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Dirge of the Donkey Farmer
🕑 Added 2022-05-16 02:53:56 +0000 UTC
WARNING THIS STORY CONTAINS: Female Donkey Woman TF, Weight Gain, Butt Expansion, and Farting
Eager to experience authentic farm life, a woman named Dalia sneaks into an old barn. What she discovers is an elderly farmer and a strange batch of feed that will leave her much bigger, gassier, and more in touch with the farm's former prize donkey.
This story was voted on by my Patrons.
Horse icon created by TheMerryWolf: https://twitter.com/TheMerryWolf1
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Creeping her way through the rural countryside in the middle of the night had become second nature to Dalia. Though she had been born in the city, she had gained an appreciation for the simple pleasures of farm life. She had initially been content to express her passion through her fashion choices and listening to country music, but she still felt that there was something missing. She found what she was looking for in the form of an abandoned farmstead that seemed to call out to her.
Trudging across well-used soil to reach a rickety barn, Dalia carefully slipped through an open window to have her boots crunch the ancient straw lining the dirt floor. Reaching into her backpack, she pushed away the few strands of her black, curly hair that had escape her brimmed hat so she could properly set up her lantern. A flick of her match lit up the torch and bathed the barn in light. The pungent smell of livestock clung to the air, but she bared it for the sake of the picturesque rural setting she had been obsessed with. Soaking in the sight of the barn’s empty stables and feeding troughs, she got ready to share with the world her idea of a cozy farm life.
Pulling out her phone, Dalia held the screen up to her face made sure her make up properly accentuated her brown skin. Holding the device out further, she tipped her hat to congratulate herself on the classic combo of a short-sleeved, red flannel shirt mixed with a pair of jean short shorts. With her appearance as perfect as she could have hoped, all that was left was to find a suitable location to take her pictures.
Once more roaming through the barn, her attention was eventually drawn back towards the stables. While they each held their own rustic charm, there was obvious attention brought towards a singular one. The enclosure was easily twice as large as the rest with a longer trough to go with it. A wooden sign was hung over the stable with the name “Daisy” carved into it alongside the image of a flower. Figuring it was the former home of the farm’s prize horse, Dalia couldn’t think of a better place for her photo op.
Dragging over a barrel, she placed her phone on top and set it to record. Taking her position in the stable, she used what little light her lantern gave off to fully show off her body in various poses. Every few seconds her phone would take a new picture, ensuring that she would have more than enough material to post to her blog. It was this pleasant thought that kept her from noticing the sound of someone else walking through the barn until it was right next to her.
A chill going down Dalia’s spine finally got her to stop posing. Clasping her arms together, she looked to see if there was a draft from an open window or something. What she saw instead was an old man with the stereotypical farmer outfit of a set of overalls over a red shirt and wearing a straw hat. Dalia could only stand in stunned silence as the man fixed his glasses and approached her.
“Who’s there?” the man asked. “I’ll have you know that trespassing on Bevoin property is against the…”
The man trailed off, fixing his glasses as he got closer to her. “Oh, it’s just you Daisy. Although, I don’t remember you being so skinny. You look on the verge of starvation.”
Dalia remained silent, not knowing whether to play along or make a break for the window at the nearest opportunity.
“Don’t worry girl,” he said, hobbling over to the trough. “I’ll make sure you’re good and fed.”
Considering the way farmer Bevoin moved around, Dalia wasn’t sure what he was trying to accomplish. Grasping the edge of an old barrel, he rolled it over to the trough and tugged at its cover. Through his constant struggling he managed to open up the container to unleash a torrent of mystery liquid. Daring to peek into the trough, she was surprised to see a relatively fresh looking slurry of hay mixed with a variety of vegetable chunks. Looking back at the ancient looking barrel, she pondered just how effective farming pickling techniques were.
“Is something wrong, Daisy?” Bevoin asked as the last of the mixture poured out into the trough. “You usually don’t wait this long to dig in.” Grasping a handful of the feed, he held it up to Dalia’s face. “Here you girl. It’s your favorite. Even laced it with sugar and fiber pellets just the way you like.”
On reaction, Dalia opened up her mouth to say no thank you. She managed to stop herself from speaking, but the act still left her lips parted wide enough for the farmer to shove the mix down her throat. As to be expected of food intended for livestock, the taste was dreadful. However, there was little Dalia could do to stop the farmer from shoving another glob of hay and veggies into her mouth.
