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Here's a little bit more in my Horse Boy Stan AU. Just after Stan turns into a horse, and how he winds up with the McGuckets.

;)

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Stan stomped his hooves anxiously as he waited his turn. Jimmy Snakes had left town as soon as he found an upcoming auction to sell him at, frustrated that Stan refused to be broken. The money would be wired to him after the sale.

Stan felt a shiver run down his spine. He was going to be sold.

At least last week could’ve been worse. Jimmy could have dropped me off at a place that treated me like shit. But the stables holding the auction boarded and fed Stan, and were kind in all their interactions with him. Except for the upsettingly thorough examinations to determine the minimum price he would be worth. Stan lowered his head. I just want this whole nightmare to be over.

The people at stable hadn’t been able to break Stan, but he was still defeated. There wasn’t even a glimmer of hope that he could escape.

“Lot 17, a buckskin Irish Draught stallion,” the auctioneer announced. The boy holding Stan’s lead brought him out of the wings and onto the stage. There was some murmuring from the gathered crowd. Stan felt a strange twinge of pride that made him stand at attention. He knew from the people at the stable that he was considered a high-quality horse, despite lacking a formal pedigree. “Wild or feral caught, no paperwork, unknown age though he is fully grown, and unbroken.” The murmuring grew louder, then died down. The auctioneer seemed to notice the apparent loss of interest. “He would serve as a good workhorse. Or, as he is intact, stud fer workhorses. We’ll start the biddin’ at four thousand.”

“Four thousand!” a voice shouted. Stan looked at the crowd, quickly zeroing in on the sole person interested in buying him. It was a young man about his age, with dark hair and a large nose that took up most of his face. A young man next to him, with blond hair, elbowed him and whispered something. Stan’s potential buyer shrugged off whatever the other man said.

“Any other takers?” the auctioneer asked. He sounded disappointed, though Stan wasn’t sure why.

I’ve never been worth four thousand bucks in my life! No one else spoke up.

“Going, going, gone,” the auctioneer said. He slammed the gavel. “The buckskin goes to Lute McGucket.” He raised an eyebrow. “I assume yer father will come by with the money fer him?”

“Sure thing, Mr. Smith!” the man, Lute, called. Chuckles sounded from the crowd as Stan was led backstage and into a stall to wait.

Thankfully, Stan didn’t have to wait long. Within about fifteen minutes, two voices sounded, getting louder as they approached Stan’s stall.

“He ain’t broken, Lute.”

“My fam’ly’s got a way with horses, you know that.”

“And what’ll ya do if ya can’t break him? Rent him out fer stud? Without papers, no one would pay a cent!”

“Look, we’ll figure it out.” The two people from before came to a stop in front of Stan. “I can tell there’s somethin’ special ‘bout this feller,” Lute said. His friend crossed his arms.

“I don’t know if yer right.” He sighed. “But it ain’t my business, so I’ll drop it.” Lute’s friend began to walk away. “I’ll see ya and this new stallion tomorrow.”

“Sounds good!” Lute called. He turned to Stan. “All right, feller, let’s get ya out of here.” He pulled a lead out of his pocket and attached it to Stan’s halter.

Okay, first impression, he’s not the worst. I guess. Lute opened the door to Stan’s stall and led him out of the stable. A different stallion was patiently waiting, tied to a post. Lute smiled at Stan.

“This here is my usual steed, Tuesday. He’s a gelding, but don’t worry, we won’t geld ya.” Lute winked.

Uh. I don’t think I want to know what he’s talking about.

“I can tell yer not the kind of stallion we would geld,” Lute continued. “But not so’s we could stud ya. No, it’s ‘cause yer special.” He cocked his head. “What’s yer name?”

“Stan,” Stan whinnied instinctively. He winced.

Dammit, think! Why bother telling him, he won’t understand!

“Stan,” Lute repeated. Stan’s jaw dropped. Lute grinned. “Just like yer special, I am, too.” He mounted his horse and tied the lead to his saddle. “Let’s get ya home and sorted out, okay?”

How the hell did he know what I said? Lute winked again. Eh, fuck it, I don’t care. He understood me, and that’s all that matters. Stan eagerly followed Lute and Tuesday, for the first time since this whole mess started, feeling optimistic.