They did not understand at all how the human could have survived.
   Their queen's hive had started small but with enough resources and time, they had built herself an empire worthy of her new kin. Their honeycombed hive thick as trees lined the barn with workers and soldiers busily tending to new young and food stores while their defenses worked to fend off the intruder outside. Their numbers were large enough to kill entire herds of cattle and humans alike and could make quick work of their measly protection. They fought bravely for their queen with no fear of death. The message that echoed across their mind, however, left them quelled for a moment.
   You started small and you'll end small.
   Where did that come from? The entire hive shook with outrage. Their hearts and minds were one. There was no individuality, nothing that would contradict their motivations or actions. Who dared defy them with such poisonous thoughts?
   As if in answer, the barn doors, barricaded by honeycomb and chitin, burst apart with inhuman prowess, honey and larva scattering on the floor. All eyes were on the intruder, all antennae smelling him out. Their senses were their Queen's and she observed the intruder to make sense of it. Something was wrong. Its smell was not the same.
   It smelled as their own. It stood as a human, tall and alien, yet its shape, its limbs, its posture and wings were that of their kind. It had a permeating scent of a male—a wandering drone offering life to the hive. It folded its lower chitinous arms against its thorax as the upper arms began fiddling with human equipment, mandibles clicking between its proboscis. It was a bee shaped like a man.
   Curious.
   The fighting had ceased. New chemicals were and dances were being orchestrated between the Hive to make sense of this curiosity. It was connected to their Queen and the Hive yet acted as its own kind. The Hive buzzed and clicked for answers. It demanded answers mixed with threats. The voice laughed…it had a voice? Where was theirs…no, that was wrong.
   You're confused. You've been changed for so long that your mind's drifted. You don't even know how to speak—you can't. A few moments and I will help you find your voice again.
   There was no time to ask when the noise echoed across the hive, clawing into the brains of ever bee in the hive. The swarm screeched and the queen writhed in agony, unable to crawl away or fly to safety. It felt terrible pain, like when a cruel human child burned ants with a magnifying glass.
   The agony subsided, however, and the hive halted. An idea was spurring up from nothing. Hamburgers. They liked hamburgers, beyond all insectoid rationale. Cats were suddenly not a threat but endearing. The concept of reading a book felt like a nice alternative to gathering food. They understood the english language. It was wrong yet they did not want this to stop. What had this drone done to them to give them this insight?
   Tell me your name. You have a name, remember.
   The Hive quivered. A name? Unheard of--names were not for bees. Bees were designated by scent and their role by birth. Yet everything they were feeling now, so alien yet familiar, clashed with their purpose of being. They had a name once. No, they still had a name. The Queen rubbed its mandibles and, with little understanding of how it could speak, called back to the voice with growing clarity.
   It was…It…we…were…are…we are…Veronica. We are Veronica. Who are you?

   Surviving the attack by the swarm had been extremely tricky for Agent Reagan. He had to pull out a non-lethal bug repellent to spray enough of a cloud to ward off the insects to pull out his secret weapon. It was a last resort only if Veronica had proven to be too violent and hostile to communicate with peacefully.
   Upon using an X-Change Wild Fantasy Performance Pill, however, Reagan was able to confuse the Hive long enough that he could infiltrate the Hive and set up the equipment that he'd brought with him. An electronic device quietly pulsed high-wave frequencies within enough of a radius to disrupt the Hive mind's instincts and restructure it back to a coherent, unified and almost individualistic series of thought patterns. It could then be translated via an audio output speak and recorded for later use back at X-Change Inc.
   “At least, that's one of the more elaborate ways of putting it,” Reagan's voice said through the device as he cleaned his clawed hands with his proboscis. “You still don't have all your brain functions to understand its complexities, so I'll just say that we can talk to insects using this machine, whether they're hive minded or solitary. Just talk to me using your thoughts.”
   After a long pause inside the honeycomb infested farm, oozing with honey, the voice that was very likely Veronica's as a human spoke to Reagan. “We are Veronica. We are Veronica.”
   “Yes, I know that. But tell me more about yourself besides your name.”