“There we go, right as rain,” Bevoin commented as he continued to shovel food down Dalia’s throat. “Oh, how could I forget? You must be pretty parched too.” Stuffing one more handful of hay into her mouth, he mercifully turned away to grab a bucket. “Just stay there and eat like a good girl. 1957 is going to be the year we absolutely dominate the competition at the county fair.”
Watching the very senile man go about his business, Dalia forced herself to swallow the lump in her throat before moving away. Dashing out of the stable, she nearly made it to the window only to realize something was missing. Turning on her heels, she looked back to see her phone sitting on the barrel recording the farmer as he poured water into a second trough. Unwilling to leave the barn without salvaging some pictures, she tried to sneak back to retrieve it.
Dalia’s stealth attempt was foiled as her legs began to feel like jelly. Tripping over her own feet, she got a mouthful of dirt as she hit the ground. Spitting out the ancient straw, she rolled herself over to see if she might have tripped on an old bucket or something. What she saw instead were the tattered remains of her boots where she had tripped. Only now feeling a slight breeze against her shin, she looked down her legs to see that she had gained something in return for her lost shoes.
Gazing at what had become of her feet didn’t let it immediately sink in what had occurred. Reaching forward, she let her fingers slide across the curved, hardened material that had swallowed up her toes. Gently tapping her feet against the ground produced a low clop that sunk into her chest. Summoning all of her strength not to scream her head off, she took deep breaths to try to keep herself calm as she realized she had grown a pair of hooves.
Using a nearby wall for support, she tried to pick herself up on her cloven feet. Hoping that farmer Bevoin was as slow as he appeared old, she gingerly took a step forward. Though she wobbled at first, her multiple trips to the gym helped her to find steady footing. Daring to let go of the wall, she took a confident stride forward only to fall right back down.
Her landing was accompanied with a sharp pain shooting through her backside. Wincing at her less than graceful landing, she reached out to rub at the sore spot to try and find some relief. Her motion stopped upon feeling that the fabric was tighter than it was supposed to be. Lifting herself back up, she looked over her shoulder to see her backsides sticking out an inch further than it was before.
Placing her hand against her swollen buttocks to confirm her suspicions, she gave it a light tap. The small motion was enough to send the cheeks wobbling about and an unruly noise to come bubbling through her gut. Before she could have a chance to stop herself, a loud BRRRAAAAAAAAAAAPPPPP slapped out of her rear with an odor ten times worse than anything in the barn.
“Daisy, what are you doing over there?” Bevoin asked as he made his way towards her. “Whoo that’s a strong one. Heh, guess you tried to be polite. No need girl, I’m more than used to it by now.” Grabbing Dalia’s shoulder, he pulled her back over to Daisy’s stable. “Come on now, you’ve barely touched your food. I’m not leaving here until you have a full meal.”
Dalia looked between the farmer and the trough of food that she was pretty sure was causing her to hallucinate. Then again, it wasn’t like she had much of a choice. Bevoin was watching her like a hawk, and she doubted she would be able to get away fast enough on her hooved feet. Sucking in air to steel her nerves, she bent over the edge of the trough and stuck her head into the feed.
Forcing herself to eat, she found the flavor not as terrible as before. It was still far from being anything close to suitable for human consumption, but it was bearable. An eerie thought lingered in her head that she was acquiring a taste for livestock feed. Pushing past the notion that she would get used to it, she opened her mouth again to force down another helping of hay and veggies.
Dalia’s forced feast came to a stop as she heard a loud ripping noise. Lifting her head from the trough, she attempted to wipe away the juice clinging to her chin. She recoiled at the feeling of something hard pressing up against some added chubbiness around her cheeks. Holding out her hands, she saw that her fingers had morphed into hardened digits to mimic the hooves on her feet. While the revelation did little to help her nerves, it was nothing compared to the sound of another rip coming from behind her.
Looking over her shoulder, she could see that her backside had gone through another growth spurt. Between the tears in her shorts, she noticed that her ass had gained something else alongside the added heft. Trailing a hoofed finger against the exposed flesh made the thin grey fur lining her skin prickle. Pulling her hand back from the strange sensation had it brush up against something else. Daring to reach out towards the strange bump, she immediately reeled back as it elongated into stubby, fleshy tail.
Shuddering under the growth of her new appendage caused Dalia’s gut to jostle about. Another errant gas bubble went tumbling through her body to release in the form of a pungent fart. As the rancid air flickered the puff of black fur at the end of her tail, she felt a strange combination of disgust and relief. Holding onto the trough with her hoof-like fingers, she let out a gasp as another fart came spurting out and swore she heard something akin to a brey leave her lips.
