Turning the corner you find a large hallway you've never seen before, and a distant smell of medical disinfectant. You have to use one of your hands to push your three aroused stallion members out of your face to see, but the hall stretches away almost a hundred yards, but in the distance the dim torch light of the maze is interrupted by blueish artificial light 'Maybe a hospital or some kinda help,' you think to yourself.
Hulking around with your stolen scrotum would be bad enough, but moving your legs massages the leathery hides of your massive centaur sheaths against each other. The trio of arroused members that emerge are different in size and color, although turgid they are still somewhat floppy, more flexible than your now gone human penis was when erect. But even the smallest of them, juts from your groin long as your forearm, thick as your wrist and an almost fuchsia pink.
As you hobble down the hall, the occasional brightness of passing torches makes it apparent that like centaurs themselves, your enormous equine members have feature of both man and horse. A sheath and medial ring near the base, but a human like foreskin to shield the slightly ribbed flaring ridge of a stallion that blends to a dommed head, with a seamless meatus like a human. Strange, alien and both familiar and animalistic.
You struggle to push the arousal from your mind, quite a feat given your three equine hybrids are within a breath of your mouth and nose--gleaming musk on their hybrid heads. Plodding on, you think there has to be something, maybe even a way to get your old dick back atleast.
Finally you arrive at a massive set of frosted-glass double doors. Strangely, there seems to be a large doggie door style pet flap door in one of them. Your are momentarily comforted by a pleasant 'Pleasure Island Medical Auxillary Laboratory' sign written in plain English. Below sits a smaller translated version below in what you think must Greek, 'no wait is that Linear A? Isn't that a dead language?' The brief musing is interrupted, as the dribbles of centaur pre-cum cools upon your bull ball bag, a bitter reminder of your grotesquely gargantuan genitals straining below.
You push inside the cowtaur sized door gingerly and quietly as you can. Being careful to avoid the door thumping upon any of your new endowments. Inside is a strange sight a mixture of modern medical lab and a wizard's apothecary. The medley of chemicals smells assaulting your nose, a welcome respite to the odor of your own deepening arousal.
Burdenfully graceful as you can you begin the hurried task of finding something, anything to assist your situation. Thinking 'Maybe she has some notes or a shrinking potion---hell even a wheelbarrow would help.'
Suddenly, from the marked Storeroom door, a flap door flips open. Quickly you grab a large support beam for one of the chemical racks, a weapon. You didn't used to be this brave. Guess being more balls than man is going to have some effects on your mind. Skulking into the room is what looks to be a bipedal overgrown komodo dragon. Crimson red scales, but a bald dog like snout and head crowned with horns. 'A kobold--how many mythical creatures does The Island have anyway?!' Your reflections are interrupted "Yark! The milk-man up so soon??" barks the small monster sheepishly. Brandishing your makeshift club, you sternly growl "Back off lizard, I'll kill you before I go back!"
Cowed by your raw aggression the small monster, throws up its hands in a feeble protective gesture. As you study the small thing though it becomes obvious, this creature could bare armwrestle a fly much less force you anywhere. Secondly, its wearing little more than a dark goggles, a ramshackle lab coat, and a thick leather collar chained to some rails that run around the lab. "No please, milk-man do not hurt this one" meals the feeble lizard.
Your teeth grit in anger at being reminded of your bloated milk sack. "This one is glad to see you alive. And walking on your own! Certainty of Bessie doing unspeakable things to you was high." The creature is sad, weak and pathetic, but conversation with something that isn't trying to enslave you for your seed is relieving.
The sheepish creature placatingly places a hand on the end of your club. "Please, do not be angry with this one. Many hours were spent here in the laboratory to ensure you would live." mewls the kobold. "This one is glad you are functional." It says, gesturing to your errect members. "Mistress grows hungry when my people fail her." The unnamed kobold is groveling on its knees before you. "Please master-man, the Mistress insisted upon your new gifts. Among The People of the Mountain, to share ones water is an honor. And for a male to share their... water of life, with another is sacrament. If my work has pained you master, this one is called Qatesh and is at your service."