Feeling elated about all the rank and new forms of sensations afforded to being naked as is animals and the very male attributes of being equine, a donkey Jack, and of having still a mind capable to realize this all, you feel blessed and damned!
Doom is an awful term and from the whole of becoming as a strong bodied animal, the sensation abound, the thought of this being all bad for you wanes, fading, until the body overwhelms a worried mind.
A few staggered steps forward, the walking on all fours is a wholly new manner of locomotion, but something oddly seemingly getting easier by the moving and movement. Fast walking becomes a trot, and that lends to galloping, the speed attained seems to add to the elated delight forming in the mind. A delight you feel, excited at the prospects imagined in a mind part human but giving to change, unknowingly to it, the changes made will in due time erase the human memories, that what you would cherish once those fond times become a indistinguishable blur.
"Ignore that concern, feel the feels, the lusting passion for being fur covered, naked and by being likened to other animals, they who would be yet human concern nary a thought about most anything you care to do in their presence. They who do not know the presence of self like do you, they think what they see as nothing more than an ignorant animal doing what it has an urge and relieving the sensed urge with a varied response.
Long and short of it all, this being a donkey offers the anonymity which lends to a total lack of disgrace for anything you care to do. As if given a complete license to be yourself in public, the delighting in this adds force to the eking away of the human mind, leaving only the same ignorant loving beast, another like all the others born into this cruel world to be as beasts too!
Tail wagging, the breeze tickling the fur covering the entire body, the lovely sensations felt as said breeze gives a natural blowing about the sheath, testicles, and enticing of what is held set high in the sheath to come out, and hang longly, loose, and for all to wish they had one as big as was your's.
Slowly the inklings begin and in but a single day, that what was schooled with human knowledge gives up the logical learned mind for one filled with tending to fear, worries, and running from what instincts say will cause pain, injury, or the black curtain of death.
An afternoon of learning and by nightfall, what stands like a furry statue is then but one made animal of body and accepted the fact that they desire too, to be as is an animal of mind. Concerned only with living through the coming of dark and nighttime, the hope of the light to rise in the east come morning springs then a sense of hope.
Horror, worries, concerns from hearing of sounds, unknown sounds, the things that brandish fear in the stout heat that is by day a stud donkey, is similar to a bunny rabit by night.
Ah, come that light by day, the morning dew moistens the grasses, granting them a fresh salad for breakfast, and later, the urge to purge the bladder of much housed liquids.
Purging the bladder has its sense of worry, but from the flaccid feeling of the aroused, elongated male organ that cannot be seen, but is most certainly felt, the rush of urine from it gives a sensed idea of a very neat accomplishment.
Vague yet in the terse mind of one accepting life as would a real-born donkey, there are those many hundreds of self dooming stories read during human times, these continue to offer suggestions of conquests untried.
Grazing with and aside other animals of the pasture, each is as a ship to itself, an entity alone on a massive ocean of grass. Foraging, lips moving in remarkable harmony of movement, gathering blades of grass to teeth. Teeth biting the grass free from the sod, and at the same time a tongue moves the food to grinding teeth. Teeth that mash, crush, and make a slurry swallowed into a stomach for processing what is eaten into nourishing energy.
The gut gets a full feeling and the foraging ceases, as a time of standing quiet, listening to the gut grumble as the slurry works its merry way along fleshy pipes that eek from it all that is usable.
It is later, sometimes when running with others, or standing in a corral, does the bowels build an urge, and by compression of a massive strong internal diaphragm is it expelled from the body.
Realization of a remembered bit of humor, "The more you eat, the more you need to crap!" Your thought of this would leave a human with a grin, but black lips made to graze make nary a move to offer the world around you a discernible smile.
Jack stud male donkey, it was many days and long nights before the scent of a wafting breeze offers to stout nostrils the real need of a she. She is as another like are you, but her body putting off an arousing odor.
It becomes a trail leading to something the weak mind suggests will bring a sense of accomplishment to a dreary existence.
Following the scent, it brings together they who feel a need one for the other, a virtual primal need. It is something that from deep within, comes a sudden knowledge of what is to be done and in a special, time worn order of progression. The slight inkling to ignore the preset progression of a conquest is quickly forgotten.
"Do it righteous, or feel possible pain and agony from what the female can do to you!" It comes as a mental warning, not a logical thought, but a mindset concern born to males about females of their own kind. A special something known by animals, but given to being forgotten by males of the human kinds.
Suddenly, like the coming of morning and the promises then of attaining something refreshingly delightful, the offer given by the female donkey is similar.