All of what you feel seems so righteous in that moment. Your plans for attending college and a future life while working in your chosen field of occupation seems to have changed. The sense of passion roars within your head. The word fields has a much different connotation.
"Fields," the thought of the word is a fantasy scene of you in a grassy pasture, surrounded by ten horny jennet donkeys.
This thought aroused your male donkey organ, dropping into a full ready pose. It continues to stiffen. To sway. The blunt end of it swells huge in size.
A question stands poised. As much as you have cherished feelings for family and friends, you want to adorn the silver bridle over your head and make all these sensations permanent. It becomes a cherished thought you cannot deny.
The Pledge Master holds the bridle expecting this new you will want to make everything you became horribly permanent.
"Time begins now pledge. You are too far along to return to what normally graduates from this college. I must admit though, you do make a striking studly pose for a donkey. Now slip this on over your muzzle and let us make those sensations all so perfectly permanent!" The Pledging Master does his chiding. He wants to use you as something to humiliate the other pledge fellows into towing to their duties.
A whimsical thought of a lovely memory. A date during summer vacation when you promised a young female student your undying devotion. The raw sensations that come with having become a real donkey would likely come between her and you, doing major damage to that charmed relationship.
Angered for the sensual choices you were steered into wanting to become a donkey. Turning you body permanantly into a bestial form, your hatred is turned toward the Pledge Master.
"Hee-hee-haw, hee-haw, hee-hee-haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaw!" you scream. The sudden realization of the indignity of your physical form; that which has become proper for the finality that would come with adorning that silver thread bridle.
An angry human brain stuck in the form of a donkey's body has one offensive ability to lash out at the Pledge Master. Your front donkey teeth, made best to crop off grass blades and give a donkey its nourishment. It is with these oversized yellow blocky chompers that you charged ahead, plunging foolishly through the opened strands of the silver threaded bridle to take a mighty grip at the crotch of the Pledge Master.
Massive donkey incisor teeth surround the Pledge Master's own package.
You want to trim it off of him and make this man dull in his sexual gift, as he would have you charmed to live life from only one sexual conquest to the next.
As the donkey jaw and teeth with thickened rubber-like lips envelope the Pledge Master about his manly tool, the first true realization of the silver threads foretell of that bestial life that is now yours. To know such a life as something so personable.