeah.  You were so up, so excited, so ready to hit the road, and I recognized that right away."  He was now setting out napkins.  

"Recognized it", Donny pondered.  "What do you mean by that?"

"It's a side effect of hypnosis, especially for first-time subjects", Yoke lied through his teeth.  Coffee cups down.  "It leaves you feeling very energized, very happy and motivated, but it's often a sign that you're about to crash."  He walked back for the coffee pot.

"You can crash after hypnosis?  I mean, after being hypnotized?", Donny asked, genuinely concerned.

"Oh, it's nothing to worry about", Yoke said, continuing to spin his web of untruth. "It just happens in a few cases, particularly if the subject is intelligent and enthusiastic.  Sometimes it only happens after the first time and never again."  He poured the coffee. It smelled great.  "Cream and sugar?"

"So wait, wait, wait...what happened last night?"

"One minute you were going on about your cycle ride home...or, rather, to your hotel, then you were almost bouncing on your feet about trying out for the Lion King tour, the next thing I knew you were snoozing on the couch.  I have Sweet & Low if you prefer."

"I take it black. What, so I crashed right there? Just like that?"  Donny moved to rub the bridge of his nose, realized if he did that he'd drop one of his pillows, thought better of it.

"You almost fell into my arms", Yoke grinned.  "It was actually kind of cute."

Donny rolled his eyes. "I'll bet. What, so if I ever get hypnotized again, I could be going along all 'La-dee-da, that was fun, Skipper!' and all of a sudden I fall flat over like Narcolepsy Lad?  Thanks for telling me!"

Yoke shook his head.  "It's highly uncommon, but not unheard of.  And I've never heard of it happening twice to the same person.  But consider where you were last night, physically.  Excited, then relaxed, all that laughter, the positive energy, the adrenalin, the rush, then relaxed again...I'm surprised more people don't drop off before the act is over."  Yoke liked that line.  He'd have to remember that one. "We have bacon, too."

Donny nodded his head.  He could accept that explanation.  Although... He looked down at his nakedness, barely covered by the pillows. "So, then, did you, like...put me to bed, then?"

Yoke looked up, confused.  Then, quickly, "Oh, no!  Nnoooo way. I assure you I did not take your clothes off of you."  The closer you stick to the truth, the less you have to recall or deny, he knew.  "All I did was nudge your shoulder—several times, thank-you—to get you up off the couch and point you in the direction of the guest room."

"So how did I--?"

Yoke laughed a little. A moment of inspiration.  "You wandered zombie-like into the guest room, closed the door, and then as I was turning off lights and going to bed myself, your door opened and out came your arm, tossing your clothes in a wad into the middle of the hallway."

Donny looked mortified. "No way!"

"Way."

Donny searched his memory and found nothing, save for his enthusiastic chatting with Yoke and then the softness and comfort of the bed.  The rest was a blank. It must be true.  Donny blushed.  He would have put his hands over his eyes and hid behind them if he dared lift them from his strategically-placed pillows. He groaned softly.

" There's grape jam and orange marmalade.  I'm out of my famed raspberry preserves, I regret to say."  Yoke shook out his napkin and took a seat.  Donny still stood, his face as red as those famed preserves.

"Yoke, I am so sorry. I had no clue that I...I never meant to put you in the position of..."

Yokum waved his hand in the air.  "Forget it, forget it.  I was glad to have you.  God forbid that exhaustion were to come over you as you were speeding along the highway on that motorcycle of yours. Talk about a crash..."

Donny nodded, feeling better at the thought that this man may very well have saved his life.  "Um...so, can I have my clothes back, then?"

Yoke jumped up. "Oh, I'm such a nitwit! Of course, of course, let me get them."  Yoke hurried down the stairs to the laundry room, paused there for a few moments, long enough to be convincing, and then hurried back up.  "Donny, Donny, a thousand pardons!"

Donny had been sitting naked upon one of the stools at the island and jumped at rapidly at Yoke's return. Donny quickly retrieved his pillows, a piece of toast sticking out of his mouth.  "Whuh--?"

"I never put your things in the dryer! They're still soaking wet.  I was in such a hurry to make you a nice breakfast that I completely forgot!"  Yoke offered a sheepish grin, four words running in a steady circle in his mind.  Just drop the pillows, just drop the pillows, just drop the pillows..."

"I really don't feel comfortable just sitting here in the nude", Donny said.  "Do you maybe have a robe or something I can use?"

Yoke felt heartbroken.  He was so damn adorable naked.  "No, nothing like that, and my clothes are half again to large for you, not that I have that much here right now."

"I can suffer through some baggy clothes just for breakfast", Donny offered.

Yokum had another burst of inspiration.  It was clearly the morning for it. "I DO have something! Now that I think of it, and it would fit you just fine, I'm sure.  It's not exactly the height of fashion, I should warn you."

Donny just nodded, "I'll take it. I'll take anything."

Yoke disappeared down another hallway, puttered about some drawers until he found what he was looking for, then came back to Donny with a large white shirt box.  "This ought to do it."  He held out the box to Donny, who gingerly lifted the top.  Donny shook his head and snickered at the contents.  "I told you it wasn't fashionable", Yoke explained.

"Oh, why not?", Donny said, giving in. "Gimme."

Donny took the box and departed into the nearest bathroom.  In less than three minutes he came back out, fully clothed, his concealing pillows tossed back into the guest room.  Donny stepped out into the living room adjacent to the kitchen, walking very deliberately.  With his long strides, he made quite an entrance.  He also looked quite  ridiculous.  Donny was dressed in what looked for all the world like a pair of giant-sized toddler's footed pajamas.  Except that they were a soft gray rather than some bright print pattern, and had a hood.  A hood with donkey ears.  And a donkey tail attached to the ass that hung to the back of his knees.  Donny's feet were covered in sticky-bottom soles and the tops of his footies were half gray/half black, with the black part over the toe area, simulating cloth hooves.  There were gloves attached to the ends of the sleeves, more like mittens, with two large fingers into each of which two of Donny's actual fingers fit comfortably.  Even with the hood down, Donny looked completely absurd.

"Sooo...where did you get this?"

Yoke smiled.  If he thought Donny looked adorable before...  "That was a gift from our Miss Williams. Believe it or not, that was the original donkey costume designed for Bretton.  Or, whomever wound up cast as Lucius, as casting hadn't begun yet.  When they hired me for the donkey effects, I got that castoff as a gift."  Yoke paused and considered.  "I don't think it's ever been worn."

Donny held up his fuzzy sleeve and sniffed.  "Uh-huh.  Smells April fresh."  Smirking at his own predicament, Donny reached up and flipped his hood on.  Two floppy donkey ears bobbed on either side of his head, making him look like the famous A.A. Milne storybook character Eeyore.  That, and the fluffy black mane running across the crown of his head and halfway down his back.  Donny sat down at the counter and looked over the spread laid out before him.  "You say we have bacon, then?"

Yoke handed the re-donkeyfied young man his plate and sat down across from him.  The breakfast really was quite exceptional, even with the eggs now being somewhat cold. But then, Yoke didn't spend much time looking at the eggs.

Yoke washed the breakfast dishes as Donny slipped back into his own clothing.  Yoke had hoped that the Super High Heat setting he'd used on the dryer would shrink the clothes beyond young Donny's ability to fit into them, but alas, it was not to be.  The handsome young Italian was already so slender that he not only put everything back on with no trouble, but the tighter fit only made him look hotter.  Still, by "accidentally" forgetting to turn the dryer on once, Yoke had been able to keep Donny in the baggy donkey pajamas for longer than anticipated.  Yoke got to watch the adorable donkey "tot" clearing the table and drying a few dishes, at least.

But now Donny was off and running, truly supercharged both by his restful night's sleep and his full breakfast. If Yoke was going to make his move to keep him here, it would have to be now.  "So, it's off to the races again, eh, Donny?"

Donny gave Yoke a blank look for a second and then grinned.  "What?  Oh, oh, right. Ann Margaret song.  Got'cha.  Yeah, pretty much.  Off to the next big thing, the next show an' all."

Yoke came up and gave Donny a firm handshake as the lad gathered up his helmet and cycling gloves.  "Well, I'm certainly glad you stayed over here last night. I'm not only assured of your safety on the road, but I had a delightful breakfast companion. It's usually quite a blow to have to eat all alone after the end of a tour after being constantly surrounded by people.  This will surely help stave off any post-play depression for a bit."

Donny grinned.  "Glad I could be of service."

"I also know", Yoke continued brightly, "that you got a good night's SLEEP."  Donny's head slumped forward as he submerged into a deep trance.  Yoke had to catch the falling helmet as it slipped from Donny's limp fingers.  The post-hypnotic suggestion implanted in Donny to respond to Yoke's sleep command with increasing depth each time had worked perfectly.  As the snoozing Donny swayed gently on his feet, Yoke rested a hand upon his shoulder.  "Donny, when you go out to your motorcycle, you will find that all of your perceptions in regard to your feet and fingers are off by exactly two inches.  Each time you believe that you are making contact with your cycle, you are actually, and will always be, two inches away from it.  You will have no knowledge of what is happening or what you are doing.  Awaken as if I never told you this."  He then said, "One, two, three, wide awake", and lifted his hand from Donny's shoulder.

"Yeah, I slept like a brick", Donny agreed, not missing a beat. "I really appreciate the use of the guest room."

"Not a problem." Yoke handed the helmet back to Donny, who took it without a second thought.  "See you around, buddy!"

Yoke waited inside for about ten minutes.  The suspense was killing him, but he knew he couldn't exactly hover over Donny and watch without raising some level of suspicion or potentially upsetting the illusion.  After ten minutes had passed, Yoke strolled outside as if innocently going out to check his mailbox.  There was Donny, furiously trying to start his motorcycle, and failing miserably.  Yoke looked at Donny with feigned surprise.  "Donny!  Are you still here?"

Donny was completely bamboozled.  He was jumping up and down on the seat of his motorcycle, clearly trying to activate the kick start, but missing the starter by two inches.  Donny's desperate flailing had reached the point that he appeared practically miles off his target.  He huffed and puffed and couldn't understand why his prize cycle was giving him such trouble.  He looked so comical that Yoke had to chew his lips to keep from laughing.

"I thought you'd be long gone by now", Yoke said with forced sincerity.

"I should be!", Donny said, breathing harder.  "It won't start! I can't figure it out!"

Yoke strolled up beside him.  "Surely there's some other means to start it than that kick-thing..."

Donny's face crumpled in a frustrated frown. "I've tried the key! It's not responding either!"  Donny reached for the key, his fingers halting a good two inches above it, and gripping tightly at nothing, kept trying to turn empty air.  He stabbed at the choke, or rather the space above it, got no response.  "I don't understand this!  It was running beautifully yesterday.  I mean, I just had it serviced!"

"Well, you've been fighting with it for what must be a quarter of an hour now", Yoke observed.  "Maybe we should call someone to come by and give a look over."

Donny yanked off his helmet and looked at his bike with utter dismay. "This has never happened before."

Donny sat drumming his fingers on the table as Yoke came back from the kitchen, cordless phone in hand.  "There's a great guy I know who's a mechanical genius. Helps me from time to time with my lawn tractor.  I left him a voice mail.  He usually gets back to me pretty quickly."  Yoke set the cordless down on the counter by the sink, knowing he'd only used it to check his own messages.

"You have a lawn tractor?", Donny asked.

"Good heavens, you can't expect to mow all that with just a little push job, do you?", Yoke gestured out the window to the back property behind the cottage, which was quite expansive.  Donny nodded.  Just regular maintenance must be quite an undertaking, and the large, sloping lawn did look immaculately maintained.

"How long do you think it'll take?", Donny prodded.  He was anxious to get going. Yoke had to change that in a hurry.

"Hey, I have an idea", Yoke said, ignoring Donny's question and trying to sound spontaneous.  "While we're waiting, you can see the latest project I'm working on."

Donny's fingers stopped drumming.  "You have a new project?", he asked, his interest piqued.  "Have you already got a new gig from some other touring show."

"Bigger than that", Yoke grinned, pulling a ring of keys from his pocket and giving them a spin around his finger.  "Much bigger.  Follow me."  Yoke led Donny down the hallway toward the guest room, but went past that room, all the way to the end to a locked door.  "It seems silly to keep this locked, seeing as how I live alone", Yoke remarked, "but I don't want to risk anyone seeing what I'm up to before it's ready to be unveiled, even if it's by a visiting houseguest."

Yoke undid a series of impressive locks and opened the door.  There was a set of stairs leading downward.  Donny expected the usual musk that came from basements and cellars, particularly in this part of the country, but was surprised to find only the slightest hint of a fresh, clean scent and a faint tinge of some chemical aroma.  Odd.  Yoke jerked his head toward the portal.  "Come on."

Yoke and Donny descended a set of very clean white-painted cement stairs to the basement.  It was like no other basement Donny had ever seen.  For starters, it was huge.  It's floor stretched the entire length of the house above, yet was entirely open, with no separate rooms or sections that Donny could see.  The ceiling was also quite high.  Basements tended to be claustrophobic places in Donny's experience, but this one had it's sturdy rafters hovering at least twelve or even fourteen feet above.  The walls were off-white and lined at careful intervals with shelves and cabinets, all neatly stocked and stacked with whatever materials and tools  it was Yoke tended to work with.

Donny was about to let out a low whistle in admiration of the workspace, when Yoke activated a light switch near the base of the stairs.  There was a harsh click, then a soft hum of electricity, and a series of bank lights overhead came on with harsh clanks, one after the other, from directly above where the stood tot he far end of the room.  With the room brightly illuminated, Donny could then take in all its glory.  Workbenches, tables, drafting desks (no less than two in plain sight), and hutches filled the room.  Toward the far end were large machines and devices such as vats, molds, a kiln, and other gadgets and contraptions Donny did not recognize.  But that was not the best part.

Lining the shelves and tops of cabinets were dozens of creations of Yoke's.  Rubber masks, costumes, harnesses, puppets, remote-controlled creations and gizmos abounded.  Characters and creatures of all sorts and sizes, from adorable fairy tale gnomes to horror film ghouls, adorned the walls and dangled from the ceiling.  Cherubs sat perched beside alien parasites, wizened mages leaned next to ferocious werewolves. Dressmaker's mannequins were clad in costumes, uniforms, and fursuits of everything from Prince Charming to space cadets to Puck himself. Donny was about to let out that low whistle now, but instead opted for the more direct response.

"Holy shit!"  Yoke grinned proudly as Donny walked forward, turning left and then right, spinning on his heel time and again, wanting to behold everything at once, yet not wanting to miss anything.  "Yoke, this place is incredible!!"

"Thank-you.  Take your time, look at everything.  Just don't—"

"I won't touch anything", Donny said, anticipating the request.  "But man, part of me wants to try on every damn costume and mask in this place!"

"We'll see what we can arrange", Yoke offered, not wanting to give too much of the game away.  "For now, just look, if you please."

Donny did just that.  Like a kid in a theme park showroom, he hopped from one thing to another, gaping and giggling, staring and squealing.  One item seemed quite out of place to him, though.  A poster display rack, like the kind found in super markets to show the oversized images of popular pop groups and cartoon programs for sale in rolled tubes below.  But this rack had no sales shelving beneath it, although every slot in its frames above was full.  Donny paused before it, turning it's framed "pages" as he would an oversized book.  Posters from old movies of several years gone by were kept there, as were some more recent productions.  Some of the pictures were of the straight-to-video variety, or for cable stations, but one or two had been shown on the big screen.  Toward the end of the rack were posters from stage productions and touring shows.  Donny looked those posters over carefully, as they seemed so out of place.  Then he noted the tiny print listing the credits of those behind the scenes.  Each time, after some searching, he found the name "Lester Yokum" and the credit "Special Makeup & Stage Effects".

Hurriedly, Donny flipped back through the rack, now looking for his friend's name each time.  And each time, it was there.  Sometimes printed larger than others, but it was always there to be found.  "Makeup by Lester Yokum."  "Creature Creations by Lester Yokum."  "Special Monster Effects by Lester Yokum."  "Disguises by Yokum!"

Donny whirled to face his friend, who was leaning casually against the wall by the stairs, legs crossed at the ankles, arms folded easily over his chest.  "Yoke! You worked on all these shows??"

"That I did", his friend informed him.

"That is so totally awesome."  Donny began flipping through the poster rack again, and stopped short at one he had previously missed.  "Oh my God.  You worked on Martian Marionette? Are you kidding me?"  He looked again at Yoke. "You did Martian Marionette?!"

"Well, I contributed to it, yes, but I hardly did the whole thing myself."

Donny was suddenly very animated.  "I fucking LOVE that movie! I've seen it a dozen times! I originally went to see it with friends to make fun of it, since the title sounded so lame."

"A lot of people thought so.  The later DVD release has a different title. Celestial Possession or something presumptuous like that."

Donny wasn't even hearing Yoke at that point.  He was too caught up in the realization that one of his good friends from the show all along had been one of his filmmaking heroes.  "Jesus, man! That part where the guy's body gets reorganized and those electric string-things attach themselves to his joints and remake his nervous system? Oh, man!!"  Donny made awkward gestures as if reliving the pain of his movie hero as he was taken over by the alien menace.  "And when he thinks since he's free of the puppet master's control he's safe, with the strings gone and all, and then he gets cut and his blood is like mercury—geez, that is an awesome flick!  You did all that??"

"Well, I'm glad you liked it", Yoke said, and nodding, added, "and yes, I was responsible for all those effects."

Donny was still bouncing around, now pinching at the air with his thumbs and forefingers. "And then the guy's nerves and tendons burst out of his skin like these miniaturized circuit cables and made the permanent strings! Dude, it was wicked!"

Yoke smiled broadly. "Well, that was before my love of the stage redirected my creative efforts.  The money is often less, but the stress and pressure is, too."

Donny looked ready to launch into another explosive description of his favorite film when he stopped himself and spun back on his heel to confront Yoke. "Wait a minute! You said you had a new project!  Doing what??"

Yoke worked hard to suppress a grin.  He knew that he had him.  "Welll...you need to realize no one's supposed to know. I can trust your discretion?"  Donny silently made a lock-twisting motion over his lips, indicating he could keep his mouth shut.  Yoke elected to milk the moment.  "There really hasn't been any confidentiality agreement signed at this stage yet.  But it is considered a matter of professional courtesy not to let just anyone in on..."

"Just SHOW me already!!!"

Yoke walked very slowly and deliberately up to and then past his overeager charge.  Donny watched mesmerized as Yoke continued on a few more measured paces and stared straight ahead, toward a distant corner of the room.  He lifted a hand and curled an index finger inward in an easy, smooth gesture.  Once, twice.   He looked back at Donny bearing a wry smile that spoke of secrets and mischief.  "This way."

Donny padded along anxiously behind his new mentor (not realizing that their relationship had thus changed).  Yoke stood before a partition that up until that point, Donny had assumed was simply part of the wall in the far left corner of the room.  It was the only portion of the room that was dark.  The banks of lights stopped several feet away and above this spot, which explained to Donny why he had not noticed it.  It was basic theater.  The audience's eye was drawn to whatever the spotlight focused on.  That which lay in shadow was ignored or overlooked until the lighting changed.  Yoke was about to do just that.

But first, he reached up slowly, dramatically, and pulled back a long, red-handled lever.  There was a slow grind of something hidden and mechanical as the partition accordioned back.  Whatever was beyond the now-open partition was pitch black.  Yoke looked at Donny, eyebrows raised.  He said nothing, but his message was clear. Ready for this?  Donny nodded eagerly.  Yes, do it. Yoke then fingered the wall just past the folded partition wall and found a large circular switch.  He pressed it to the sound of a loud "clunk".

There was another soft electrical hum and then new banks of light came on within the formerly dark area.  Donny was temporarily blinded by their brightness, and then squinted against them as track lights, directional spots, more ceiling banks, and even a desk lamp flickered to life.  As Donny's eyes adjusted, his face broke into a glorious smile.  "A hidden room!", he exclaimed.  "I have always wanted a hidden room!" 

Yoke chuckled.  "What on earth would you want a hidden room for?"

"What does any science fiction fan want a hidden room for??  To do secret stuff!"

"Well, this room certainly qualifies, then", Yoke admitted, strolling on in.  Donny followed.  The room was like the lab of Doctor Frankenstein, providing that that infamous scientist was also a neat freak and worked in horror films.  There were neatly arranged tables, a work desk, a secretarial-style desk, and a number of computer monitors and animation stations.  Almost everything was either white or soft-gray.  No posters or memorabilia scattered here. Only folders, schematics, and printouts.

"What are you working on in here?", Donny asked, his voice rising slightly in pitch.

Yoke knew that if he continued to string his young friend along, it was entirely possible that his handsome head could explode.  Instead of adding more cryptic remarks, Yoke walked over to one of the central computer monitors and began tapping the keyboard.  The first screen came to life, its flat wallpaper image a royal blue streaked and slashed with harsh white lines and notations.  An extreme close-up of some kind of blueprint.  A few more keystrokes and two more screens, one on either side of the large monitor, also came to life.  The one to the right was a dull green color, rife with tiny folders and document icons.  The one on the left was a pale blue, with oversized animated bubbles and streamers at play upon it, making it look as if it's own icons (larger, but fewer than those on the green screen) were submerged in some kind of lazy whirlpool.

Donny said nothing, but licked his lips in anticipation.

Yoke moved his cursor over the floating icons on the bubble screen and with a click or two enlarged a couple folders. Their headings read "BIG Project" and "The ONE", Donny saw.  His heart beat a little faster.  Yokes hands moved skillfully over a smaller keyboard attached to the right-hand monitor, and no less than a dozen folder icons opened, revealing smaller marquees opening at strategic points along the monitor, some with scrolling data, others with graphs, chart, and formulas.  All of them moving too rapidly for the eye to follow.  Yoke looked at Donny.  The beautiful young man did not notice his older friend's stare. He was too captivated by the screens. Yoke smiled.  Good.

Yoke then pulled over a small microphone and whispered something into it.  Instantly, the screens went black and a large screen descended from the ceiling. Donny was distracted by the sudden disappearance of the mesmerizing screen images, but soon caught sight of the screen lowering down.  The lights dimmed. The folders and icons that had been at play upon the computer monitors then appeared upon the large screen. Donny still could not follow what they said or were meant to be doing.

Yoke turned to look at his charge, the reflected lightshow of the dazzling icons at play upon his face.  "Did you know that just as many stage productions now are based on movies, the opposite has been true for much longer?"

Donny was still distracted, trying to discern what he was looking at.  "Huh? What?  I mean, yeah, yeah.  Annie Get Your Gun, Auntie Mame, Death of a Salesman, um, Streetcar...what am I looking at??"

"Let me slow it down", Yoke offered.  He moved his cursor and selected one of the icons with careful precision.  Three clicks.  The screen show stopped and one of the folders opened to fill the entire screen.  On it was a very detailed design of the type that Donny, a veteran of theater even at his young age, recognized instantly.  It was a costume pattern.  But what a costume it was to be.  Slowly, Yoke clicked from one page to the next to reveal fitting patterns, appliances, gloves, boots, measurements to compensate for the vast differences in shoulders, hips, and neck between the creature the costume was meant to represent and the person who would wear it.  Donny stared slack-jawed at page after page of studies of masks, hoods, and tails.  Gray fur, brown fur, latex bodysuits, ways for a man to see clearly out of eye holes located at very different vantage points than a man's eyes were.  Ears, tall and floppy, attached to the side of the hood and actually featured tubing so that the wearer could still hear when ensconced within the elaborate hood and mask.  It was all very extensive, brilliantly conceived, and very well thought-out.

"It's a donkey...", Donny whispered.

"The final bits of the deal have not yet been finalized", said Yoke, "but I'm told that its all done but the shouting. They're making a movie of the show."