   The Hive made the equivalent of a long, drawn-out groan. More of this non-insect nonsense! The soldiers grinded their mandibles and stingers, pleading for them to just kill the Drone. The workers looked on confusedly as to why they were not working to collect honey. Everything was on pause because their matriarch continued to hesitate. Why, they asked.
   The queen cleaned its antennae in irritation before coaxing the Hive to talk once more. This drone-man asked such annoying questions—yes, it was so hard to think to its level. Some corner of her mind, however, compelled her and the rest of her children to try. “We are Veronica. We live here. This land is ours. We took it from the ants and wasps and the beetles down below. All who intrude are the enemy. You are intruder yet you smell like us…but you are not us. You smell of Bee but you act and speak like a human. You are an individual. We are many. We demand answers.”
   “So would I, Veronica. And so would your grandfather. Perhaps we can work together.”
   “What is a Grandfather?”
   “Your Grandfather is the one who owns this farm.” Reagan said coolly.
   “Ah, the human slave. He belongs to us freely. It was he who awakened us, freed us. We were released from our cage of flesh. We tolerate his presence but no other intruders. Not like the past few humans who have intruded. They were to be dealt with immediately.”
   “Is that how you really think of your grandfather? I would assume you would be more sentimental than that…”
   Veronica paused. “You mean…as in 'love'?”
   If Reagan were biologically capable, he would be smirking. “I didn't say that, specifically. The fact that you were able to come to that concept on your likely means that the insect mind has far less control. You've been on an X-Change Wild Clean pill with the Xtra-Strength Formula for weeks now. You are due to regress back in exactly 36 hours, but we need to know all about how your story and how this all came to be. Are you willing to cooperate now, or am I still talking to the hive called collectively as Veronica?”
   The Queen's voice ached and staggered. It was remembering so many things about itself now and it was leaving her hive emotionally paralyzed. She was losing her connection to her children. She needed them to help her. How could she survive? “W-we…we…I don't know who I am, anymore! Who is anyone? I am Veronica but I am also…Veronica? What's happened to me?”
   “It's all right. As I said, I'm an agent from X-Change Incorporate and I'm here to help.” Reagan clicked a button on his equipment as his voice grew clearer. “We need to know all about how this situation got so out of control and how it all began. Doing so will help us be able to help you. So please. Start from the beginning. Tell me everything that you know.”
 
   “Well, let me try to think back on who I used to be. I know that I was Veronica. In the singular sense. I had ambitions to go into construction engineering when I was out of college. I was one semester away from earning my Master's Degree. I was going to graduate with a GPA of 3.5. There was even a boy around campus who was looking to propose to me—he never thought that I knew about it. I had a lot of things going for me when I was going to school. I didn't have much time to myself but my parents were so proud of me.
   Then came the spring.
   Spring Break was the week that changed everything for myself. I was going off to visit my Grandfather on the farm. He had been so very proud of that home, being the home of his father and his father before him. There was entire generations of history behind that house and every family grew different crops. My grandfather specialized in bee farming.
   It was prosperous, initally, and he earned enough money to take care of my mother and her siblings. When they were old enough, they would help him out with taking care of things. Eventually, though, she had gotten married. They all did. Soon it was just him again and things went downhill from there.
   Did you know that bees are currently an endangered species? All the poisons that the humans…that we put in the air has made them so scarce now. Entire crops had been lost. Grandfather, unfortunately, was one of the people affected by their poison spraying. The bee hives almost never recovered.
   It was there that he had to pull loans after loans to pay off the growing debt to the farm. He was all by himself and could barely manage the farm when I was in college. Never did he make it our problems, however—this was a matter that he had to resolve on his own. Always the stubborn sort, my grandfather was. Even when a solution was presented within reach, he was never someone to take the easy road out.
   I had arrived to the house that day hoping to get caught with how life had been to my grandfather. However, I wasn't the only visitor at the house that day. Another Agent like yourself had shown up with promises to him about how to resolve his death. The look on his face was absolutely livid. He looked ready to throw the man off his property if they didn't get out anytime soon. Talking about it revealed nothing. I was simply told to ignore it and never ask about it again.
