| Go back to AdobeFats Index. Side 2 |
| “The Cure for what ails” (Revised
12-09) “Bob was a good friend, a very good friend, and a friend in need becomes a friend indeed!” We grew up in the same town, lived only a block away from the other, played sports went everywhere; or did until what happened one dark, moonless night. It happened during that special summer vacation coming just after we had graduated from high school. It was a time of feeling elated for what was accomplished, and a time to look at what further schooling would help us to choose what we would do as making a living. Mr. Athletic, what I named Bob, he was into anything to do with athletics, loved to ride his ten-speed bike. He would leave early in the morning near to sun up, and ride all day coming home sometime in the evening. For Bob his joy was in the feeling of physical exertion, to which his cycling over hill and dale was to him as good fun, he used this as having time alone to think about his future. A stormy summer afternoon was the precursor for bearing of bad news. When the evening newspaper arrived thrown as usual onto the front porch, when opened and seen, there on the first page was a news article about a missing person, it was about Bob. According to the reported accounting of the local Sheriff, his parents had reported their son as missing, he failing to return home from riding his ten-speed. A search for Bob began on the forth day after his reported as missed by his parents and feared injured or worse. A day of frantic searching of where a person might go if injured and getting out of the storm and vicious lightning experienced on that fated day when Bob rode away from his home. The newspaper had a splashy story to tell, the local sheriff deputies discovered my good friend Bob, he lying naked in a farm barn, his clothing neatly folded and set outside the stall of a two-year old pony mare. Literary crucifixion of the newspaper made it as their assertion of the facts, using a picture taken of the pony mare in her stall and matched to a photo of Bob wrapped in a blanket, he standing by a police car, handcuffed and looking bewildered. From such came the suggestions in the write up, as after testing of but Bob and the mare, it was said that he (Bob) had sexually molested the pony. In the weeks that followed, Bob went through a hellish time. Sneering friends and indignant people were but part of his humiliation. He had to endure as did his parents the wrath of people they thought were friends, everyone wanting to point an accusing finger at Bob and as well at his loving parents. Worse was the many news reports that flocked to and stood in vigilance awaiting a chance to ask that one question few spoke about but reports wanted to hear as answered, "What Bob did it feel like, you having sex with a pony mare?" A shameful question about an incident that went unanswered, as Bob told the police, his reason for having entered the barn was to get out of the serious storm raging around him. He made note of the animals there in the barn too, they all nervous from the loud thunder and the winds blowing a roaring gale. His accounting of what happened after that had him unable to give the police a continuous accounting of what happened and why when found he was naked and having clinical signs of his having molested the female animal. “Truth,” a thing that is now days manufactured to draw people to listen and hear, while what is said is sliced apart by the advertisements for whatever the sponsor wishes to sell. Judgment of laws came then quickly and without any mercy for Bob or his stunned parents. His sentencing too made things worse for him and rather than he to go through counseling Bob would enter prison. The sentencing of Bob to serving at the least five years, but not more than a possible twenty, was to teach him a lesson. However, if he did not learn to behave in a prudent and proper moralistic social fashion, his parole date might need some extensions. The thought of my friend Bob in prison, I had to wonder if those there could or would want to be of any help to teach anybody anything of living morally and modest, it seemed unlikely. Bob often wrote to me letters, he felt a need to tell me, to try to explain to his good friend just what happened. We communicated for many months, the post office clerk-taking note of the letters and to whom such bared the return address of the state prison. This caused more talk, innuendos flew about town and it happened one afternoon the Sheriff came visiting. He came to point an accusing finger at me, and give a warning to our family of continued conversing with a known sexual predator might bring charges against us all. I got angry, and yelled at the rude cop, "Bob is not a sexual anything; never a more moral person walked the earth than was such a good friend!" Soon after that confrontation there came a letter addressed to our family and from Bob. He wanted to inform us of his deciding to accept different his transfer from state prison to become a prisoner volunteer. He was to become a prime part of scientific experimentation. Soon he would be moved to the Thule Research Foundation, and it located in Billings, Montana. His work or use by them there seemed secretive, but it would get him away from the brutal people in the state prison. As reported to his parents, Bob received many a bad beating by inmates and others; they all had a