Donny was almost bouncing on his heels. "The Golden Mule?  There's gonna be a movie?!"

Yoke smiled and nodded.  "And it's even going to be called The Golden ASS." Donny had his hands clasped tightly over his mouth to suppress a scream of excitement.  Yoke turned to his main console and began typing again.  The lights came up and the images that were still up on the large screen appeared on his monitor.  Donny turned to look as Yoke flipped through more schematics, each one seeming more impressive than the last.

"Howcum they're not using CGI?", Donny asked.

"They insisted on doing it the old-fashioned way". Yoke grinned.  "If you can call all the things we can do now old-fashioned."  He continued to flip through images, studies, reference photos.  Donny still held his hands over his mouth.  "The problem is, my progress is at a standstill until I can solve my problem."

Donny looked at Yoke, his eyes a bit panicked.  That this magnificent project should be stalled was unthinkable. From under his hands, he asked, "Whuh? Hyy?"

"Oh, it's not the studio", Yoke said, waving a hand.  "It's me. I need someone to help me.  An assistant, a right-hand man."

"An apprentice??", Donny said, removing his hands, his eyes wide with hope.

"If you like, that's as good a term as any", Yoke aid with forced disinterest.  "But everyone I've been offered is plugged into the picture business, or other makeup creators, or, God help me, the entertainment gossip rags.  I don't really trust any of them to keep their mouths shut about this."  Yoke stabbed another button and a series of gorgeous color sketches of the finished costume appeared on the screen.  Donny almost squealed seeing them.  "And it's not just that I'd need a worker so much as I'd need a worker/model. It would have to be someone willing to go through hours of trying on outfits, appliances, even lying down for body casts for God knows how long..."

"What about me?", Donny asked hopefully.

Yoke looked at Donny with what he hoped looked like pleasant surprise.  "What, really?  Donny, this is quite an undertaking. I don't want to steal away so much time out of your life..."  Donny leaned forward, biting his lower lip.  "Although", Yoke decided, "I would be able to work with someone I know and trust this way..."  Donny now really was bouncing on his heels. 

"And I am familiar with the show, don't forget!"

Yoke smiled at him brightly.  "Oh, why not! What do you say,  Donny,? Will you be my Lucius?"

Donny threw his arms around Yoke in a grateful bear hug.  "Oh, HELL yes! I am there!!"

Now came the final test.  Still holding on to his friend and intended subject, Yoke asked, "But what about the Lion King troupe?  You were all set to take on the touring world as a giraffe."  Yoke's hand hovered over Donny's head, prepared to drop upon his brow and command him to sleep in hypnotic trance and alter his decision if necessary. While Donny was in the heat of excitement, Yoke knew a sudden change of mind would not be questioned.

"Are you kidding me? Screw the stupid giraffes, man!", Donny blurted out. "I'm gonna be a donkey!!"

Yokum dropped his hand, relieved that his ploy had worked so well.  He pulled out of Donny's hug and smiled, "Well, we'd better get you set up then, hadn't we?"

Yoke led Donny back upstairs, keeping him off-balance by talking rapidly about how he would have to set up the guest room for his young apprentice on a more permanent basis, how Donny would need to return to his hotel and check out, bringing back all his luggage and belongings.  Donny was overcome with excitement and already dedicated to the project.  He hadn't even talked about payment.  As Donny yanked on his gloves and fumbled with his helmet, Yoke guided him to the door.  "Oh, and there's one more thing", Yoke said, a sudden urgency in his voice.

"What's that?", Donny asked, picking up on his friend's concerned tone.

"SLEEP", Yoke said firmly.  

Donny's head dropped and he almost fell forward like an upended wooden plank.  This time Yoke caught both him and his helmet easily.  It was clear the lad was being conditioned to respond so well at this point that it took very little to drop him deeply under.  Yoke smiled inwardly at how responsive Donny would be a month from now.  But first things first.

"Donny, all your perceptions in regard to your motorcycle are back to normal now. Your feet and fingers connect as they should, and you will find, in fact, that when you ride, there is almost a metaphysical connection between you and your cycle.  It feels wonderful and it very much a part of you."  Yoke rested a hand atop Donny's head as he continued.  He didn't need to, the inductions didn't call for it, but he felt the tactile contact helped enforce not only the suggestions but his authority as he gave them.

"As you ride your motorcycle back to your hotel to gather your things, Donny, you will feel with every mile that you have made the right decision to work with me. The farther you get from here, the closer to checking out of your hotel, the more your decision will be reinforced in your mind.  By the time you arrive at the hotel, you will know in your heart and soul that you have never made a decision as right and perfect as this."

Donny swayed a bit under Yoke's hand, his head nodding almost imperceptibly as he absorbed and accepted his suggestions.  Yoke continued.

"As you ride back here, Donny, you feel compelled to get here as quickly and as safely as you can.  You'll break no laws or ride above any speed limits, but you will feel drawn back to me and my cottage in a way that is magnetic, powerful, and irresistible.  All the way here that sensation will pulse within you, and it will reinforce your feeling that you are doing the right thing by joining me.  Do you understand?"

Donny nodded again, this time clearly.  Yoke nodded as well, satisfied with his work. He lifted his hand from Donny's head and was about to wake him, when he paused.  He had been avoiding this, but if everything were to work as he'd planned, he knew he'd have to address this sooner or later.  Might as well do it now.

"Donny, do you know how I feel about you?  Have you sensed anything between us?  You may answer, remaining deep in trance, feeling completely safe from any repercussions of your answers.  Go ahead."

Head still bowed, voice thick and sleepy, Donny answered, "I know you like me."  Then nothing.

Yoke pressed.  "Do you realize that I find you attractive, Donny?"

Donny spoke again, "I know you're into me, yeah."

Yoke shivered a bit at that. Had he been that obvious?  "How do you feel about that, Donny?"

"Meh. S'okay, I guess. I know you're gay. I'm not.  It's a little creepy, but I'm good. You're a good guy."

Yoke could not stop the shiver that ran down his back at the word 'creepy'.  Should he not go through with this?  Should he just send this amazing young man on his way and put all his planning aside?  He stared at Donny's beautiful, flawless, restful face.  No.  He had come too far to abandon his plans now.  Put too much into it.  Better far to simply put his young apprentice at ease and continue.  Yoke placed his hand again upon Donny's head, gently.

"Donny, you will no longer find my attraction to you creepy or off-putting. You are still aware of it, but you now find it endearing, even cute.  You are now, and always will be, completely comfortable around me.  You will forever feel completely at ease to be relaxed and be yourself with me.  You trust me as no other.  Do you understand?"

Donny did not nod.  Instead, he said, "Trust you, Yoke. Trust you with my life."

Yokum surprised even himself when he found himself blinking back a tear at that, and took a deep breath, collecting his wits. He exhaled slowly, then said firmly, "Donny, you will sleep until I count to three and let go of you, when you will awaken feeling refreshed and alert with no memory of what I've told you.  1...2...3...eyes open, wide awake."

Donny opened his eyes and smiled at Yoke, his expression expectant.  "Well?"

Yoke stared at him, confused.  Did he remember any of his programming just then?  "Well what?"

"You said there was one more thing.  What was the one more thing?"

Yokum let out a sigh of relief.  "Oh, that."  He handed Donny back his helmet.  "Ride safe."

Donny took the helmet, flipping it easily in his hands.  "Will do, chief!"  Skipping more than walking, Donny trotted out to his motorcycle and hopped on, tugging on his helmet and stomping on the kick start.  With a splendid roar, the cycle came to life and rumbled between Donny's legs.  "Hey!", he exclaimed, both delighted and taken aback by the fact that in his haste and excitement he had forgotten that his bike was supposed to be out of commission.  "How about that?", he called over the roar of the engine. "It started right up! Wonder what the problem was before?"  Then, shaking his head he offered, "Must have been a sign or something—that I was supposed to stick around long enough to see your project and volunteer, huh?"

"Must be", Yoke called back.

"I won't be long", Donny promised.  "Better call that guy of yours and tell him we don't need him!"

"Will do", Yoke called, but he was calling after the taillights of Donny's cycle as it tore down the long driveway and, pausing at the end only briefly, roared out onto the highway.  Donny tossed a happy wave back at his friend.  Yoke waved back, knowing that their friendship was about to change.  As was Donny.  And neither would ever be the same.

*   *   *

Yoke hurried his way around the house in preparation for Donny' return.  The bed in the guest room was remade in record time, with new decorations placed covertly around the room where they would not be noticed right away, but where Donny's subconscious would pick up the message they conveyed.  Tiny plush toys, wooden figurines, some throw pillows on the rocking chair in the corner, a slightly different abstract painting on the wall by the window, a new throw rug at the foot of the bed.  Each one had a pattern, design, image, or shape that represented one thing:  Donkey.

Yoke hustled into the hallway with the old linens and considered how he should best set up the studio lab downstairs to begin working his magic on his new apprentice.  Yoke was stopped short midway to the hamper by a dull roar out front.  A motorcycle engine.  Yoke's eyebrows rose.  Holy shit, that couldn't be Donny already?  Yoke searched frantically for a clock, found one.  It had not yet been two hours!  Rapidly, Yoke did a quick calculation in his head.  Donny had said it was a 45-minute ride to his hotel.  Even giving time to pack his things and check out, the handsome young lad must have been moving at an incredible pace to grab his belongings and get back here.  The roar grew louder, closer, then stopped with a soft rumble. Less than a dozen seconds later, there was a knock on the back door, which then opened.

"Hello, anybody home? I'm back!"

It was Donny.  Yoke hurriedly stuffed the old linens into the laundry hamper and trotted out to the kitchen, trying not to look overeager.  Yoke realized that his legs were trembling slightly.  Why was he so nervous?  Donny's the one who should be nervous!  Slowing his pace somewhat, Yoke rounded the corner of the hallway to greet his smiling assistant.  "Well, that was quick!  You certainly made fast work of that...trip."

Yoke stopped short.  He was stunned by how Donny Keigh looked.  Standing tall, smiling brightly, he was dressed in an entirely different outfit.  It made sense that he would want to wear something else, given that he had been in the other clothes for more than a day and half.  Even with them being laundered, Yoke could anticipate the need for some fresh attire.  He could not anticipate Donny's choice in that area.  Donny wore riding boots, sixteen inches tall, slender, snug.  Above them, skintight biker's pants, jet black, with twin zippers on either side of the crotch (did that make them sailor's pants, then? Awfully tight for sailor's jeans...).  The outfit was topped off with a snug and flattering olive drab short-sleeved army shirt.  The entire ensemble, every piece, was made of the exact same material.  Rubber.

"That's...some outfit", Yoke observed.

"Oh, hey", Donny said offhandedly, as if he'd forgotten what he was wearing, "do you like it?"  He did a slow turn around, arms spread wide at his sides. The polished rubber caught the light, shining glints down his back, upon his muscled legs, across his tight ass.  "I actually really love to wear rubber."  He turned back to face his new mentor.  "Like, a lot.  Not a lot of people know that.  Some people think it's weird.  Y'know, fetishy.  I just like it.  Feels great."

"Looks good on you", Yoke said, swallowing.  He felt his pants growing tighter. Significantly tighter.

"I usually don't tell people about it at all, unless I'm out at a club or something like that.  But it's just, I don't know...I feel really comfortable around you.  Like I can be myself."  Donny noticed Yoke's intense stare.  "Oh, I'm not making you uncomfortable, am I?"

Yoke shook himself out of it.  "No, no! Not at all! It's great you can feel yourself—feel free to BE yourself.  That's great, fine.  You look...amazing."  Yoke let out a low whistle.  "Damn amazing."

Donny smiled brighter.  "Cool. I appreciate it, thanks."

No, thank YOU, Yoke thought.  Then aloud, he said, "And if you're into rubber, you've come to the right place."

Donny had turned around to pick up his duffel bag, then looked back in confusion.  "What? Why do you say that?"

Yoke collected himself quickly.  "You know, the mask work, the appliances, the molds, all that costume building."  He shook a playful finger at Donny.  "You'll be doing plenty of that!"

Donny laughed.  "Oh yeah! Right!  Can't wait."

"Neither can I", Yoke said honestly.  Then, "You did make it back here awfully fast.  You weren't speeding, were you?"

"Nope", Donny said matter-of-factly.  "Thought about it a couple times, really thought about it in fact, but as soon as I did, it was like a little voice in my head told me nope, uh-uh, slow and steady, get there in one piece.  Weird, huh?"

Eager to change the subject, Yoke noted Donny's luggage.  It consisted of a single, oversized duffel bag, stuffed to capacity.  "Is this everything?"

"Yep. That's me for the whole tour.  A few keepsakes from here and there, but basically a few changes of clothes, toiletries, makeup essentials, and my rubber stuff.  That's it."  Donny picked up the duffel and slung the strap over his shoulder.  "I prefer to take just one bag.  Don't even like to unpack it in the different hotels."

"You just live right out of the suitcase", Yoke offered.

"Yeah, something like that."

"Well, you'll want to unpack and settle in here", Yoke suggested. "I made sure that the dressers and closet are clear for you."

"Ohh, I dunno", Donny said.  "I can just as easily plop the ol' bag down in front of the dresser, use that.  I don't think I should get too comfortable, it's not like I'm moving in or anythi—"  Yoke tapped Donny's forehead gently and Donny's head slumped forward, sound asleep in trance.

"You'll want to unpack everything here, Donny.  Stuff the empty duffel under the bed, make yourself at home.  It just feels so right to you."  He tapped Donny' head again.  Donny looked up, eyes bright, never knowing what he'd just experienced.

"So I'll wanna get this puppy all unpacked and get myself settled. I appreciate you vacating the dresser and closet. That'll come in handy. Okay if I just stuff my empty duffel under the bed or something?"  

Yoke smiled happily.  "I was on the point of proposing it.  Get yourself settled and meet me downstairs in the lab.  No reason to wait, we should get started working together right away."  Donny nodded, returning the bright smile and almost skipped off to the guest room.

Before long, Donny was trotting down the steps, two at a time, ready to go.  "Well, boss", he crowed, "I'm allll yours! What do you want me to start with?"

"We start with masks", Yoke said.  "No better way to get your head into the business than by, well, getting your head into the business."  He tossed Donny a fuzzy brown donkey mask that pulled over the entire head, and the handsome boy never hesitated.  No sooner was it in his hands than he slipped it over his head and tugged it into place.  His hands clasped down upon his head and pressed the donkey's head firmly onto his own.  Yoke laughed good-naturedly.  "Donny, we are going to get along just fine."

Downstairs in the lab, time flew by.  Donny tried on mask after mask.  Yoke took endless measurements of Donny's head, his face, his features, even his ears and impressions of his teeth.  Donny loved it all, having a blast being part of the creative process, especially while at the elbow of such a gifted craftsman.  After walking around for most of the day with tape, plasters, latex, and odd appliances and appendages stuck to his head, face, and neck, Donny was finally given a break.  They had paused for fifteen minutes around 1 o'clock for a bite of lunch, but now it was creeping into evening and Yoke knew it was time to wrap up for the night.  "Time to call it quits for today", Yoke sighed pleasantly.

Donny looked heartbroken.  "Naw, we were just getting started!"  Donny had two large donkey ears attached to his head, a plaster-like forehead and snout running down his brow and over his nose, and a pair of enormous bucked teeth cemented to his own teeth with a strong adhesive.  "It's still early."

"It's after seven, and I'm ready for dinner.  Past ready.  Let me undo you here and we'll grab some chow."

Donny jerked away, not ready to have his bits and pieces peeled off.  "Then we come back down?"

"Then we unwind and get some sleep for tomorrow's work!", Yoke stressed.  "I don't want my donkey falling over from exhaustion.

"Aawwww..."

Dinner was highly enjoyable and Donny could not have been more helpful in both its preparation and cleaning up afterwards.  Throughout the meal, he jabbered on glowingly of how much fun it was to spend the day hard at work in the lab, trying on masks, and how strangely natural it felt to have on donkey's ears, buck teeth, and so forth.  As the dishwasher hummed quietly away in the kitchen, Yoke sat Donny down in an overstuffed chair in front of a large plasma TV.

"I want you to watch this", he told his young apprentice.

"Watch what?", Donny asked, as Yoke picked up the remote and deftly fingered a few select buttons.

"It's a compilation DVD I made with scenes from different films and animations featuring various styles of donkeys and asses. I want you to make notes", and seeing that Donny was about to reach for a pad and pencil on a nearby coffee table, he amended, "Just  mental notes of what looks and approaches most appeal to you."  Then he added, quickly, "As an actor."

"And an effects designer", Donny grinned.

"And as an effects designer", Yoke agreed.  What Donny did not know was that the hours-long DVD was less about design and more about reeducation. With scenes and clips lifted from multiple productions of Pinocchio, Midsummer Night's Dream, a few select magical fantasy films, and everything else he could find, Yoke had prepared an endless parade of images of men and boys transforming into donkeys.  He wanted the idea to sink deeply into Donny's head.  Yoke patted Donny on the shoulder to settle him in, and set the remote on a high shelf where it was not easily accessible.  Donny felt himself sink into the soft chair and knew it would not be easy to pull himself from it. Then he noticed Yoke walking away.

"You're not staying and watching it with me?" 

"Not this time. I have one last thing to do in the lab."

Donny struggled to extricate himself from the soft chair.  He was right, it wasn't easy.  "Let me come with you, I can help!"

"It's just a little setup for tomorrow", Yoke explained.  "No big deal. I'll be back in no time.  Watch the DVD."

"Yeah, but still--!"  Donny kicked his feet a bit in attempt to get free of the squishy chair. He actually sounded saddened that he would be separated from his mentor, even for an hour or two.

Yoke walked over and rested a hand firmly upon Donny's shoulder, pushing him gently back into the chair, adding a slight squeeze as he so often did when hypnotizing him.  "You want to stay and watch the DVD."

Donny let himself go back down, his voice echoing, "I want to stay and watch the DVD."

"You want to be attentive and absorb everything on it."

"I want to be attentive and absorb everything on it."

Then Yoke added, in a softer voice, "You can be of the best use to me that way."

Donny nodded dully, "I can be of the best use to you that way."

"I won't be long", Yoke assured him.  But Donny was already staring with great interest at the large screen TV as the DVD began.  He just answered in a distracted voice, without turning to look at Yoke.

"Okay."

Yoke went back downstairs and spent the next few hours finishing up something for Donny that he had previously thought he would not be able to introduce to him for several more days.  He was delighted that his schedule was already so accelerated.  Upon completion of his work, he shut off the lights and returned upstairs to the living room, where Donny sat, still wide-eyed and unblinking as the DVD played on.  At the moment, an independent film version of Pinocchio was showing the scene from Pleasure Island.  Lampwick was in the throes of his transformation into a stupid donkey which, thanks to some very skillful CGI, looked incredibly lifelike, convincing, and graphically detailed.  A production sponsored by a league of universities and produced by talented students, the film followed the story's source material to the letter, undoing anything that Disney had done decades before.  Yoke was not terribly fond of this version, as in the original tale, the boy puppet actually squashes Jiminy Cricket when his "conscience" becomes too pestering.  Still, the effects were astounding.

As all the bad boys on Pleasure Island transformed with amazing effect into asses, Yoke looked at the clock.  Donny had been watching the DVD on a repeating loop for almost three and a half hours.  It was late.  Yoke picked up the remote from the high shelf where it had sat untouched, and shut off the TV.  Donny found himself shaken from his viewing stupor.

"Huh?  What?  Yoke, what're you doing—I was watching that..."

Yoke rested a hand on Donny' shoulder and gave it a squeeze.  "It's late. You want to go to bed."

"It's late.  I want to go to bed."

Donny started to shuffle off toward the hallway to the guest room, when Yoke said, "And you sleep in the nude."

Donny stopped in his sleepy tracks. "Right. I sleep in the nude."  Without further prompting, he then turned around and faced Yoke with blank eyes.  He slowly and methodically peeled his rubber outfit off, one piece at a time.  First the snug rubber riding boots, then the green army shirt, letting them fall haphazardly to the floor.  Slowest of all, Donny peeled away his form-fitting sailor's jeans, which were now moist with sweat. Their interior glistened in the dim light of the living room.  With a few tugs, Donny managed to get his feet out of the clinging pant legs and then stood there, buck naked before Yoke, swaying slightly.

Yoke took a moment to gaze at the magnificent boy, then said, "Good night, Donny."

"Yeah...good night", Donny mumbled, then turned around, and stumbled off to bed.

After the door to the guest room closed, Yoke dropped himself down onto the soft and squishy chair.  He picked up the remote and turned the TV back on, the sound muted.  He then deactivated the DVD player and fingered his way through a few menu selections, inputting no less than three passwords to get where he was going.  Eventually, a blue screen with white lettering appeared and offered a new selection.  SECURITY TAPE FOOTAGE.  PLEASE SELECT.  FRONT YARD.  BACK YARD.  INTERIOR ROOMS. >>

Yoke clicked down to INTERIOR ROOMS.  

Another prompt appeared.  PLEASE SELECT.  LIVING ROOM.  KITCHEN.  MASTER BEDROOM.  GUEST ROOM.  LAB. >>  There were more selections, but Yoke headed straight for the tab for the downstairs lab.  Clicking it, he got another prompter.  CURRENT VIEW [LIVE].  ARCHIVE FOOTAGE.  He chose archive footage and rewound to the beginning of the day.  PLAYBACK. >>

Yoke sat transfixed as he watched the recorded footage from the hidden security cameras in the lab.  He was able to zoom in, pause, and change the angles on any moment he wanted.  He watched Donny there in his rubber outfit, eagerly helping, trying on masks, wearing donkey ears, smiling and laughing silently on the large screen.  Several times Yoke zoomed in on the boy's magnificent ass, clutched tightly by those clinging rubber jeans.  Often Yoke would hold the image on pause as he vigorously stroked his crotch.

After about a half hour of this, Yoke switched the archival security footage off and scrolled back up the menu.  INTERIOR ROOMS.  GUEST ROOM.  Then he clicked CURRENT VIEW [LIVE].  The screen was pitch black, save for some slivers of silver-blue light streaking here and there from beyond the window blinds.  There was an option in smaller print at the bottom of the screen.  NIGHT VISION.  OFF/ON.

ON.

The room came alive with an eerie green glow, and there in the bed lay Donny, bare naked, sprawled atop his blankets and comforter, ass to the air.  Yoke let out a sudden sigh and took in a sharp breath.  He watched as the beautiful boy lay there, occasionally sniffing or twitching as Yoke grew harder and harder.  Then Yoke gathered all the discarded rubber clothing from the floor and drew them close to him, up on the squishy chair. With the rubber army shirt in his lap, its turned-out armpits still moist and thick with Donny's scent, Yoke held the rubber jeans up to his face and sniffed deeply of its crotch.  He set one rubber riding boot on either side of him, for easy access to the rich scent rising from the shafts and, as the naked Donny, an unknowing and willingly captured prisoner, slept soundly, Yoke watched him lying helpless, well into the night.

*   *   *

Donny woke up feeling rested and more than a bit rejuvenated.  He thought perhaps that he had dreamed of being on Pleasure Island, as in the Pinocchio film he saw on Yoke's video the night before, only in his dream Donny was happy about being turned into a donkey, and all the other boys who joined him were handsome and eager. It was bizarre, but the memory of it was already fading.  For a second, as Donny left the guest room, he absently reached around to his rear to feel for his tail, but finding nothing there, he realized it was merely a lingering portion of his fading dream, he stopped and dismissed the false sensation.

Donny began to head for the kitchen in search of breakfast when sounds from the basement work lab caught his attention. Finding the door to the stairs open, Donny descended to see Yoke already hard at work on a number of appliances at his station.

