Mind racing as you run through the options available to you, at first you don't notice the itching sensation running up your arms. The sharp pain of your fingers cramping definitely grabs your attention, though. Looking down, you let out a bleat of horror - shaggy goat-fur has sprouted all along your arms, growing thicker before your eyes! The cramp in your hands is only getting worse, too ...
Wait, did you just bleat? Frantically, you try and speak, but are only able to produce various goat-y noises. The maddening itching has spread down your chest and is creeping up your neck now. Grimacing, you reach one hand down to scratch, only to have something solid impact your chest instead of fingers. A glance - and you're sporting hooves on the ends of your arms now! As you watch, those arms slowly become forelegs, readjusting themselves to their new role. Your grip on the fountain edge slips and you fall to all fours, nearly hitting your muzzle on the stone lip.
As your brain catches up with the reality of sporting a muzzle, your hear two voices and the crunch of feet on the graveled park path. The police! You can't let them see you - but as soon as you start to move, you stumble to a stop, bleating in pain as two goat's horns force their way out of your forehead. You recover too late, turning to see the two officers looking at you askance. One of them reaches up to the radio clipped onto his shoulder, speaking into it.
"37 to dispatch."
A crackle of static, and the dispatcher's voice comes out, tinny from the small speaker. "Go ahead, 37."
"No sign of the indecent-exposure suspect yet, but we've found a goat in Ellings Park." His eyes track up to the harness, still fixed securely to your body. "Still has a harness attached. Any reports of a missing-" The officer and his partner exchange glances at the oddness of the situation before he continues. "-missing goat?"
"One moment, 37." Silence, as the dispatcher presumably checks recent complaints. You take a step away from the two police officers, square-pupilled eyes regarding them uncertainly. The dispatcher's voice returns, sounding mildly surprised. "That's affirmative, 37. A Juliette Burnes reported her pet goat missing just twenty-three minutes ago - black hair with a brown leather harness?"
You look down at a foreleg. Sure enough, the goat hair is a shade of black. The officer makes the same astute observation. "Roger that, dispatch, this is the animal. Send out Animal Control to round it up, we'll keep an eye on it until they get here."
As the dispatcher confirms, you take another step back, mind racing. Pretty convenient that this Juliette called in a missing goat matching your description just a short while after you put on this harness. Maybe too convenient. You feel it's a good bet that Juliette is your "secret admirer", though why she'd turn you into a goat - and how she has that ability - you don't know, and you're not sure you want to find out.