   How couldn't I ask him about it, though? I had spent the most time with him as his granddaughter. If he was in any kind of trouble, he could've just told me what the problem was. I wasn't like my mom or dad, who were always looking for big favors from him. I never asked for much—after all these years, I'd hoped that he would've come to trust me ages ago.
   That was when he came to me while I was reading and said that he'd changed his mind with the man at the door. He told me all about the debts he'd compiled since being left alone to himself and his regrets about never being able to convince his children never to stay behind to help him take care of the farm. The man presented the solution he was asking for, though. He just never dared to use it out of fear. With poverty and possibly losing his home on his doorstep, however, he decided that he had nothing left to lose.
   The pills were called X-Change Wild. They were special pills that let you become whatever animals requested by the company for the order. The agent was selling pills of the bee species trying to give my old grandfather a chance at trying to save his farm. For him, however, the price seemed too good at the time. He said that he had had enough time to think about it, this time, but I would also say that he was especially drunk. He would've had to have been drunk to ask someone like me to become a swarm of bees and help save the farm.
   Contrary to how I may have acted when you first met me, I was not ecstatic about my new transformation. I was mortified…apprehensive, for sure. I had plans and dreams—how could my grandfather have me throw all that away? Yet, still I approved of him doing that to me. It was here that my transformation began and where I would expand myself across the fields.
   I bet you get asked this question a lot involving hive minded animals…I mean, what exactly is it like to become a cloud of bees? Ever have the feeling that you're going to shatter into a million pieces? Ever watch science fiction movies and watch people get disentegrated. It's kind of something like that and far more unpleasant. At least in the science fiction movies, it's a quick and painless death. As a bee hive, I could feel my legs literally collapse beneath me, feel my lungs and heart crumble into bees, feeling my eyes and teeth crawl out of my face. I was melting like something out of a horror movie but I didn't die. I was alive during every second of it.
   The last bee to fly out of the pile of clothes underneath me was the Queen—the smallest fragment of myself that was acutely aware of who I was. I emerged like a newborn adult with a sense of emptiness. Pieces of me were flying all over the barn. I had to find the missing parts and make myself whole. The more I linked to myself, the stronger I became. I was one being spread across thousands of individuals. I was an army—fearless and full of mindless conviction. And together, we would invade and conquer these fields into an empire worthy of our kind.”
   I had grown quite accustomed to my new existence, content. My family visited often but I didn't recognize them. Now that I am myself, I would prefer to become blissfully ignorant that I was ever human. Are you satisfied now? May I return to my conquests?”
   The recorder on the device flashed red, indicating that the digital memory caches were completely full. It looks like Reagan got exactly what he needed from this. Closing up the suitcase, he could see the Hive around him beginning to pick up speed again. She would find herself becoming fragmented again in a matter of minutes. That would be when he would have to leave for his own safety. Unless…
   There is still one more matter that is left unresolved, my Queen, He spoke to her using their telepathic link.
   What is that? She asked impatiently.
   You've helped me a great deal by answering a lot of my questions, but I'd said that we could help each other out here. You've done your part and now it is time to do mine. What can I do for you to help you while I'm around. Be sincere, please.

   Agent Reagan had been sent by X-Change Inc to uncover how the consumer know as Veronica (CLASSFIED) had gone berserk and began a massive takeover of Farmer Burke's farm. After neutralizing the hive mind, he was able to get a viable enough testimony from the girl before letting her go back to her insectoid bliss.
   Now he only needed to tie some stuff up with the Grandfather, first by assuring him that he was who he said he was. After pulling out a handheld translator, he got the most important thing out of the way last.
   “Despite everything going on with, your granddaughter is fine. She is suffering from an identity crisis due to being a bee hive for so long but she will regress back to her human form in time. All of the bees that she had bred as a bee that she doesn't need to recreate her biomass will simply die off. The honey harvest that you collected, however, will remain and you will have yourself five years worth of harvest to sell to buyers across the country. I think you'll find that your productions have been very fruitful, indeed.”
   Burke's jaw hung widely out of his mouth. He was beyond astonishment. “You mean to tell me that I have a harvest? I actually money?”
