Changing lips that likely felt as if made of some thick rubber caused Frank to continually work his mouth as if chewing a cud. Yet as his massive changes racked his body with twisting and contorting muscle cramps, he urged from his mouth those simple questioning words.
I cringed seeing what can happen to even a nice guy, and Frank for the most of the time, was a really good friend. It seemed a shame that he should be so degraded bodily and morally, as April when angered had a way to make things happen.
As if from the forces that make a bull a bull, Frank tried desperately to wipe the long strings of snot from his excite and runny nose. He snorted hard, blowing out strings and then chucks of yellow green snort. The chucks hit the ground with such force they bounced.
He bellowed his degradation when from his high poked but sprouted forth a tail bone. It jutted out harshly, spraying the air with deep red blood as it sliced through his thickening skin.
I watched him in some weird fantasy horror, wondering for myself if I would stand up and point an accusing finger at April, whether I too would become as was Frank, or maybe something worse.
Properly and in relative safety I remained in hiding!
Frank though, with his blooming bovine ear lobes seemed to tell him someone else was there as his one witness to this his lousiest hour.
Shivering and shaking as his body would grow so much bigger, bulky of muscle, meat, and all that it is that makes a bull different from a man.
April laughed with some maniacal glee, she occasionally petting Frank on his flattened forehead. She fiddled her fingers in his likely soft and very furry ears. Her taunting him in this way did worse things, she helped the spellbinding to send its power to damn and degrade his human maleness.
Frank stopped everything, his shaking quit, and he stood like a some huge bovine statue. He seemed suddenly intent mentally on something, and April too seemed to know what was beginning to force a bull to feel the passions of being a sire.