bleak opinion of what was to us as a nice person. The prison Physiologist informed Bob of a medical study involving sex offenders of the zoophobia variety. As told to Bob, the experiments were of a new nature assured to give a cure of permanence from ever being considered or accused of that lurid immoral offense. It was as a reprieve from the extreme sentencing by the local judge, and as well thought of as a cure for what the state thought ailed Bob. He made mention it seemed he had nothing to lose and only a more professional, peaceful place to serve out his sentence. Bob accepted the transfer, but after just that one letter, he never wrote to me again. As months passed, and a year went by, there beget a thought of writing a letter to that foundation; as if only to inquire, wondering about whatever happened to friend Bob. What came in response to many letters was from a Professor Haun, he, as according to his credentials suggested he was the managerial person over all zoophiles offensive prisoners. He wrote of making great strides in both mental and physical adaptation, and of how friend Bob received a pardon and transfer to begin serious work as at the Milwaukee zoo. Writing then to the zoo, asking about Bob, the zoo personnel department wrote back of they not having anybody employed there by that name, not even did they have an employee by the first name of Bob. In levity, the person writing back made mention the only Bob they had there at the zoo was a mature stallion Zebra by the name of Bob. Waiting and wondering, the thought came of inquiring at the foundation in Montana about working there, of asking for a job of any kind. Oddly, an application for employment and or volunteering arrived, shown to parents they were not too thrilled about their son moving far away and residing in Montana. A quick reply and filling out the necessary information, the listing of friend Bob as a once employed person there at and by the foundation seemed a good way to introduce a person wishing to learn what happened to Bob. Bob, Bob, Bob, all the time there was many questions as to what all happened, why did he do something so out of character to his true beliefs, it all made no sense! “Greetings, Your application for employ here at the foundation level is as denied. However, if still interested, entry-level status work is available, and by filling out the enclosed application, said such desired employment at Sunrise Research Farms of Appleton, Wisconsin has openings. As made mention in the applications and letter, your friend Bob does work through the Wisconsin office, he presently is on a long-term sabbatical study of the mating rites of the African Zebra. Most Sincerely, Professor H. E. Haun Deciding as to where one should begin looking for Bob, the rather obvious suggestion seemed the better course to follow. Accepting then to work in some menial manner is about what you might expect, but upon getting to Sunrise Research, they offered a few surprises. Upon arrival, the meeting with a Doctor Luscious Dubois and his several associates, each of which looked at the new recruit, as if at an animal auction and planning to buy. After handshakes all around the Doctor left and the technicians took over, conferring many tests, some mental awareness sessions, and physical enduring of challenges such as running, jumping, and standing on tiptoes, arms held front forward, yes closed, and in a continuous exercise of deep breathing and harsh exhaling of spent breath. That day and the next two weeks had much of the same odd testing and not a word to the recruit as for what this all meant to him. Finally, the testing ceased and a weekend of free time had a tired person taking the bus to Milwaukee and the city zoo. Once on the inside the main fence, the plan was to venture to see the Zebra confinement. Standing or seated, watching and waiting until such time seemed appropriate, then approaching the fence, the calling of the name Bob made even the caller think he was nuts. “Bob…Bob…Bob…!” As if from down and inside, there in the confinement came as an answer the whimpering sound of a Zebra as if in agony. Moving toward where the sound seemed to originate, the sad looking Zebra stallion stood there listening to a name broadcast that he could recognize; as meanwhile the calling of his body tried to seduce him into acting like would a stallion stud of a Zebra. “Bob…?” Said in a questioning tone, as for seeing what seemed as much to answer to the spoken name, the form did not look to this person like the person once called as a friend. Standing there stood a mature but still young and very sleek of form, male Zebra. The young male had a going arousal of major proportions, he sniffing the breeze was obviously enjoying the wafting musky scent coming from of four Zebra mares also standing nearby. The occasional calling the name Bob aloud caused the Zebra to turn around, and when facing the fence, it cut loose a braying cry that caused all walking past to stop and gawk. “How, how could what stands there being of animal form and acting like an immoral uncaring stallion, this male Zebra acted as if he knew the name and wanted to express his feelings.” I thought to myself, there had to be a truth here! The clicking of a camera shutter was then the only sound this one would dare use as a reply. It meant a lot right then, but to the Zebra, it meant little as after twenty minutes