   “That's right. Enough to help keep you on your feet for a long while,” Reagan said. From the distance, the bees were back in full swing. The hive-mind was once again in control. “On behalf of my company, I would like to thank you for choosing X-Change Wild to help you with your problem. We're glad to have gotten these last few loose ends tied up. When I get these reports in, we'll be making adjustments to the formula to prevent another similar incident.”
   “Well, that's fantastic!” Burke whooped, waving his summer hat in the air. “But does that mean I won't be seeing you again? I'd hate for you to go. I would hope to learn more about your skills with building homes.”
   “You may not have to. There's still one more thing for me to do here before I can leave. Before I let her regress back into the hive mind, I was asked to do two things.”
   “What's that?” Burke asked.
   “First, she wants to make sure you have an extra pair of hands to stockpile the honey to make your money's worth. I've still got some time before I regress back to human form, so I'll just act as your helping hand for the day. A convoy will be arriving in the morning to pick up your shipments. Secondly,” Reagan gestured as if to wink to the man. “She didn't want you taking X-Change Wild Pills to improve who you are and especially just to make your family proud. Or anyone else, for that matter. You just got to bee yourself.”
   Burke just frowned, greatly unamused. “Okay, that's it. I think I am going to have to get my gun, if you're going to make jokes like that.”

   X-Change Wild's Department had picked up far better than what many had been expecting. Despite multiple lawsuits as per usual with the Corporat…ion's line of work, the ability to swap species was widely successful. The only real complaints were being the pills became too habit forming and loss of identity—far worse than the pink pills which the company had started with.
   So, to answer these complaints, X-Change Wild Clean was made. It was a largely watered down version of the same pill and had a much smaller duration but there was absolutely no risk taking them. After two hours, the consumer simply changed back without question. No sexual urges, no risk of pregnancy, nothing. Of course, the Xtra-Strength Pill was now available on sail which was mildly stronger, but only last three weeks rather than three months.
   Nonetheless, the Clean version of the pill was widely praised by the critics and users alike, allowing it to be used for recreation, education, and, in cases like one consumer, agriculture and environmental issues. They were out in the farming regions of the Midwest and had been incredibly stubborn about accepting any of their products until a recent development. As per standard, an X-Change Wild Testimonial Agent was being dispatched to gather survey information for future advertisements and adjustments to later batches for similar requests.
   Driving up into the farmland spanning about fifty acres, X-Change Inc Agent (CLASSIFIED) stepped out of his black LTD car and straightened his tie. Normally, for city jobs, he would wear a professional business suit, suede shoes and tie as per usual standard. However, the consumer in question had taken a pill for a relatively dangerous species of insect and was reported to be hostile; in fact, a previous attempt had resulted in the agent nearly dying due to an unprecedented allergy to their venom.
   The newest agent had no such allergies but new precautions would need to be made. Out of his own pocket, he purchased thicker cottons and jeans, working boots and gloves and a meshed hood that he carried under a shoulder. He also carried a suitcase of equipment including something that would make speaking to the consumer much easier. As a last resort, he had a small pocket metal case of X-Change Wild Clean pills. They were strictly for self-defense but there were a couple issued to him that would prove useful for a Class B Hazard Specimen and a Hive Mind, at that. 
   His car rested at the very edge of a crudely constructed fence, the wood so old from weather and fire, it looked ready to collapse at the touch of a finger. The farmland itself was comprised of expansive field of manmade beehives, a disused horse corral and stables, a garden now overgrown with weeds, a barn full of alfafa and honey storage, and, at the far front, a large house built in the style American Colonial. The house itself, he was told, was over three hundred years old and had seen much maintenance and reworking for five generations. Notes on the the case's profile warned the Agent to be polite and respectful for this proud farmer.
   Even as far as here, there were small clouds of bees buzzing about, busily collect pollen from wildflowers and surrounding fields. The Agent kept his distance as he walked up onto the porch and rang the doorbell. No answer. It was so deathly quiet, he could hear the buzzing of the hive from a hundred yards away.
   Then, after a minute of waiting, he pressed the doorbell again. This time, he could hear the shuffling of feet creaking across rickety stairs and floorboards. Finally, the door opened up and the Agent was greeted by a tall, lanky man, possibly well into his 80s. He had a weathered face and a scraggly chin with one of the most bulbous noses he had ever seen. His right hand was inches away from a firearms left casually against the wall, but the farmer did not pick it up. Not this time.