"How long have you been up?", Donny asked.  He glanced at his wrist for the time, saw no watch there, looked back to Yoke.

"I find that I don't need as much sleep as I used to", Yoke said, not looking up from his work. "Besides, I was inspired."  Intrigued by the remark, Donny moved closer to the work table to see what Yoke had been so preoccupied by when Yoke looked him right in the eye, a smile on his face. "I do have something for you, though."

"Yeah?"

Yoke sauntered over to Donny's smaller work area and reflexively, Donny followed.  "This is what I was working on last night while you were watching that video. I figure if you're going to be my official apprentice, you should be properly attired for the role."  Yoke held up a set of coveralls.  Soft gray, trim cut, and clearly made specifically for Donny.  He handed them to the handsome boy.

"Yoke, these are amazing. They're—dude, are they made of rubber??"  Yoke nodded.   Donny rubbed the coveralls between his thumb and forefinger, feeling soft, smooth and supple rubber in his hands. At first glance the coveralls looked for all the world like soft cotton. The cool gray color with the tiniest hint of pinstripes running vertically through them. But there was no denying that the suit was indeed made entirely of rubber.  Donny looked up at his mentor in amazement. "You made this just last night? Man, these are incredible!"

Yoke shrugged. "Well, I figured you needed to look the part of the invaluable assistant, and besides, rubber coveralls would be very easy to clean up, just by wiping them down. Considering as well that you're going to be trying on all these appliances and be in rubber most of the day anyway..."

"And that I already like rubber!", Donny beamed.

"Unless of course you'd prefer to spend the day like that."  Yoke nodded at Donny, who at first did not understand what his older friend was referring to. Then he looked at himself.  He found himself blushing as the realization hit him. 

Donny was naked. He had been, the entire time.

Donny was caught completely off guard. Had he been wandering around the house starkers since he got up? That wasn't like him, even if he was feeling more relaxed around Yoke.  "Umm, I'm s-sorry", Donny stammered.  "I can't believe I just came down here like...oh man, I am so embarrassed...I don't even sleep without something on..."

Yoke spoke quickly and firmly. "You sleep in the nude."  He snapped his fingers crisply.

"I mean, I sleep in the nude", Donny said immediately.  "But when I get up I usually think to at least pull some shorts on."

Yoke's rapid patter continued. "It's alright. You feel so at home here. I don't mind."  Snap.

"I just feel so at home here", Donny amended, having no idea he'd done so.  "I guess I didn't even think about it.  I just got up and—is that alright?"

Yoke waved a casual hand, his expression warm. "Nah. It's no problem. I'll see all of you anyway with all the appliances and such that you'll be trying on.  But you may be getting a little cold down here without a stitch on..."  He snapped his fingers again.

Donny shuddered.  "Yeah, now that you mention it, I am kind of chilly..."

"So you'll really want to jump into those new coveralls."

Donny beamed. "I really want to jump into these rubber coveralls, anyway."  Donny stepped into the smooth rubber suit, his face smiling, his lips occasionally puckering into an "Oohh!" expression as he did so. "I really am sorry about just barging down here naked, though, Yoke. That was totally rude of me. I should've--"

"Don't give it another thought", Yoke said flatly. "Enjoy the suit."  Snap.

"Omigod—are there boots attached to the pant legs, too?", nothing else on his mind.

"Nothing but the best for my official apprentice", Yoke grinned.

Donny stepped into the legs of his rubber coveralls all the way and the smooth, sleek, 16" tall rubber boots attached securely to the pant legs fit around his size twelves perfectly.  "Oh, this is amazing!"  With ease, Donny slipped his arms into the sleeves and got the entire set of coveralls on with a quick shrug of his shoulders.  Before Donny could begin to move around in the new coveralls, Yoke stepped forward and zipped him up, closing off a fold-over flap at the top of the coveralls, sealing his apprentice in tight.

"The cuffs are even elasticized a bit", Donny observed, holding up his sleeves.  "They won't get in the way at the work benches."  Donny shrugged his shoulders, took a couple of steps back and forth, pinwheeled his arms a bit.  "There's...it feels like there's some kind of...I dunno, lotion, or oil or gel or something coating the inside of it.  What's that about?"

Yoke's eyes took on an Oh, that--! quality of recollection and he said quickly, "Just a bit of latex lubricant I needed to work the material when I made your suit. It's nothing."

"Doesn't it need to be rinsed off first?", Donny asked, his expression beginning to look uncomfortable.

"No, no, it'll evaporate as you wear it.  No need to worry, it's harmless."  Yoke smiled, but Donny's expression of discomfort did not change.

"It feels kind of slimy, even a little sticky in places.  And it's everywhere, even inside the boots."  He began to pace a bit, swinging his arms, trying to get the pant legs not to stick to him, tugging at his crotch where the inseam was now clinging.  "I'm not sure we should just leave it as is—"

Yoke was behind Donny in an instant, gentle but firm hands on the boy's shoulders.  "You like it. Pause for a moment and get the feel for it.  It feels pretty good."  He gave Donny's shoulders a light squeeze.

Donny stopped.  He shrugged a bit, curled and uncurled his toes inside his boots. "I...like it. It feels pretty good, now that I get used to it."

"The more you move, the less you notice it."

Donny nodded.  "The more I move, the less I even notice it, really."

"The fluid must be evaporating already", Yoke surmised.

"Must be", Donny agreed, his smile returning.

Quickly, Yoke took Donny by the arm and led him to a mirror. "Come. You'll want to see this."  Donny stumbled just a bit as he was led across the room, but he caught his footing quickly, Yoke noted.  He was stood before the full-length mirror and got a good look at himself in his new apprentice uniform coveralls.  He looked fantastic.

"It fits me perfectly", Donny marveled, noting how snugly it fit him at the waist, how it flattered his chest and arms. "Like it was made for me."

"Well, that would be a big 'Duh'", Yoke smirked.  "But I wanted to show you this", he gestured to a large red-trimmed patch over Donny's left breast on the coveralls.  Like everything else on the suit, it was made of rubber, but looked at first glance like the same type of cloth name patch you'd find on the coveralls of a garage mechanic.  Only Donny's patch said something entirely different than just his name.  Donny read his patch:

Donkey-in-Training

His face broke into a broad smile.  "Oh, man. That is so fucking cool."

"Thought you'd like that", Yoke smiled, although inwardly he was relieved by Donny's positive reaction.  He patted his charge on the shoulder, feeling the smooth rubber under his fingers, the soft squish of the strange fluid oil oozing into Donny's skin, that same slick substance of Yoke's own design that Donny was no longer paying any attention to.  "Let's get some breakfast into you and get started on the day's work", Yoke suggested. "I have big plans for you today."  With another quick pat on Donny's rubber-covered back (squish, squish), Yoke started across the room toward the stairs.  Donny did not follow.

"Donny?  You coming?"  No answer.  "Hey, Donkey-in-Training! Chow time!"

Donny only gave a sideways glance to his mentor and waved him away. "You go ahead. I'll be up in a minute."  Yoke was about to ask if there was something wrong when Donny added, still smiling into the mirror, "I'm still admiring myself."

As Donny thrilled to his wonderful new custom-made rubber coveralls with their magnificent patch, moving this way and that, admiring his chest, then his ass, then his boots, Yoke continued up the steps.  "Don't take too long, Narcissus."  Donny didn't take too long. Only about another twenty minutes.  When his rumbling stomach finally drove him bounding up the stairs to the smell of bacon and eggs, he didn't even notice the strange slippery ooze spreading across his back, down his arms and legs, dripping down his ass crack and puddling inside his boots.  Nor would he for the rest of the day.

The day went very quickly for Donny.  He helped Yoke put together all the makings, molds, and materials for the hooves that he would eventually wear over his hands and feet.  He felt very upbeat, excited, and the time flew by.  Of course, a good deal of the enjoyment and euphoria Donny felt also was due to experiences he never even realized he was having.  

Some of it, mind you, was fun.  After breakfast, as the duo began their work, Yoke put on a CD that played through the speakers he'd installed in the corners of the work room.  The instrumental music piped through the room and Donny paused, head cocked tot he side as he listened to it.  "What is that?", he asked his mentor. "It sounds vaguely familiar."

Yoke grinned. "It's an upbeat, rather jazzy reimagining of an old theme song. I thought it would be appropriate for what we're working on down here."

"What song is it?", Donny asked again.

"Mule Train."  They both laughed. Yoke laughed longer, though, since in the middle of their shared jest he quickly snapped his fingers by Donny's ear and said, "Sleep."  Donny's head slumped forward and he stood there, swaying ever so gently, breathing deeply and ready to accept any command that he would have no memory of being given.  Yoke rested his hand atop Donny's head, gently brushing his hair with his fingers.  "Donny, from now on whenever you that version of Mule Train, you will dance around the room, galloping like a little boy, feeling very, very happy. You cannot resist this, you'll have no knowledge you're even doing it, and when the music stops, you will go right back to whatever it was you were doing without realizing you even stopped. Nod if you understand."  Donny nodded.  "When I remove my hand and tell you to awaken, you will open your eyes and time will continue for you as if we never paused."  Yoke removed his hand from Donny's head.  "Awaken."

Donny's eyes opened and he continued his guffaw from mid-laugh.  Yoke had silenced the music during their brief session, and he turned it back on now.  As soon as the CD started, Donny's face broke into a broad smile and he started galloping around the room, slapping his thighs and giggling like a giddy little kid. Yoke smiled as well as he mixed up the latex and glue.

After Yoke had prepared the appliance rubber and molds, he changed the CD track and Donny stopped galloping around, having no idea he'd ever done so.  "Donny, do me a favor and stick your hand into this mold.  No, like this.  Now make a fist."

Donny turned away, face scrunched up and nose wrinkled.  "Man, what a stench this stuff has", he moaned.

"You get used to it", Yoke told him.  "In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if by day's end, you were actually a little fond of it."

"I would", Donny retorted, shaking his head to be rid of the acrid stench, but having little success. 

Yoke noted that a few drips of the ooze inside Donny's rubber coveralls trickled down his wrist and over the back of his hand.  The solution was already much thinner than it had been, reacting to the warmth of his body to dilute it, and make it easier for his skin to absorb.  Good, good.  Yoke closed up the mold around Donny's hand and set to work on the other one.

"These gonna be the hooves?", Donny asked.

"These are going to be your hooves", Yoke corrected him.

Donny grinned.  "Sweet."  

With the molds clamped tight over Donny's hands, it looked as if he had large blocks at the end of his wrists.  "How long do these have to stay on for the molds to set?"

"Not long", Yoke lied.  "In fact, it'll seem to go by quick. Sleep."  Snap.  And Donny was out again, peacefully sleeping, head forward, body swaying ever so slightly, the heavy blocks upon his hands seeming to him no lighter than balloons.  Within them, the latex slowly set up and began to form around his fingers and palms.  Yoke approached his sleeping boy.  Gently he gripped Donny's cheeks in one hand, like a doting aunt squeezing the face of a favored nephew to make a "kissing face".  When Yoke withdrew his hand, he saw that the impressions left by his fingertips lingered there, and only began to fade after several moments, making the boy's cheeks momentarily resemble soft putty, or the memory foam of a new mattress.  "Good", Yoke whispered, knowing that the specially created ooze with which he'd generously coated Donny's coveralls was already doing its job.  "You're doing great, Don. You're doing juussst fine", Yoke intoned to the sleeping lad.  Yoke was about to waken his charge, but then, on a whim, he reached out again with his gentle fingers and using thumb and middle finger, gently spread Donny's mouth into a wide, dopey grin.  Using both thumbs, Yoke then raised Donny's eyebrows high on his forehead, leaving him with a ridiculous smiling expression that made him look like...well, like a jackass.

"This is a normal expression for you, Donny", Yoke told him.  "It feels perfectly natural and you like it very much. Nod if you understand."  Slowly, Donny nodded.  "Very good, Don. You're doing an excellent, excellent job. With no memory of any of this...open your eyes."

Donny opened his eyes without so much as a blink and smiled his now-stupid smile at his mentor. "So how long do we keep these big ol' blocks on my hands, then, did you say?"

Yoke looked at his watch, noting the time that had passed, most of which Donny spent in trance.  "Almost done. Just a few more minutes. This should make the remaining time go faster."  Yoke clicked the small remote in his pocket and the Mule Train Remix started again.  The dopey-smiling, hand-trapped Donny danced and galloped around the workshop, looking like an idiot, having no clue whatsoever, feeling fantastic.  Yoke watched him play, occasionally rubbing the bulge in his pants as he watched.

So it went, for the rest of the day.  Donny would pause here and there to undergo mold casting on his hands, his ears, portions of his face (those done without the locking block casing), interspersed with moments of galloping around to music, or going deep into trance.  A break for lunch—where had the time gone?—and then back again.  All the while, Donny continued to smile like a lobotomy patient, never aware of what he was doing or how he looked, his muscles never tiring.  By mid-afternoon, Yoke produced the large molds. They were bigger than any Donny had seen thus far.

"Holy shit, Yoke, what are those for?"

"These, my dear boy, are for your feet."

"My feet??"  Donny looked down at the size 12 rubber boots on his feet and imagined steeping into the block molds with them on. Even with the molds being as large as they were, it'd be a tight fit.

"Just take off your boots and step right in. There'll be enough room", Yoke assured him.

Without thinking about it, Donny reached down to yank his boots off, then stopped.  "They're attached, remember?"

"Oh, oh right", Yoke said with as genuine a tone of surprise as he could muster.  "Well, I guess you'll have to take the whole thing off, then."

"What, go starkers just for the feet hooves? Isn't there something else down here I could wear? I could zip up to my room and grab some pants—"

"No, you forget sometimes who you're with, how comfortable you feel", Yoke said firmly. Snap.

"Nah, this is no big deal", Donny said, unfastening the collar of his rubber jumpsuit.  "We're both professionals, right? I feel okay with it if you do."

"You'll wind up fully exposed when we do the body cast", Yoke added briskly, "and you're fine with that."  Snap.

"Besides", Donny added, his forced smile now strangely fitting his words, "you're gonna see the full monty when we get to the donkey body cast, so we may as well get used to it now, right?"  With a certain nonchalance, Donny let the rubber coveralls slip off his trim muscled body.  Here and there its rubber interior still stuck to his skin due to some lingering globs of Yoke's ooze formula, but for the most part it came away easily.  Once the loose-fitting rubber lay on the floor around Donny's feet, he stepped out of his boots.  There was a clear sheen to Donny's hairless body, his skin still appearing slick with the lubricating gel that had saturated the rubber coveralls' interior, despite most of it having been absorbed through his pores.

Gently, Yoke guided Donny's large feet the molds and slowly filled them with the thick latex liquid.  Donny scrunched his nose and turned his head.  "Never gets any better, does it?", he remarked.

"On the contrary, as I continue to pour it around your feet and you feel how nice the gooey, cold latex feels against your flesh, you'll find the smell gets better and better. You become used to it and even find it pleasant."  Snap.

Donny slowly brought his head back to face forward. "Heyy...I guess it does get a little bit better at that."

"Told you", Yoke smiled.  He knew it would not do to have the boy repelled by the scent of the material he would soon be spending all of his time in.  After the latex had been poured and the molds locked closed, Donny looked down at the large blocks into which his feet disappeared at the ankles.

"Guess I'm not going anywhere for a while, huh?"

Yoke looked up at the beautiful boy but could not get past his sizeable dick that hung right in front of his face.  Yoke lowered his head to find that the front of his pants were spotting with moisture as he grew increasingly aroused from not only what he was planning for his unsuspecting apprentice, but for the situation he found himself in right then and there.

"Yoke?  I said I'm not going anywhere for a while, huh?", Donny repeated.

"No, I'd say that you're not", Yoke replied, catching his breath.  "Sleep."  Snap.  Donny's head slumped forward and Yoke immediately took hold of the boy's dick. It felt soft in his grasp, pink and perfect.  Yoke caressed the member, finding that if he squeezed too hard, it would leave a trace of his fingerprints, just as did Donny's face.  Slowly, Yoke dragged his tongue along the underside of Donny's penis, taking time to lick and kiss the head.  When he let it slip from his hands, the large member simply sagged there and hung limp.  Yoke felt himself fidget, knowing this brief taste would never be enough.

"Respond."  That was all it took.  As Yoke played with Donny's cock and balls, the young man's member rose to the occasion and stood erect in front of him.  Yoke licked and sucked it, slowly working his way up and down the shaft, tending to it with soft lips and loving tongue.  After spending several minutes servicing the boy's rock hard cock, Yoke found himself startled when he looked upward at his charge.  Eyes closed, Donny's face still bore the stupid grin Yoke had frozen it in.  Standing partway up, Yoke held the lad's face and instructed, "Lose that smile. Let your face relax."  Donny's face went back to a flat, relaxed expression, mouth partly open, looking to be peacefully asleep.

Yoke returned to his work, sucking Donny's cock, relishing every beautiful inch of it.  He glanced up again as his lips and tongue ran over the stiff member, and found he needed something more to increase his own pleasure of the experience.  Not taking the cock from his eager mouth, Yoke spoke around the shaft. "Lift your head."  Donny did, raising his chin easily.  "Open your eyes and stare foreword, seeing nothing, aware of nothing."  Donny looked straight ahead, his eyes baring the glaze of a zombie.  Yoke looked up at the entranced donkey-in-training and found that the sight of him standing there helplessly staring into space was all he needed to complete his rush of control. Yoke freed his cock from the ever-tightening pants that confined it and began to stroke himself as he sucked.

Occasional glances upward at the blank-staring lad increased Yoke's arousal. With growing excitement, he pulled harder at his own cock. faster and faster he stroked himself, more and more hungrily he sucked and slurped at Donny's cock.  When Yoke knew he could no longer hold himself in, he spoke around the boy's massive member once again.  "Orgasm."  Donny, still standing stiff and glass-eyed, shot a tremendous load into Yoke's mouth, firing at the precise moment that Yoke fired himself, sending streams of thick cum all over his own hand and spattering the floor.  Yoke gulped down Donny's seed greedily and eventually fell backwards, landing hard on his ass, panting.  He looked up at Donny.  He never budged.  Standing, unmoving, eyes blank and lifeless, still hard and erect.  

Yoke let out a long low breath. Holding a hand outward, unnecessarily, as Donny could see nothing, Yoke waved his hand over Donny's stiff cock.  "Go limp."  Like air being let out of a balloon from a slow leak, Donny's penis grew limp and gently came to rest upon his legs.  

Yoke quickly cleaned up himself and the floor with some of the cleaning materials he kept handy throughout his work room.  He then knelt back down before Donny, as close to how he had been positioned before as he could remember.  "With no memory of anything that just happened", Yoke told him, "awaken." Donny opened his eyes, picking right up from where, in his mind, he'd left off.

"Do we know how long that while is going to be?"

Yoke looked up at him. "What?"

"If I'm not going anywhere for a while, how long do I have to stand here locked in these mold casts?  Saayyy...this stuff must set up quicker than whatever we used for my hands. It already feels like it's pretty solid."

"Uh, that can be deceiving", Yoke was quick to say. "Let me get you a chair.  You can sit it out."

"Hey, you okay?", Donny asked.

"Why do you ask?", Yoked said nervously.

"Your face is all flushed."

"Oh. Oh, yeah. That."  Yoke thought fast.  "Must be from me being so much closer to the fumes than you are."

"Well, be careful", Donny urged him.  "If you pass out, I'm not going to be of much help to you buck naked with these big-ass blocks on my feet."  

Yoke grinned. "No, I suppose not."  He fetched a chair and helped Donny take a seat, his mold-encased feet still flat on the floor.  "You comfortable?"

Donny shrugged. "As comfortable as can be, I guess."

"Good", Yoke said.  "Sleep."  Snap.

Yoke had lost a good deal of time indulging himself in Donny's hypnotized blow job.  He felt it was worth it, despite the rushed pace he now had to keep. As he gathered up the final latex material of the day, he ran his tongue around his mouth and swallowed a few times. He could still feel and taste Donny inside him.  He relished the sensations as he knelt attentively over his charge and coated his limp member with latex formula.  After the initial coat had thoroughly covered the boy's soft penis in latex, Yoke said softly, "Erection, Donny."  Slowly and surely, Donny's cock grew stiff and long.  "That's right", Yoke said, encouraging him, "good and hard, tha-aat's right."

Carefully, Yoke worked the special type of latex he'd created. It would stretch and follow the changing shape of the male organ without tearing, losing its integrity, or pulling painfully on the skin of its wearer.  Yoke waited as the latex sleeve set and solidified, then slowly peeled it from Donny's cock.  Once, when the latex was rolled only halfway off his still-hard cock, Donny flinched, causing Yoke to freeze in place.  One second passed with no other movement from Donny. Two seconds.  By the fifth second, Yoke was able to exhale and remove the sheath the rest of the way, tiptoeing across the room to secure the sample in a hidden storage cupboard, which he locked once the latex mold was inside.

Kneeling back down in front of Donny, Yoke spoke softly but with great authority. "Donny, you do not know how long you have been sitting here, only that it has been a while now and you are becoming rather bored.  You have lost track of time, but you feel it has been well over half an hour now."  Yoke looked at his watch. It had, in fact, been close to three quarters of an hour since Donny stepped his large feet into the latex mold casings.  "You feel it may even have been forty-five minutes", Yoke amended.  Once I step behind you, I will tell you to awaken and all you remember is sitting here patiently waiting.  Yoke stepped behind him.  "Awaken."

Donny let out a long sigh.  "Dude, is it soup yet? It feels like I've been sitting here forever."

Yoke sauntered around Donny as if he had been on the other side of the room all along. "Now, now, these are for the hooves that will be on your feet and as such will experience the most wear and tear.  It won't do to have them less than sturdy, now will it?"  Yoke squatted down and opened the mold casings.  "Aah. Perfect. Your patience has been rewarded, young padawan."

Yoke helped pull Donny's feet free of the now very well set latex molds of his feet.  Donny stared at the size of the loose and flimsy latex settings.  "Geez, are my feet really that big??"

"When these are put to use", Yoke explained, "you'll be able to step into a pair of hooves that look for all the world like an actual donkey's and will feel just as comfortable to you as your coverall rubber boots."

Donny smiled at that. Then, "Speaking of which, shouldn't I get back into my coveralls now?  Unless you want to make a mold of my bare ass or something."

Yoke had to chew his lips to keep from commenting on that. Instead, he said, "Just hang on, there's one more thing I need to do with you."

"I'm starting to get a little chilled, though."

"No, you're fine as you are." Snap.

"No, I'm good like this. Go ahead, do what you gotta do."

Yoke returned shortly with a set of donkey ears that he had attached to one set of the molds from Donny's own ears earlier in the day. They were rather raw-looking, not much color to them, and bit more "rubbery" looking than the final versions would, but the idea of attaching the donkey ears to the naked and adorable Donny was too much for Yoke to resist.  He knelt down in front of the Donny, who had taken his seat again.  "Now, if all my calculations are correct", Yoke explained, "you shouldn't even feel the glue as it holds the ears to yours, and it should set quite naturally and comfortably over your actual ears."

"Go for it", Donny smiled.

Yoke fastened the large floppy donkey ears to either side of Donny's head, and as the mold were meant to do, they found their holds upon Donny's own head, fitting perfectly and causing no undue pressure or weight for him.

"Yoke, these feel fantastic! It's like they're extensions of my own ears—I barely know they're there! And I can't even detect the glue at all. It's amazing!"

"That' what we're going for", Yoke said, a knowing grin at play on his lips. What Yoke did not say was that the reason Donny could not detect any glue was because there wasn't any. The ooze that the lad had absorbed into his skin was responding perfectly to the latex, and formed a natural adhesive bond so that any appliance mixed with Yoke's special formula would adhere to Donny's flesh with very little prompting and be very difficult to remove.  Impossible to remove if properly cured and sealed with surgical glue.  But that would come later.

