Greff's presence was unwavering, a pillar of strength against the storm that raged within you. There was an alien fire in your veins that left you trembling, gasping for breath as the magic wormed though your increasingly foreign flesh.
You stumbled as Greff approached you, still larger and sturdy than you in terms of mucle with the strength to pin you down and have his way. And would you want that? You couldn't help but imagine him fighting for a hold of you, the chance and the ultimate embrace. Sex, sweat and fur. Before you knew it Greff was there—his massive arms closing around you, securing you in place. The sheer weight of him was grounding, his grip firm, certain, deliberate. He smelled of earth, musk, and something else, something almost sacred in its intensity.
“You’re holding back,” he murmured, voice rumbling through your bones.
You shuddered against him, heat rolling beneath your skin, sinking into your marrow. You tried to ignore the two errections rising - your own and Greff's inhuman mast pressing up against your own. His touch was everywhere, steadying your arms, supporting your back, holding you through the haze of lust. You could feel his breath against your temple. Hot, slow and assuring.
The fire inside you twisted, and for one terrifying, exhilarating moment, you let go. Cocks began to grid and you retunred his grip, prying your hands free to embrace his shoulders. You then pressed against him, clenching his arms as your muscles twitched, expanded—welcoming the change instead of resisting it. A deep, primal sound left your throat, something between a groan and a growl. Greff’s fingers curled tighter around your hairy shoulder, his face tangled with pried and pleasure.
“Good work, calf. Good work.” he groaned. “You’re starting to understand.”
His grip did not falter as your body swelled against his, every pulse reshaping you. He held you through it—through every tremor, every gasp, every realization that you were no longer just yourself. You cock let out a squeal as it let out a thick load across you and Greff''s lower half, but the lust was unrelenting. You exhaled, resting your forehead against his fur-coated chest, your body thrumming with new strength. And Greff simply held you there, patient, knowing.
You cock was barely half-numb before it began to rise again. The cum staining your abdomen sparkled under the sunlight like sticky stars. Should this disgust you? Perhaps it would, if you were free from this rampant sex-drive.
You groaned, your groin protesting and with a fiery vigour pulsating though it. A need again begging for attention. This need and heat grew, relentless, curling through your muscles like molten iron shaping itself into something new. Your breath hitched as the pressure built again—not in waves, but in a steady, unwavering tide that refused to be ignored. You stumbled back, away from Greff, but the disappointment that brought was snatched away by one of your meaty hands wrapping firmly around your cock. You didn't even notice this action, the desire subconsciously fulfilled. One stroke was followed by many more and you marched into it.
Your legs began to change, taking the brunt of the metamorphis. A sharp tug pulled at your calves, the sinew stretching, thickening, reconfiguring. You staggered, catching yourself against a tree. Greff did not assist you, but he watched and studied every tremor, every gasping breath, every moment where your body fought against its own rebirth.
You clenched your fists, feeling the subtle shift in your balance—the way your stance naturally widened, the way your weight settled deeper into your frame. A layer of hair had thickened around your legs now, coarse and dark, spreading over your shins, your knees. There they held, but you knew now this was not the end of it. It was becoming clear, with this excessive bulk and now improbable body hair, returning home would have dire consequences. Your feet tingled with a strange pressure—not pain, but the unsettling suggestion that they might not remain unchanged for long.
Your chest rose, heaving with each breath, the bulk of your torso settling into something even heavier, broader. The line of hair trailing down your navel had fully connected now, spreading thick across your abdomen, down to where your body throbbed with awareness. It wasn’t simply growth—it was evolution, a shaping guided by instinct rather than reason. You were coated in thick shaggy body hair now, and if it were to double it would doubtlessly be fur. Twice the bulk too, with thickly carved muscles reserved for body-bilders, but you managed it with nimbleness and flexibility lost on them.
You gritted your teeth, feeling the pull draw deeper now—urging, whispering, promising that there was still more to give.
Greff tilted his head, watching. “You feel it, don’t you?” His voice was low, curling around the chamber like smoke. “The next step. The urge.”
Your breathing shuddered, the sensation pooling in your bones—your spine crackling with a faint pressure, your forearms twitching, your jaw aching. Something else warned you that once it started, there would be no stopping it.