   Wetting his lips, the old man leaned in close looking at the agent and gave a small harrumph. “Well, by the smell of you, you must be another one of those numbskulls from the company. You certainly look smarter than the last one.”
   “Agent Reagan, Sir.” He said, showing his business ID from his wallet. “I'm here to get that testimony, just like Agent Isaiah from before.”
   “And just as stubborn. My granddaughter doesn't want visitors.”
   Reagan cocked an eyebrow. “She talks to you?”
   “The message she left your company last time was pretty clear of that,” the Farmer noted.
   “Well, I have ways of being able to persuade her so.” Reagan smiled thinly. “I have to say that your house looks amazing from out here. It must look astonishing inside.”
   The Farmer grimaced, shaking his head solemnly. “Flattery's going to get you nowhere, son. Keep buttering me up and I'll have to ask you to leave.”
   “Well, actually, sir, I come from the heart of Nebraska. Lot of corn country. My parents and uncle built homes for half of the farming community and when I was old enough, I lended a helping hand of my own. I even minored in architecture, especially the older styles you see a lot like this. If you don't mind me saying so, I do appreciate a man who is good with his hands,” The Agent said holding out his hand.
   “It was my son who built it as it was,” The Farmer said, staring at the agent's hand. “Haven't seen him in ten years.”
   “Oh, well…” The Agent stammered in embarrassment before the farmer finally exchanged handshakes with him. His tone was much warmer than when they first entered.
   “But I did my share of the work. I may be old, but I don't let nobody do anything I can't do myself. I'm sure you get that. Why don't you come on inside and I can show you a bit more?”
   “Oh, sure. I'd appreciate that.” Agent Reagan said, peeking in at the house. He wasn't on any time constraint to get that testimony, so getting on his client's grandfather's soft side would be a nice way to ensure security. It seemed like he had been picked for this assignment on purpose, the more he thought about it.

            Unfortunately, Agent Spencer would never see his partner again. During his time in the custody of the rat-men, the merc was attacked by the Skaven and killed abruptly before he even had a chance to react. It's hard to explain how a soldier of fortune armed with the best available gear on the market could lose to rats armed with primitve weaponry. The Private Military Contractors who sent him are pulling the plug. First, however, they want confirmation of KIA and are demanding their equipment back. More importantly, it needed to be decided whether or not this would need to call for official government intervention.
            The people on top were quietly working on that while trying to gather any information to confirm whether this was a Class-S Biohazard they were dealing with. To do that, Reggie and Kevin, video technicians who helped to edit and cut videos into digital testimonies to further promote all variations of X-Change Wild, were busy reconstructing the lost footage gathered from the encounter. They had been at this for hours with no breaks. At the very least now, progress had been made.
           The video from the PMC's van had been largely corrupted in some parts due to some unknown interference. After enough time, though, they were able to rebuild the footage to get confirmation of the mercenary's death. Their hired guns would get what they were after, in time. First, however, they needed to salvage anything off of their own Agents.
           Agent Spencer's recording was in much better quality, but the audio or video would glitch out quite frequently. At some point, it had completely crapped out. It didn't matter, though. Whatever footage they could use, however, would go a long way to putting out more profit to X-Change Inc; true, people had died and this was likely something worth worrying about, but people were ignorant, whatever they didn't know couldn't hurt them.
            Hours passed by. After defragmenting the file and running it through a software restoration program, they were able to undo some of the corruption and were picking up a more valid story. Things started simple, but the longer the video drew out, the more the two of them didn't like what they were seeing at all. There was something offly wrong about the Skaven as they appeared, the wyrdstones and the sickly green hue everywhere. It was certainly insightful on what had become of Spencer, but things were taking a sudden turn for the dark as it became clear X-Change Inc was in way over their heads.
            At some point, the video cut out, and the Skaven Lord and Lady make a point by saying, "Only those of likeness to Skaven would dare scuttle-come to their nest and demand parley." Reggie, the skeptical one, simply shrugged it off. Business at the expense of others well-being didn't make them evil. X-Change Inc and its sub-branches were all just doing their jobs for profit. Regardless of what others claimed, their lawyers always cleared them of any blame. Who was a random customer to judge?