"Move your head a bit, see how they feel", Yoke instructed.

Donny shook his head back and forth, making his unfinished donkey ears flop this way and that, finally to rest in an upright position rising high against and above his head.  Donny could feel the ears and had to let out a quick bray.  "Hee-HAW!", he laughed.  "This is awesome, Yoke, they feel so natural. How odd is it to say that about costume donkey ears??"

"No odder than this", Yoke said, fingering the music remote and bringing Mule Train back on, the speakers now turned up loudly.  Donny leapt to his bare feet and, bare naked except for his donkey ears, galloped and danced around the room.  Yoke let him do so, smiling happily and feeling sheer euphoria, for about fifteen minutes.  It had been a very good, very productive day.

That evening at dinner, Donny was practically bouncing around the kitchen and dining room as he helped prepare the meal and set the table.  His excitement and energy was partially from having his internal battery supercharged by so much hypnosis, and partially because the more he moved, the more his donkey ears bobbed and weaved.  It was fun.  Yoke was exhausted, but it was a good kind of exhausted.  The kind of exhausted that comes after a long day of hard work, and seeing another step in a detailed plan completed.  And the look of happiness on Donny's face made Yoke forget for a while his recurring concerns about whether or not he'd end up burning forever in one of the lower levels of hell, or wherever it was they sent animal transformation latex fetishist mind control perverts inspired by live theater and cute boys of barely legal age.

Donny had stepped back into his rubber coveralls, due to Yoke's insistence rather than any request on his own part.  Yoke had noted that while he loved seeing Donny wander around naked, the boy was starting to shiver due to having been unclothed for so long a period, whether or not he was aware of it.  But Donny was happy to get back into his coveralls, and reminded as he was how comfortable they were, he swore he would never take them off again unless absolutely necessary. Yoke knew that tomorrow he would find it necessary. he was almost to the final stage of his first full donkey suit, after all.

Donny sat down to dinner with Yoke and the mentor and schemer could not take his eyes off the smiling boy in the rubber jumpsuit with the floppy donkey ears. "Carrots?", Yoke offered, extending a plate to the lad.

"Sure, I love carr—"

"Sleep."  Snap.

Donny's head flopped forward, his arm hovering in midair, halfway to the plate of steamed carrots Yoke had presented to him.  His donkey ears bobbed a bit as his head nodded slightly and his eyelids fluttered.  Yoke got up and went to the refrigerator, taking a raw carrot from the crisper.  Returning to his seat, he told Donny, "You are a donkey now, Donny.  When you next open your eyes, you will get down on all fours, come around the table to me and allow me to feed you, like a good little donkey. Open your eyes."

Donny opened his eyes and without hesitation, dropped down from his chair and crawled (although he felt sure he was walking) to Yoke's side.  Yoke fed the donkey-eared boy the raw carrot, which he crunched gratefully, a look of happiness in his eyes.  One item after another, Yoke fed to the enthralled lad, who had no idea of the humiliation he was undergoing.  He munched on rolls, bits of roast, and vegetables, hands on the floor, occasionally breathing heavily like a real donkey might as he ate.  He never looked uncomfortable in the slightest.  Yoke literally had him eating out of his hand.  Except for the messier dishes like the salad or potatoes and gravy, which Yoke put in a dish for Donny to eat off the floor.  He did so gladly.  

Yoke enjoyed feeding Donny by hand, or holding the food out in his palm and having the boy eat from him as if he were an animal at a petting zoo.  In between courses, while Yoke enjoyed his own portions and Donny was made to wait, Yoke scratched his head and played with his ears.  Donny closed his eyes and sighed each time.  At one point, Yoke leaned down and whispered a command to him.  The donkey he was at the moment did not understand it, but Yoke knew that later that evening when the time came his human side would.

At the end of the meal, Yoke instructed Donny return to his seat as a person, with eyes opening to recall only that the dinner was delicious and that he was stuffed.  "Man, I didn't realize how I scarfed everything down", Donny commented, wiping more food from his chin than he was used to.  "I got it all over me. I ate like a little kid or something."

"Or like a farm animal", Yoke smiled.

Donny looked at him askance and then smiled back. "Oh, right. Hee-haw."

Soon the table was cleared and all was set for a quiet evening. Would that Donny could stop bounding around.  "Time to hit the hay, I think", Yoke suggested.

"You kidding me??", Donny said, incredulous. "I feel pumped! Like I slept twelve hours or something. I am so charged—I am rarin' to go! Let's go out and do something, or go back downstairs and build something else! I'm serious, we should!"

Yoke flopped into a chair and wheezed, "I'm tired."

"Well, I'm not!"

"You're tired", Yoke said. Snap.

Donny stopped short.  "You know, now that you mention it, I am a little tired."

"You're very tired."  Snap.

Donny yawned.  "What the hell, man? I was ricocheting off the walls a second ago. Where'd all my energy go?  I'm bushed all of a sudden."

"Maybe you should get some sleep", Yoke suggested. "Big day tomorrow."

"I can stay up with you", Donny answered.  "We can watch TV or a DVD or something, just stay in and chill."

Snap.

"Maybe I should get some sleep", Donny decided.  He then wandered off toward his room.

"You sleep in the—", Yoke began, but Donny cut him off. "I sleep in the nude", he said, not even realizing that he had answered.  He left his rubber coveralls in a heap on the floor of the hallway and went to bed, overcome by his suggested exhaustion.

Yoke waited perhaps a quarter of an hour, during which time he made himself a cup of tea. He then settled into his chair and called up his monitor playbacks. 

SECURITY TAPE FOOTAGE.  INTERIOR ROOMS.  LAB.  PLAYBACK. >>

For the better part of an hour, Yoke skimmed through the day's footage, stopping to watch at regular speed (sometimes slow speed) Donny as he danced around the room to the sound of mule train. Sometimes in his coveralls, sometime sin nothing but his rubber donkey ears.  Even as tired as he was, Yoke found himself getting stiff from the sight.

After a little while, Yoke switched his playback recording.  GUEST ROOM. CURRENT VIEW [LIVE].  >>

There, in the soft green glow of the camera's night vision, Donny slept soundly atop his covers, wearing nothing more than the donkey ears that were still affixed to his head.  Yoke adjusted his remote and flipped open a hidden panel in its back.  There was a small microphone there.  Yoke spoke into it, saying only "Donny. Tug."

On the screen before him, Donny began to move a bit and groan softly, indicating he had heard Yoke's voice through the tiny speaker in his room's hidden camera.  And as he had been instructed while eating from beside the table as an imagined donkey, Donny began to masturbate.  Slowly tugging his dick, pulling and stroking, his free hand soon going down beneath his member to play with his balls.

Yoke watched his boy spend the better part of the next hour slowly getting himself off.  The moaning and gasping, the heavy breathing was intoxicating to Yoke.  He never let Donny cum.  Yoke himself came twice.  After about 53 minutes, he said into his microphone, "Sleep." and allowed Donny to let himself go and drift off.  Yoke spent the next forty-six minutes just watching him sleep.

*   *   *

Yoke was busy at his work bench the following morning well before sunrise.  As he admired the craftsmanship of what he held in his hands, he was so caught up in what he was doing that the words spoken beside him made him start.

"Now those look pretty damn impressive."

Upon seeing that he had startled his mentor, Donny smiled apologetically.  "Sorry, man.  I guess you didn't hear me come in."  Looking down at the boots attached to his rubber coveralls, he grinned, "Soft soles."

The truth was that Yoke had indeed gotten absorbed in what he was doing.  But he was equally surprised to see Donny up bright and early and already at his side.  Unless...  "What time is it?", Yoke asked.

Donny glanced at the clock.  "Going on 7:30."

Yoke blinked, reaching for a nearby cup of coffee that was already stone cold.  "It's later than I thought."

"You can be forgiven for losing track of time", Donny consoled him, considering the amazing awesomeness you've been making."  Donny reached for the items upon the bench before him, stopping just before making contact.  "Is it okay if I--?"

Yoke nodded.  "They've set.  Go ahead.  You're the one I made 'em for."

Donny picked up the most remarkable rubber boots he'd ever seen.  Donny stuck his hand down inside the shaft and felt the cool, soft rubber of the insoles.  He could tell with just a cursory feel that they were a perfect match to his feet, which only made sense given the time he had spent in the foot molds the day before, feeling like a mafia victim about to chucked off a bridge into the briny.  That being behind him now, all Donny wanted was to put these boots on.  And not just because he knew they'd feel fantastic on his feet.  On the inside, these boots would no doubt feel like the best footwear he'd ever worn.  But on the outside, they looked nothing like boots at all.  From the outside, these boots looked like donkey hooves.

"Yoke, these are fucking amazing!"

"You'd better put them on, then", Yoke smiled.  

Without another thought, Donny shucked off his coveralls to free himself not so much of it as its attached boots. It was more than clear that now Donny felt no compunctions about standing nearly naked before his mentor.  He slipped on the boots with surprising ease, considering how odd they looked on the outside.

"Whoa, these slip right on with no trouble", Donny observed.  "And look at my feet, man!  They look just like real hooves now! How did you DO that??"

Yoke lifted a hand in caution as Donny began to step backwards in preparation for a perfunctory gallop around the room.  "Hey, be careful. It's tougher to walk in those things than it looks—"

"Whuullp!"  THUNK.  Donny tumbled sideways and was on his bare ass in a moment. 

"It's gonna take a little practice to get the feel of it", Yoke said.

Donny looked up, all smiles, brushing one of his floppy donkey ears from his face, and replied. "Y'know, just a hunch, but I think it's gonna take a little practice to get the feel of these hoofs."  Donny paused as he let go of one of his donkey ears and observed aloud, "I forgot I even had these things on.  I must have gone to sleep in them."

"You want to take 'em off?", Yoke asked.

"No, no", Donny answered without stopping to consider it.  "They're fine.  If I'm going to be wearing them for long stretches of time, we may as well start now. Besides, I think it's a good thing I'm so comfortable in them."  Donny took the outstretched hand that Yoke offered him and got back up to his feet.  Or rather, his new hooves.  He took a couple steps in place, still enjoying the look of having the feet of a donkey at the ends of his human legs.  Then he smiled even wider at his mentor.  "Let's try that again, shall we?"

Under Yoke's tutelage, Donny was slowly able to make his way around on the hoofed boots, his toes closer to the ground, his heels raised on hidden supports to help create the illusion they desired.  In short order, Donkey was trotting and ready to gallop.  Yoke urged him not to get ahead of himself.

"Wait until you try it with the gloves on", he told him.  

"Why should that make any difference?", Donny wondered.  Then, not letting Yoke explain it, he said quickly, "Why not have me try the hand-hooves on right now?  Can we? Are they ready??"

Knowing the overeager young donkey boy would not be denied, Yoke brought over the completed gloves that were designed to surround Donny's human hands and carefully fit them over the young man's fists.  Once secured inside, Yoke fastened the gloves closed so they would not slip off, and more importantly, could not be taken off without assistance.  Donny went back to trotting around the room in his hoofed boots, ears swaying and exposed dick swinging, as he clomped the hooves on his hands together to add to the clip-clopping sound of his footsteps.

"Why is this supposed to make it harder?", he scoffed.  "Near as I can tell, this just makes it more fun!"

Yoke waved him back over to the work bench. "We're not done yet.  Put your front hooves down here", he instructed.

Donny laughed inwardly at Yoke's easy reference to his gloves hands as his front hooves.  "Hee-haw", he nodded with a cheerful cockiness.  Once his hoof gloves were set upon the bench, Yoke quickly fastened something to the base of the gloves that could well have been horseshoes.  They shape was different, but the basic feel was the same.

"Now try it again", Yoke grinned.

"Okay, but I don't see what the big deal---WHOA!"  Donny felt his arms tug him forward abruptly after he took only a few steps.  His arms hung low and heavy and he tried to stand back up and found he could not.  "What's the deal??"

"Special weight attachments to help you not only get the feel for being down on all fours, but to balance you when you do", Yoke explained.  It sounded reasonable enough, despite it being a complete lie.  Yoke merely wanted to put Donny in a position that forced him to go down on all fours like an animal.

Donny attempted to stand again and found that the substance on his gloves, whatever it was, it could not have been more than an inch or two thick, was too heavy to allow it.  Slowly but surely, Donny's hands pulled him down toward the ground as if gravity had focused on his enclosed fists and increased its draw by more than 200%.  As Donny's wrists began to tremble as he could no longer resist, Yoke told him to stop fighting it.

"Just give in to it and see how it feels."

At first, Donny responded naturally, and as one would expect, pulled against the unusual and abnormal position of having his hands down on the floor.  But after moving about a bit, he bent his knees without further prompting or instruction and began to move about on all fours.  He took to it quite readily, and in short order was walking, then trotting, and before long was galloping around the room.  Yoke considered putting on the disc that played "Mule Train" just to see the effect it would have on his quadrupedic apprentice, but thought better of it.

"Man!  This is so amazing changing my perspective like this!", Donny declared.  "You've got to try this, Yoke—it's like a whole other world down here!"

"I'll take your word for it.  But let's get some grub for now. My tummy is rumblin'."

"Another few rounds of the studio first!", Donny insisted, galloping about and even pausing here and there to buck up and kick his arms in the air, making them look all the more like front legs.  Yoke was tickled by the sight of it and knew this was the prefect time to spring his next test on his young charge.

"Well, reign yourself in, donkey-boy", Yoke ordered, trying his best to sound casual. "I'll need a minute to get those hooves off you so you can eat at the table.  The front ones, at least."  With that pronouncement hanging in the air, Yoke fervently thought to himself.  Say no, say no, say no...

"Are you kidding??", Donny admonished his mentor.  "After all the time you put into making these things?  I'm leaving 'em on!  For as long as possible!"

Yoke tried to maintain a calm outward demeanor, although inwardly, he was turning cartwheels and grinning like an idiot.  "If you're sure..."

"Absolutely! Besides, they feel really comfortable. They were made for me, after all!  Let's eat!"  With that, Donny galloped up the stairs, his new hooves clomping loudly upon the steps.

"Well, as long as you say so", Yoke deadpanned.  "I don't want you to feel that I'm forcing you."

"Just cut everything into small pieces!  I'll eat it right off the plate!"

Breakfast proved to be the height of amusement.  For both parties.  In a fit of whimsy, Yoke decided on biscuits and gravy for their morning meal.  The preparation took a bit longer than bacon and eggs would have, but the sight of Donny, hooves on the table, ears flopping, mashing his face into his plate to come up with crust and goo all over himself made the extra effort more than worth it.

When Yoke cleared the table, rather than wipe Donny's messy face with a damp cloth, he set down a pan of water for the apprentice to stick his head into.  Donny went along with the joke, finding it hilarious.  It took a few dunkings for all the excess gravy to come off his face.  Yoke thought that while he laughed heartily over the situation this time, Donny might complain were he to be forced to do the same day after day.  Thankfully, Yoke was about to remove his boy's ability to do just that.

Yoke gave Donny a carrot to munch on as he prepped the workshop for the day's big endeavor. Donny found himself so preoccupied with the exercise of devouring his carrot without fingers that it was several moments before he took note of what Yoke was doing.  His mentor busied himself with a large bed that housed a concave base large enough for a person to lie in.  Yoke readied large spouts for pouring the latex, and produced sizeable vats that had been mixing the substance that would make Donny's body cast.  Or at least, that's what Donny had been told they were for.

"You're gonna want to finish off that carrot", Yoke warned him.

Donny was down to the last two inches of his snack, but paused at the suggestion, speaking around the orange vegetable. "Whuy?"

"Because the whiff of latex you're about to get is not conducive to your appetite."

"Yoh, I smell th' stuff be'foh", Donny mumbled.

"Not this much of it. Not all at once.  Chew faster."

Donny took him at his word and stuffed the last of the carrot into his mouth with his hooves, chewing rapidly.  Soon, he gulped down the mashed carrot with a massive swallow and held out his hooves to his sides.  "Ta-da."

"Brace yourself", Yoke said, and he opened the first of the three plastic vats.  There was no puff of smoke, no wafting clouds of sulfurous green spilling forth, but none were needed. The stench of the latex alone, there in its raw form, was overpowering all on its own.

"Aww, MAN!", Donny cried out.  

"Warned you."

Donny waved his front hooves in front of his face in attempt to clear the air.  "Starting to miss my fingers for the first time", he mused.

"C'mere", Yoke said, taking Donny to the side and beginning to remove his hoof gloves.

"Hey, don't take away my new hooves!"

"You'll get them back soon enough", Yoke assured him. "Lean forward, so I can take off your ears."  Donny shot him a hurt look, prompting Yoke to add quickly, "Just temporarily."  

Then Yoke manuevered his charge closer to the pouring bed as he told him, "Lean on me."  As Donny did so, Yoke carefully removed the young man's hoof shoes one at a time.  Yoke lingered a bit on each of the hind hooves, allowing Donny to get a good snootful of the aroma wafting out of the open plastic vat.

"Man, that stuff is actually making me a bit lightheaded", Donny commented.  Yoke could see that he was starting to sway a bit as he stood.

"That's okay, come on over here and take a seat", Yoke instructed.  Donny never noticed the impressive nose plugs that Yoke had inserted deep in his nostrils while the lad had busied himself with his carrot.  The thick stench that was making Donny a bit dizzy would not have any effect on his mentor.

Yoke sat Donny down in a nearby chair that the young man had not recalled seeing before.  It was cushioned with rubber on the seat and back, so that when Donny's naked body sat down, he sank slightly into it.  The combination of the strange, squishy chair and the ubiquitous smell of the latex vat was causing him to lose focus and his midn to drift.

"Donny, I'm going to apply just a bit of hypnosis to help you through this."

Donny shook his head a bit, the nrealized that was the last tihng he should have done, as it made the entire room seem to shift and title suddenly.  Gathering his wits and his bearings, he said, "No, no...you don't need to hypnotize me. I've done this before, I don't...what was I saying?...I don't need it. The hypnotizing, I mean. Not the sitting for a mold thing. 'Cause we need that."

Yoke grinned at Donny's confusion.  "Just trust me on this. There is one thing I need you to do first."

"Names it. Name. I mean name. Name it. To me. I'll do it."

"Sleep."

Donny's head slumped forward and he felt his entire body tingle as every muscle relaxed.  Yoke began to repeat in a soothing voice how relaxed Donny would feel.  "Thaa-at's it Feeling very relaxed, feeling veyr good, so happy, so peaceful.  That's the way."

Dimly, Donny registered what Yoke was saying, but could not discern each of the words nor their meaning.  He had no idea why his legs seemed to be moving, to be dangling limply as Yoke stood him up and walked him over to the pouring bed.  He felt himself drifting and floating on air as Yoke's strong hands held him at the chest and shoulders, gently passing the naked lad's face over the open vats, all three of them now with their lids removed.

Yoke continued to speak in a reassuring manner to Donny. "Allow yourself to sink down, feeling so good, so happy, so very much at peace. Let whatever happens happen, be happy and be content."  Donny almost found the repetition boring, lost as he was now in the fog of happiness brought on by the combination of the hypnosis and the heady aroma of the latex vats.  Once again, Donny felt himself floating through the air.  He liked this feeling, and hoped it would last forever.  There was something soft and warm, yet firm beneath him, evenly bracing and supporting him across his nach and behind his legs just below his ass. That was nice too, Donny thought. It must have been part of what allowed him to float like that.  If only Yoke would stop his incessant droning and just let him enjoy it.

Yoke lifted Donny up and carried him over to the pouring bed.  Limp as a rag, eyelids fluttering, and breathing deeply, Donny weighed almost as little as a feather as his mentor gently placed his naked body into the bed.  The bed looked much like an oversized paint tray one would use to coat a roller before painting a wall.  But in this case, the sides were much taller and the material infinitely sturdier. The concave interior, which at first appeared to be nothing more than molded plastic, accepted Donny's body easily and cushioned around him as a soft recess.

Donny felt his flight come to an end as he rested on what must surely have been a cloud of some kind, although it compressed beneath him like softened taffy.  He was about to complain that he wanted his floating journey to continue, but the sensation of the soft surface beneath him was so wonderful he dismissed his protest as soon as he began it.

Yoke noted that Donny had begun to mutter as Yoke reached underneath the table for a mechanism to adjust the pouring bed. "Don' wanna..stop float...n'air...", the lad mumbled, causing Yoke to rest a hand gently upon his forehead and assure him that all was well, with comforting words like, "Easy does it" and "Resting now, feeling oh so good, Donny." Whether Donny understood what had been said to him or not, he next muttered something like "s'okay...like't here..." and the fluttering of his eyelids slowed again to a steady, calmer rhythm.

Beneath the table holding the bed, Yoke hurried himself lowering Donny down farther into his supportive recess.  The cushions beneath him descended and took on the shape of a living room recliner, both adding to Donny's comfort and keeping him secure within his enclosure.  When Yoke stood up, donning tight gloves and securing a mask over his mouth (for even with the nasal plugs, he was starting to feel the anesthetic effects of the raw liquid latex).  "I am going to begin applying the rubber to your body to make the cast", Yoke announced kindly. "You remember that this is what you want, and you will find the experience more enjoyable than you could ever have imagined."

Donny's mouth curved into a dopey grin and his lips spat a little when he dribbled out, "...go f'r itt..."

Yoke set to work.

Within the mists of deep comfort, Donny realized he had never felt better.  Oh, it was a slow process, to be sure, with his awareness sinking steadily into the sensation that his body was so relaxed, his mind so totally at ease. But as it registered for him, there was no doubt in Donny's mind that he had never felt so wonderful in his entire life.  Even a momentary flirtation with pot back in school had never left him so completely and utterly at peace.  So much so that he didn't even mind the latex goo being spread on him.

Yoke's voice, that had been droning so irritatingly only a moment ago, now seemed to come soft and indistinct from some great distance, to hum gently and soothingly in Donny's ears.  Some part of Donny's mind thought it odd that the voice should seem so far away, as he could tell from the constant contact on his body that his friend was quite close. The contradiction was a little annoying, so Donny dismissed it immediately, to better enjoy himself and revel in these wonderful sensations.

Donny felt the rubber paste being spread thickly into his hair.  The feeling was stiff and unwelcome, causing Donny to grimace slightly.  Then from that faraway source, Yoke's voice told him something.

"It's okay, Donny.  It feels alright, it feels nice, it feels good, so good and relaxing..."

As it turned out, his friend was right. The disgusting, slimy and sticky substance that Donny felt was so vile now seemed nice and comforting. As his mentor's gloved fingers worked the goop into Donny's hair and well into his scalp, Donny's head spun gently, in the way a delightful amusement park ride might disorient him only to the extent of leaving him happy and energized.

Yoke shifted his words from hypnotic inductions to a straightforward question. "How you doing in there, Don?"

"Hmmmm..."  Donny was only able to emit a low hum of pleasure, the stupid grin spreading wider across his face.  Yoke took this as a sign of acquiescence and continued his work, his hand movements perhaps a bit energized as he again recited his mantra.

The words were now totally lost to Donny.  At least to his conscious mind, anyway.  Dimly he became aware of a sensation of growing arousal in his nether region. Donny began to grow increasingly aware of the fact that his mentor's gloved hands, thick and dripping with goo, were very thoroughly running over his apprentice's dick and balls.  The feeling was soothing and pleasurable, but unnerving nonetheless, as the lad felt exposed for the first time. He had been naked before Yoke so many times by now that he'd lost count along with his inhibitions, but this level of intimate contact was unusual to say the least. What was he doing down there?  And why??  Donny tried to give voice to this new discomfort and alarm.

"Wai...wait...whuh...what're you doin'...", he tried to say, the words coming thick in his mouth and coming out as little more than heavy breaths and hisses between his lips.

