Game 4Game 4 Outline| Game 4 |
Game 4 Outline |
Seeing is believing if this were only a dream you would have thought it the wettest fantasy thrill of your entire life; but sadly your most personal thoughts foretell that this is for you, reality!
Fear and horror infect your thoughts, you know that being as some bovine form the life expectancy is that of three years, and rarely more before sent off to be slaughtered.
Horror fades after just about your first hour since realization of the changes.
Fear remains the main foe as from it comes then anger and rage, these mental patterns only add to the bestial brutal instinctive patterns of thoughts that blanket any human rational.
Snorting with insistent rage and anger at all that is around you, the desire for freedom and open spaces urges you to meander out from the barn and join then your herd in the green grassy pasture.
A quick few jostling steps proves to add discomfort to a mind filled with brutal passions and personal instilled anger. You slow your gait, walking with easy strides which allow waves of sensuality to drive you ever closer to accepting, and then wanting for more of what it is to feel life as does a bull.
Walking along your low hung testicles sway, bumping and being touched by stout hocks of hind feet and rustling hair that caresses the soft fuzzy that covers those big bovine bullish balls.
Flicking and jiggling actions of your belly mounted bovine sheath add to the array of overly sensual sensations that flood into a brain now wanting for things sensual and ignoring everything dealing with thinking rationally.
Big furry ears flop and slap the sides of your then massive muscular neck and a head seemingly made of stone by its size and the bulk weight it exerts on your neck.
Rank scents of cows, of manure and urine abound in the breeze, this instilling some mental instinctive patterns; actuating more instincts, as if these odors stand for delight and granting comfort of being accepted into the great whole of the herd.
You stop, and take a deep breath, then exhale it gruffly, bellowing to all in ear shot that you have arrived!
The echo of your brutish call comes back at you, filling your ears, and exciting a once rational mind with the factual horror that what is you is then truly a bestial bull. Blinking back big tears as the anguish of reality holds the beast that is then you at bay. Your nostrils seep long sticky strings of clear mucus, (snot) as feeling this a long black tongue leaps past rubbery thick lips made to grasp and help an animal graze; it slurping around to clear and keep clean and moist your might nostrils.
A return communication comes from one fairly big cow, she sauntering directly toward the new you.
Once her breath is mixed with your own, she turns, as then your face is in a close proximity of her broad big rump.
Then her scent is acrid, and the sight of what stands there before your face is something so disgusting to the human mind, that upon seeing it, you close your eyes and wish that only the animal part of you need see what down deep you know will happen next.
Blatant wishes for things sane and moral fade with the taste as a long tongue blurts outward, slapping and sliding its mass across the rump of that willing cow.
Brutal reality sets into play what comes next as this bestial self then sniffs her, and with a brain filled of her scent and instinctive ideas, your fore legs bound you upward, straddling the cow rump. Inching quickly to get your position set for what is to come, you hoist your bulk self along her back, arms as forelegs trying to hold the prey, as jutting quickly from the sheath is this extremely sensitive hot rod.
"Bim bang and it all over," you slide off the cow rump, slamming your bulk self back to stand on the earth with four legs, fours sets of cloven hooves, and worse, knowing that what you just did was to all that is human and moral, something very wrong, but to a bull it seemed so perfectly righteous.
Written by T. K. Rustin
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