Standing there having heard the curse retold, informing that unless I were to give up being the real me I shall become more of the animal I was but partially in form. hearing of what is expected of me, to enter that room and let some horny male then a satyr, rut and thrust me into living life as one insane for sex and sensual pleasures, the thought of it is as if I were accepting a dire curse.
Granted, to look down and see there mingled in goat wool and or fur, is a moist slit of extra sensual flesh, a vagina, a womanly thing, me made then to be as a female satyr like creature.
The having once been as is a male human and for a short time felt the pangs known to a male animal, all nearly forgotten once this embodiment of being female and as a goat too, became then the new me.
Anger and self incrimination for the foolish want for such wicked delights, my own passions led me down this fated trail, a path to living life for drunken debauchery and a wasting away. As just another satyr, living devoid of any actual accomplishment, save that of infecting others to live like wicked beasts, all lusting one for the body of the other.
Bestiality it is when what is or was human wishes to have at it, wanting for the feelings of passion from something that dare cannot understand the meaning of love.
Satyrs practice such foolish ways, and if by becoming a Satyress or otherwise as a goat, female or male, the future is the same, completely without any gain for self or society as a whole.
Looking at the door and then standing there when the nasty woman takes from out of her purse a heft dildo, and with a shove of it, she rams the thing up and deeply inside my aching vagina. instantly comes this rush of such sensation that mind and body feel a need to conform to what is wanted of me, me to enter and let the young satyr ruin us both permanently.
Hunched forward, insatiable sensation urging the new female animalistic me to want and accept what I have so far become as worthy a life for me, I moan, and groaning, my pain makes the woman laugh.
One hand moves to give a turn to the bedroom doorknob, as the other reaches down and in front, taking hold of the wicked feeling dildo, giving it a few twists, I scream from the rank sensation. Looking at the grinning woman, I beg of her to return me to being male and make of me as some donkey, horse, Zebra, or to be male I could learn to love and live as the beast she would want to make of me.
Her response was to ...