Tyrone staggered back in a fit choking, trying to stop himself from vomiting as the salty taste of the bull man’s seed spread across his tongue and the rank smell of it invaded his sinuses. He frantically spat whenever he found the room to breathe and rubbed his face to get as much of it as he could out of his eyes. Then, he let out a disgusted and horrified scream that stopped short as soon as his vision returned to him. Afterward, all he could do was stand silently in shock at the fully matured, dark furred minotaur gazing down at him from within his personal space.
The soldier knew it instantly that this creature was one and the same with his old buddy John; he could see it wore his determined blue eyes. But the rest of the beast seemed to bewilder him, maybe in a way that he was afraid to admit was a little bit exciting. It seemed both at once surreal to him and undeniably true. That was all he could feel as the monster’s towering shadow enveloped him, its every glistening muscle framed by the burning sun at its back and its heavy breath falling on him and tussling his hair. Most paralyzing of all, though, was the ginormous cock head grown between its back-bending legs. Tyrone could could see it was painfully erect and brought to level right with his chest, looking hungry to cause all kinds of destructive fun wherever it could find.
After a tense moment with both of them locking eyes, John gave as good of a condescending smirk as his bovine lips could manage and muttered, “What’s a matter, big guy? Not a fan of the new me?”
Tyrone was amazed by how low and rumbling the beastman’s voice was, almost nothing like John’s. And yet, there was a quality to it that was unmistakably there. He did know what was going on anymore. What was he even doing there? It was as if his perception of the world around him was growing hazier by the second. All he could think of was the sight of this gorgeous creature looming in front of him and this lingering kind of musky smell in the air.
“Fuck, what a view, T! The Lord better bless your momma for that ass!” another low, rumbling voice had said somewhere off to the side.
The two of them turned and looked down to find the minotaur with the dusty tan hide who used to be Mark still lying on his back against the gravel, fully sensible. Tyrone almost cringed when he realized he was leering at them this whole time and at him in particular.
“Boy, I’ll say.” The minotaur reminding him of John agreed. “But let’s hope that asset won’t be his only winning one, ya get me?”
Eventually, their banter made Tyrone curious enough to look down at what they were staring at, and what he discovered then of himself made his jaw drop all the way to the dirt. Every inch of Tyrone’s uniform was pulled taut against his body. At some point, his figure had become well over packed with rock-solid cuts of muscle on every major tendon he could name, and even a few he couldn’t. He could tell he had grown up a lot, too, maybe as much as a foot by the way his shirt was now barely covering his stomach, which had drained away all of its fat and was now a shredded display of six nicely formed abdominals. A sudden jolt of energy shot up through him. Then his arms, which had already outgrown the sleeves they were in up to the elbow, started to feel searing pain enough to torture him. It felt like some invisible force was sticking them with needles and making his every nerve seize up. Next thing he knew, a miracle was happening. Right before his eyes, his arms were widening with pounds of bulk, biceps swelling big enough to burst the sleeves and stopping at a size somewhere well over the average man’s head. Then, the true horror happened, as he watched each of his fingers sprout heavy, black nails before fusing together into a three-pronged, alien appendage.
“Oh, my Goood!” He started wailing on instinct. “Oh, my fuckin’ God...Serge, you gotta save me!”
But Tyrone’s desperate plea fell of deaf ears, as he quickly noticed the sergeant was doing nothing where he was other than just standing there, staring out blankly into the distance, like being under a trance. Meanwhile around him, Adam continued to pleasure himself while exploring his new body as his change into a spotted longhorn steer neared its completion, and the one infected young soldier had successfully wrestled his screaming friend to the ground in an obvious exhibition of power.
“Shh, shh. Hey now, Ty. Just...look at me. No need to get so riled up.” John said to try and calm him down after noticing his face, panicked and lost in despair. “The other guys are just enjoying themselves. You will, too, after you let go. Once that’s over, we’ll get things sorted out as a team again. But right now, you’re only gonna drive yourself nuts unless you simmer down and let me help you embrace it.”
