You struggle to focus, your skin itching ever so slightly as you stumble backwards. You catch yourself, despite the ache creeping over your entire body. This costume must be cheep, you tell yourself as you scratched your chest. A pressure hugged at your form, like many hands digging their nails into your flesh. This sensation then culminated with a powerful flash of heat that kicked the wind from out of you. You heaved forward onto all fours and groaned, sweat dripping off your forehead.
Then came a awkward pressure as a set of fine, masculine horns. You gawked, looking at the objects which were initially too heavy for your neck. At first you struggled to lift and turn your head until a new strength possessed you. Your body twisted and boiled as you watched your muscles grow and define themselves. You loosened the top of your tunic to let your toros breath; it was growing before you, a fine set of abs and pecs rising and etching themselves into solidifying flesh. Body hair began to grow, at first in places human and proper. Then you moaned, watching your cock rise from underneath your tunic. You began to stroke it, almost chocking on the pleasure as it grow longer and undoubtedly shaggy and animal-like. Your balls grew too until they were too large to be human, all as your body hair continued to thicken and spread until it was clearly a developing coat of fine, thin fur.
You began to grin, enjoying yourself as your form and mind shifted under new urges. You began to rise as your face became hard with masculine shapes and corners, jockish in quality, and then began to grow and shift into a bovine muzzle. Then, as your body grew tall and strong, you came. It took time for you to settle into your new form, but slowly you rose onto your feet. You were renewed, a fine example of a minitour no older than twenty. You turned wearily for the shopkeeper, but could not see them. But then someone approaches you from behind.