“Come on now,” Bevoin said, gently pressing down on her neck. “Can’t have you getting cold feet now. You have to eat up every last drop before I leave you be.”
Another animalistic grunt was muffled as Dalia’ face was pushed into the feed. From there her instincts took over, sucking up whatever passed by her lips. The tension in her muscles began to relax with each bite, even as her gut continued to rumble with building gas. Somewhere along the line, a strange trance took over Dalia’s mind as she contently gobbled up whatever she could sink her teeth into.
Her peaceful feast came to a staggering halt as her ears picked up the sound of fabric being ripped asunder. Pulling her head out of the trough, she momentarily glanced over to see her hat had somehow found its way into the trough. Pushing the hat away, she saw in the surface’s reflection the pair of long, grey-furred ears peeking out of her hair.
Reaching out to confirm the ears were really hers was stopped by another tearing noise. Lifting herself up on the edge of the trough, her eyes widened upon noticing a potbelly sticking its way out of her clothing. Attempting to push the bulge of fat back into her mid-section only succeeded in sending another gas bubble out of her widened rear.
Grimacing at the resulting smell, she forced herself through it to see that the main cause of the previous tearing sound was her ass. Her tail swayed across the bare butt cheeks, each one larger than her own head. The fattened up rear was contained by thin strands of fabric as her shorts held on for dear life. Daring to place even a single finger on the strained garment popped it apart to the sound of an abrupt toot from her rear.
“Come on Daisy,” Bevoin said. “Stop playing with your hiney and finish your dinner.”
Ears standing on end, something in Dalia’s mind forced her back down into the trough. With each gulp of food, she winced at the feeling of more weight getting packed onto her body. All across her skin she could feel prickles of hair as they covered up her flesh in a thin layer of grey fur. Stomping her hooved feet against the ground served to further stir up her digestion and flick about her lanky tail with bouts of flatulence. So concerned with her degrading condition, it came as a complete surprise to her when she reached down to take a bite only to have her tongue slide across an empty trough.
“Good girl,” Bevoin said, patting her on the back as he turned towards the barn entrance. “Well, guess I’ll see you in the morning.”
Sliding his fingers through Dalia’s hair, the farmer started to make his way out of the exit. This should have been just the moment she had been waiting for. All she would have to do was grab her phone and what little remained of her clothes before running off. She would try to find a way to deal with her condition in the morning. Taking a step away from the trough, her plans hit a snag as a loud BRRAAAPPPPPP slapped out of her rear to cover her in a cloud of her own flatulence.
As she breathed in the heavy stench, a strange tingle spread through her body. Subconsciously she began to pant, her fingers sliding against her protruding belly to try and sate a mysterious set of hunger pangs. Just as the farmer was about to leave the barn, she opened her mouth and let out a loud, “HEEE HAWWWW!”
“What’s a matter Daisy?” Bevoin asked, turning on his heels and making his way back to her. “Still hungry?”
Dalia nodded her head, not knowing what had possessed her to actually want to consume more of the tainted feed.
“Well shoot, all you had to do was ask,” Bevoin commented as he pulled over another barrel of feed. “Just sit tight and stay there like a good donkey should.”
Moving on its own accord, Dalia’s body plopped her fat ass down on the ground. As she sat there balanced upon her meaty rear, her hoofed fingers began to scratch at her skin. Her itching led her hands to fumble around with what remained of her top. Grasping the fabric between her digits, she tore it apart of her own accord to find some relief. No longer burdened with the weight of her shirt, she was free to scratch at her doughy gut alongside deposits of fat that had layered themselves around her bosom. Leaning over to one side, she freely let loose a prolonged PHHHHHRRRTTTTT that filled her with a mix of shame and relief.
Just as her gas petered out, Dalia lifted up her nose and used her newly developed muzzle to sniff at a stench that sifted through the foul air. Getting on her hands and knees, she followed the aroma drifting into her flared nostrils to crawl her way back over to the trough. True to the farmer’s word, she was greeted with a fresh supply of feed ready to be devoured. Though she tried to tell herself that she needed to stop, the time for logical thought was over the moment she dove her head into her meal.
Each chunk of vegetable that met her mouth was devoured in an instant. The flavors that once disgusted her now made her shiver with delight. Her ears stood on end with each delicious gulp of feed that chugged down her throat. So focused on indulging herself on the ambrosia-like feed, she barely noticed her worsening condition.