of various callings and replies, he wandered to the Zebra mares, choosing one of them, he then began what was a equine ritual, as all signs suggested the stallion Zebra planned then to mate with his Zebra mare. The constant watching of how any a Zebra stood there and did whatever seemed natural, held the attention of a young and still foolhardy young man, as the security cameras kept on eye for trouble and recorded who was close to the fence. Upon the return trip back to Appleton and to the research center employee housing unit number two; when entering inside the considered private room, there sat a disgusted Doctor Dubois. “Had a fun day, anything you would care to talk about?” The Doctor asked, he looked at his employee as if angered and like a father disgusted with one of his children. “Yes, after a phone call to the Milwaukee zoo and speaking there with a rude woman by her name of Gisela, she made fun of the asking about Bob, the friend you said was on a long-term sabbatical there to learn more about Zebra mating rituals. Even without her help, the calling of his name, yelling into the confinement, Bob, Bob, and a third time more Bob…! An answer came from one young but fully mature male stallion Zebra standing near the fence, butt toward the onlookers, as if a Zebra might feel somehow embarrassed. After all, if you remember that kid joke of what is black and white and red all over, why an embarrassed Zebra, right? Well then Bob answered, and kept trying his darnedest to communicate his various feelings, especially those dealing with what all he had since learned about the mating rituals of Zebras. Bob was there, he is as one of the Zebra stallions! Bob can remember his human name, he knew his good friend, feeling elated at the coming to visit him, he brayed loud and as if tickled. Yet his male Zebra inclinations won the day and he wandered off to meet and mate with a Zebra mare having her sensations of desire and bestial needs.” So said I, and boldly to the manager and main scientist-curator there at Sunrise Research. The doctor sat there for a long minute before he keenly stared at me, and asked then, “If offered would you care to join Bob, Robert in his long-term sabbatical there, you becoming as a Zebra stallion too? Or, if that seems to tame for your liking, we have a very similar such volunteer duty scheduled, and you might like being a Cape buffalo bull for some five years or longer!” “How was such thing possible, the massive and drastic changing of a human being into the form of an animal, a Zebra or some bull?” Surprised one did ask, as much as seeing of Bob to be then a Zebra stallion and liking it, the thought of joining him and be too a stallion Zebra made for some shaky feelings. The doctor told me to consider the matter, as and since I had learned the secret of what about Bob, he assured then that something similar needed doing to assure the secret became again as a secret. A pointed index finger detonated on the end table by the side of the bed set a thick ledger book, it a photo registry of all the previous transformations as done to the many people of who had learned too much, too quickly. “What about Bob, what about Me!” Was I working for Dr. Frankenstein, such things as transformation he say and from his notebook would seemingly show that such miracles in his realm of scientific knowledge were commonplace. A quick paging through his notebook reinforced the thought this fool was working for a lunatic, insane, he would take normal people and use them for scientific fodder. He would re-mold a human body, doing more and changing its skin, growing fur, adding tails, doing so much more and in the end time, that person would leave the foundation property as an animal in a livestock truck. If not for the tested experience of finding Bob and speaking, we communicating, and of doing it with some fantasy dream like aberration, personally it would be similar to a Hollywood “B’ class horror film. And then, what about Bob, if he was again found and being where and what the doctor left him as, what was his future, and how could his friend help him. It seemed so impossible, but added to it was the fact of Professor Haun coming personally to inform, show, and tell of what he can do. He wanting a tight rein on security about his project, as to silence someone else, he tossed an offer of either join Bob and his life of living for the moment, or be some brute male animal and do the same there as might by being a Zebra. Fantasy foolishness, but suddenly all too real and reality standing there would expect an answer. To calmly choose of which animalistic form to become, to defile all and everything one has grown up to know is right and living a moral life; to throw it all to the winds of time and let this man change away everything. Would one want to be then as is Bob, he standing as when first seen, mentally elated and sexually aroused, doing his pride before all the onlookers present? Privacy to a normal human is part of what each is and by being like is Bob that too is gone from him. To become an object as such a piece of property, the sensing of such offered suddenly a taught lesson in school of those through history who became by whatever means as slaves. Men enslaved other men, mattering not of colors or race, but this, what Professor Haun proposes, this takes a scientific leap beyond enslavement. Why with just paging through the