Beth Jeans Houghton was born in Transylvania to a pack of albino wolves who raised her on chewing tobacco and stuffed clams. Despite they're hospitality, love conquers all and she soon eloped to scotch corner with her shiny new stallion peter Andre.

Beth was his mysterious girl for as long as she could be, but sadly he yearned for bigger baps. taking the wrong end of his tanned stick she searched up and down the Parisian market stalls for the biggest loaf's she could find, but alas, when she returned home, he was gone. He is currently residing somewhere in the vicinity Jordan's breasts. Beth was gutted......Until one day, she was on a family holiday with her albino wolves in Buttermere in the Lake District.

During a dispute about the severe lack of chewing tobacco Beth left the yurt and went for a late night trot around the serene lake. not serene for long though. She soon heard a splishing and a splashing in the darkest corner of the lake. She carefully began bare-footing along the waters edge to take a closer look at the commotion.

As the sun rose golden over the nearest mountains, the waters began to swell and curdle, and three delightful heads appeared. Seeing three boys rise from the lake, Beth stared in disbelief as they emerged to show their glorious furry hind-quarters and scintillating hooves. 'jesus on a bike' she cried as the half men, half goats trotted gleefully towards her. 'WE ARE YOUR DESTINY!' they cried and Beth and the three forns embraced in a glorious two footed, six hooved love-in and vowed to make bestiality cool again and make beautiful music until their hooves fell off.