Before Donny could increase his efforts, he felt a large, gooey slathering of that strange, odorous rubber ooze being spread generously over his chest.  As waves of soothing warmth rippled across Donny's flesh and penetrated deep beneath his skin, that tiny voice of protest in the back of his mind was silenced. 

"Oohhhhh yeeaahhhhh....", Donny moaned softly, his head lolling to one side.

Gentle fingers wrapped tightly in rubber gloves massaged the thick rubbery goop, its sharp chemical smell filling the air and Donny's nostrils, making his already addled senses drift higher, lost and loose.

And somewhere very far away, his friend Yoke's voice kept talking, kept speaking, kept addressing someone or something.  It sounded important, but Donny no longer understood any of it. He'd have to make a mental note to ask his mentor to repeat it to him later.

The firm but gentle hands thick with their smelly, sticky goo rubbed and pressed their way down Donny's legs, underneath them, all around his thighs, across the soles of his feet, leaving behind a warm tingle that grew into an enticing burn.  As Donny felt the hands and the glop they carried move closer to his crotch, he grew hard, his member standing erect and pointing powerfully upward.  That was a good thing, as the rubbered fingers spent quite some time grasping, jerking, pumping, and kneading Donny's cock. This was different than a moment ago. It was if the initial contact with his privates was a superficial coating and now a more permanent one was being added.  Donny not only no longer minded the intimate contact, but thought it was a miracle that he did not ejaculate several times then and there.

As the thick spread of rubber goo went over Donny's shoulders, around his back, down his arms, and over his hands and fingers, Donny remained hard, despite the fact that he was delirious with joy from the strange massage, his eyelids fluttering and his fog-enshrouded mind dragging him towards sleep.

Donny's head sank back into the recliner-like bed, which seemed to liquefy and become part of him, and he part of it. He dimly felt the leg rest being raised, bringing his legs and feet up with it, his torso stretching out as the cushioned support extended almost flat.  By now Donny could not even hear the steady hypnotic phrasings, was entirely unaware that those soft utterings were seeping deeply into his mind and taking root there like a petrified thorn bush.

As Donny lay there in the soft chair, his body relaxed and hot and sticky, all he could bring himself to notice was the now-heady stench of the stuff that was smeared all over his naked body. Donny imagined the thick scent wafting upward before his eyes in smoky white streams, taking on a visible shape as in an animated cartoon or old cough drop commercial.  The smoky lines grew in number and thickness before his eyes, crisscrossing here and there, hindering his vision as they wove a web that enveloped his head and blocked his awareness of anything beyond them.

Once so enshrouded in the disorienting mists, Donny finally surrendered completely and let his eyes close fully. They seemed almost to seal shut, as if glued in place never to open again.  It didn't matter at all to Donny. He was only conscious of how good his body felt, how deliciously delirious his mind was. The warm latex ooze coating his body was so enticing that Donny paid no mind whatever as various components were stretched over parts of his body and attached there.

It meant nothing at all to Donny that snug leggings were fit tightly over his calves and thighs.  Their compression there only squished the welcome glop more forcefully against him. That was fine by him.  The contact made some portions of the goo that were beginning to cool heat up again. It felt fantastic.  As other pieces were secured around his arms and over his shoulders, Donny only felt himself grin contentedly.  More pressure, more squeezing, more warmth and euphoria. Bring it on.  By the time that the larger pieces were fit firmly around Donny's torso, over his crotch, behind his rear, even the awareness of the warmth this created in the rubbery glop had diminished to the tiniest fraction. Donny was fading fast. And Donny didn't care.

Donny's fists were curled easily and without resistance into their hard housings at the end of his perfectly fit sleeves. His toes did not wriggle as they were encased in a matching and equally unyielding housing around his feet.  In fact, they would never wriggle again, most likely.  Amid the mists of his shrouded mind, Donny felt a smile spread across his face as he realized his buddy and pal mentor Yoke was returning his new and beloved hoofed gloves and boots to him, as he had assured him.  Donny's lips fluttered a bit, but his intended words, "Jus' like yu p'romiss'd..." never made it out.

The last thing Donny would recall of this experience was the faint sensation of something sleek and smooth on the inside, yet soft and light on the outside, being stretched tightly around his head.  Something stung and then tingled at the tops of his ears as he faded away at last, a newfound weight, however slight, bobbing above his head, oddly familiar, distributed evenly on either side.

Sleeping very deeply now, Donny began to sigh happily as his breath slowed, in and out.  "Huunnnh...Huooooh."   "Huueeenn...Huuooaaah."   "Heeeeh...Haaaawww..."

*   *    *

Donny awoke easing back into consciousness just as easily as he had slipped out of it some hours before.  He felt rested, relaxed, and very much at peace.  He felt wonderful.  Donny blinked his eyes and looked around to get his bearings.  He saw that he was no longer in the soft recliner where he had fallen asleep.  He was now in the guest bedroom in which he had been staying and served as his temporary home.  

Donny blinked his eyes, finding them unusually gummy and gritty.  It was more common for Donny to awaken sharp-eyed and alert rather than he was now.  He was still a bit groggy, his head a trifle unclear. Still, for all that he felt wonderful, as if basking in the afterglow of some grand adventure or romantic encounter. 

Donny realized slowly that rather than sleeping in the bed, he was actually sleeping on top of it.  There were no covers or blankets over him. The bed was still neatly made—or as neatly as it could be after someone had slept on it—with him having lain without ever tucking himself in.  It struck Donny as odd, in that he still felt comfortably warm. He usually tended to either turn up the thermostat or use an extra comforter in bed as he often felt cold when sleeping, especially of late as he'd been sleeping in the nude. Yet, even his ears felt warm.

Donny's head began to clear and he shrugged his shoulders. They too felt warm and cozy, almost as if a blanket were draped over them. Odd. As the soft focus of his vision drifted easily toward clarity, Donny felt something long and stiff directly beneath him. As he tried to shift himself, he found that the object, whatever it was, ran under his behind and down underneath one of his legs.  He would have thought it was a turned-down seam of one of the blankets, had the bed ever been unmade.

Anxious to collect himself now so that he could investigate, Donny reached up to rub his eyes. THWUNK! Two hard objects smacked Donny right in the face.

"Ow! What the hell?!"

Donny's vision was not clearing very easily now.  As he tried to sit up in bed (damn that tube thing underneath him anyway!) he opened his eyes wider and saw only stars.  Donny tried to reach up again to caress the bridge of his nose and realized at that moment that he could not unfurl his fingers, which he now found were held into fists.

The sparkling stars dancing before his eyes started to disperse, but still not enough to see clearly. Donny fought to open his hands, to fan out his fingers, but they felt as if they were being restrained by some hard shell or casing.  One by one, the dancing stars disappeared and Donny looked down through the dazzling field to see his hands.  Only there were no hands.  As the stars vanished and the throb in Donny's brow shifted to a dull ache, Donny saw what was being held before him, there at the end of his own wrists.

They were hooves.

Donny sat bolt upright, looking at two shining black, rock-solid animal hooves where his hands should be.  His eyes were now open wide and in sharp focus. These were not the fun little hoof-like gloves he had worn earlier.  These looked like honest-to-God animal's hooves, there on the end of his arms.

"Fuck me!!", he exclaimed.

Donny twisted his body to jump out of bed and found his feet felt heavier than they should be. Had he gone to sleep with his shoes on?  Even if he had, Donny had been strictly attiring himself in the rubber coveralls with their attached soft rubber boots.  Those cushioned soles were light an airy, and this felt as if he had steel-toed work boots on, something he'd never worn or even owned.

CLUNK! Donny's feet hit the floor and he pulled himself out of bed. He could see his hands clearly now. Yes, they were indeed locked inside something quite solid that looked for all the world like animal hooves.  Again, these were not like the fun boot appliances he's worn before.  These were unmistakably real, like a cow's, or a horse's.  There was nothing about these hooves that said "costume" or "prop" to him. How the hell had he come to this state?

Donny spotted a mirror on the wall across the room and made his way over to it as best he could, what with his heavy feet thunking and scraping along the floor.  This was so different, so unlike what he had been wearing when he galloped all over the work studio in faux hoof gloves and boots. His movements were now awkward an drestricted.  The appendages he wore now felt so much more...real.

Upon reaching the mirror, Donny looked at his reflection. All around his face like a snug hood was a soft coating of what looked like gray fur, which ran down his neck and over his shoulders. Looking down at his hands again (his hooves—real hooves!), Donny could see that the gray fur went clear down his arms as well, all in one smooth, fuzzy piece. Upon closer inspection, Donny was able to see, as the strange new pelt caught the light, that although it seemed to have the nape and flow of fur, it was actually made entirely of rubber.  A very impressive and formidable rubber of a kind he had never seen before, despite the hours spent going over samples with Yoke.  This was something special.  Very special.  Beyond special.

Rising atop his head, apparently growing from where his now-concealed ears should be, were a tall pair of ass's ears. Again, if the fun donkey ears he'd worn and slept in previously had been a 5 or a 6 on a one-to-ten scale, these new ears he wore now rated at least a 14 in terms of realism.  Looking very closely, Donny could see the detailing on these appliances was amazing.  He could actually make out, very slightly, actual veins in the rubber "fur" of the ears.  Squinting to study them better, Donny watched and saw that when he strained, he could even see the veins pulse ever-so-slightly.  Incredible!  How had Yoke managed that?  Was there a concealed miniature pump somewhere inside this suit to create that effect?  If so, where was it hidden?  After another moment's silent study, Donny became aware of his own heartbeat and realized the veins in the donkey eras were keeping prefect time with his own pulse. Donny jerked back in horror, and the ears, looking very real, twitched in response.

As he stumbled backward, realization dawning, he felt that wretched seam (or whatever it was) still behind him.  Donny spun around to swat it away. Perhaps one of the blankets, a comforter, had gotten caught between his legs as he got up form the bed.  He knew the idea was unlikely, but he clung to it for fear of what he suspected it truly was.  His fears could not be dismissed or ignored for long, as Donny turned sideways and beheld his reflection in the mirror.  There, growing—or at least certainly appearing to be growing—from his spine and protruding just above his ass crack was a tail.  A long, rubber, seemingly furry donkeys' tail.  Donny's heart beat faster and he tried to tell himself it was just part of the costume.  It was just a prop, an appliance.  It was attached to the rubber suit, that's all.  The highly sophisticated, seamless, confounding, animal hoofed, complete-with-its own veins rubber suit.  For a long while, Donny just stood there, staring at the tail reflected in the glass of the mirror.  

As he stood, he glanced down at the hooves on his feet.  (Over his feet? A part of his feet??)  These were so much more advanced than the hoof boots he wore earlier. It was difficult to tell exactly how his feet even fit into them?  He must be tipped upward, balancing entirely on the balls of his feet...perhaps even the toes.  So why didn't he feel any of the normal strain that came with wearing that kind of costume footwear?  Why did it feel almost...normal?  Well, if not natural, then at least not uncomfortable.

One thing at time.  Donny looked again to his new tail and knew he could only put this experiment off for so long.  He looked again at the tail, reflected in the mirror.  It's a costume, that's all it is, he reassured himself.  It's a very good, incredibly lifelike costume, but just a costume, for all that.  He swallowed hard and steeled himself.  Then, just as he might unconsciously instruct his arm or his leg, Donny scrutinized the tail and thought a single word.  "Move."

The tail swished.  Back, then forth.  

Mentally thrown for a loop, Donny fell forward onto his hands, or rather, onto his front legs.  Even as part of him panicked even more at being down on all fours, there was no denying another part of him, growing stronger by the minute, declared from within the recesses of his mind, Now this is more like it!

Donny fought to regain his proper, human, footing, but found it almost impossibly difficult. Now his tail was wagging and thrashing in keeping with his frustration, and there was no denying that he could feel the tail attached, not to the rubber of this costume, if that's what it was, but to his spine.

Donny's jaw fell open in shock and surprise to reveal an upper row of teeth too large for any person to display.  They were massive, a bit yellowish, and seriously bucked in the front. It was too much for Donny to take. He let out a cry of shock and anguish, which he intended to be something between a stream of profanity and a primal scream.

"Heeeee-HAAWWW!!!"

That was not at all what he had hoped for.  With that, it was apparent that Donny Keigh had become simply...donkey.

The door to the room opened and Yoke strode in carrying a small wooden tray of the kind used to serve breakfast in bed.  "Rise and shine, little donkey!  Have we had ourselves a good rest?"

Yoke stopped there in the doorway.  Donny was flailing about the room on his new equine appendages, feet kicking and tail thrashing.  He was crying out in what seemed to be blind panic, but was difficult to tell as it appeared he had lost all ability to speak normal English.  "HeeHAAWW! HeeeHAAW!  Heee-HAAWW!!"

Yoke felt the tray hang heavy in his hands.  "Oh, shit.  You woke up earlier than I expected."

Donny saw Yoke there and began to charge him, front hooves up and kicking violently, rearing up on his hind legs.  It was an odd thing to see, this handsome boy with the yellowing gigantic teeth, his beautiful face framed by ass's ears, his body that of a donkey, yet with a strength and build in his chest and arms (front legs, rather) that still spoke of the young man he had once been. This odd donkey-man clomping and kicking toward Yoke was indeed alarming, but almost comical for the threat of the heavy, thrashing hooves.

Yoke took a sudden step back but did not run or appear shaken.  "Down, boy!", he hollered.  Immediately, Donny pulled his attack short and dropped down to all fours.  He had no idea why he had done this, why he responded so instinctively.  But he knew it was beyond his abilities to launch himself up again, at least for the moment. He tried once, but it felt as if something strong and solid were resting atop his shoulders, keeping him down.  Like a yoke.  Donny stomped his front feet angrily several times, but then began to control himself.

"That's better", Yoke observed.  He entered the room and set the tray down on a nearby dresser.  "Really. You're behaving shamefully, Donny."

Donny felt mortified and humiliated.  He tried to speak, came up with nothing, so he reverted to braying, hoping he could somehow still get his message across.  "HEE-HAAWR!"

Yoke looked at him askance, then the man's expression changed as the light dawned on him.  "Oh, right, right. Of course.  I'm sorry, I forgot about that."  Yoke walked over to Donny in began to pet the back of his neck.  Donny instantly felt a small wave of calm wash over him.  As Yoke continued to pet him, the feeling of serenity increased.  As grateful as Donny was for the new sense of calm, he felt humiliated for how it was coming about. Yoke then reached underneath Donny's neck and stroked the front of his throat.  Gently at first, then firmly, Yoke rubbed and softly said something. Donny wasn't sure he caught it, but it sounded like "human voice".  Abruptly, Yoke stopped petting the donkey boy and walked around to face him.  Looking down at his charge, Yoke crossed his arms and said, "Okay, go ahead."  Donny looked at him blankly, then started to step toward Yoke.  The man held up one hand.  "No. Stay."  Donny stopped.  "I mean", Yoke clarified, "go ahead and talk to me."  Donny paused, uncertain if he could believe him.  He cleared his throat.  It sounded like his normal voice, as near as he could tell.

Donny looked up at Yoke from this odd position, in this bizarre altered body, and said, "What have you done to me??"  He had wanted it to sound like a righteous accusation, but in truth his voice cracked and his words sounded very sad and pathetic.

Yoke moved closer, his voice actually cheerful.  "For as long as I can remember, I've wanted this.  To take a beautiful, intelligent young man and make him something else. But I was never exactly sure just what."  Donny stared at him, bewildered.  "Then you came along and helped me tremendously.  A donkey!  I would take you, the wonderful Donny Keigh, and turn you into an actual donkey!  It was perfect.  I've been working on the schematics and appliances, the prosthetics and latex work almost as long as I've known you.  When did you join Greener Pastures?  What was it, how many shows ago now?"

"This is insane!", Donny cried.

"This is what you wanted!", Yoke countered.

"To PLAY a donkey", Donny declared.  "To pretend, to perform, to assume a role. In what I thought was one of the greatest special effects costumes in stage history!"

"But it IS!", Yoke assured him.  "It's like nothing else you've ever worn. And best of all, it's not just on you, it IS you. It's a part of you.  Isn't that amazing??"

"I just...I just wanted the costume...", Donny whimpered.

"And now you ARE the costume!", Yoke beamed.

"No, no, this is all wrong", Donny whispered, his head low to the ground.  "Please, just...just get it off me."

"You disappoint me", Yoke said.  His voice was flat and hard, like a parent scolding a child who had let him down.  "You were so excited about this.  You should have seen yourself marching around that workshop in your hooves.  How you practically strode around in those ears.  And now all of a sudden you want out?"

Donny lowered his head and said nothing.

"Well??", Yoke pressed.

Quietly, Donny repeated, "Just get it off me."

Yoke stood nearby the dresser where he had set the breakfast tray, slowly drumming his fingers along the top.  He shook his head.  "This wasn't how it was supposed to go...", he muttered to himself.  Donny scraped one of his front hooves against the floor.  Yoke turned and looked at him disapprovingly.  "You were supposed to like this", Yoke said through gritted teeth.  Donny shook his head.  No, he doesn't like it.  Yoke's brow furrowed.  With a harsh tone in his voice he said, "I can make you like it."

Yoke said something else, something that Donny did not catch, but a heavy fog moved upon his thought and enveloped his mind.  Like a burlap sack stuffed with clay, Donny's mind became thick and cumbersome.  The last thing of which Donny was aware was his lips spreading outward and his huge teeth being bared in a wide smile.

He had no knowledge of parading past his master to be stroked behind his huge ears, or of happily stuffing his face into the tray which was placed on the bed before him.  Donny, or the mindless donkey-man who had been Donny, munched, chomped, and slurped his breakfast, spattering bits and chunks here and there without concern, as Yoke stormed out of the room in a huff, slamming the door behind him.

*   *    *

Yoke watched as his new donkey boy strutted about the house.  He behaved perfectly.  His handsome face was framed by floppy ears, his otherwise beautiful smile littered with mule's teeth, and his body was that of a jackass, but he acted as if he could not have been happier nor could have felt more handsome.  He responded instantly to all of Yoke's commands, he skipped, hopped, jumped, and even galloped as ordered.  He brayed in response to spoken conversation (one-sided though it tended to be), and merrily ate raw carrots from his master's hand.  It was all quite perfect.

Yoke sat in his chair, chin slumped into his palm, feeling miserable and discontented. This wasn't what he wanted.  It had all the appearance of what he'd wanted, to be sure, but this wasn't it. Not really.  He wanted the boy who'd undergone the transformation to be his willing pet donkey, to be trained and instructed, kept and cared for.  But not this.  He never wanted his beautiful boy to be a brainless puppet so deep in trance that he never even knew what was going on.  For that he could have dedicated his time into studying animatronics and built himself a machine.  No, this would never do.

Yoke called for his frolicking donkey boy to stop.  Donny did so, posing and preening in the middle of the living room rug.  If Yoke was going to have his dream boy (or donkey), he would have to go about it the hard way.  He said something softly and snapped his fingers.

Donny blinked his eyes and looked around, befuddled.  "How the hell did I get out here?"  He looked out the window, so the angle of the sunlight was quite different form what it should have been.  He looked at Yoke.  "What's been going on?"

Yoke let out a heavy breath and then said, "Remember", and snapped his fingers again.

Donny's eyes widened as, in a flash, he had full recollection of everything that had happened that day.  What he had done, what he had been made to do.  "You fucking ASShole!!"

Yoke stuffed his hands in his pockets and rocked once on his heels.  Yeah, okay. He had that one coming.

Donny stomped his hooves, all four of them.  "I am not kidding, man! Get me the fuck OUT of this thing!!"  He stomped again, harder than before, causing a terrible cracking sound upon the floor and visibly damaging the carpet.  "I MEAN it!!!"

"Okay, okay", Yoke said, waving his hands.  "It's not going to do anybody any good to have you fall through to the basement."  Donny stopped for the moment, but the glare in his eyes indicated he'd be more than willing to begin again in a heartbeat. Or find another recipient for his stomping.  Yoke's head would make a fine target, he mused.  Before that thought could materialize, Yoke said something else Donny did not quite catch, but caused him to feel an odd twinge in his head, just beneath his brow.  Then Yoke spoke again.  Or at least, it seemed as if he spoke, as Donny saw his master's lips move, but heard nothing come out of them.  It was a bizarre thing to see, as Donny could still hear all the ambient noise of the room, the soft hum of the air conditioner, the birds beyond the window, just fine.  He had no time to ponder this, however, as he felt his entire body ripple and change.

Donny quickly lost the aspects of the jackass he'd been made into, and reassumed, for the most part, his own trim muscled body.  For the most part.  Donny stood there, naked, but his skin still had the soft gray look of a donkey's pelt, his hands and feet still had the appearance of hooves, and there was still a pair of ass's ears atop his head.  He straightened himself out, stood at his full height, and saw his reflection in the bay windows.  Donny shrugged his shoulders and felt something swish across his bare ass cheeks.  He twisted at the waist and looked at himself in glass again.  Yep.  Tail, too.

"Is this all I get?"  Donny held up the hooves where his hands used to be.

"For now", Yoke said.  His voice held no tone of threat or authority.  He was simply stating a fact.  "You're metamorphosis is still fresh.  A full reversal won't be possible for a while yet."

"Well, you'd better find a way to make it possible", Donny began, his ire rising.  But as he saw Yoke's expression, he fought to control his temper.  "How long a while?"

"That depends.  On how your body adjusts to the new appendages and how long it takes your skin to fully adapt to it's pseudo-latex flexibility.  Your mind is also processing it's neural connection to the various relays veined inside your—"

Donny slumped in a soft chair.  It was an odd sight, him sitting there, arms flopped limp at his sides, ending in hooves.  He blew an exasperated breath out of his lips, fluttering them in an equine fashion, making him appear all the more a donkey.  His long ears twitched in irritation.  His tail snapped once, angrily, between his legs before lying slack. Donny's penis hung long and limp on his leg, looking furry and gray, having the consistency of rubber.  He didn't even seem to notice it out and exposed.  Yoke knew he had perhaps a moment to persuade Donny, then he would be right back at having no other recourse but to keep him a mindless, if docile, puppet.

"Think about how you feel", Yoke said.

"How I feel?!", Donny repeated, incredulous.  "Besides the shock, sense of betrayal, horror, impending traumatic stress, you mean??"

"No, think about how you feel physically.  Right now."  Donny opened his mouth to speak, but Yoke held up both hands as if he were trying to suddenly stop an oncoming bus.  "Just feel it."  Donny started to speak again.  "Close your eyes if you have to."

Donny glared at Yoke, but then did as suggested.  He closed his eyes and sat there.  He was about to make another threatening remark, but paused to run his tongue over the front of his upper teeth.  They felt normal again, no longer giant yellowing jackass chompers.  That was something, anyway.

"Think about how you feel right now, Donny", Yoke urged.  "Notice how good your body feels."

"You'd better not be trying to hypnotize me or anything", Donny sneered from behind closed eyes.

Yoke chose to ignore that. "Feel your arms, your legs, how easy your breathing is.  Put aside your anger and surprise and just realize that you feel better than you've felt in your entire life."  Donny squirmed in his seat for a moment, thinking that this was another trick, that his mentor was trying to make him think that somehow he'd always wanted to be mutilated and trapped inside a rubber donkey costume, as if that had always been a life's goal.  But then he stopped.  Donny paused just for a moment and realized that yes, indeed, he did feel fantastic.  His limbs bristled with energy and his mood, once he dismissed the initial outrage, was high and light.  He did feel good. Very good.  Apart from the whole trapped in a rubber donkey suit that changes shape manipulation betrayal thing.

Slowly Donny opened his eyes and looked at Yoke.

"Well?", Yoke prompted.

Donny said nothing.

