Felix in his new form runs off, getting away from a father, a shotgun, and the peering eyes of those he loved. He ran learning the pattern of movement donned on him as with four legs and keeping them from getting tangled.
He ran until his heart and lungs were near ready to bust.
Slowing, he stopped, huffing to breathe, he stood there and took note of what donkey sweat has as being his scent.
He turned and looked around, the breeze wafted to his nostrils a host of scents, some his kinky donkey brain told him were friendly types. He marched off to meet those friendly types, his joy for the meeting making him aroused and something black and snake like flicked and slapped at his flanks with every step.