notebook of pictures and written fates of so many people, their were many terrors told of people changed, living as working animals, beasts of burden, truly they were then as slaves to an owner, their bestial feelings, and their own memories of what they were previous. The thought to run, run away and never look back became a tried idea, but before one could get ten stepped strides outside the apartment door, two burly looking guards stood baring the way. Some guards might verbal an order to return to the apartment and there decide of some beastly future. You might think that is what happened, but not, the one guard raised an arm and pointed a directing finger, as the other guard snorted beastly fashion, and tilting his head downward, eying down did give a stare like would a bull angered and pawing the ground, ready at any aggressive act to charge and subdue his enemy. Returning to the apartment seemed the better of the choices offered then, and entering, slammed the door, feeling anger too, as one entrapped and waiting for judgment. There lay that three-ring notebook with all the pictures and judgments made by the professor, he degrading people, dooming them, and leaving them as if cursed to live in an animalistic world. Flopping into a chair, one hand reached for the notebook and with paging through it, some of what as shown caused an odd sense of intrigue. Friend with Professor Haun, Misses Williamson wanted a divorce but her loving husband would not agree. Disgusted and wrought with anger, the subject came up in comment to the professor. He made Misses a lurid offer, one to match her hate for the man she wished desperately to be rid of, and the professor had a way to do it without leaving a corpse. Kidnapped leaving his employment, wrestled into a waiting foundation van, sedated throughout the entire process of Reformation, Mr. Williamson awoke from his slumber into a nightmare lifestyle of being a pony stallion. He must have known of what he became, and whom he was before so changed, as he hated then his family. Mean to his children, he likely felt embarrassment being naked even in a pony form. His only hope of leaving his humiliation behind was with acting spiteful to all. Children reacting to an unloving pet, bitten or kicked, their delight for the pet waned until the sadistic woman and ex-wife did return the pony husband to the Foundation for whatever use they could have for such an ungrateful beast. After his humiliation feelings faded, he still acted meanly to those who knew him only as a pony stallion. It was later, months later when the Professor Haun felt the kick of a pony leg that he spitefully had Gerald gelded, and then sold at auction to a petting zoo. Duane Adams contacted professor Haun, a turnabout situation, as his wife of eleven years had become an unfaithful wife and mother. He too felt humiliated, and being extremely wealthy, he arranged for his wife to enter what she thought was a physiological sanitarium for counseling. In fact, she went to stay at the Foundation apartments, and once settled into her new surroundings, the professor had her sedated and removed to Laboratory seven for the processing of her into what would be her until death. Jo-Anne, fully reformatted, became in kind to a Quarter-horse mare, and she kept at Sunrise Research Farm for two years before allowed then to see her son Jeffery. Her aggrieved husband thought to allow a reuniting of his wife and the mother of Jeffery their only son, by giving Jeffery a horse that would quite love him. The Professor insisted a high standard of professionalism by those working as part of his staff, as well those in lower held positions. When the accosting of a secretary by technician met the attentions of the Professor, he quickly asserted his status and set judgment upon the perpetrator. James accepted what he thought would be for him the lesser of two dishonorable situations, as unknown then to him; the Reformation Process made of a person something more than just animalistic. Understood to the Professors and a few others, but generally considered as reversible, the process was in dire fact a permanent rearrangement. James expected his stay in the animal world as a short five-year sentence, something of less humiliation and shorter than what the government might put upon him for such a vile act. As pictured, James stood showing his evil blue eye in a cold stare, he still a pony stallion then in his sixth year or what the professor knew would continue for another twenty plus more years. If similar in the same judgment, if becoming a horse or pony and living then like was James, what he had endowed under him, and of his herd, what he accomplished stood in the pasture as some rather perverted sense of fun. Pondering the attested accomplishments of all those who were Reformatted through the process invented by the Professors, would it be so wrong to be a volunteer? If to join Bob in his perpetuated Zebra male state of many an arousals, this be preferred, if made to choose between what the Professor blatantly offered. Or would if crazy and insane as might be the Professor, he has need of some person becoming as an item to fill and ordered specie. “Undecided” As what the Professor said was a ledger record of his many accomplishments, the book was to me as if a Sears catalog, showing various bodily forms and lifestyles for to make a finalized choice. The choice of