Marg began then to make shrill sounding whinnies, as if she were crying. Although true equines cannot cry, she was not by then a full equine. Robert then said about his wife, “She is thinking about Dolthan having bred with her many times, and from what you said Reverend, she is likely frightened she will need stay as at least an Anthropic mare.”
“No dear, that was not what I meant, although if having gone as untreated by the blessed water, the semen of Dolthan would doom you, as he has done to others, of that I am sure. I would ask of you both to remain here in the barn. As please do not touch the pillar of salt, as but a touch or lick will revive him. Meanwhile I shall go confront Dolthan and give him a treatment long overdue.” The Reverend said as he took with him a partially still full jar of the specially prepared blessed water.
As Robert continued to talk and console his fearing wife, Reverend Manson did a brisk style walk from the barn to the house. When he went into the house he began to carry the jar of blessed water as held at arm length in front of him. He knew that Dolthan was crafty by his many experiences to dealing with his victims and with their protective thinking friends or relatives.
Remaining silent as he searched first the lower floor of the house, the Reverend felt satisfied that Marg had left Dolthan in the upstairs, as likely a bedroom. Care taking of being quiet he walked up the stairway leading to the second floor of the farmhouse. At the top of the stairs were three bedrooms, a linen closet and a bathroom. The struggling moans and groans of a rather discomforted feeling Imp made him as easy to find.
“Good morning Dolthan,” said the Reverend as he stepped into the bedroom doorway.
Suddenly Dolthan lay wide eyed as he stared at a man he had learned to respect and did fear. He was where Marg left him, a mess of plastic sealing tape wound about his ankle-fetlocks and his wrists, but the funny binding was the strands of tape binding his wrists to an erection any stud donkey would be proud to own as his joy.
“I see you have changed more toward your becoming a donkey, that host-devil has you as his lure. However, and as a present gifted from Misses Morrison, I have here with me a refreshing drink. You were terrible in my Sunday school class so many years ago, and it is a good bet you have learned the hard-on way how much the devil hosts hate all that lives.
When last we talked you already had the genitals of a donkey, but since then your donkey self has become more akin to your devil master dooming you to being as all a animal. You should know by now that your choice to follow of passions and what felt alluringly sensual got you into what you are now.
You thought you were smarter than anyone and blindly, without reading or of any study went after the fantasy carrot the devil holds for every donkey to chase after; and where has it gotten you?
You trust anyone who you think will afford you a thrill. You trusted Margery and see what predicament you are in now; as that sticky tape will rip the sensual skin off your erection, leaving you in a world of hurt.
As I came up the stairs my thought was to make you drink of the blessed water, but from seeing the way your devil friend has changed you, what I think know as appropriate is to pour the water over your erection and destroy your greatest knack for alluring of people to their doom. This will now cause your death, but it shall destroy your capability to sport an erection. As after you lose that thing, what would a devil do to you but render you to being as is a common beast?” Reverend Mason told Dolthan, as he held this time the fuller attention of a foolish Ass.
The first few drips of blessed water did burn, setting Dolthan to wail and know better the fires in hell. A careful
dousing of the water to coating the length of Dolthan’s erect did what it had to the devil in the barn; the stout cock became as a rock hard appendage. As Dolthan saw his favorite fun body part die, he began to bray. Dolthan’s braying called to other devils he had met and they began to gather outside the farmhouse. Devils gathered like a late summer time storm, it flashed of lightning and thundered loudly.
Dolthan begged for mercy from the devils, but they know not of mercy but of hate that curses’ the souls of mankind. Reverend Manson had never had Dolthan as hog-tied and at his mercy before then, and considering the number of friendly folks the donkey Imp had worked to dehumanize, the essence of his fate had begun!