Marg finally stood in her kitchen, at the sink as she looked out a kitchen window, blank expression on her face as she thought about that day.
“Oh Lord, what did I do that was so wrong as to deserve the loss of my son and his father, my husband?” Marg stood there as prayed, and then was reminded, that she too held the attention of the Medallion’s curse.
“The Medallion,” Marg said aloud, as she was reminded she had put the thing inside her slacks pocket. As she reached in her right hand to retrieve the Medallion, it felt like cold metal. “Cold, as dead cold, so what if you got a good bit warmer?”
Marg turned and then tossed the Medallion to fall with a hard clanging sound, as it fell into a 12 inch iron skillet pan setting on the kitchen stove. Marg smiled, she looking down at the Medallion, as her right hand turned on the gas to light the burner under the iron pan. She watched as the orange and blue flame did warm the pan, making the coating of olive oil in the pan to sizzle.
“I want to see you melt!” Marg said, as thought the Medallion was but a piece of metal and had not any thought of self-preservation. A thin vapor of smoke arose from under the Medallion, and Marg standing as watching, she leaned forward and thought to give a sniff to the wisp.
The smell she noticed was not that of roasting olive oil but more reminding her of the last time she pan fried some meat. She felt oddly warm and thinking about how she had come to be changed, she quickly unbuttoned her blouse, and still feeling exceptionally warm all over, she took off her blouse, her bra, and then kicked off her shoes to standing there stocking footed on the cool feeling tile floor.
As about then she noticed a second wish of smoke rising from under the frying hot Medallion. This wisp of smoke was more an orange color, as if the gold portion of the Medallion was melting due to the heat from the gas flames.
“Ack,” Marg exclaimed as she still felt exceptionally warm. She thought for a moment before then to unsnap her slacks belt and zip down the side zipper. As nervous fingers slipped under the slacks waistband, she felt the feel of her pony fur pelt and for some unrealized reason, as she slid down her slacks to step out of them, the sensation from brushing her winter coat of pony fur made her moan a seductive groaning.
She stood then as her womanly self being naked with the exception of her still wearing her pair of socks.
“Oh Margery,” she said as thinking of her body as covered then with pony black skin and a pelt of dense inch long slate-gray fur, that she felt a sense of duty to want for brushing her furred self. As the Medallion became warmer, and the wisps of smoke coming on faster, it was Margery that felt her becoming uncomfortably warmer, as aroused, she beginning to message her right hand across and encircling her weeping mare like vulva.
“Huh, oh, oh yes, oh if only Bob were here,” Marg moaned, and she felt a great urge to remove her cotton socks, to being then completely naked.
The Medallion about then began flip-flopping like popcorn popping, but stay inside the hot iron pan. Marg ignored the clanking coin and went from her kitchen to run through the adjacent dining room, as rushed up the stairs to the bedrooms second floor. As there she entered the bathroom and grabbed hold of a hairbrush, she began stroking the brush to curry comb her pony fur.
“Oh, oh yes that feels great, as I know now why when Jared or Bob would curry and brush either Tilda or Mildred, the mares would stand perfectly still, as calm, seemingly enthralled by the sensations of being brushed.” And as she continued the brushing, when the brush was swished along the roundness of her furred buttocks, it happened to find a sore spot just above her butt crack.
Marg then heard from down in the kitchen the clanking sound of a very hot Medallion as jumping around, as inside the iron pan. The sound she heard coming from her kitchen and the knowledge that her idea to melt the Medallion down to a silver and gold glob, did seem to thrill her. However, as she stood there looking into the large wall mirror in the bathroom, Marg could swear she looked different, more pony like was her face, and the sore spot over her butt felt like an infected Boil.
“Mistress Master, my melt is getting very warm, as are you becoming to feeling warmer. I thought to let my Master know that when any heat is used to cause possible injury to the Medallion metal, the curse becomes as angered. An angry curse gives off waves of planned changing; so have you noticed your pony fur covered self as growing a tail, or your head changing, becoming more like as Tilda has, being you and Roberta are joined by the curse?” The Medallion Spirit speaking then inside the head of Margery, was posing her to think.