Photo Morph - Essence of Male Horse (B&W)

 All he had wanted was for her to make him the star athlete on his amateur cross-country team, but the witch had other plans in mind. At first, he was nervous and puzzled why she had led him to an open pasture with a book-length spell she had spent months preparing. The moon cut through the sky. The witch lit the text on fire to activate the spell. He shivered like his body was rejecting something foreign.
 

Then, the skin on his arms and legs stood on end as the essence of stallion coursed through him, signaling stretching flesh and hide, new appendages and growths, hips popping outwards, neck swelling, his body growing larger and more distant from his head. In short order, more of the male horse surged into his very existence, his entire anatomy rearranging from human to stallion, proportions changing, musculature swelling under creaking skin. Before he could protest, the changes centered on his head. He became less and less focused on why the strange female creature was chanting and more upon the vivid scents and sounds around him, telling him how to respond, distracting him, except for his sudden embarrassment as his expanding rear ripped through his running shorts.
 

In a short while, equine thought coursed through his mind, incompatible with his still changing brain. It was confusing, and he couldn't process what these new sensations were, merely peculiar and compelling urges that channeled into behaviors that felt entirely alien to him. Even that gave way as he became those thoughts; confusion dissipated with his expanding face and shrinking cranium. With his attention entirely upon coordinating his four legs and larger body amid this strange world, he struggled to cut through the fog and attack the witch. The last thing he tried to say turned into a sort of half-verbal snort conveying general irritation before he got distracted by the smell of grass, as the cognition of a male horse solidified into his entire being.
 

A year later, the stallion is still out there in the field. His new owners begin adjusting him to an exercise regimen for the next derby, and he spends most of his days eating, shitting, sleeping and socializing with the other horses, incapable of understanding being any other way.
 

The spell itself was a virtuosic display in metamorphosis. It didn't just change his form, but his very essence of being, such that he will never reincarnate as anything but a horse. It was permanent and nearly untraceable, foolproof. The stallion catches whiff of a mare going into estrus. He curls his upper lip to catch her scent and grunts in frustration as he feels a stirring in his loins.