The tug of your halter by the reins held in the hands of someone who is yet a man seems to urge your motion. Walking willingly, you follow, the man continuing to comment about how he can not understand why so many find being an animal a real joy.
You stop once out in the fresh air, it is filled with many scents, the least of these are the rank smells coming from those who by whatever design, became as jennet donkeys. It is this rank odor that attacks your every sense of being, making for me a monster erection, and stopping just long enough for this donkey stud to work away his frustrations.
The man comments seeming directly at me when seeing the stick puddle of white cream and its globs of yellow pearls being my seed littering the ground.
He give me a caring pat to the neck announcing to me that with my sexual evacuating of the testicles, my transition to donkey in body and mind should culminate all the sooner.
Maybe this is the reason I can still think, reason, and understand.
I was escorted to the stable but not placed into a stall, but was then put in harness as some poor donkey jack fainted from the tough exertion and did die in harness. As the carriage driver needed a stout donkey, and I being slightly overweight when a human, I was the obvious choice.
So here I stand, matured and being the prime stud and earmarked as the one to give orientation to those coming and soon to live the life of a donkey on Pleasure Island.