Hair thickened across your chest, your arms, chest and legs layering and expanding with muscle. The thick hair, or fur as you would of realised if you were not occupied in a haze, spread wildly across your solidifying chest. Solid, cut muscles rippled across your larger form. By now, you realised briefly before the Minotaur dragged you back into his grip, you matched him in both size and muscle.
Your horns were a sight, large, dark and heavy. Yet, with your new muscled body, it was nothing. The Minotaur thrusted and you let out another bellow.
“Come on,” he shouted.
Your face expanded outward, hair and fur costing your developing bovine face. You snarled, growing animal instincts gripping your brain. You knew this would be forever, but who cares?
As the Minotaur continued to fiddle with your body, finding every soft spot, relief came. You felt a wash of sensations flood from your hoofed and horns and it flooded downward pressing through your loins and then
BAM
You howled a deep bovine cry. It, much like the Minotaur, was stained with masculinity. You panted, you massive chest heaving up and down.
“Yes,” said the Minotaur, he caressed you chin, “you are a mighty bull.”