such seemed as much a perverted sort of choosing, the prime reason for most to be as what the Professor made of them was for enjoyment of a sensual time of thrills. They who wanted such thrills, whether by being male of female, but having the personal anonymity when guised, as an animal to do what to people would be a sinful sort of existence. Obviously, after looking through the first chapter of that ledger book, and the comments posted there, the Process as such, allowed some to find and live their lifelong fantasy dreams. One had to wonder about the experience, if wishing to be as a morphed partially changed human form to blend what is animal with a human frame; what would think later then when the process took over and completed the transition, making a person become as whole an animal. What then would it be liken too, would the thrill increase, or might a sense of dread and doom fallow that fantasy dream? Friend Bob went along with the program, and when sold to a zoo he turned his life challenge toward keeping those as females of his new species as content as was he for having a similar experience. Although for Bob what seemed to me, his constant heightened state of many daily arousals suggested his mind dwelling then on seeking male pleasures as his primary reason for being alive. This primal reason for continued living of life was to me as something attune to an unproductive life; producing offspring, true enough, but nary more in the ability or desire to be anything more. Once they who became then as changed, becoming an animal in form, lost the drive to make something more of their situation. Most dwell on the easy road for a life path of seeking sensual pleasures and reap then the benefit of adding another to a harem. In the ledger book were pictures and stories of some so changed that became as friends and animal mentors of young people, offering guidance to them, if doing it without the verbal ability of communication. Mark Tyler, Welsh Pony Stallion: Alias: Markey, owned by Alice Van Der Marne, 12 years old, she was a beginner equestrian rider. Retaining full mental alert capacity, Mark in his own fantasy dream form, took care of his owner, teaching her to respect and know a sense of integrity from her acting as the caregiver to her mount and friend. If known of such and the underlying aspects of the pony being once human as well, the reporting of it would bring forth thousands to volunteer! Such high and righteous thinking made the Professor laugh and he remarking about foolish piety. His plans dealt with the quest of earning his fortune, as at present his Process should remain mostly one of a well kept secret. As of those in the inner ring of knowledgeable people, they took in people fool enough to volunteer or needy, having lost their employment they sought for any manner of making money, even selling some of their life years for a time of living in a imposed sort of Hell. Primary in the Professor’s mindset was the purposeful use of the Process to house and feed people deemed as prisoners of the state. He remarked openly of the wasted finances used for housing those with life sentences, and of the rough brutes that murdered and or brutalized people for whatever reason. Those as prisoners, the Professor thought as his high and mighty status to set judgment on said losers, making of them what would cost the government minimal maintenance, while giving of a monetary return as those so processed went about their daily drudgery of being a beast of burden. As from my own sense of personal morality, the suggestion of the Professor does have some merits, but there are the considerations of those who are as prisoners from other lesser crimes, what if they were to befall into the Process; their change would make a lite sentence into a terminally permanent. Morality would suffer, as once the secret of the Process went to save money; the money would become a purpose of itself to doom and entomb others into a life of beastly servitude. Lincoln abolished slavery in American and the Professor Haun would have it reinstated by a turn of events and defining the working class as something far beneath those with power and or wealth. The imagined host of sins covered over by sending the perpetrator and or the victims into some animalistic guise and servitude, would in time, then become a common thing considered as moral to society. An about face in human rules of morality were already quite delicate, something that those in government could easily changed the pubic views. Reckoning on what someone thinks should change and be then commonplace, no matter on its previous or hard taught lessons as why society had enforced rules, the making of an ideal as something seemingly harmless tends to defeat the previous line of thinking. The Devil himself did something so righteous to his own cause, when by using Hollywood and the imaginations of lesser moral men, he made sport of his demeanor and caused the world to think of Devils, Demons and the diabolical powers that be as something of foolish fantasies. Therefore, if the devil could do it, why then not a man lacking concerns for what is morally correct, he standing then as a supreme judge, and would for money then willfully dooms any into damnation and a perversion of body and soul. There is, and from the beginning of time stood with us a force that temped man. That what is good some force suggests