            Taylor, however, found himself more inclined to believe they were so different from the rats. It had been debated whether or not X-Change Wild Fantasy pills proved the existence of gods and demons--defining proof of good and evil. The demons and angels were always proved false--just another costume for people to put on. Yet these things left a growing dread in his heart, doubt gnawing at his beliefs. He had stared into the eyes of Qun and Zhan and found that their humanity had been completely purged; not from long-term use but rather a force beyond their understanding. Gone were their morals, their sense of right and wrong, life and death. Their gleaming red eyes were the reddest eyes they'd ever seen--the eyes of feral animals driven with only the urge to hurt and destroy and all to survive.
            Things weren't looking so good when the Agent made a claim that he'd been just poisoned. The video cut out briefly after, the next two minutes of it not yet fully restored. When the video returned, as the Agent's camera looked down at his warped handpaws, his fate was quite clear.
            It was in the middle of their agent giving the Skaven Warlord a blowjob did the camera suddenly make a jarring tumble across the ground. A green haze and static caused the camera feed to glitch out and freeze. The sound of wet suckling and squirting of fluids splashed out of view, the agent and the warlord no longer in sight. Then the camera cut to the Grey Seeress observing the device. It was zoomed it so close, the video editors could actually see the plaque and dry blood on her fangs. "What an interesting scryer orb. Crude and flawed-bad, but can be fixed-fixed! Clan rats! Come here now-now! I have a special plan for our friends--a perfect reward for the Man-Things at X-Change Inc."
            The video came to a halt there, seeing the the red maddened gleam in her eyes. The two video editors stared blankly at what they witnessed and back at each other. Kevin cleared his throat. "Well, um...there's not much we can use of that footage. I think we should scrap it."
            "Are you crazy, man?" Reggie slapped his hand from the button. "The people on top need to see this. This is evidence of a Class-S Biohazard. They need to know the situation's gone well out of control. It's shown here in the readings that the hired gun Spencer brought up with him has gone dark. His vitals read at zero. He hasn't even reported back yet."
            "We've had a godzilla crisis that amounted to nothing. What can possibly go wrong here that we can't deal with" Kevin said to the wincing noise of fire alarms. "A fire drill?"
            "Maybe. Or..."Flipping the TV from drive files to security surveillance, Reggie used his green card to access what was strictly for high level security personnel only. From all around him, it was chaos. Skaven were pouring out from drains, from the front doors, from ventialation shafts. Hundreds of rat men in tattered clothes, bearing strange weapons and arms, of every shape and size. Building security didn't even stand a chance against them. Any staff who were not killed in the battle frenzy were captured by creatures using odd polls and then given something to consume. Doing so seemed to only convert them into more Skaven.
            "Oh, ****..." Kevin whispered. "Well, they certainly didn't predict this would happen of all things."
            "They're making their way into the lower levels. We can't get out through the main fire exit. We'll have to use the emergency hatch to get to the bomb shelter and then take the alternate exit out. There's no way they can get to us there. Only someone with Level 5 Security could get in."
            "There's an emergency escape route? Gah. I knew I shouldn't have slept during orientation," Kevin mumbled. "Who would think something like this could happen?"
            The sound of sharp metal, scraping claws and teeth could be heard against the walls. Reggie pulled Kevin out of his seat and had him help lift away a table, revealing a heavy security hatch. It had two extremely heavy locks and a retinal scanner built in--X-Change Inc must have been preparing for a scenario like this for the longest time.
             "Come on!" Reggie shouted as he strained to pull the door open. It took some force but together, they pried it open and disappeared into long tunnel down below. Kevin made sure to fasten the hatch tightly before hurrying through. Flashing orange lights turned white paint amber as the made it to the catwalk. They might have made it past the catwalk to the bomb shelter if there hadn't been someone...or something....already standing there waiting for them. Garbed in tattered Agent gear, the Skaven held a submachine gun in its paws as it grinned maliciously.
