Fire and quarantines are fine ways of halting an epidemic, but they depend on predictable factors ... ease of contagion, speed of transmission, the assumption that people would find infection undesirable.
Trojan Horse and Thunder had performed admirably under what they thought were contained circumstances. But the conditions of spreading the equine curse set by Jennifer had been so broad, established protocol had no hope of reigning it in. Within and beyond the perimeter were samples of the cursed fluids. Kyle had dripping out his pants as he had fled the house that morning, and those drippings, however small, were all it took to ensure the containment teams' efforts were in vain.
It was simple enough for the cracks to be exploited. A dog, some mutt between a Labrador and a German Shepard, trotted down the same path. He stopped to sniff the salty fluids and, inevitably, let his tongue out to sample them. Satisfied, he continued on his way when an unfamiliar urge roared up through his loins. Being a pet he'd been neutered well before he could have ever learned what the ordinary sensation felt like, leaving even a creature of the moment like himself unprepared for the extraordinary, heated pleasure he felt as his balls suddenly regrew out of proportion to his form. His tongue lolled out of his maw as his cock reshaped from the bulbous, pointed shape of his own kind to something thicker and longer and flat-headed. He staggered on down the block and up the driveway of his own home. Panting, flooded with desires he'd never felt before, he paused over the bicycle his owner had carelessly left out. He lifted his leg to mark it as he always had before whenever the opportunity was there, but half-howled, half-grunted, as he ejaculated onto the metal frame. The magically-endowed semen splashed over the tires, the chain, the handlebars and dripped down into a puddle, oozing down the concrete and into the gutter, joining a stream of water from a neighbor's sprinklers and being washed into the drainage.
Sated momentarily, the dog made his way to the kitchen door. At first he had some trouble figuring a way in through the flap he'd used for years, his still-extended member getting in the way, before he figured to turn around and crawl in backwards. The new hungers driving him seemed as natural as the ones he'd followed all his life up to a short time ago. Like the way they told him to run through the house and find his master ...