A.J. looked at Lyle with a much different attitude. His friend was now as much a male goat as the one sire prancing and snorting about nearby.
"I didn't change that much Lyle!" said A.J. as his friend sniffed at him through the openings in the large crate. As A.J. sat looking over his friend he removed the latch pin and Lyle bounded out.
Try and try again Lyle could not get a word of English out through those fuzzy black lips. After many a try he was getting very agitated with his lack of human abilities. As A.J. watched his friend adjust to life and form or a goat in feelings and soon even mental state.
Lyle whirled around and with mouth agape he tried to bite at A.J.'s groin. The loss of his humanity was turning him angry as he found himself slowly slipping into bestial thought patterns. Instinct and the smaller brain of the goat he now had become could not keep the memories of his human life available for recall as when human.
Soon enough the big buck could only bleat his calls and showed only goat patterns of action without much thought. It was then that A.J. opened the gate to the goat holding pen and released a new and horny of horned buck to fight for domination and begin to rut for Melody and Georgia.
A.J. sat looking and making mental patterns of the jousting and head butting as two male goats fought for the right to mate. It was as he watched while hung over the pen's fence that a sassy Melody wandered over and slurped a lick at his satyr sheath.
While the rut fight went on in one side of the holding pen a enthused satyr began his first of thousands to come as he mounted Melody in a true satyr's ritual.
As the dawn of a new day came to light the pen in it's warmth an early morning wrangler found two male goats in furious rut fighting as the two nanny's slept. A.J. however, seeing the coming of day knew yet he could not stay and watch.
In the Airport employee parking lot a hairy creature struggles with learning to cope with cloven hooves and brake or gas peddles. Wiggling about he had found what up till now he had taken for granted, his long bony goat tail made him rather uncomfortable. At last he got his fingers to start the machine and with his left hind cloven hoof working the brake peddle he used his right hove to work the gas.
A jerky bit of moves and A.J. was one pleased satyr driving out the employee parking lot till, he saw the security guard's at the entrance to the Airport's main road. He remembered in a mix of bestial sensual thoughts and human memories that they might want to search the truck when he left work.
Worse yet as A.J. looked in the rear view mirror he saw a very billy goat's head and horns, which the guards no doubt would take exception to and want him to get out of the truck. If this came to happen he was dead, and would be with little doubt made a sideshow freak or worse.
Looking about he had taken from the goat crate Lyle's nice western hat and his deerskin gloves which smelled so very nice. Even as he worked into the lines of people leaving he donned the hat which covered a host of sins. The gloves covered his hairy hands and those dark brown finger nails.
A quick look to the rear view mirror he adjusted the hat forward and with a grin drove up to the guard shack.
"Good night A.J.!" said one of the guards as A.J. waived his gloved hand and drove by feeling more free now than ever in his entire life.
A look of the map book and his plan formed fast, he'd drive up to the U.ofW. and find the Professor Simmons who owned the so wonderfully blessed crate.