"I pick to be a dragon," you say quickly.
"A dragon?" says the minotaur, not hiding his mild surprise at this choice you have made. "I can guess why. Let me look into the reasons of your choice: you want power, riches, ferocity, the ability to breathe fire and fly?"
"Yes," you answer truthfully. "If I am, to become a mythical creature, then I might as well be a dragon. They are awesome and fearsome beings and as a former male, it is much better than being a nymph ready to do anything to calm her libido. As a nymph, I will get pregnant eventually and that is a nightmare I really, really don't want to go through."
"Well," muses the minotaur. "If you stayed a nymph, it would appear normal to you. You would know who you were but not feel the disgust of the male you used to be. On the contrary, you'd wondered why coupling by inserting penises into your vagina sounded so revolting to you, or why carrying a foetus made it appear so parasitic."
"Precisely!" you scream, repulsed by the creature's matter-of-fact tone. "I don't want to lose myself! Or if I am to, then I want it to be inside a creature that I think is great and worthy of respect!"
"Being a dragon isn't all that fun, you know. You can become very aggressive during mating season, or even on a regular daily basis. You'll want to hoard a treasure, and not necessarily gold or jewels. And you might not be an adult, or even a male, for that matter."
"I don't care! Still better than to become a sex-crazed ditzy girl for all eternity! Do it! Please!"
"All right. It is your choice, after all," sighs the minotaur.
"Thank you," you breathe in relief.
"You should wait for that," mumbles the minotaur.
He then utters words of ancient Greek, imbued in power. The sheer force of the metamorphosis slams into you and your world becomes pitch-black, making you loose consciousness.