"This is your signature, is it not?" the farmer asked Johnny, holding out a mud-caked contract out to the young farmhand expectantly. There, in Johnny's trademark lazy hand, was his sign.
"Yes, but -"
"But nothing. You expect me to believe that you signed on for a job without knowing exactly what you were agreeing to?" The farmer's weathered stare bore into Johnny's boyish brown eyes. His inhuman ears lowered in shame.
“Let me explain something to you, young man,” the farmer continued. “Livestock is expensive. I can’t risk putting my entire livelihood into buying a mule or two, only to have to spend more money on food and time on training it how to work. I came up with a better way. By taking stupid boys who can’t even read through a contract and making them work on the farm until their humanity slips, I save money on the animal. If you had been smart enough to read it, you would’ve seen it plain and simple.” The farmer tossed the papers at Johnny, who picked them up to read. Sure enough, on the bottom of the page it read:

By signing this contract, you forgo your rights to humanity and agree to spend the rest of your life as a farm animal.

Johnny couldn’t believe he had been so dumb. In his quest for a quick dollar, he had signed away his humanity, and he was already paying the price for it. Already, his ears had grown long and furry, sticking out comically from his head. His nose had twisted up into a snout and was beginning to push away from his face, from above his rear, a tail had grown in which, despite his best efforts, swished back and forth lazily during his conversation, and his formerly hairless body now had a small coating of coarse fur. Johnny had never been one to be able to grow a beard, but he was sporting a wiry goatee as he spoke with his boss.
“But I don’t whaaaaant to be a donkey!” Johnny begged, his pleas getting lost in a chorus of brays. “I’ll do anything!”
“It’s too late, Johnny. Nothing changed can be changed back.” Johnny’s cries had devolved into a cacophony of pitiful braying. “Just look at you. You can’t even control your braying anymore.”
“Please! Whaaaaaat if you just keep me like this?”
“Like this? A half-human donkey man?” the farmer asked, then stopped to consider. “It would be good to have an extra set of hands around the farm…”
“So, you’ll let me stay? I promise I’ll be a good help!” Johnny cried, his voice returning.
“Oh, I know you will,” the farmer said ominously. “There’ll be consequences otherwise…”