Sergeant White wanted to believe he was dreaming. How could it be anything else? He was stuck standing in the middle of a barren wasteland watching three roided out bull men with obscenely huge cocks all fawning over each other and gossiping in the distance. And just from looking at them and the gestures they were making, he was sure they reminded him of people he knew...Like, people who were important to him enough to spend a lot of time with? Shit, if only he did have such a splitting headache, his mind would be clear enough to remember. And the worst part about it was that some where along the general feeling of numbness that had overtaken his body, he was partly sure he was getting hard for them. Him, a fifty-three year old man was getting boned out like a prepubescent boy over a bunch of freaks! How fucking insane was that? This all just had to be fake. Maybe a hallucination brought on by the heat, or a clever ploy by the enemy to try and gaslight him, or a—
“Uuuuggh! Ugh-aaahh...!” The sergeant was suddenly hit by a searing pain spread around his back.
A refresher of the drying semen caked into his uniform came to him as his trap muscles began to push back against the sticking fabric. Involuntarily, he flexed into something resembling a most-muscular pose, and that tore a hole in his jacket just big enough to peep through at the ridges of his spine and a light dusting of silver hairs that distinguished his age. The release of tension made him stumble to his knees where it was far easier for the urges to take over. His mind gone blank in a fevered state, the sergeant started pelvic thrusting the air to the rhythm of his balls churning their seed while they expanded to around the size of kiwi fruits. The old soldier had barely any stamina for it, though, and a moment later he came. An embarrassing wet spot started pooling in his camo pants, staining the cloth dark where it covered the area of his crotch and inner thighs.
“Ahaaa...G-Get it out of me.” He begged in between heavy breaths. “Please. Please, someone get it out of meee!”
The thrusts became only more intense in spite of the ejaculation, and while they were happening, his cock felt like it was packing into his pants more and more until it was large and heavy enough to break the zipper. He looked down at the black member between his legs and it’s mushrooming tip, all webbed in its own clear drip and hungering for anything it could get inside of. Absorbed by despair at his sexual confusion and ever-mounting body horror, the sergeant raced his transforming fingers to claw at his belt and grab hold of the pistol strapped to his side. He brought it clumsy up to his jaw and tried to manipulate it the way he was trained how to do, hoping to end it all quickly rather than add more to the ranks of these disgusting creatures. But his own reflexes thwarted him...
Instead of firing the gun, Sergeant White’s arms seized up as they were impacted by the change. His forearms and triceps bulked up to proportions so big that the rest of his underdeveloped musculature couldn’t even will them to bend. And the sudden trauma of the growth made his fingers tighten around the gun until they bent the barrel so far out of line it was unusable. When the spasms subsided, the sergeant was left staring down at the useless little weapon that was broken in his hand, bemoaning the fact that he was still alive.
“No! No, I don’t want it, please! Someone...” He shifted his eyes around the base camp, deserted save for the minotaurs who had either already transformed or were well on their way. “ Someone, just shoot me! End it, goddamit! Shoot me! Shoot me! Shoot—”
Then suddenly, an immense figure ran to his side and he felt a familiar warm, wetness land on his left ear. The sergeant turned toward the shadow in silent horror and saw the fully corrupted, bull version of Adam leering down at him with his pecker in hand and an unmistakable O-face on his bovine snout.
“Good, fuckin’ Lord...” was all that Sgt. White could whisper after his second time of being drenched by another man’s cum.
“That do it for you, Serge?” He asked huffing in a deep, rumbling voice. The sergeant tried his best to look him in the eye, by his attention just wouldn’t move away from the magnificent set of horns on Adam’s brow. Despite everything, the boy still sounded as earnest and obedient as he ever was.
“What else...What else can I do, Sarge? Tell me. ‘Cause...I-I dunno what to do with myself.” The rapid hormonal change had clearly made him confused and upset. “I’m all hot, my body’s fuckin’ weird, I’m randy like a motherfucking jackrabbit. And my girl’s ass is so far away...Come on, Tell me. Who do I shoot next? Who do I fuck first? Sarge!”
But the commanding officer was too distracted to hear him. Only seconds after the minotaur’s corrupting spunk fell against White’s cheek, his whole face burned with an intense heat like that of metal under fire. The discomfort made him toss his helmet and scramble to clutch his head, which was quick becoming red and marred with blisters. He howled in pain as a set of dull-pointed horns forced their way through his bald scalp and his face abandoned its lifelong shape of humanity to embrace the ferociously bovine. And it was then, when his heightened senses became flooded with the erotic new sounds and smells of everything happening around him, that White’s arousal was sent into overdrive, and he began to accept the change.
“O-Ohhh! Mruuu, yeah...Ahh, Ahhh! Mruuu! Shit...I-I can’t—MRUUU!” His humping of the air became so intense that it pushed him forward on his knees, shedding his boots in the process to reveal shrunken feet that were quickly merging together into hard, black hooves.