“Embrace it!?” Tyrone piped at him so hard that his voice cracked under the strain. “Look at Mark! Look at that THING that used to be Mark! Look at you, man! You’re so huge and crazy-looking and so completely horny for this shit that any moment you could rape me or eat me, or I dunno, both, and I...I’m just like...just like...”
“You want to be just like me.”
The soldier neither confirmed or denied him after that, but instead seemed to be taking leave of himself, same as the others did while midway through their transformations. Tyrone squinted his eyes shut and cradled his head as he degenerated into a series of agonized grunts and inhuman snarling. And that’s how John knew he was ready.
“Mark!” He called out for the other minotaur, interrupting his worship session of his own gigantic torso from the chest down. “Get over here and help me with this one, you dumb, slutty bastard.”
Mark looked over at them once again and this time, it brought him honest surprise to see how much farther along his squad mate was to gaining a mythical figure that could put to shame even his own. It made him smile to know he was the one who did it.
“Gotta take responsibility for my mess, huh?” He answered, sounding full of hollow dismay. “Fine, fine. But since it’s such a bother, you gotta promise me one thing, Johnny Boy: It’s me who gets to take the lead on him, savvy?”
John gave a simple shrug, which he took to mean “okay.” Planting the palms of his hand flat against the gravel, Mark pushed back as hard as he could, using his behemoth strength to catapult himself upright on his hooves within the second. He exhaled and casually wiped some sweat off his brow, giving John a great view of his cavernously deep, cream-colored armpit as he did so. For the second or third time, it just seemed so unreal to John how god-like and fiercely sexual their bodies had become in the span of so few minutes, and how captivated his mind became with them.
Mark swaggered over to where Tyrone was doubled over and shaking, his ropey tail brushing the dust off his hind. He briefly glanced over his distressed buddy, thinking of where he should begin, before suddenly taking hold of his waistband and yanking it from both directions. The belt easily broke apart at the buckle and the camo pants, themselves, gave little resistance under the minotaur’s titanium grip. He tore the garment violently in two pieces before shucking what was left down around Tyrone’s quivering ankles. John then instantly recognized what it was about him that got Mark admiring earlier. With his legs now bared for everybody, it was plain to see that Tyrone’s backside was sporting a pair of incredible, dark-skinned cheeks spilling out of his regulation briefs with all the perfect roundness and shiny texture of bowling balls.
“Alright...” Mark said suavely. “Now show me what else you got to love...”
Crouching down, Mark grabbed a hold of his head from the back and pulled him in close to see what about his face was the furthest along. So far, his lips had swollen to round three times their usual size, his ears became elongated and flat, and his temples were showing agressive bumps on either side. It wasn’t good enough, Mark judged. He still needed a little push...or, better yet, a big one.
With Tyrone’s eyes still shut from the pain, Mark brought him in even closer and pressed his lips up against his in a long, slobbering kiss. Tyrone’s moaning became intensified as it sounded from within the bull-man’s mouth. An explosion of change then overtook him, as his face pushed out into a bovine muzzle, blossoming with stubby black hairs all over. The hair on his head lengthened more and more until his tidy buzz cut was unmade and replaced with a dark tangle of knotty ringlets that fell back to brush the nape of his neck and forward almost as long. Shooting out after them was his horns, a crown of ivory large and regal enough to penetrate the heavens. John could do nothing but stare on with his jaw gone slack at such a mighty specimen of a bull bursting out of such an average man’s tiny figure.
“Don’t get me wrong.” said Mark pulling his lips away, “I still plan on breeding every pussy from here to Tripoli when the time’s right, but damn if I could just ignore this hunk of grade A, 100% prime beef cooking right in from of me.”
John have another shrug. “Hey, no one’s judging you, man.”
“Good.” He returned in a breathy tone. “Cuz what happens next might push the limits of what I know about me...”