What remained of her clothing was swiftly removed by her body’s swelling form. Her bra clung to her torso as long as possible, pushing the lacy garment to its limits as her bosom continued to grow. Pausing to take care of the discomfort, she used her hooved fingers to pop off the undergarment with a flick. Released from its duty, her bra scattered to the ground in shreds to allow her plump, darkened nipples to slap against the trough as she resumed her feast.
To help contain the abundance of vegetation, her belly continued to grow. Her fur-covered fleshed folded in on itself to thicken up her bulging gut. The added weight spread out from her stomach to even out the rest of her body, giving her equally blubbery limbs to allow her to better hold onto the trough. Though her increasing size was astounding, it paled in comparison to the true focus of her weight gain.
Happily swaying about as Dalia swallowed a mouthful of carrots, her tail swished against her fattening rear. The fuzzy butt cheeks swelled outwards with added heft, giving her bulked up legs and cloven hooves a true challenge as she struggled to remain in position. Her hips widened out to accommodate the sheer girth of her ass, working alongside her derriere to give her a bottom heavy figure reminiscent of an overripe pear.
As each of her ass cheeks surpassed the size of a medicine ball, they began to quiver. No longer burdened with things like dignity, Dalia didn’t even flinch as a loud BRAAAPPPPPPPP came slapping out of her rear. The spurt of flatulence brought with it a sense of relief that added to the feeling of comfort that had overtaken her body. For the sake of freeing up more space for delicious food, her butt let out a barrage of farts at a constant rate. Whenever she lifted her head out of the trough to take a breath, she was greeted by the noxious fumes that her modified body had grown to adore. Letting out a deep brey to go alongside a massive PHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTT emanating from her rear, Dalia focused what few coherent brain cells she had left on finishing off the trough.
Dragging her tongue across the wood to snatch up the last of the feed, Dalia let out loud “HEE HAWWWW!” to celebrate a good meal. Lifting up her head, she shook about her thick neck to free herself of the hay clinging to her face. Unable or unwilling to stand up, she crawled away from the trough on her hands and knees to settle down on a soft pile of straw. Slumping her body to the ground, she let her tail blow in the wake of her post-meal gas as she settled down for the night.
Dalia’s drowsy eyes opened up again as she felt something brush through her hair. Tilting her head up, she let out a series of happy breys as Farmer Bevoin continued to pet her. Nuzzling his hand in return, she settled down once more as he picked up his stuff and got ready to leave.
“Good night, Daisy,” Bevoin said, making his way towards the barn door just as Dalia dozed off to sleep.
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The obnoxious cry of a rooster combined with harsh rays of the morning sun coming in through the window stirred Dalia from her slumber. Slowly picking herself up out of her makeshift bed of straw, she scratched her head as she tried to shake off her grogginess. Reaching a state barely considered conscious, she tried to recall what had happened the previous night. Though she had images of strange and unusual things, she had to assume it had all been a dream considering she was still her old self. Although, that didn’t explain why she was laying naked in a stable and reeked of livestock.
Picking herself up and brushing straw out of her hair, Dalia found her bag in the corner and put on a fresh t-shirt and shorts. Spotting her phone sitting on a barrel, she picked it up hoping to find out what had happened the night before. The battery was completely dead, probably due to her leaving it running for the entire evening. Finding a silver lining in the fact that at least her photo shoot should still be documented, she plugged her phone into a portable charger and turned it on.
As Dalia scrolled through the photos, the sleepiness plaguing her body gradually went through various stages of shock. The images depicted the entirety of her transformation, starting from her initial feeding all the way towards her final results as an obese, bottom heavy donkey woman. Scrolling through the images and wincing at the few times she caught her tail flying about in the wake of her gas, there was one thing that stood out to her. To be more specific, something that didn’t stand out.
Looking through every picture, she failed to find any trace of the farmer who had helped her into her bestial form. Going through the various images, it appeared as if the feed had appeared out of thin air, with various buckets and barrels moving by themselves. Recalling the cold shiver she had felt before seeing the farmer, she looked up the name Bevoin to find answers. What she found was an obituary, telling of Edgar Bevoin who had passed on decades ago. Though she wanted to deny that she had a run in with a ghost, it was hard to call it impossible considering she was staring at an image of herself with grey fur and an ass large enough to crush a man with.
A plethora of questions weighed heavy on Dalia’s mind as she gathered up her things and got ready to return to civilization. How could barrels of expired feed cause her to change into a gassy donkey woman? Was her mental and physical condition caused by an actual ghost? And most importantly for her at the moment, what kind of site could she post the pictures on?