"You feel good, don't you?  Really, really good?"  Donny neither confirmed nor denied.  Yoke went on.  "That's only the beginning of it.  Just come with me down to the studio and I'll show you what I've done for you."

Donny sighed.  "You've got three minutes", he said.  "After that, all bets are off . You get me out of this thing or I start calling cops and lawyers."

Downstairs, Yoke busied himself at one of his work station consoles, running through screens and prompts for programs Donny did not recognize.  Yoke's hands worked with practiced skill (no surprises there) but his movements had a certain frenetic motion to them, indicating that he knew all too well he had only a short time to do whatever it was he was doing.  Donny paced impatiently, at times finding it unnervingly easy to move in his huge hoofed feet, at other times nearly losing his balance and falling onto his tail.  Literally.

"I'm waiting", Donny prompted urgently.

"Almost there", Yoke answered briskly, not turning around to face him.

"You are damn near at two minutes, Yoke.  Whether your little presentation is ready or not, when the second hands sweeps past the twelve like one more time, I will—"

"Done", Yoke interrupted.  "Look."  The screens came alive with images of Donny.  Stills taken during their work together, him in and out of the donkey costume, in stages, in pieces, Donny in just the ears, just the hooves, wearing various versions and interpretations.  The images flashed by rapidly, a slideshow on Dexedrine, showing the gleeful young man practically dancing about in jerky stop-motion fashion as he sat, stood, and galloped about on the screen, the worn costume bits making it look as if his body was morphing into, even accepting, the donkey appendages on its own.  Donny became aware of the near-blinding flicker flashing at him and reflecting off the walls.

"I wasn't kidding about not wanting you to hypnotize me again", he chided.  "That includes any of this video subliminal crap.  I've seen Derren Brown shows—"

"Wait for it", Yoke told him.

The rapidly flashing slideshow slowed markedly and there on the screen was an image of Donny, standing buck naked, in a computer rendering.  The image of the naked boy slid to the left side of the monitor and beside him was rendered a version of a real donkey, an jackass.  The animal, not the costume.  A series of mock lasers lanced from the outer edges of the screen on either side and danced over the dual images, slowly drawing them together.  As Donny and the donkey overlaid one onto the other, there was a final flash and there appeared a perfect 3-D rendering of Donny in full rubber donkey suit, standing on his hind legs.  He then held out his hands (front hooves) and dropped down onto all fours.  A red marquee blinked up the word:  COMPLETE.

Donny pursed his lips and breathed heavily out his nose.  He was not impressed.  All this did was tell him what he already knew he had gone through.  But as he opened his mouth to speak, the screen image changed and was replaced by a portrait of Donny.  A head and shoulders image, Donny appeared with a beautiful smile and dancing eyes upon the screen.  His hair was ruffled and unkempt, making him appear totally natural and fresh.  It was a very flattering image, devoid of makeup or editing.  Slowly, the face began to morph.  Donny's nose stretched into a snout, his eyes shrank and moved farther apart, his ears compressed to the sides of his head and sprouted upwards in ass's ears.  In less than thirty seconds, Donny became a donkey.  Just as smoothly and much more quickly, he morphed back again.  The red marquee returned with its same message.  COMPLETE.

Yoke stepped back from the console and sighed as if he'd just accomplished something special.  He looked to Donny.

Donny frowned.  "Thrilling.  Power Point.  I've seen better presentations at community college.  And your time is up."

"All well and good", Yoke said.  "But that wasn't what I wanted to show you."

Donny felt his shoulders sag a bit.  "It wasn't?"

"No", Yoke shook his head.  Then he gently rested two fingers on the keyboard's space bar.  He pressed lightly.  "This is."

Instantly, Donny felt a wave of the sheerest, most intense pleasure flood through his entire body.  His rubber skin rippled and flowed, but with a far greater intensity than he had experienced upstairs.  He watched with blinking eyes as his arms transformed into the front legs of  a donkey and back again.  He felt his ass expand and become mule-sized, his tail swishing wildly with delight.  His legs became hind legs, then changed backs.  He never lost the ears, the hooves, or the tail.  He also never lost his enormous erection, which sprang to life the moment Yoke had pressed that key.  Donny stumbled awkwardly to his knees and watched as his face stretched out in front of him to the point that he could see it and recognize he had just grown a donkey snout.  Slowly, it shrank back into his own handsome face, leaving him quivering on hands and knees (well, hooves, technically) and awash with wave upon wave of erotic pleasure.  As he breathed heavily, he found he could not stop the noise which escaped his lips from making the sound "Heee...haww, hee...hawww".

Yoke approached slowly, taking care not to get so close as to appear threatening or about to pounce on his young ward.  Donny trembled, feeling some measure of control returning to him, even as his erect penis slapped against his abdomen.  Both his engorged member and the floor was now slick with pools of precum.

Yoke spoke softly when he said, "Well?"

Donny gasped for breath.  "Whuh...whuht...what the hell...was THAT?!"

"A small sampling of your new transformative abilities.  As you change from one aspect of donkey-boy to another, you're going to experience pleasure.  Considerable pleasure.  Before, during, and after.  The more advance the change, the greater the joy.  You didn't think I'd just hijack your body—"

"And my life", Donny wheezed.

"Okay, and your life", Yoke admitted, "without giving you something considerable in return, did you?"

Donny tried to rise to his feet, but found his body was still shaking too much to allow it.  He slumped back down, breathing heavily, head spinning with intense pleasure that was slowly fading.  Very slowly.

"I'd like to show you more", Yoke went on, pretending to ignore how overwhelmed his boy was.  "You have a full range of changes, even abilities that come with it.  Buuuutt, it would take quite a little while to run through it all, and you did say we were out of time."

Donny sat back, deciding to rest on his knees.  Front hooves on his thighs, he gathered himself and looked his mentor in the eye.  "Okay", Donny finally managed to say, "slight amendment.  You've got three hours."

"Then let's get started", Yoke grinned."

*   *   *

What three hours they were.

Donny sat on a work table, legs and hooves dangling like a little kid's, when Yoke asked simply, "Ready?"

Donny nodded.  "Ready."

Yoke worked his technical magic and Donny was again awash with intense pleasure.  His rear and legs tingled with excitement and happiness.  Before he could stop himself reeling (it was difficult to grip the edges of the table without fingers), Donny found that his entire lower half was the lower half of a donkey.  He hopped from the table and was astonished by the feeling of strength and power he felt through that part of his body.

"Try it out", Yoke told him.

He did.  It was nothing like how it felt to be galloping about the lab in only the hoof-boots.  This was amazing.  His legs tensed with raw power and his hooves clomped against the floor with force so solid that Donny feared he'd crack it.  All the while, Donny felt his raging hard-on getting bigger and more apparent. 

"Okay, now try this", Yoke said, holding up a hand to stop Donny's fifth lap around the room.  With another ripple of ecstasy, Donny felt his lower half return to human proportions and shape.  Nearly, anyway.  His dick was still a massive donkey dick.  Yoke saw that it was still huge, still erect.  He pretended not to notice.  Donny wondered what he was supposed to be experiencing, apart from the change back and the continued feeling of arousal.  As he shot an inquiring look at Yoke, the special effects master cut him off by saying, "Say something."

It was then Donny felt the wonderful tingle along his neck and within his throat, but he noticed it too late to stop himself from speaking.  Or trying to.  All that came out of his mouth was the bray of a jackass.  "Hee-HAAWW!  Heee-HHAAAWWW!"  As he brayed, his body shook with pleasure, his hips thrusting, his erection slapping hard against his tight abs.  Precum oozed out of its head and spattered the floor.  When Donny collected himself, Yoke simply nodded toward him.  Go ahead.  Try it again.

Donny tried to speak again, this time more clearly, and all that came out was a stronger bray of a mule.  "HEEE-HAAHWWW!!"  Again his body shook and again he was wracked with a rising orgasm.  As Donny fumbled to maintain his balance, Yoke was quick to shift his form again, lest he lose any momentum.  

Next Donny found himself with a semi-normal body with trim-muscled human build save for the hooves and tail.  His face stretched out into a donkey's face, his head and neck taking on the aspects of a jackass and leaving the young man feeling like the foil character in A Midsummer Night's Dream.  Donny's head was awhirl with excitement and sensations, his member swiftly becoming the most powerful part of his body, with its need to release growing ever stronger by the second.  Donny, now completely unable to speak with his full donkey head, stomped the floor with his hoof to indicate that he was ready to blow.

Quickly, Yoke adjusted his controls and shifted Donny's morphing body back somewhat.  He still had the hooves, the tail, the ears, but his body was some kind of cross between that of donkey and boy.  His face was almost his own again, but for his snout-like upper lip and his huge teeth.  Yoke held him there.  The look suited Donny.  Donny seemed to think so, too, for he could contain himself no longer.  Stumbling backwards and then forwards, Donny fell to his knees and let out a loud moan of ecstasy as he finally shot.  Gobbets of thick cum geysered out of Donny's sizeable cock, one spurt after the other, each one a little larger than the last.  Twice, three times, four times, five, Donny shot and shot, came and came, shoulders shaking and body trembling.  It was the single greatest orgasm he had ever experienced in his entire life.  It took the better part of three minutes for it to fully run its course.

There, on his knees, body now flooded with the afterglow of his experience, Donny felt all his energy drain from him, along with his resistance.  He tried to lift his head to yoke, found it too heavy, opted to just keep staring at the floor and his pools of copious spooge.  "Al-alright", Donny gasped through his large new teeth, "you've got three days to convince me.  And that is absolutely, positively it."

He swayed once, then flopped over to one side (barely missing his spooge pile), and curled up like a resting farm animal and went to sleep, a wide smile at play on his big donkey lips.

Yoke smiled as well.  Disaster averted.  He paused the program on his console and checked the time.  Two hours and thirty-five minutes since they'd descended the stairs.  Quietly, Yoke mused to himself.  "Hm.  Didn't even take the full three hours."

*   *   *

The three days passed quickly.  By morning the first day, Donny found that his body felt much more comfortable and his system was beginning to adjust to the extreme changes he had undergone at Yoke's hands.  After slowly shifting back into his old self, Donny found that he felt better than ever.  His body was once again the body of Donny Keigh, smooth-skinned and tightly defined. However, his aching member told him that the previous night's experience had not been a dream or a delusion.  That, and the fact that he still had a tail.  

As he rubbed his eyes—with hands and fingers, imagine that!—Donny blinked away the sleep and found Yoke arriving at the foot of the stairs carrying Donny's beloved rubber booted-coveralls.  Yoke Tossed the garment to Donny, who noticed upon catching it that the hard floor around him had been scattered with a huge soft comforter and pillows.  No doubt Yoke had seen to his creature comforts after the morphing donkey boy had passed out.  "I fixed it up for you", Yoke said, nodding toward the coveralls.  "There's a small hole in the back now.  For your tail."

Donny flopped the suit over in hands, saw the neat hole there on the seat of the latex trousers.  His face made an expression of approval.  "Cool."  Not even thinking of how bizarre it was that he even needed a hole in the ass of his pants for his jackass tail, Donny 

stepped easily into the outfit and zipped himself up.

He stood, only pausing briefly to yank at his rubber pants to make better room for his tail.  He swished it once to the left, felt it slap against his leg, seemed satisfied with the freedom of movement, then crossed his arms and looked solidly at his mentor. "Okay, so you've got three days.  Start convincing me about all this."

"I thought I did that last night", Yoke said, the surprise apparent in his voice.

"No, last night you bought yourself three days. Get busy."

Yoke stifled a chuckle.  It was oddly comical that this boy, in his rubber suit and donkey tail, was tossing him a challenge (an ultimatum, really) and acting as if he held all the cards.  But in his heart, Yoke knew that he did.  If Donny wouldn't agree to this willingly, Yoke knew he would not have the heart to keep him as a mindless puppet.  He nodded curtly.  "Fair enough."

So Donny spent the first half of the day with a tail.  At first, it seemed a rather pedestrian choice, considering all he had experienced, however briefly, the night before.  But only at first.  Before long, Donny was enjoying the sensation of swishing his tail as he walked, breaking into dance moves and playing with it as a prop, dusting the countertops, and even swatting flies.  Although highly amused by the shenanigans, Yoke told him, "You know, there are more things you can do with your tail than that."

"Like what?"

"Stroke it."

"What, are you serious?"

"Just go ahead."

Donny did so.  He grabbed it up in one hand and, as if he were stroking the tail of a pet cat, ran his hand down the length of his new tail.  A shiver ran up his spine and his legs shook.  "Whoa!  What the hell was that?"

"Do it slower", Yoke instructed.

Slowly, with a firmer grasp and more tender fingering, Donny slid his hand down the length of his tail, creating a steady feeling of pleasure and satisfaction throughout his body.  He felt it ripple up his spine, across his ass, down his legs and even over his shoulders and down his arms.  It was gentle, soothing, like a tissue massage, but it was highly enjoyable.  

"Stroke it against your body", Yoke suggested.

Donny took the tail up in his hands and began to press his tail against his thighs, his arms, when Yoke rolled his eyes and clarified, "Just let the tail do it on its own."

Donny glanced back at him with an "Oh, right" expression and held his hands out at his sides.  His tail then went ahead, under his direction, to sweep and rub against his sides, his inner thigh, across his ass, and over his crotch.  Donny's eyes rolled upwards a bit.  Even through the rubber coveralls, he could every gentle touch, every contact, every caress.  It took him a moment to realize that part of the reason it felt so intoxicating was that he was feeling everything through his tail as well as with the rest of his body.

"That is awesome", Donny smiled brightly.  "What else can I do?"

Before Yoke could answer, a fly buzzed into the room.  Both men were so quiet with anticipation of Donny's next feat that the soft noise from the insect came loudly to their notice.  Donny held up a hand to Yoke and mouthed the words, "Watch this."  Donny took on a strong stance, legs apart, arms bent, hands clenched in fists.  The fly buzzed around him once, then looped through the air between both mentor and pupil, then back again. THWACK!  Donny's tail lashed out rapidly and struck the fly with pinpoint accuracy.  The insect fell dead to bounce once against the glass-topped coffee table, where it lay with all its feet sticking up in the air.  Donny clapped his hands and said, "Yeaahhh!", then began to giggle like a little kid who'd just won his very first game of Candyland.

"Did you see that?", he gushed.  "Did you see what I just did??"

"Showoff", Yoke scolded.  

Donny spread his arms wide and began taking bows.  "Thankew, thankew."

"In answer to your previous question, it's not so much what you can do as what I can make you do." Yoke then produced a small remote and pointed it at Donny.  The lad with the donkey's tail braced himself for whatever might happen, but got nothing in return.  He looked around, as if expected some change to literally set upon him by flitting in the room.  He twisted around and looked at the tail on his rear end.  Nothing.  He looked back at Yoke with an anticipatory expression.  What?

Yoke grinned.  "Why don't you ask me?"

Donny opened his mouth to speak.  "Heee-Haaww!"

Instantly, he clamped both hands over his mouth to close it.  His eyes were wide with surprise.  He had certainly not intended to bray just then.  Yoke rattled the remote before him.

"Say something."

Donny shrugged, hands still over his mouth.  Like what?

"Say anything.  Say your name.  My name is Donny.  Like that."

Slowly, Donny removed his hands from his mouth, but kept his lips tightly closed.

"Go on."

Cautiously, he began to whisper the words.  "Hee-HAAWW!!"  It was no whisper that came out.  He tried again, more forcefully.  My name is Donny.  "HEEEE!! HHAAAWWWW!!!"  Donny looked at Yoke, trying to express his frustration with what he thought was a look of indignation.  He only looked comical. Yoke giggled as Donny began to pace, trying to speak quietly to himself, as if to convince himself that he could speak as normal person by exerting the appropriate effort of will.  So here was this handsome young man, with a donkey tail flicking this way and that, muttering to himself, "Hee-haww, haw-heee, hee-hee-haawwnk, HAAWW!"

"I can make it worse", Yoke said cheerily.  Donny looked daggers at him.  "I mean better!", Yoke was quick to amend.  "I mean I can make it better.  Watch."

Donny did not even see Yoke use the remote.  But Donny's tail began to reach around him like a trained serpent.  Which, when you think about it, is kind of gross.  Donny watched as his tail curled around his midsection, hovering near his ribs, the end brushing lightly against the sides of his rubber coveralls.  Donny tried to say, "Okay, what are you doing?", but of course, all that came out was, "Heee-haw-he-haaww?"  Donny tried to exert his own control over the tail and realized that he was no longer in control.

Yoke stared at his apprentice, trying to look fiendish, but now he was the one who looked comical.  And maybe a little creepy.  This time he waved the remote around tauntingly.  Then he pressed a button.  "Tickle tail!"

Donny's tail lashed out at him, only this time it was moving like an epileptic feather duster on steroids.  Delighting Donny as if the coveralls were not even there, his tail mercilessly tickled his sides, under his arms, his neck, his face, his inner thigh, everywhere.  Donny crumbled and laughed uncontrollably.  Of course, all that came out was, "HeeHaaw! HeeeHAW! HeheheheheeHAAWW! HeeHaw! HeeHaawr!!"  He kicked his feet and rolled onto the couch, then fell onto the floor, gripping his sides and then trying to fend off the relentless tail with fumbling fingers.  Once Donny even grabbed hold of his tail, attempting to hold it at bay, only to have it tickle his nose and face so furiously that had to let go, if only to give himself a chance to breathe.

Yoke sauntered around his tormented friend and looked down on the donkey-laughing lad.  "You were never really ticklish before, were you?  I can't remember."

Donny shook his head desperately, as if reasserting the fact could free him from the tickle torture.  He kept on laughing/braying.  "Haw-hee! Haw-hee! HeeeHeeeHeeeHAW!"

"Well, one more benefit of becoming a donkey boy then", Yoke grinned.

After several minutes of torture, Yoke let him relax a bit.  Just a bit.  The tail still tickled him, though not as aggressively as before.  Donny looked down as he lay on his back on the carpet and saw his rubber coveralls tenting ferociously. He had never been so hard over what he thought was so little.  Tickle torture always seemed so ridiculous and benign to him.  He never dreamed it could be such an incredible turn-on.

"Do you wanna shoot yet?", Yoke asked.

Donny shook his head rapidly.  "HeeAAWW!"

"Okay, I'll let you go."  Yoke fingered the control and watched as Donny's tail stopped tickling him.  It flopped over to lay beside him on the carpet.  Donny wheezed and gasped for breath.  He glanced at his tail, focused on it, and made it flick one way, then another.  It was his to control again.  As he lay back on the soft carpet, he navigated his donkey tail to reach around and stroke his erect cock.  A stupid grin spread over his face at the sensation.

"Oh, you like that, do you?", Yoke observed.

"Haaawww..."

Eventually, Donny sat up, not from growing tired of playing with himself, but for another reason.  He looked at the clock and saw that it was well past noon and was going on toward 1.  He pointed to the clock and rubbed his tummy.  Yoke tilted his head.  What?  Donny got up (his tail still stroking his stiff dick) and made hand-to-mouth gestures as if feeding himself.  Yoke played dumb.  "I'm sorry, what?"

Donny began to stomp one boot on the floor, pounding out twelve beats as if that, in combination with furious pointing at the clock, would get the message across that it was past lunch time.  Yoke chuckled.

"You're going to have wait till you get your hooves back for that form of communication to be effective."  But then his mentor walked past him, patting him on the shoulder as he went.  He also swatted at Donny's tail as it made its amorous advances against his crotch.  "Stop that."  

Yoke went to the island in the kitchen and opened a drawer.  But rather than pulling out cooking utensils or the like, he produced a set of thick rubber gloves.  He tossed them to Donny, who caught them easily.  "Put those on."  Donny had no clue what they had to do with eating lunch, but after being tickled half to death by his own tail, he wasn't about to ask.  He tugged them on, finding them bulky but a firm fit.  They came halfway up his arms.  He held his hands out in a questioning fashion.

"Heehaaw?"  What are these for?

"To keep you from getting grass stains all over your hands", Yoke said matter-of-factly.

Donny had no opportunity to ponder what that meant. His lips curled back like a mule's, baring his teeth.  He felt himself braying against his will.  "Hee-HAWW! HAW-HEE!!"  He began to move forward, toward the patio, and it was as if he were being pulled by his own teeth.  He tried to fight it, to plant his boots firmly upon the carpet and resist the tug, but his lips kept curling, his throat and tongue kept braying, and his teeth pulled his face forward with incredible force.  Donny looked to see if his nose was going to stretch out into a donkey's snout, but that wasn't happening.  Just a pull by his teeth, and a rumbling in his stomach.

"Don't fight it", Yoke told him. "Just go with it."

Donny let go.  He was then pulled forward, tail swishing in impotent protest, his teeth leading him right toward the sliding glass doors that led outside.  It was all he could do to move his boots to keep up.  "Haw-hee! HAAWW!!"

"You'd better open that door", Yoke warned him.

Donny almost smashed his face right into the glass, but was able fumble the latch just in time, even encumbered with his unfamiliar gloves.  He shoved the slider open and allowed himself to be led outdoors.  Yoke's patio was nicely, if sparsely, decorated, and the thick green back lawn slanted gently away form the house and blended perfectly with the pristine countryside beyond, lush with fresh grass, scattered wildflowers, and a distant grove of trees and shrubs.  Donny's feet stumbled and tripped a bit as he was made to walk briskly across the patio, barely missing the furniture, and then get yanked off the concrete landing to trip onto the luscious grass lawn and make his way rapidly down the soft incline.  All the while, he kept braying—"Hee-haww, hee-haww!"—and felt himself growing hungrier.  About twenty paces down the grass, into the verdant green field beyond, Donny's hand thrust out in front of him, palms open, fingers wide.  He felt a tremendous pull of gravity from his thick-gloved hands to the ground.

Oh no..., he thought.

Thump!  Donny found himself down on his hands and knees, tail flicking across his ass, staring down at the thick fresh grass.  Not this, not this, please not this...!  And he began to graze.  Donny's teeth brought him right down to the ground and he began to chew up mouthfuls of green grass.  This was not what he had expected when he said it was time for lunch.  He was humiliated, he dehumanized, he has decided that Yoke's time was up.  Three days be damned, if this was what was to become of him, a half day would suffice.  Just as soon as he finished this magnificent lunch.

That was when it hit him.

The grass was the most delicious thing he had ever tasted.  He began to gobble it up faster, chewing it with relish, swallowing it as if it were fillet mignon, Grade-A prime rib, or the finest herb chicken parmesan.  It tasted so good, felt so nourishing, was so completely satisfying.  Holy shit, he thought to himself, I'm feeding like a fucking wild donkey!  He kept right on going, enjoying every bite, cherishing every mouthful.  He had been grazing happily for several minutes before Yoke said, from his vantage point sitting on the patio, "How's lunch, Donny?"

Donny paused, swallowing greedily, just long enough to throw his head back and offer a bray of approval.  "Hee-HAAWW!!"  Then he went right back to eating his grassy lunch.  Yoke let his boy feed for about half and hour, then allowed him to flop over onto his back, there on the soft grass, a smile on his face, eyes dreamy, green blades sticking out from between his teeth.  Donny sighed, happy and content, his tummy full, and he said, not even realizing he was once again speaking English,  "What do we get to do next?"

He also had not realized he had long ago cum in his pants from the feeling of joy alone.  It didn't matter.  He wouldn't be needing clothes for long, anyway.

*   *   *

Donny had never run so fast in his life.  He rounded the large arc of the back dirt road he hadn't even known existed until that afternoon at a breakneck pace he had never reached before, but found exhilirating.  Donny was completely naked as he ran, but he didn't feel it.  That was due tot he fact that from the waist down, he had the body of a donkey.  His hooves tromped against the dirt and gravel,making their way down the soft road as if he had been doing this all his life.  His powerful legs pumped and bent with a suprising grace, given how odd it looked to be half-sonkey, half-boy.  The boy half of Donny glistened with perspiration.  His bare chest showed the trim muscles, firm pecs, and packed abdominals and rippling arms that indicated Donny had been trianed as a runner.  He had not.  But he felt as if he had.

