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A female satyr - why who ever heard of such a thing? But that she was, her fur as bright a red as the rest of her. When it was done, it took her a full day of practice to be able to walk without falling over, and she was constantly rubbing her new body parts in horror and fascination - the patches of thick fur at her elbows, her legs and long floppy ears, the widdle tail at the base of her spine, her hooves and horns. Every change she'd undergone, the sex change, the muteness, the color change, and now the species change, not to mention the love curse an iron necklace was constantly holding back - it had all brought her so unimaginably far away from the person she was supposed to be, and she was filled with rage.
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