|Game 3||Game 3 Outline|
The witch had until then spellbound you to become as a bull, but with your anger and bovine rage showing, when you charged at her; the binding spell changed.
Silly binding spells are usually short lived and pass away leaving the spellbound individual back to their original self.
Spells have clauses in them, unspoken deals between the witch, her familiar, and the demonic powers who originally granted to help and comply with making spells work and do the will of the caster.
Your charge at the witch was enough for the spell to change, turning from something short lived, and becoming as a curse like those that permanently can leave one enjoying their life from a very different perspective.
Rage, bovine anger and bullish force charges you at the witch but in coming near her you pass through a strange wave of power, it reminds you of heat waves in summer coming of the pavement of a highway.
Charging with both bulk and muscular rage the thought to stop before entering the wave is short lived, as your bulk plunges through...
Moments later the voice of that witch comes into your fur covered head. She announces to what you did to yourself, remarking that of becoming a bull, you all as a bull for the rest of your life, unless...
Unless, by the full moon light you can find and eat some red roses, this would allow you to slowly change and return to what your were born.
She says more, telling how she shall watch over you, as with her crystal ball she can watch how you live and learn to make bovine style love. Then she laughs at you, speaking about what a bull does to a cow is anything like the love between a man and his woman.
Her words fade away and you are left standing and thinking, considering how you shall live then as being a Bull.
Feeling you are under the watchful gaze of the witch, your bovine head turns and you too gaze back at her. The raw sensations of be then as a bull, and knowing your bovine bull self is the permanent new you, there comes some worry and concern once you mature and when fattened, there are memories of how cattle go to slaughter.
Written by T.K. Rustin
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