Donny had been running for the better part of an hour and yet felt as if he were enjoying a quick sprint or a casual stroll.  His thick hair blew in the breeze his movements created, becoming matted with sweat where it grew closest against his brow and temples.  A long, downward-pointing stretch of his hair grew from the base of his neck to dip well between his shoulder blades like a mane.  It was indeed his own hair, there was no denying its texture and color and thickness, but it looked like the hair of a donkey all the same. 

Donny made the next hairpin turn of the road easily, moving with more grace and agility thanhe thought possible.  His large donkey dick swung and slapped as he ran, but he found it oddly relaxing, even comforting.  As it was meant to hang open and free, his balls bumping against his inner thighs as his legs galloped up and down.  It wasn't until he reached the open clearing end of the road where Yoke waited for him that he even realzied he'd been breathing hard.

"Enjoy your run?", Yokes asked, putting down his magazine and getting up from the lawn chair in which he'd been sitting.

Donny leaned forward, hands bracing against his donkey legs, and panted.  He looked exhausted, but his face bore a huge grin.  "That...that was fucking amazing!"  He stood, throwing his head back and sending a small spritz of perspiration flying from the tips of his hair. "I've never been much for running at all, but this is cool enough to make me consider giving up my bike!"

"Glad you enjoyed it", Yoke said honestly.  He watched as Donny pranced in place, his hooves pounding up and down softly upon the ground, kicking up dust as he switched his balance from one leg to the other. He looked like some unfinished centaur, bursting for a pee.  Yoke grinned.  He knew all too well what was going on.  "Having some kind of problem, are we?"

Donny's smile turned into a grimace.  "Man, I am so...God, this is embarrassing."

Yoke titled his head, feigning ignorance.  "Why, whatever is the problem, Donny?  Didn't you enjoy your run?"  

"No, it's not that.  I just said it was awesome.  It's just...kind of personal is all."

"Donny, I'm standing here looking at you and your half-donkey body, watching your gigantic penis getting harder and harder.  I think I can handle something personal you may be feeling."

"God, is it?", Donny said, looking down at his rising memeber.  "I am?"  

"You am...?", Yoke prompted.

Donny broke. "I am SO fucking HORNY!!"  His stomping became like a rhythm of drums upon the ground.

Yoke turned away, hoping Donny did not see his huge grin.  "Oh, yes.  That.  I'm afraid you're going to get that as a natural side effect of your transformations.  Didn't I mention?  Sorry."  He actually put one hand over his mouth to smother a snicker.

"No, you didn't fucking mention!", Donny shouted.  He was dancing in circles now, his stiff dick smacking mercilessly against his abdomen.

"Well, why don't you do something about it?", Yoke suggested.

"Like what?!  Have you got some other donkey person around here I can fuck??"

"Take matters in hand."

"What, are you serious??  Right here?"

"Donny, I've made a full cast of your naked body in order to create the suit that's now part of you.  I know what you've got and I know it's substantial.  Granted, not as substantial as what you've got going on now..."

"Arrrrgggghh!"  Donny did not wait to continue their debate.  He grabbed his cock with both hands (yes, it was that big) and he began to pull and pump as fast as he could.  His gray donkey dick plumped even bigger than before, which was saying a lot, and it's head turned a ripe purple.  Donny's hands moved at lightning speed and his mouth hung open, forming the anticipatory 'O'.  His eyes closed and he began to moan.

"Oooohhh, I'm coming, I'm coming...Yoke, stand back, man, I'm not kidding here--!"  Yoke was already some twenty feet away, preparing for the blow and wondering if he should've brought an umbrella.  

Donny fired.  A thick stream of white semen burst forth from his dick with all the intenisty of a fire hose.  It splashed against his chest and deflected onto the ground around him, spattering the area around his legs and spraying upon his hooves.  The stream hit the underside of Donny's chin and struck his ears.  Donny tried to move his head away to avoid getting hosed down, but his erection was too powerful and there was no pushing it away.  In short order, rivers of cum were running down his face and dribbling into his mouth.  Donny spat and tried to wipe his lips clean with his tongue (his hands were still quite busy holding the fierce creature that was his throbbing cock), to little avail.

Then a light came on in Donny's eyes.  Yoke saw it and realized that Donny had tasted his own cum.  Without hesitation, Donny leaned forward, mouth open wide, and received the full torrent of gushing semen bursting forth from his cock.  It laste donly another few seconds, but Donny still got more than mouthful.  It dribbled down his chin and it was all he could do to swallow the massive load emptied into his mouth.  It took several gulps to get it all down, whereupon Donny licked his lips and used his hands to wipe up the heavy coating on his face and chest, lapping it off his palm withhis tongue, savoring every drop.

Eventually, Donny felt his legs grow limp even as his dick slowly lost its erection and began to sag, lazily, back down to hang between his legs.  Finally, the exhausted and jizz-covered donkey boy dropped to his bony knees and then flopped over onto his back, just off the dirt road, in the thick grass.

Yoke kept his distance and let the boy pant and gasp, baskingin the afterglow of what he'd just expeienced.  Donny lay there, smiling and occasionally giggling, for the better part of fifteen minutes.  Afterward, he sat up, his tail swishing with excitement and a rush of unexpected energy.  He got back up on his hooves and began to jog in place.

"I want to run again", he announced.  "I have to."

Yoke settled back into his lawn chair.  "You know where the road is."  Before the mentor had retrieved his magazine, there was only a dusty cloud where Donny had been, the thunder of hoofbeats already coming faint and indistinct from around the bedn in the long and winding road.   

Thus did Donny spend his afternoon.  Running, getting worked up, getting turned on, beating off, gulping it down, building up new energy, taking off again.  By sunset, Yoke insisted he stop.  Donny was spent enough by that point he did not argue.  Yoke guided the donkey boy back into the house for dinner and made him sit at the table, donkey legs and all, despite Donny's protestations that he wanted to graze on the lawn again in the dim light of evening.  Yoke stood his ground.  The boy needed protein.  Lots of it.  He had a big day tomorrow.

*   *   *

Donny awoke the next morning feeling refreshed and energized.  He leapt from his bed to find himself buck naked and, much to his disappointment, completely human.  After his adventures the day before, he had hoped to awaken to a tail, hooves, or ears at the very least.  No such luck.  He looked around the room for his rubber coveralls but they were nowhere in sight.  He turned to the dresser and found a set of clothes very neatly folded with a note pinned atop them.

Wear these.  ~Yoke

Donny tossed the note aside and unfolded the gaily-colored outfit.  It was a full Shakespearean costume.  Doublet, collar, pleated shirt, elaborate cuffs, belt, tights, boots, the works.  No underwear, as far as Donny could see.  He shrugged.  That was okay.  The easier it was for him to get to and unleash his donkey dick, the happier he'd be about it.  Granted, it was back to its slightly-larger-than-average human proportions for now, but it was still early.  Donny got dressed in his assigned costume.

When he was suitably attired, Donny entered the living room to find Yoke already sitting there.  He looked as if he'd been waiting for him.  Yoke was flipping through a script for A Midsummer Night's Dream.  No surprises there.  Donny grinned when he saw what his mentor was reading. 

"Boning up on what's supposed to happen to me next?"

Yoke glanced up at his young ward and looked him over.  He did look as if he'd just stepped out of Shakespearean times or at the very least as if he'd been trodding the boards at Stratford.  "Yep, you look like a weaver about to get lost in the woods", Yoke said approvingly. "As for boning up, that'll be your department."  He set his book down and stood up.

"Look, I know pretty well what's going to happen now", Donny smirked.  "I am a theater geek, after all. We've got this whole donkey thing going on, I'm dressed in Shakespearean clothing, you're reading what you're reading.  I can pretty much predict where we go from here.  I'm Bottom, right?"

Yoke shook his head.  "No, you really can't.  And no, you're not.  You're still just Donny.  But you won't be for long."

Yoke pointed his remote at Donny and a bizarre feeling flushed through him all at once.  It was dizzying, yet pleasurable. Donny's feet began to move of their own accord.  At first he thought he was being made to dance somehow, but then realized it was simply reflex as he tried to maintain his footing.  Donny did his best to brace himself as tingling sensations of delight ran through his legs and up and down his arms.  He prepared for his face and head to make the change into a donkey's, as in the classic story.  It never happened.

Instead, Donny began to see things.  Bright, amusing, wonderful things.  The air in the room became alive with the flitting of fairies.  Varying in color from maroon to soft blue to jade and differing in size from a few inches to half a foot, the tiny creatures zipped about on gossamer wings, buzzing gleefully around the confused and delighted Donny, giggling and whispering softly.  Each one of the fairies was beautiful, perfectly proportioned, and entirely male.  Naked save for a few scraps of cloth or bits of leaves, the little people flew close to Donny, occasionally landing on his shoulder, whispering silly notions into his ears, and tugging at his fingers as if to lead him astray.

Donny looked on in wonder as the fairies darted about.  Each time they came in contact with him, their touch left a tingle of joy and arousal in the Shakespearean-clad object of their affection.  Some of the little nymphs poked at Donny's butt, goosing him, other ran delicate fingers across his crotch, bringing to a teasing erection.  Some tickled his feet—he could feel it right through his thin boots—others tousled his hair.  There couldn't have been more than a half dozen of the miniature folk in all, but the way they moved this way and that, fluttering and hovering at one point and then zipping along quickly the next, it seemed there were many more.

One of them the azure blue fairy, landed on Donny's hand and sat there in his open palm, kicking his feet like a little boy.  It was an odd sensation, to feel the bare butt of this tiny man there against the skin of his palm, his itty-bitty hands stroking Donny's fingers.  Then the little fairy would buzz off, zipping past Donny's face, his fluttering wings ruffling his hair, his miniscule penis touching the boy's nose tauntingly.

Yoke watched Donny with amusement.  To him, Donny was walking around clumsily, reacting to and giggling at empty air.  His apprentice was playing with phantoms, toying with and being teased by figments conjured by his suit, brought to life in intricate and vivid detail that only its wearer could see.  Yoke referred to his remote and called up a small so that he could see the general area in which Donny saw his delightful visions, indicated by small blips on the screen.  Yoke could tell the basic size and location of each imagined sprite, but could not see them as Donny did.  For a moment, Yoke envied him.

After allowing Donny to wander the living room for a bit, as lush trees and resplendent vines and ivy crawled up out of furnishings and floor to his perceptions, Yoke knew it was time to bring in the "big guns".  He activated another button for this program, a green one, and watched with satisfaction as Donny turned around quickly, surprised, in response to what appeared before him.  All that showed on Yoke's remote was a large green blob.  What Donny saw was considerably more.

Donny looked ahead at a coffee table which now seemed to him to be a beautiful old stump overgrown thickly with green grass, moss, and vines.  Upon it sat a smiling woodland fairy, trim muscles of a dancer or a gymnast, wild unkempt hair, tiny horns of a satyr upon his brow, pointed ears.  He was naked, but for a series of ivy and leaves wrapped around his left leg and torso.  He was much larger than the other conjured fairies Donny beheld, standing at least five feet tall. Perhaps a bit more.  His feet were a bit hairy, so Donny was uncertain if they were in boots or were hooves.  But he knew who he was looking at immediately.

"Puck..."

Before Donny could say anything else, Puck launched himself from the stump and floated through the air to hover above and before Donny.  Puck cast a shower of flowers, petals, and mist upon Donny's head.  Donny could not help but laugh—it felt as if he were being tickled from all sides and his head was growing light in a good way.  As the shower subsided and Donny believed the petals and buds to be scattered at his feet, he felt his nose tingle first.  He knew what was coming and welcomed it.

Slowly, his nose drew forward, as if it were made of putty.  Along with it went his upper lip, pulling ever ahead, elongated and widening.  It sent waves of giddiness into Donny's brain and he could not suppress his giggles.  Even as he laughed, Donny's lower jaw and chin flowed forward, meeting up with the upper jaw and nostrils.  The nose spread wide, his bridge becoming a snout, his teeth growing large and unwieldy.  Why did all this feel so good??  Donny felt his eyes begin to part even before he noted his vision shifting slightly, as his eyes settled into their new places on the sides of his head.  His ears collapsed like a fallen soufflé, caving into the sides of his head and then running upward, like hot candle wax turned upside down, sprouting into huge donkey ears.  His laughter continued and increased, switching from "Ha-haa, he-hee" to "Hee-haw, hee-haaw" the more the transformation advanced.

In short order, Donny was gone and only Bottom remained.  Donny stood there, feeling for all the world that he was in a magical forest glen, tended to by flitting fairies.  The oddest part of all, his head and neck now being that of a jackass, was the only real thing to transpire.  It was only fitting that it created the most intense and tangible sensations.

Yoke had prepared for this moment and retrieved from behind the tall curtains a full-length mirror on a wheeled stand, encased in an intricate mock gold frame.  He wheeled it over to his young apprentice and placed it before him.  Donny beheld his reflection and this time, he saw everything exactly as how it was.  He saw himself, clad in Shakespearean garb, with the head of an ass.  It was all he could do to keep from falling over laughing.  He looked absurd, he felt even better.  He should not have been so amused, but he could not help himself.  He had never felt so light, so free of worry and care.  By the time he collected himself,  he was able to strike a dramatic pose before the mirror, standing in the midst of his imagined sylvan glen and pronounce, 

"I see their knavery: this is to make an ass of me; 

to fright me, if they could. But I will not stir
from this place, do what they can: I will walk up
and down here, and I will sing, that they shall hear
I am not afraid."

And that was pretty much the end of that.  Donny fell over laughing, braying, clutching his sides and kicking his feet.  Yoke watched him with delight and felt a measure of joy vicariously through him.  Yoke watched as the dancing naked fairies led Donny to the kitchen and had a breakfast of fruit, which he thought his mythological companions were feeding him.  Donny pranced around the forest (or rather, the kitchen, the living room, the patio, and the hallway) laughing and singing, occasionally braying, until lunchtime, where he thought the meat and cheese platter left out for him was being fed to him by his woodland friends, whereupon he fell into a deep sleep propped against a tall tree, which was actually the couch.  

It was past mid afternoon when Donny awoke, somewhat groggy, free of his visions of fairies and the impish Puck, but still a bit lightheaded and happy.  The imagined glen was gone, replaced by the living room.  The lush surroundings reduced to familiar furniture and coffee table bearing a plate of crumbs from his lunch.  Yoke leaned over the back of the couch.  "Enjoy your nap?"

"It...it was fucking incredible", Donny said.  But as he spoke his mouth felt wrong.  His teeth were out of place, his tongue too large, his nostrils stretched out of shape.  His hands went to his face and felt the massive form of the mule's head that had replaced his own.  That much, at least, had been very real.  "Oh", Donny said.  "Right. I'm a jackass.  Gotcha."

Yoke smiled.  "Oh, you're much more than that."

Donny spread his arms wide in a grand gesture. "I'm Bottom!"  He rested on his elbows, pondering half aloud, "What the hell kind of name is 'Bottom', anyway.  We got Titania, Oberon, Lysander and Demetrius going on...how do I end up with 'Bottom'?"  Donny craned his now sizeable neck and looked up at Yoke.  "Why did Puck give Bottom a donkey head, anyway?"

"For fun", Yoke answered.  "You know what else is fun?  Double entendre. In the gay world, you know what a bottom is?"

Donny's animal brow furrowed.  "Yeah, I think so. In sex partners, isn't the bottom the one who takes it—"  Donny was on his feet in an instant, his ears twitching.  "No way! You are not doing that with me!!"

"Calm down", Yoke said, waving his hand.  "Who said it was anything you needed me for?"

Donny felt something swish at the seat of his pants.  He turned around (as best he could, with his gigantic snout) and declared, "Hey! I've got my tail back!"  The tail did not wait around to be admired.  It began to move and sway like the prehensile tail of a monkey rather than that of a donkey.  The brush of hair at the end reached out like a many-fingered hand and pried at the seat of Donny's pants.  "Whoa—what's goin' on?"  Again, no pause for Donny to consider it.  The tail ripped open a back panel on his trousers, which fell down and flopped around the back of his knees.  "Wait, I didn't know these things had a drop-seat!"  The tail began to sway back and forth between Donny's legs, waiting.

"You get to experience what it's like to be a bottom in every way", Yoke announced.

"Aw, no..."

Sure enough, Donny looked down to see his tail flowing and rippling as it morphed in front of him.  Of course, it became a large dildo.  It looked like a real penis, but for the fact that it was made of gray rubber. The head secreted a slow oozing substance that glistened in the light and gave off a pleasant floral scent.  Donny shook his head.

"No, no, no, no, no, no....I am not into this!"

"Don't worry, you will be."

Before Donny could protest further, his own tail was back between his legs and moving north.  Donny reached around to grab it and pull it away, only to find his fingers morphed back into hooves.  No fingers to grab with.  Slowly, the dildo tail pushed against Donny's rear, gently.  The lube it secreted made it feel soft and inviting.  Donny tried to walk away, then realized how stupid that was, and braced himself against the nearest table.

"I—I told you—I am not into this—seriously, this has gone far enough, Yoke.  Yoke?"  Donny realized that his mentor was no longer around.  He had left the room.  "Yoke!"  The tail dildo kept working it's way slowly, easily, into Donny's hole.  "YOKE!!"  The dildo pushed its way into Donny's ass, but did so very gently, very tenderly, if such a word can be attributed to a rubber molded penis tail thing.  Donny tried to cry out again, but found his voice cracking.

"Yo-yoke, you get back here--!  This is not—AAHHHHH—this is not hel-helping your ca-case---!  Oooohhhhhh God!"

Donny reeled as the dildo pushed fully inside him, gently pressing inward, stimulating him in ways he had never imagined.  "Ohh, oh my God in heaven that feels so good.  Ohhh holy shit!"  The dildo went in as far as it could go, pressing against Donny's prostate, exciting him so that his own dick was tenting his tights.  The tail pushed smoothly, in and out, in and out.  Donny's entire body was wracked with pleasure.  Donny's mouth was wide open, his donkey teeth bared, his expression one of ultimate stupefaction.  "You-you-you better come and get this thing ow-ow-ow-ow-out of meeee...."  His head dropped and he tightened his grip against the edge of the table.  Then, under his breath, he added, "But not before it gets finished."

With every stroke of the tail, Donny's pleasure increased.  This was nothing like what he feared when he saw what the tail had morphed into.  There was not ramming, no forcing, no pain.  It was so soft, so soothing, so filling....so good.  Donny dropped his head against the table and pressed his snout to it.  As he breathed harder, he could see the air from his nostrils fog the table's surface.  His ears twitched and bobbed, his front hooves (they were no longer hands, after all) clomped against the table top.  He never dreamed it could feel so good to have something shoved up his ass.  But this was an intoxication to which he was wholly unaccustomed and woefully unprepared.  Another few minutes into the experience, his legs gave out and Donny dropped to his knees.

This was humiliating, Donny thought.  This was dehumanizing (like being turned into a donkey wasn't?).  It made him feel violated, submissive, controlled.  And oh, it felt so good.  Donny had braced himself for pain.  He had not expected to enjoy this, to say nothing of the extent to which he was enjoying it.  In and out the probing didlo tail went, slowly at first, gently and easily, leaving a thick coating of lubricating gel in its wake, stimulating Donny in ways he never imagined.  His donkey face stretched and moved, his animal expression a cross between pleasure and surprise.  He forced himself to bray. He could still speak perfect English, he had not lost control of his tongue and vocal cords, but it just felt right that he allow himself to descend as he reveled in these new sensations.

The dildo grew in size, inflating like a balloon, then reduced again, emanating erotic pleasure as it did.  Donny was panting, his big pink tongue lolling out the side of his mouth.  Why were his shoulders tingling?  Why were his legs shaking?  Was did he feel better than he had felt in ages?  As the animated tail pushed, plowed, and poured itself into Donny's ass. he felt his hands slowly morph back into human hands beneath the lace frills of his sleeve cuffs.  He could reach around, grasp the tail and yank it out of him if he wanted to.  He didn't want to.

Donny allowed himself to flop over onto his back, his knees bent, his feet in the air, as the tail fucked him faster, deeper.  He gasped with pleasure, rocked with joy.  He was on the verge of bursting when he said, wheezing, to himself, "I'm...I'm a bottom...oh man, oh God...I'm a bottom...holy shit!"

Donny was barely aware the first time he ejaculated.  His tights became saturated with the thick jizz, sticking them to his body, the spooge seeping into his shirt and tunic as well.  He couldn't have cared less.  The tail itself seemed more aware than Donny was.  It paused and slowed as after he came, finally deflating to a size smaller than it had been originally and began to slide easily out of his hole.  As Donny, still gasping from his climax, realized the tail was leaving him, he reached around himself and grabbed it.  He did not aid in its departure.

"No...", he breathed heavily.  "No, don't go."

As if understanding him, the tail slid back into place, driving upward and growing in size.  It began to fuck him again.  Donny grasped at the fibers of the carpet upon which he lay and sighed with approval and encouragement.  "Ohhhh yes...oh yeah.  Keep going...faster, longer...deeper...pleeaase..."  The tail obliged.

Going into the second hour of the dildo tail sodomizing Bottom, it began to send commands to the rest of Donny's muscles.  Feet shuffling and legs twitching, Donny felt compelled by the pushing of the dildo plug to get to his feet, difficult as that was, and allow it to push him around the house.  It was quite a task, to walk around while being steadily fucked, but each time Donny navigated a room successfully, the tail made contact with his prostate and sent rushes of sheer pleasure flooding through its wearer.  By the third room, the stumbling, donkey-headed boy oaf had cum another time and was on the edge of a third.  He was happy to be pushed around at this point.  He had never felt so obedient or happy to be so. At one point he felt that he had eaten as well, somehow, but did so in a fog, with the tail still making love to him, his mind on little else.

By the time Donny found himself back in the living room, he had cum no less than five times, although even at that number he had lost count.  His head was spinning with elation and he had never experienced such euphoria.  His journey stopped when he realized that he was standing in the middle of the living room.  Standing may have been too generous a term, as Donny was swaying more than anything.  He was still in his Shakespearean costume, still had the head of a donkey.  There was music playing, softly.  The stereo had been turned on and a disc had been selected.  Dimly, Donny realized that he had turned the player on himself.  Why had he done that?  As the music built, Donny recognized it as background music for one the Shakespeare plays the troupe had performed in Atlanta.  The delicate sounds of a lute and a mandolin played brightly and cheerfully through the room, joined by a flute of some kind.  Donny's feet began to move.  he couldn't help himself.

Moved wistfully about as if directed by the Pied Piper of Hamlin (had the piper worked with large livestock instead of mice), Donny danced in an old-fashioned choreography.  As he spun and danced his jig, he saw that a video recorder was also running.  He caught glimpses of himself on a nearby screen, the dancing donkey-headed Bottom, traipsing about as if in wait for the Queen  who would adore him.  Donny snickered through his huge snout.  I already have a queen that adores me.  He laughed then, braying loudly.  The thought and the image of himself as Bottom struck him as so comical that he couldn't help himself.  Finally, his movements and the music reached their zenith and as he struck his final pose, arms out and toes pointed just so, the dildo tail made its final thrust.  It expanded as it pushed upward, stimulating Donny in ways he could not have imagined.  His cock burst free of the moistened and sticky tights and spurt out an orgasm Donny did not think he still had in him.  He had stopped before the camera, facing his image on the video playback screen.  He saw himself falter, his legs wavering, his arms jerking, his pelvis thrusting violently.