“Get help...Get help! Save me...” The sarge yelled in his strange, altered voice. Then,
in middle of his mad descent, he looked up and noticed Adam in all his huge, sculpted glory staring back at him with a worried face. “A god? Are you...my god?”
“What? Sarge, what are you—?”
“No!” He then shouted abruptly, as if in realization, checking himself. “T-That’s not right. You can’t be my god. Because I...AM...YOURS...UrrrrrRRRGHH!”
With a great rush of power surging to his head, Sergeant White’s human build exploded beyond normal proportions into that of a musclebound behemoth. The last few strands of fiber still holding together his uniform easily snapped apart under pressure of the growth and the incredible mass he gained from it. The buttoned front of his shirt fluttered to the ground, letting the powerful build it kept hidden underneath show off to the outside world. His enhanced form had veiny, trunk-like arms and mountainous pecs just like the other kinsmen in his herd, but one thing unique was his stomach, which took on a rounded beer gut shape more befitting someone his age as opposed to the flat, washboard aesthetic that the rest of them had. But as soon as he inhaled, it became clear that his belly wasn’t just packed with leftover pudge, but rather stuffed full of balled up muscle, solid as an iron shell and bound tight against his torso.
“Ahh! My ass! My-My ass...” He cried as brush-tipped tail wormed its way through the rips in his pants, slapping against his small, apple-cheeked rear as it grew.
Adam saw that the transformation was nearing its end, and in figuring so, noticed something funny about the picture of the Sarge’s body. He was’t developing the same kind of coarse, richly furred hide that a bull should normally have. In fact, he wasn’t developing any kind of hide at all. It was still very possible to see his delicate pink skin underneath the wisps of blondish hairs and peach fuzz that had sprouted across his entire body. All in all, Adam though he looked like one of those “naked” animals you’d find in exotic pet stores and carried around by girls living in Beverly Hills in their purses, only this time in the form of a gigantic minotaur. He though the weirdness of it was almost cute.
“Mruu, I know...Ugh! what you want...” He went on mumbling to himself. “And, fuck, I’m so ready...Ohhh! Haah! to give it to you...”
Without warning, the sergeant then began clawing at the ground in front of him, displacing dirt and sand until he made a hole 1 foot deep in the earth. Then with a face, lustful and reverent, he pointed his cock down towards the ditch and jerked it until his balls curled inside their big, distended sack and shot bucketloads of cream right into the hole. Adam was standing there right beside him, fascinated by his paralyzed form in the moment of orgasm. The sight of his tense, sculpted body, trails of sweat running down it in the glow of full sunlight, was a thing of primal beauty out of this world.
“S-Sarge? Are you—?”
The sound of Adam’s voice seemed to snap him out of his euphoria. He then quickly went to work refilling the hole with as much earth as he could pack in before bending over it and muttering something that sounded to Adam eerily like a prayer.
“Sarge...?”
“No.” He replied dramatically. “Not anymore, brother. We’re even, you and I, as creatures born again by Her will.”
John trotted up to them with the two other bullmen in tow and let out an appreciative whistle at the fine specimens he came across. “You guys done already? Man. And we didn’t even hafta do anything.”
“Ah, brother John. The First Chosen.” Sgt. White greeted him in a tone full of rapture. “Have you come to help me praise the Gift?”
“Uh-oh.” said Tyrone. “Guys, I think the Sarge’s head might have gone a bit screwy ‘cause of everything that’s going down.”
“When I went through my change, I saw a vision.” He explained. “A vision of the Earth Goddess who transformed us with her favor, sleeping under the desert. She looked like the best parts of every girl I’ve ever been with rolled up into one seductive masterpiece, and I know now that it’s my calling to breed as many pussies as I can with this form until she deems me worthy of hers.”
John paused in wonder. “Hmm, a religious bent to all this craziness, then? Yeah, why not. Guess it’s a reason as good as any.” He shrugged. “Hey Sarge, were on a mission to go stop the guys who got away before they can rat us out. You onboard or what?”
“Fuckin’ A, I’m in!” He shouted, falling back on his previous kind of swagger. “Dylan, Tommy, you’re coming, too. I don’t trust you boys alone like that.”
He turned to the other young soldiers who had both been succumbing to their changes in the meanwhile. Their wrestling match had ended in Tommy’s loss. His scrawny human build, seized by fear, couldn’t stand a chance at overpowering Dylan’s eagerness and rising strength. It took almost no effort for the infected soldier to pin his buddy to the ground and shove his expanding bull cock down his throat, pumping him with round after round of seed that led to his own rapid yet silent transformation. Now, they both greedily fondled each other, a pair of fine, scrappy young minotaurs ready to make the world into their whorehouse.
The seven of them all gathered together, falling in line behind John and Sgt. White on their way stomping back to the tents. They discussed their ideas about what this fantastical turn of events could mean, what they should do or whether they had to do anything, and most importantly how they could best proceed for there on to ensure that their Gift was shared with as many as possible.