             "Greetings, Man-things. Skaven come now-now to thank X-Change Inc. Man-things shall serve the Underempire well, yes-yes." He giggled and hissed. a power line sparked out, shutting off everything but auxilary power, highlighting the edges of the catwalk. Keven and Reggie's vision was still refocusing when Spencer came up close to them, green warpstone around his thick furred neck hauntingly highlighting his rodent face. Before Kevin could yelp, he placed a paw across his mouth.
             "Shhh! Listen well-good, Man-Things! Hear that, yes-yes?" He whispered in a cold, menacing tone tone.
             Keven and Reggie paused, hearing something faint and growing louder and louder. Gnawing, scratching, gnashing of teeth and hisses. Voices. Rats in the walls, rats in the drains. Everywhere. Washing up all around them like a flood, a sea of vermin. They could not see anything but only the faint glimmer of red eyes here and there. It became a roaring storm of screeches, coming in all directions.
             Reggie shuddered as the swarm closed in.

I love these stories you write man. I wish more people were doing these, too. X3 When are you gonna write a sequel to the dog one?

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     Mathew had always wanted to work at a farm, it was a not so secret dream of his. He volunteered at local barns a lot, went to fairs, rodeos, and races. He found every reason and excuse to be around horses. Finally hanging around the races had payed off. One of the horses had gotten loose, he had quickly grabbed it's lead and stopped it from getting away. The owner was so thankful they offered Mathew a job of their stables.
   He showed up early on his first day. One of the managers lead his around showing him the horses, the barn, the tack, and finally his job. They stood in the stables looking over three dark stallions. Their stall doors were decorated with ribbons and photos. "All three from the same mare." The manager told him, "Best girl we ever had. We're hoping with you here we can get some similar results." Mathew was a bit confused, he had helped with horse births before, but wasn't sure what that had to do with anything.
   The manager showed him some paper work, "The usual health and safety thing." He explained and Mathew quickly signed. The manager also handed him some pills, "Necessary supplements." He called them, and Mathew quickly swallowed them down. He had never had to take medication to be around horses before, but he heard some veterinary clinics required it. Finally the manager had him step into an empty stall. "Go ahead and get undressed while I get your uniform."
    Mathew waited until the man was out of sight before stripping his outer clothes. He folded them up neatly with his boots and waited. It occurred to him that this could all be a prank, it wouldn't be the first. He huffed, feeling sweat run down his back. It was to hot.
    He tried opening the stall, but it was latched. Mathew whined, feeling something was off. His skin felt like it was crawling, and the heat was building between his legs. He looked down at his tented boxers and groaned. The lad looked around the stables, he seemed to be truly alone and the throbbing between his legs refused to be ignored. Quickly he reached into his shorts and worked himself. He leaned against the stall wall, panting and gasping.
     Something was different. He forced his boxers down and out of the way, he stood fully erected, but seemed smaller than normal. Still he worked it, watching his length shrink. He gasped and groaned, unable to form words. His hands chased his wood as it shrunk and folded into a slit. He kept rubbing himself, sinking to the floor of the stall. He used his other hand to slip into himself, thrusting and touching until he felt the rushing release. Stars blinded his vision as he rode out his first organism as a woman.
    He collapsed on the ground. He felt wet, it clung to his hands and ran down his thighs. He wanted to sleep, but his body wasn't done yet.
    Mathew could feel his limbs shake and shudder, stretching and thickening. He rolled onto his stomach, dazed and confused. His chest barreled out, his fingers fused together, his elbows popped and snapped. His eyes were to blurry to fully see the dark hair rushing over his skin. His head ached as his skull shifted, compressing his brain. He felt himself loosing parts of his mind as it shrunk to better fot his new skull. Memories, meanings, rationality, they fled as his neck extended and his tail grew out.
    In a few hours the manager returned with a bucket of feed. The stallions were restless in their stalls, calling to the dark colored mare. The new female called back, tossing her head, her wide blue eyes on the males. The manager **** the stall open a bit a calmed her. "Easy girl, yes good girl." He said, stroking her muzzle. He place the feed bucket down and gathered the clothing left by Mathew.
    For a while the manager simply watched the mare eat, then went off and dug through some wooden plates. He found two he liked and slid them into the name slot on the stall. Money Ticket, it said. He chuckled, "Fitting for a prized broodmare."