All of what you felt and feel seems so righteous at that moment. Your plans for attending college and a future life while working in your chosen field of occupation as well seems to have changed. The sense of passion roars within your head, the words 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 you male donkey organ, dropping into a full ready pose, it continues to stiffen, swaying, and the blunt end of it swells huge in size.
A questions stands poised, and for as much you have cherished feels for family and friends, the want to adorn the silver bridle over your head and make all these sensations as if permanent; is of itself a cherished thought you cannot deny.
The Pledge Master holds then the bridle expecting this new you will want to make everything you became as something horribly permanent.
"Time begins now pledge, you are too far along to return to what normally graduates from the college. I must admit though, you do make a striking stud 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 you as something to humiliate the other pledge fellows into towing to their duties.
A whimsical thought of one lovely time and memory when on a date during summer vacation you promised a young female student your undying devotion. The raw sensations that come with having changed mostly to become as is 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 and making your body like it should become of 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 becoming almost proper for the finality that would come with adorning that silver thread bridle.
An angry donkey brain has its one best offensive ability 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 you charged ahead, plunging foolishly through the opened strands of the silver threaded bridle to take a might 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 as 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 as something so personable.