as it is weak and worthily requires its destruction. The same force taunts all that lives of acting perverse or mean toward another, suggesting of weakness is all-bad and strength is everything, the rule then is to kill and kill until what is moral and or righteous is obliterated. Then for those who remain shall see who of what sets itself up as king, high priest and or supreme ruler of what is yet, sadly after that holocaust. Perspectives need be the consideration of balances between what is the godly side of man and the dark dooming part of the human conscious. “A place for everything, and everything in its own place,” as my mother taught me, the Process has its good use…maybe, but if perverted, the results had wide repercussions upon us all! Thoughts to ponder, as flipping the page in the ledger book of the Processed, comes a story of someone who made their transformation into betterment for all. A mister anonymous, he who became for a young person as a 4-H project became a pet and as much, a herd sires bull. His tenure to be bovine as if to hide away from angry people, became a godsend to a spiteful child and to a man embarrassed by his actions to wish for other than his continued living. “Perils of Identity theft” Theft of their real identities led them to have need of funds, cash to live as they would so please. The offer of paid volunteering struck a cord, and in short order they both signed away their futures. As after several weeks of induced comatose states for each, Professor Haun woke them to the realization their use and need for money was a thing of the past. Completely unexpected by the two people, they awoke to being each in a barn stall, both changed drastically of species, being bovine, they were as cow and bull, Black Angus was their breed. Breeding was their duty, as sire breeding of a six hundred cow herd was what Professor Haun decided for Adam to do his utmost. Four weeks of bovine animalistic orientation had Mona pregnant, and Adam more than willing to romp with some very leathery vulva endowed cows. He had something more than he did as a man and found it to be heightened in its sensual feel. He liked his cow wife, but sought to breed willingly with the cattle herd, his sparing finished, the Professor leased Adam to other farms and let him run wild. "Bad friends, makes for bad luck!" Mr. Mike Warren III Fraternity hazing made Mike climb the fence at Sunrise Research, he with two brothers there, they with a camera, were along to take pictures as Mike was to mate with a mare. Foolhardy young men, they entered the most likely a place to find worse fortune than of any farm in that county. Dodging the lights and many security cameras, the three went to what appeared the larger of the barns, it being "Laboratory # 7". Set up and ready to photograph Mike as he with pants down around his shoes stood bearing forward, he humped over the rounded rump of a pony mare. Inserted and beginning his thrusting, Mike saw then friend Stan fall as lifeless to the barn floor. Raider, the bigger brother in the fraternity made it several strides toward the barn door before he slumped and fell face down to the barn floor. Pony Annabelle did her best to hold tight what Mike had in her. She a equine volunteer by choice, stood enjoying the attention of a young man. She having felt the size and sensuality of many a stallion since arriving and her species changed at Laboratory # 7. Professor Beaker working late on a young fellow, had his trussed up off the floor, he getting his first lathered dousing of the skin darkening formula. The sounds of laughter rarely come from the many stalls there behind the laboratory. Most who awaken in those stalls cry out from pains or fear, they seeing how while kept for weeks in a induced comatose state did wake to being partially transformed into some breed of animal. An excellent marksman with a rifle, Professor Beaker dropped two of the intruders, but held back, letting Annabelle milk Mike for every drop of what he had as his sexual worth. Scared of what would happen and of jail, Mike soon learned his pending arrest would be the better of what might befall him. Anesthetized, in a twilight like state, Mike had to listen as Professor Beaker thanked the young man for his being first to volunteer into the Thoroughbred Reformation Process Experiment. Mike screamed as the long syringe needle entered his ear, protruded deep into the lower lobes of his brain and spinal cord. That was about the last Mike remembered of any pain, he like his two friends awoke from their coma sleep some nine weeks later. Mike discovered his body and world as changed, but to his wild fantasy thrills, he was as he would wish was possible, and for him, is! Strong and stocky, his temperament made him unfit for living in an Equine lifestyle, Professor Haun used him in the Angus Process Experiment. Older than his friends, the Reformation process makes use of previous built muscle mass and uses it to enhance the chosen animalistic new form. Pictured wearing his horns and after some chemically induced breeding of cows, John Allen, Raider Ross stands eying the camera and knowing his work is with the rumps of cows. ”Bad friends made for him his bad luck,” whatever he had thought would be his future did change, and he discovering his pony stallion self, then became subservient to children at the local park.
|
| Go back to AdobeFats Index. Side 2 |