Stream after stream of thick white ropes of jism shot forth and spattered upon the carpet.  Donny's mind felt as if it might shut down for the overload of pleasure.  For all he knew, at that moment it did.  The world seemed to go into slow motion as Donny felt every last vestige of strength leave his body.  He watched his knees buckle and his arms flop to his sides.  As he sagged downward toward the floor, he watched his face retract, shrinking back into the shape and form of Donny Keigh.  His ears reduced in size and returned to their rightful place on the sides of his head.  His snout became a nose and mouth, albeit one gaping and inarticulate.  His eyes returned to their normal size and position, each one glazed over in stupefaction.  Donny was barely aware of his tail gently and smoothly withdrawing from his hole, shrinking back into a donkey's tail before disappearing altogether as if absorbed by his spine.

He had no sensation of his knees slamming against the carpet, nor of the impact as his cheek hit the floor.  His eyelids fluttered and he could feel sleep descending upon him.  He heard the light trod of Yoke entering the room.  If he had been watching the whole time, he had been doing so from a distance, leaving Donny at least the illusion of having enjoyed the experience alone.  Donny heard Yoke speak, although his voice sounded as if it were being broadcast from the bottom of an oil drum stuffed full of cotton.

"Well, now if anyone ever tells you to go fuck yourself, you'll know that you can."

Donny's vision was lost in blackness, even before his eyelids finally closed.  His last vestige of awareness was of his mouth slowly curling into a smile.  

*   *   *

Donny awoke to sunlight streaming in upon him.  He could feel the warmth across his shoulders and the brightness made him squint.  He tried to roll over but found it difficult for some reason.  Nor could he easily hold his hand over his eyes.  It took him a moment to realize that he was once again in the midst of some new transformation of his body, but was not yet clear-headed enough to determine what it was. The air was cool enough to indicate he was not inside.  He was not in bed, as there was no mattress or blankets.  He could feel the air on his skin, so at least his sticky and gooey Shakespearean garb had been removed while he slept.  But where had he been sleeping?

Donny tried to sit up and found it impossible.  Was something weighing him down?  No, there was no pressure on top of him.  He then tried to kick his feet out and stand up.  He wavered and wobbled and wound up going right down onto his face.  Into a pile of straw.  He lifted his head up and looked around, seeing at last that he was in some kind of small stable.  Okay.  Donkey stable.  Got it.  He shook his head to clear away the pieces of straw that were still clinging to him and tried to get a good look at himself.  After quite a bit of bending and twisting, he finally did.

Donny had the body of a donkey again, but it was not like he had when he first woke up in his bed in the guest room three days before.  What he had now was some strange combination of human and donkey physique, with what could have been arms and legs but were shaped closer to a jackass's appendages, each ending in hooves.  He had the rear end of a mule, the tail, what looked like the gray pelt but still felt to him like rubber.  he wasn't sure which way to go from here.

"Good morning and welcome to Day Three", came Yoke's cheery voice.  He strode into the tiny stable dressed in crisp denim blue bib overalls, a red plaid shirt, tall rubber stable boots and a straw cowboy hat.  He had a bag of some kind of feed in hand as well as a silver bucket of water.

Donny looked up at him and thought, "You look like an idiot."  But what came out was once again donkey braying, "Haw-hee-haww."

Yoke grinned and nodded. "No human voice for you today, donkey boy.  Today you get to experience one of the best parts about being a donkey.  Humility and servitude."  Yoke set down the bucket in the corner of the open stall and poured some of the feed from his bag into a nearby tray that Donny had not noticed before.  "Here, let me help you get a better look at yourself", Yoke told him.  He sauntered over to a series of boards fastened to the far wall of the stall and removed them, revealing a dusty old mirror.  It was hung horizontally, so that a perosn would have to get down on his haunches in order to see his reflection.  For Donny, it worked just perfectly.

Donny looked at himself.  He was once again more donkey than boy, with features that looked like that of a jackass in nose, mouth, and big floppy ears.  Yet there was still something of Donny visible there in the eyes, the color of the hair on his mane, the shape of his face.  He wasn't half one or the other, he wasn't all the way Donny or all the way Donkey.  He was just some kind of...donkey boy.

"Better get on your feet and start in on your morning feed", Yoke told him.  "You've got a big day ahead of you."

Donny rose to all fours.  Now that he knew how he was structured, he found getting to his feet much easier.  It was that in many ways he still felt as if he had a young man's arms and legs, but they now functioned as four animal legs.  Out of curiosity, Donny made an attempt to rise up to stand on two legs.  He could not hold the position for more than a moment and tumbled unglamorously onto his back.  Yoke heard the thud and called from just outside the stable, "Four feet only today, buddy!"

Donny shook himself again and clambered back to all fours.  So I guess it's all fours today, then.  Donny made his way to the feed, which while not the tastiest way to begin his day, was actually not all that bad.  

That could not be said of the rest of his day.  Donny exited the small stable on all fours.  It had been hidden within a shed off to the edge of Yoke's property, so Donny would not notice it before.  He had not.  Donny trudged as he moved.  It was not so easy to move as a donkey as he thought, down on all fours.  It was harder than the role-play in which he had engaged himself previously.  It was even less smooth than when he had first awoken in his bedroom and moved down on all fours.  Was it supposed to feel like this?

No sooner had Donny made his way slowly from the stable than Yoke approached him, bearing some kind of leather straps and apparatus.  Sling play?  Donny shook his head.  He had no idea where that thought had come from.  Evidently the dildo experience had left quite an impression on him.  Yoke looked down at his donkey boy.  "Good.  Ready to start the day."  His words were not phrased as a question.  Without further preamble, Yoke strapped the objects he carried onto Donny.  He moved quickly and skillfully, until Donny was firmly strapped into a harness of some kind.  Donny could not see what it was, as his current physical build did not allow for it.  But he felt it.  It was firm, snug, and unyielding.  "Let's go", Yoke said.

Donny moved along behind.  If he thought moving before the harness felt awkward...  Yoke retrieved a cart from within another shed, this one filled with various tools and such, and hitched Donny to the old wooden cart.  Yoke began to walk, and Donny tried to follow him.  Tried.  The cart was old and unwieldy, heavy and solid.  Donny moved forward but was held fast, anchored by the weight of the cart.  Yoke kept walking, not looking back.  Donny struggled again, to no avail.  He may as well have been hitched to the shed itself.  "Come on, let's go", Yoke said, still not turning around to see Donny's predicament.

Donny hollered to Yoke, trying to cry out, Hey, this thing is too damn heavy! I can't move! but of course, all that came out was "Haa-aaww!"

Yoke walked back to him, looking annoyed, and stared down at Donny.  "Get moving, lazybones."  Donny looked up at him crossly.  You have got to be fucking kidding me.  Yoke pointed outward, toward the open grass.  "Move."  Donny tried again, half-heartedly, to better illustrate the futility of his situation.  Yoke crossed his arms and shook his head,  Pathetic.  He reached into the shed and produced a small but fierce-looking whip.  He held it before Donny.  The donkey's eyes grew wide.  He wouldn't really use that...would he?  "Don't make me", Yoke said in answer to the unspoken question.  "Get moving."  Donny just stood there, frozen, fearful of what that terrible thing would feel like lashing against his bared back.  Yoke cracked the whip upon the ground.  Therr-RAACKK!  "Hyah!"

Donny moved.  His legs pumped and dug against the dirt, his hooves scrambling, pushing with all his might, tugging upon his harness (why didn't the damn thing break??), furiously pulling, until, finally, he moved.  The cart pulled forward, away from the shed.  The wheels rolled once, then stopped in the thick grass.  Donny's head dropped, he felt exhausted.  He'd done it.  He  made the cart move. Yoke was unimpressed.  "Is that it? We've gotta move a hell of a lot further than that today."  Ker-THWACKK! He cracked the whip again so suddenly it made Donny bray in panic.

"Hee-HAWW!"

"Hyah, mule! Go!"  THWAACKK!

Donny pushed forward with all his might, and the tired old cart creaked along behind him.  The weight seemed a bit less resistant once it started rolling.  A bit.  Donny kept tugging and the thing was moving behind him slowly, as if it too had hooves and was digging them into the ground.  Yoke cracked the whip again, quicker and with less audible effect, but his intent was clear.  Thwack!  "That's it, get moving."  He walked ahead, leaving Donny to scurry behind him, the heavy cart tugged along behind him like a blacksmith's anvil.  "We've got a lot of ground to cover today", Yoke said.

Okay, there must be some point to this, Donny thought.  This is the last day he's got, there must be some selling point here I'm missing.  He decided to ride it out a bit longer, see what his mentor had in mind.  What Yoke had in mind was gathering apples from a small grove on the other side of his property.  There was also a small shed and mock stable near the apple trees.  So why the hell hadn't he just started Donny out over here? Wouldn't that have been easier?  Yoke filled the cart with apples as he went along.  Just when Donny thought the cart could weigh any more than it did.  Who knew apples could get so heavy?  Any time that Donny wavered or slowed in dragging along the old cart. Yoke raised his voice. "Let's keep moving here! Lots to do! Hyah!"

Donny was getting exhausted, and felt like a slave.  Worse, a beast of burden.  Once Donny felt his eyelids flutter and himself begin to droop.  He rested momentarily on his front knees in the soft, cool grass.  Surely a few seconds shuteye wouldn't hurt anyone.  He breathed a bit easier and felt the reigns of his harness grow blessedly slack.  So much better...

THA-WHAAACKKK!!!

Donny's eyes snapped open, he scrambled to his feet.  What was happening?!  Yoke shot him a look that would stop a train.  The whip had scarred the grass right beside Donny.  "No sleeping on the job!!", Yoke shouted.  "Stay alert, you stupid jackass!  Move it! HYAHH!"  He cracked the whip again, then again, as Donny tromped in place, uncertain of where to go, of what to do.  Yoke pointed impatiently in the next direction they were to take.  "That way! Hyah!"

Donny pulled the increasingly heavy cart along, frightened of his mentor for the first time.  What the hell was he doing to him?  Didn't he realize that he was still fully aware of what was going on, of what he was being forced to do?  Maybe that was it.  The transformation was incomplete, that's all.  Donny was meant to behave as a stupid donkey on the outside, while on the inside he enjoyed a feeling of blissful ignorance.  Yoke just didn't realize his work was only half done.  After struggling terribly going down a slanting hill, worried that the heavy cart would roll right over the top of him. Donny barely kept the cart full of apples (heavy fucking apples!) from tipping over on one side at the bottom of the hill.  Yoke displayed his displeasure by pulling out the whip and cracking it to emphasize every word.

"No!  NO!!" CRACKK!  "You go slowly down the hill!"  KerRAACKK!  "Bracing the cart with your huge butt!"  KRAAKK!  "Stupid!"  KRACKK!  "STUPID!"  KRAHCKK!  "Jackass!!!"   Ker-RAACKKK!!

Donny shook his head.  Okay, enough was enough.  He tried to convey his frustration to Yoke by stomping his hooves and braying frantically.  I'm still me in here!  I'm still a person!  I'm experiencing everything you're doing!  Stop it!  Fix me!!  "Hee-haaw! Hee-Haawwr!  Hee-Hee-HAAWW!!!"

Yoke raced over and grasped Donny's harness, pulling his donkeyish face close to his own.  "Enough of that.  There's a reason you can still tell everything that's going on right now, donkey boy.  A damned good reason.  But for now, you're just a dumb jackass mule who will do everything his master tells him to do. You got that, boy?"

His master?  Donny had never heard Yoke speak like this, with this intensity, with this level of cruelty, and it frightened him.   All he could do was nod his head.  Yes, he understood.

"Good.  Come on.  We're almost done gathering apples.  Time for a break soon."

It was another half hour before they were done.  Donny was drained and Yoke seemed fresh as a daisy.  Even when he was unhitched from the cart, Donny felt as if he could barely walk, much less run away.  Yoke offered his donkey an apple, which he had to eat from his master's hand.  It was humiliating.  Donny had done so before, but always from within a fog of hypnotic delirium or amused role-play.  This was different.  Yoke would yank the apple away and make Donny do tricks.  He had to indicate the answer to math problems by stomping the dirt.  He had to bray a certain number of times or lower his head to the ground in a sign of respectful submission.  It was mortifying.  And the apple wasn't even that good.

"Time for a relaxing lunch time hike!", Yoke announced cheerfully.

Finally.  Donny had done his back-breaking work and now had earned a rest.  Not so.  No sooner had Yoke led Donny away from the apple cart than he laid a set of heavy saddle bags across his back and fastened reins to his head.  "Come along, boy", he said snidely.  Donny was led through a series of rocky trails as Yoke hiked.  The different levels of rocks, gravel, and outcroppings of thick tree roots made things easy for Yoke, as they served almost as stair steps.  They were a nightmare for Donny, trying to make his way with hooves and wobbly legs  that were tired and to which he was still not fully accustomed.  Several times Yoke threatened action with the whip.  At one point, the stopped at an overlook where Yoke had a sandwich and some water he'd kept in the saddle bags (along with a multitude of heavy tools and things he did not need beyond weighing Donny down).  Donny was too tired to take in the scenery of the entire grassy valley and countryside spread out beneath them.  He had only one thought on his mind at that point.  Please let me make it back down hill...please don't let me fall.

The trek down the other side was rougher than the one leading up, if that were possible.  Donny almost fell once, as rock slid out from under his hooves and he found himself about to tumble end over end to the hard ground some thirty or forty feet below.  Instantly, Yoke was at his side, his large hands bracing Donny's flank and pushing against him with all his might until the donkey was righted. For a moment, Donny thought he could see the kindness in his mentor's eyes again, the genuine concern or his charge's well-being.  But only for a moment.  Yoke's eyes grew hard quickly and he glared at his beast of burden.  

"Stupid jackass!  Be careful going downhill!"  he cracked his whip for emphasis.  CRAACKK!  He trudged on ahead, yanking harshly at Donny' reigns.  "Don't even have the excuse of hauling a cart this time.  Idiot."

It was late afternoon and Donny pushed with all his might.  He was losing ground and losing his strength, what little of it there was left.  After the lunch time hike, Yoke had led Donny to a strange wheeled device and locked him into a real yoke.  The formidable wooden device secured around Donny's neck, the enslaved boy was forced to walk around in circles, as if grinding a mill of old.  It was a great many passes before Donny realized what the cumbersome machine was for.  It generated a very ineffective fan that served to blow a cooling light breeze upon his master as he sat comfortably on a cushioned lawn chair and read a book.  Donny had been at it for a few hours.  Days, he thought.  That was not all he thought.

Donny realized that he was doomed.  Yoke must have realized that there was no way he could convince the boy in three days that his being transformed into some kind of twisted shape-changing donkey man was a good thing, so he had opted to just make Donny into his mule slave now and be done with it.  Donny would spend the rest of his life like this.  He realized that now.  His life was over.  His previous life, anyway.  Who knew that he was working with Yoke?  How many people had he told?  Anyone?  They were in between tour seasons, nobody had really been informed of anything.  His family was used to Donny being on the road for months.  It would be ages before there'd be any kind of gathering of relatives where he'd be missed—if he even was, as he'd spent so many holidays on tour and celebrated with his cast mates rather than family.  How long before anyone came looking for him?  His new life as a donkey slave had begun and he could look forward to a long time as one.

Donny stopped pushing the mill wheel and started to cry.  The noise he made was a pitiful half-mule wheezing bray, but the tears the flowed from his eyes and rolled down his cheeks were all too human.  He was surprised when gentle fingers touched his face and wiped them away.

"Okay, that's enough."

Donny shook his head.  No.  After all this, he would not be denied the small dignity of his own tears, of feeling sorrow for the life he'd lost.  Yoke reached under Donny's chin and raised his head up.  There was the face of his old friend, kind and attentive.  "That's enough for Day Three, I think.  Here."  Yoke produced his remote and pushed a button.  "Go ahead.  You can talk."  Donny looked at him in disbelief.  "Really", he assured him.  "Say something."

Donny's voice cracked when he spoke.  His tears were still evident in the voice of a young man who had been crying.  "Why?"

"This is the final day to convince you about what I've done.  What we've done.  So here we are."

"Well you blew it!", Donny said.  "I want to go back!  I never want to be a fucking donkey again!"

"I just wanted to show you something."

"What?  That you're certifiably insane??"

"Humiliation."

Donny was stunned.  "What?  You wanted to humiliate me?  Why?  I thought you liked me!"

"No", Yoke corrected him, "I wanted to show you humiliation, not just humiliate you.  There's a difference."

"I've already been through junior high!  I don't need to be shown humiliation! I know what it is!!", Donny cried.  He began weeping again.

Yoke went down on one knee to meet Donny eye to eye.  "Yes, but this can be one of the biggest attractions to being turned into a donkey.  Being humiliated and really knowing what you're experiencing as you experience it.  Not afterward, not red-faced in the cafeteria as kids snicker and laugh at you.  Right now, in the moment, absorbing every second of it and really, truly experiencing it."

"You're crazy."

"Okay, try this."  Yoke stood, placing his hands firmly upon the namesake wooden device upon Donny's shoulders.  "Feel these."

"I feel them. I've been in them for fucking hours already."

"No, really feel them.  What do they feel like?"

Donny was about to say something else then paused.  Okay, I'll feel the damn things.  He considered it.  "Heavy."

"Okay, what else."

"Confining."

"Good!  What else?"

"Restricting."

"Keep going."

"Entrapping.  Imprisoning.  Hu..." he almost stopped.  "Humiliating."

"Riiiight.  And what am I?"

"A nutcase?"

"Your master."  Yoke retrieved his whip, making Donny jump a bit, as much as could while yoked to the mill.

"Don't--!"

"Relax.  Now experience this without the fear you've been feeling."  Yoke held up the whip and brandished it like a slave driver.  "Get moving, you miserable jackass!"  Donny just stared at him.  What the hell?  Yoke looked own at him and nodded.  "Well, go on.  Get moving and all that."

Gingerly, Donny moved forward.  He found that the mill wheel moved more easily now.  There was still a tug of resistance, but it was considerably less than it had been.  Yoke had done something to adjust it.  Donny moved forward, feeling the yoke, feeling the wheel, feeling like a donkey.

"You're a stupid jackass!  A worthless mule!", Yoke cried.  The harshness in his voice was back, but it was tinged with a playfulness that had previously been absent.  "What are you?"  Donny kept moving, and said nothing.  "Kid, this is the part where you respond."

"Oh, okay."

"Let's try it again", Yoke said in his normal voice.  Then, harsh again, repeated, "You're a stupid jackass!  A worthless mule!  What are you?"

Donny repeated, "I'm a stupid jackass, a worthless mule."

"Louder!"

"Um...I'm a stupid jackass!  A worthless mule!"  Donny found he was getting hard.

"Like you mean it, slave! Again!"

"I'm a stupid jackass!  I'm a worthless mule!"  His huge dick was growing fully erect now.

"You're a worthless donkey butt mule jackass!"

"I am!  I'm a worthless donkey butt mule jackass!"

"What?  Who am I?"

"Sir!  Master, sir! I'm a worthless donkey butt mule jackass! SIR!"

Donny kept pushing the lightened mill, feeling the wooden yoke, feeling himself grow more and more aroused, more and more turned on.  Why was he responding this way?  He didn't know, but it felt good.

Yoke cracked his whip.  THWACK!  "Stupid fucking worthless ASS!!"

"YES, Sir!  I'm a stupid fucking worthless ASS, SIR!!!"

Donny could barely contain himself.  His dick was throbbing, his shoulders aching under the strain of the yoke, the push of the mill wheel.  He was so overcome with arousal and felt utterly humiliated.  Was he really doing this??

"You have only one way to prove to me that there is any hope for you, you miserable, stupid, brainless, dumb jackass!"

"Sir, yes sir!  Tell me what it is, Sir!"

"When I next crack my whip, you will come and prove that you are not yet ready for the glue factory!"

"SIR!!"

Yoke cracked his whip.  KER-RAACKK!!  Donny came.  His body thrust and convulsed, his cock throbbed and a huge rush of semen shot from his penis.  It overwhelmed his entire body.  Donny trembled helplessly as his pelvis thrust and grinded out gush upon gush of donkey semen.  As his load was spent, Donny felt his entire body revert to nearly-human proportions.  With human arms and legs, torso and rear, Donny slipped easily out of the yoke and collapsed in a heap on the ground.  He crawled over onto the grass and lay on his back.  His face was completely human again, but for the donkey ears atop his head.  His chest, crotch, and thighs were thick with a coating of cum.  It took him the better part of five minutes to catch his breath enough to speak.

"Couldn't we have started with that one?"

"Would it have felt as intense to you without the day of buildup?", Yoke asked simply.

Donny thought about it only for a moment.  "No."

"There you go, then."

"I thought you'd lost your mind", Donny confessed.

"I'm a theater man from way back.  You think I can't assume a character for a while?  I mean, seriously."  Yoke sat beside Donny in the grass.  His ward was still breathing heavily, partly from elation, partly from exhaustion.  After a few moments of silence, Yoke spoke one word.  "Well?"

Donny lay on his back, staring up at the evening sky, contemplating.  It did not take him long to reply.

"You've got three months.  Three months and that's it.  After that, pfft!, I'm gone."

"Fair enough."  Yoke lay down beside Donny.  

"But let's leave the whole humiliation donkey slave bit for a few weeks at least, alright?", Donny suggested.

Yoke grinned.  "Deal."  They shook on it.  After a fashion. Yoke shook Donny's hoof where his hand used to be. And would be again.  They lay there for a little while longer.

"Hey", Donny said, "was this all some kind of weird brainwashing thing to screw with my head and bend me to your will and all that to make me think I want this, whether I really do or not?"

Yoke shrugged.  "I don't know.  Probably."

They both laughed.  They stayed there on the grass, lying side by side, watching the sky turn pink and orange, then velvety blue as the stars came out.  Without realizing it, they held hands.

*   *   *

Yoke designed an upgrade to Donny's tail that allowed him to change back and forth from donkey to person as he wanted, depending on how he manipulated it.  It also allowed Yoke a fun ass-crank control over his boy.  When they returned to the Greener Pastures company, Donny and Yoke became known as the Team Supreme, both as technical wizards and as performers.  They really did end up putting on Apuleius' The Golden Ass, too.  It ran for weeks and was very well received.  Great reviews, and a special national touring award for special effects/costume.  Imagine that.

Yoke and Donny had been working together for three years when it noted that Yoke seemed to have a surge of youthfulness about it him whenever he and Donny were together, while Donny just seemed to look gorgeous all the time.  His skin tanned easily, his hair was always thick and shiny, his complexion perfect, his physique made everyone in the troupe drool, men, women, gays and straight alike.  One day as a shirtless Donny, helping with set construction, zipped happily by two of the actors, he was admired as usual.

The first man, slender with slicked-back hair in a wife beater nudged his goateed companion in the unbuttoned silk shirt.  He raised an eyebrow and stuck his tongue in his cheek.  "Snack."

"Table for two, honey."  The shared knowing smirks.

"God, that boy is perfect.  Too bad he's straight.  What a waste."

"With all the time he spends with Yoke, are you sure?"

"Mm-hmm.  He's just a special effects hag.  Wants to be the next Harryhausen for the stage or whatever."

"Well, give him enough time with Yoke...or with us...we'll straighten him out."

"Or not."  They laughed at themselves as much as at the double entendre then watched Donny as he hopped down from the catwalk, muscles rippling, drops of perspiration forming on his brow as he reached for more tools.

"Flawless", the wife-beater man admired.

"Well, he is now", said the other.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well", the answer came.  "A body like that, that can do the things he can do?  Come on.  He's had work done."

Little did they know.

-fin-

---

If you enjoyed this story, please write the author and let him know so he'll write more, at [email protected]

 

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