Game 3Game 3 Outline| Game 3 |
Game 3 Outline |
"How is this all even then possible, this the physical rendering of every body cell; their changing, turning animalistic, becoming as if toughened and made to withstand the riggers of living in the open and given to a types of weather." This pondering wonderment rolls over and around inside the brain, it seems to know that it too will change, likely degraded into something simple and rather basic.
What one cannot see is the internal changes that grant some pain but are moving, growing, and in the place of my stomach, duplicating into four tummies. One such new tummy is that of holding the swallowed diet, giving it up to the mouth for a monumental chewing, swallowing again as being of a cud; yuck!
The imagination kicks into high gear, as from any time in the travels I saw cattle, notating their actions, but paying them little concern of mind as they were just beasts acting as do beasts among themselves.
Pondering of all that was seen and now like a cud of memories it comes up into view and one mulls it over as if to help decide which or want to do next.
Again feelings and tingling sensations abound, the outward portion of this my body taunts me now. Prickles of hair sprouting, growing, thickening, as human skin changes under it, toughening into the thick hide worn by animals, bovine ones like what the witch deems worthy for yours truly!
Dehumanization, a big word comes to mind, and of it I know it is happening, the loss of what I am as an identifiable person; becoming soon only separated from the mass of other cows in the field by hair color, or to my constituents by the rank musky scent coming from the sheath as portion to by belly.
Little things, but basic and essential body parts begin to see changing as ears grow, turning oval shaped, hairy, and able to wiggle, flap, flop, and move to aid in removing bothersome insects from about my soon bovine, bullish face.
I feel it building, the added bone structure of how a human skull becomes a near square solid block of bone. My blockhead being needed to fight for the right to mate and breed, a ritual of animals to maintain the heightened standards of purified bestial form.
The realization of knowing how aggressive I shall become, it worries me, as with animals they put every ounce of the fiber of their being into such a battle. The concern for injury is for them then as something not considered, as to procreate is the highest of honor in the animal world.
Thinking all of this makes the witch laugh at me, she knowing my pondering thoughts as the body shows remarkable transition to become bovine.
"You need not worry and fret so, the becoming as a beast is easy, you just let things happen that feels good and bam, your a true animal!" She taunts the situation, her words are true enough; but at the same time they are also damning to what you were.
Movement is limited, the witch denotes how the thought to run and if possible escape her watching and enjoying this horrible predicament is something you would as well enjoy privately. The manner of how I stand, would walk, and given time run, shall turn to living in a different position, on all fours. The thinking of this and the loss of hand dexterity only adds to the indecision of the moment.
Gurgling in the guts foretells of more changing, the digestive system of a bull being much larger and longer than what one has as being human, helps with the realization of how much physical mass I am then gaining.
"Snapping," sensations of the spine as growth and the enlargement of vertebra structure increases the length and size of my back, I hear it! What becomes the more horrid sensation comes without any pain at all, but knowing that added to the lengthened spine is growing new links, this to become the bovine whip of my bestial tail.
As growth and change envelope the pelvic regions, the radical longing begins as being soon a bull, my mentality is governed by the surging hormones coming out of testicles, each the size of my human fists, or possibly growing even larger then that. My rump broadens, opening to the light of day and the ravage of the insect world that which as a man was cloaked by softer buttocks and kept away from the harshness of all weather.
The pelt of bovine fur by then encompasses the entirety of what is my new bodily self.
A bony tail I swing, not swatting at anything bothering me, but as something available at my command to show forth the inner thoughts, a bovine way to expression the bullish face cannot show.
Seeing how elongated become what were human feet, almost laughing at their length and shape, wondering if I tried someday to put them in shoes, as to what size and width I would need; if not so saddening, it might be funny!
Constant consideration to what is conforming my body to be soon that as would a bull kept me from taking note how a human face became fully bovine. The sensation of becoming so bestial is not a nice thing to feel. Worst is of the nose, nostrils and merging with the upper lip to form a bovine contoured muzzle.
It is difficult to describe the different sensation and knowledge that eating without the use of hands is as deemed proper; using them my lips to reach and gather blades of food for teeth to cut, chomp, grind and mash into the green slurry that I shall then swallow. Thinking of this the witch gets a hardy laugh, she reaching into my mind and reading the thoughts as I generally hated eating my greens when a child.
Stance has stiffened, I stand on all fours, properly as should a bull, tail sways as thoughts and worry still fills the mind. I get an urge, it coming from a full or filling bladder. The need to relieve this building amount of liquid bodily waste would by human standards require a moment of privacy.
A pondering look about for a private place to relieve the urge make the witch laugh all the harder.
"Your dumber than is a real bull, forget the thought of privacy, you are an animal and such consideration is soon to be beyond your wildest thought. Let it go, feel the trickling of it come down the length of your embedded shaft, perking out, and tickling the long coarse hairs that crest the end to a very stout bovine shape of sheath. Ignore thoughts of needing privacy, there is none for beasts, and you," me she says I am then as would be a animal.
Disgruntled, I let the flow begin, only to bellow my opinion about how as being like an animal, my sense of dignity is scorned into oblivion.
Written by Kevin Rooste
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