Before John even got the chance to ponder what that meant, the other minotaur dragged the man’s underwear down to expose his raging hard-on, an already respectably sized black member. Then, he took it in hand and began it stroke it for him.
“Mmm...Mmhhmm...” Tyrone purred, only half aware of what was happening to him. His growth continued from the top-down with his shoulders and chest broadening beyond the bounds of most bodybuilders. His army jacket, previously little more than a vest clinging onto his torso for dear life, was stretched past its limit and split apart to make room for a colossally grown upper body, all packed with striated muscle and crisscrossing veins.
Tyrone roared like an enraged animal, right in time when a carpet of rough fur began trailing down from his mane and covering everything from his neck down to his lower back. After then, the musculature wasn’t nearly as pronounced, but one could still see that it was stacked enough to make him have to lean forward in a permanent slouching posture, since gravity was no longer his friend.
Oddly enough, his lower half was the last thing to change, but boy was it ever a sight for Mark when it did. After a minute of him struggling to find a good rhythm with his enormous palm enveloping Tyrone’s flimsy human dick, he noticed it gradually getting easier, as his gland started growing big enough to poke out through the other side of his fingers. Mark could also swear that Tyrone was making an effort to furiously hump his hand, like it was the welcoming taint of his favorite Middle Eastern whore. In no time at all his shaft had gotten wide enough to spread all of Mark’s digits apart and long enough to make the desert cobras think they were inchworms. Mark tightened his grip when he heard his buddy mumble feverishly about “wanting to go,” and this helped soldier so away with the last of his inhibitions. Tyrone envisioned the terrible cry of the minotaur’s orgasmic bellow in his head before realizing that he was letting out one of his own. He felt his balls curl inside of him with shock before they blew up to the size of mangoes and flooded his organ with their highly potent seed.
Mark was nothing less that enraptured at the sight of another corrupted minotaur in the midst of his climax. He watched on gawking while he felt the new beastman’s cum pump out in torrents through his rod and spray onto the dry, barren sands until they formed a puddle from the sudden moisture; a new infecter for his team had been christened.
John took a moment just to applaud all the work the both of them had put in to get to where they were and gave Tyrone an appreciative little slap on his magnificent rear right before a tail broke through the skin, leaving behind a bloody little trickle.
“Good Lord, T.” Mark said while patting him on the face like he was trying to rouse him out of a drunken stupor. “They must grow ‘em real good on the side of Brooklyn where you’re from, huh?”
He answered in a weak, distorted voice. “Wha...What am I...?”
“A black Angus, if it had to take a guess. My uncle used to raise them up on his farm when I was a kid. Great fit on you, too. Seriously!”
“Oh, God, my brain’s doing hurdles.” He clutched his head to try to ease the migraine that came back with his senses. His heart nearly stopped at the discovery of the horns jutting out from it. “A cow...You fucker! You really did turn me into a fucking cow!”
He continued to explore his alters state by checking down, and all that did was help him recognize over a dozen new, radically different things that only worsened his upset mood.
“Fuuuck, what the hell is that...? My cock looks like I grew a whole other leg...” He whined. “And my legs have fucking hooves on ‘em, and my body’s so frickin’ BIG and, and—”
“And you just wanna get off to looking at it all night under the moon?” Mark finished with a chuckle.
“Do not read my goddamn mind right now! Do not, man! That is the LAST thing I need.”
“Fellas, fellas,” John interrupted, feeling it was about time to call things to order, “Let’s not mince words, you both now exist as bullheaded gods among men for some reason I guess is beyond all of us. And it looks like I’m the same way. But before we can afford to feel sorry or excited for ourselves, don’t you think it’s best if we figure out how to stop those last three guys who escaped back into the tents before they mange to radio the rest of the army to come shoot at us, or worse?”
His reason clearly rang true for them despite the head of the moment, and both of them nodded at him in stunned agreement.
“Good. Now listen up. Here’s my game plan...”