From Man to Ewe

Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)

“Don't worry, Jamie."

He rolled his head, straw sticking to his shaved scalp and blue eyes blinking dully. The man's speech slurred, vision leaping and wavering as the inside of the lambing shed came into view, a pile of deep, thick straw cushioning him from the concrete beneath. Reeking of dung and straw and the all-reaching aroma of sheep that crept into every last corner of the shed, it was barely possible to take a full breath when the lambing shed was in dire need of a complete, brutal clear out.

That had been his job of the day. The job that he hadn't complete. He opened and closed his mouth several times, but no words came out. The farmer's wife hadn't liked that. She'd shouted at him, swearing and cursing like the worst of the farm hands. She hadn't liked that he'd loafed off one bit.

And now he was going to pay for it.

The farmer's wife clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, peering over the gate at him as the ewes outside baaed mournfully, eager to shed the weight from their heavy, swinging bellies. There was little light, afternoon having merged into dusk as the day wore on, him out for the count while she did what she willed with him.

He screwed up his mouth, drool trickling viscously down his chin, foamy slather like that of an animal being led down to slaughter. But he was not being slaughtered. None were being slaughtered in that season, not lambing season.

“Wh…" He tried. “Where…"

But the words would not come. Words would never come to him ever again.

“Don't you worry your pretty little head about nothing no more," she crooned to him, scraping her hair back into a scruffy ponytail. “We'll see you right, don't you worry about that. It'll be a better job for you, this will. You'll finally have a use, Jamie. Won't that be nice?"

He didn't know what the meant, but he didn't have a chance to consider it as his body shifted without his consent, thick and clunky like a foggy brain the day after a night of heavy drinking. Jamie didn't realise that he was naked, but it was a fact that would soon cease to matter as he scrambled up onto his hands and knees with all the grace of a toddler finding their legs something ungainly and unwholesome. It was like having to learn how to move all over again.

And he'd have a new body to learn very soon.

The changes happened quickly, beginning as if the farmer's wife had snapped her fingers and called them forth like bringing her ewes into the farm. Bones cracked and trembled without any sense of pain, pushing themselves into new alignment beneath his skin as his body seemed to crumple down into itself, skin bulging obscenely as bones shoved themselves grotesquely into the shockingly flimsy barrier. It held, however, and no blood spurted forth even as Jamie flopped about like a rag down, head thrown from side to side.

What was happening? He dug his fingers into the straw, but they would no longer grip as his spine took on a new shape, the control of his body forever beyond his true command from that point forward. Dimly, he was aware of the farmer's wife laughing softly and her tone soothed him even as his legs shortened, belly bulging as it swooned to hang between his chest and his crotch in a smooth arc. But something about it felt right too and Jamie shivered, the base of his spine tickling as what could only be a tail, as yet uncovered, pushed from above the crease of his buttocks.

Mouth agape in a silent, gasping scream, Jamie's head lolled helplessly from shoulder to shoulder as his skin prickled with the beginnings of a coat. He shuddered, though not from realisation of anything as his eyes had already dulled to the mere intelligence of a beast. Wool. He had a coat of wool tingling to life where it had to right to be.

But it was warm – oh, it was! Trembling, he tried to lean into it, swaying on his, as yet, unformed, cloven hooves, and splayed his legs, lower jaw hanging as he let the one in charge take control of his life once and for all. His hooves formed, soft at first and then growing harder, enough to bear his weight as he gambolled around the fields, and he bleated anxiously, the sound taking greater strength as his vocal chords gave him a new set of noises to make. Animal noises. Sheep noises. But he was not just any sheep.

His coat of wool was almost complete by the time the udders began appearing and his maleness sucked smoothly back into his body as the large, full udders swayed, teats peaking and bobbing as if they were begging for a lamb to suckle. Of course, to fully complete his transformation into a true ewe, another part had to form and that was tucked up beneath his tail, ready for the prize ram when he was due to be covered again.

But no, that was not right. Jamie panted and bleated, sides heaving and head whipping from side to side as his mind settled into his new body, thick and cloying. Food. Water. Company. The flock. No longer was he a he and now would remain a she until the very end of her days.

Little tail twitching, she stepped forward uncertainly, finding her hooves and testing out just how her new body worked. But instinct would take over when she needed it the most and the ewe staggered only once as she explored the confines of the little pen made up in the corner of the lambing shed.

All the while, she was being watched. The farmer's wife tugged at the shoulder strap of her denim overalls and smiled, though there was something sinister in her perfectly white and perfectly even teeth. 

“Good girl," the farmer's wife murmured softly, reaching over the gate to stroke and pet the new ewe's head. “Aren't you a good one? Going to bear me many fine lambs, you are, yes you are, my darling girl!"

And, nothing more than a dull animal, she bobbed her muzzle and lipped thoughtlessly at the straw, searching for pellets in lieu of grass. For she didn't know what it was to bear a lamb, but she soon would. She would learn how it felt to have a ram on her back, taking her crudely, and she would know how it felt to have a lamb, born of her own body, suckling at her teats, the soft, fleshy udders showing their true use in the natural cycle of farm life.

Yes, she would know. The ewe bleated and looked for her friends. Soon, she would know.

The farmer's wife would make sure of that.