"Oh Jennifer," she moaned, feeling so extra seductive then from within this her new self.
Combing her fingers through the thick goat wool that adorned her thighs, she swooned at the feel, and this made her aroused. The sensation of arousal did more, it made her begin seeping out juices, soaking her groin, and beginning in her the lusting seductive delights it is to become as a true Satyress.
Walking with long striding steps, the manner of movement different, she having then hocks and hind legs like of a goat.
Strange at first the manner of walking, but just from doing it, it felt better and would soon become as commonplace as if she were born to walk on hooves.
All this helped to excite Jennifer, she noted how with walking her breasts bobbled. This made her nipples protrude, and stuck out the tips of them were highly sensual to the touch. As she did touch her nipples, they began to leak dropplets of her milk.
"Milk," Jen said aloud, stunned to see she had milk and was dripping it, she not pregnant, or was she?
Instable desire to touch her furred privates had her soon with two fingers sunken deep and she thrusting them in and out, wiggling them, and this arousing in her bestial desires, the likes she never imagined were possible.
Jen felt an urge to feel a fuller feeling down in her groin, and looking around she then smiled. There was the foot end of her bed stood two bedposts. She looking at them had never noticed how much they seemed as contoured to look in her imagination as now were as if large, aroused male organs. The tips of the bedposts looked like a circumcised end to a male penis, it but the girth in size equal to being owned by a pony stallion.
Moments later she stood astride the bedpost and lowering her pretty self down, felt the rounded end touch at, and then slip easily up and inside her quivering vagina.
Her four bedposts she never thought of in this way, but oh, oh was she delighted by the one she was working her to a frenzy of sensual as sexual delight. She was near to a sexual panic when Jen felt the want for something just as large but of the living to be up and inside of her, she looked then to the pipes of Pan setting upon the top of her dresser drawers.
Forgetting where she was, of her pleasuring, Jen reached a long stretched arm and hand for the fluted pipes. Her reach pulled her up and off the seductive bedpost, the exiting of it from out of her wet tightness made a slurped sucking sound that gave her a shiver.
Fingering the fluted reed pipes, Jen never knew how to play any an instrument while in school, but by some unknown means in her head, she felt an urge and a manner of how to coax out an alluring tune.
Humored by the alluring of her own tunes, Jen stood near her bedroom window and began playing her tune, letting it waft the distance and draw to her those wishing and willing by her ways of losing part or all of their humanity.
Piping a tune similar to Appellation Spring, a short symphony sonnet she loved, it played by her became the essence to drive to her the first of many who would ream from her what she wanted, as well felt an inner need.