"A Toast for Luck and We're on Our Way!"
Thoughts then escape cannot begin to explain the sensations or the knowing of how dehumanized and degraded it is to become a bull, and an ugly one too!
Words do little justice but then Rachel comes out the house, she waving the bottle to wine for toasting, and of all things more, she has her camera too."
A bellowing cry of a man feeling horrible drives, crazy things, like wanting to find a female in need and sniffing her, or licking, yuck, it is too much! Too much became worse when Rachel, she acting like this were some silly game or a fantasy suit covering the real me; she points her camera toward me, and she says then, "Say cheese...!"
I never remember seeing a bull smile or think to try to smile, and to grin when I felt so discombobulated, having huge fur covered ears, a thick bony tail, and that sheath, it flopping or jiggling with every step.
FLASH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Poof, and there it was, Rachel had herself a picture of her new pleasure pet. It might be funny if it was not for the horrid fact, I was what she took a picture of, and I would likely remain as a bull for some time to come, or" Oh God no," or permanently!
If ever there was a time when a grown man would want to cry, that was then. But to cry and being as is a bull did something unexpected. Instead of crying a tear, the urge made me feel horny. Horny to one who is as a bull is something that builds, and goes on becoming more than an urge, it is more like an addiction.
A bull is little more than a fur covered sex machine, and like it or not, being it made one think, wish, and want, lusting, I became in need for gaining my pleasures; but Rachel failed then to smell rightly and or then she failed to fill my need. I needed a cow rump and wanted bad!