Biohazard Remake - Chapter One
#2 of Biohazard Remake
The first night has come and gone, giving the infected a good long while to act while the town slept defenseless around them. What sort of scene will the uninfected wake up to find?
Biohazard: San Marcos
Chapter One: Containment
The sun finally crests high enough through the blinds to hit David in the eyes, the tiger grunting in irritation and rolling over. Sleeeeeep, he thinks to himself, before he hears someone running back and forth in the apartment above him, banging footsteps moving from one side of the apartment to the other until they finally are punctuated by a door slamming shut. One eye finally opens a crack, looking out from under his messy black hair towards the ceiling, growling a bit in irritation. Then a noise in the kitchen, the sound of a chair sliding across the hardwood. David finally grunts, slowly crawling out of his bed and stumbling onto his feet so he can rub the sleep out of his eyes. Fine, I'm up, he thinks to himself. Do me a favor, though, and don't let this be a thief. One of the tiger's hands grab a baseball bat he keeps by the side of his door frame, the other slowly opening the door so he can peek through the crack he makes in it.
The sight that greets him is a huge, muscled doberman sitting at his kitchen table, plunging a syringe into his arm and then injecting the contents. "That better not be mine," he growls at the doberman, opening the door to step forward and jab the less defined, but easily larger man in the stomach with the tip of the bat. "Relax," Brandon replies, the powerlifter's lack of love for David evident in his voice. "Paul told me you're not charging for this batch. So what the fuck do you care?" The two men stare at each other before David finally shakes his head and sets the bat down on the table next to his pilfered backpack. "There's such a thing as asking, you know. That could have been promised out to someone." "Well, that would be classified as not my problem," Brandon sneers, standing up to stroll into the bathroom shared by David and Paul. "Hey, I need that! I've got to get ready for work!" David growls. There seems to be a moment of thought as the doberman halts by the door to the bathroom. "Tough shit," he replies, closing the door behind him. David stares at the door, grumbling, "What the fuck Paul sees in you, man..." Today is clearly not going to be my day, the tiger thinks to himself. But, fuck it. He had to get down to the gym and hit up the before-work crowd. The gym shower might actually be less crowded, anyhow. The leopard picks up the bat from the table and replaces it in his room, grabbing some clean clothes and carrying them back into the kitchen to toss into his backpack. He then throws on the clothes he wore yesterday, slips on his socks and shoes, and out the door he goes, hearing Paul snoring away through his closed door as he does.
When David goes down two flights of stairs and out the front door, he twitches his ears. Something seemed off somehow. The tiger looks around, noticing that the streets aren't quite as busy as they normally would be for this time of day. Usually, the desk jockeys were heading to work in droves, but there was maybe over half the amount of cars there might usually be on the road, the rest still parked along the street and in the above ground parking garage across the street. Maybe there was some federal holiday he didn't know about, he reasons, starting his walk to the gym a few blocks down. One block over, he hears a familiar sound. Someone panting pretty loudly, ears perking as he follows the noise to an alley. There, he can't help but grin at the sight. Some really, really buff dragon was lost in ecstasy, pounding a massive cock into a prone fox. The fox squeals, "Please, please," each time that massive cock digs into his ass, his own cock twitching involuntarily and oozing fluids onto the brick wall he's pinned against. David watches for a moment, completely ignored by the two, before he shakes out of his lust-induced stupor and resumes his walk. How many days in a row am I going to have to get an erection while walking through this city? he wonders to himself, adjusting his hardened dick to rest more comfortably in his pants.
Rounding the corner, David halts in his tracks, staring at Retriever's Gym. What the fuck? The doors were smashed open, windows broken out with black, tar-like fluid in spatters leading away from both. Mixed in was a fluid that looked all too familiar; clear, with this inky black streak through it. "Geez..." the tiger whispers, fishing his phone out of his backpack to start calling the police. He steps closer to the gym as the phone rings, holding it up to his ear as he tries to look in through the building. There was no visible light inside aside from where it was filtering in through the windows, leaving numerous areas pitch black where the light wasn't bending to reach. "We're sorry, but all circuits are currently busy. Please hang up and try your call again later," a monotonous recording finally plays in the tiger's ear, the tiger hanging up with a soft growl. His fingers slide along the phone and turn on the flashlight app on his phone, aiming it inside the gym as he starts to enter the dark building.
"Gun it!" Gregory cries, staring back out the rear view window of Christopher's truck. An infected shark was gripping the sides of the truck at the rear, panting wildly as his erection throbbed visibly above the top of the truck bed's door, pouring his infected precum into the truck bed to pool there. "I can't! He's actually holding us in place!" Chris growls, before he stares back at the infected himself, leaving his foot buried on the pedal. The massive shark tries to climb over and into the truck bed to get closer to the uninfected, but the truck would lurch forward each time he lifts one foot and loses the traction, snarling in irritation as he places both feet on the ground again. "Take the wheel and eyes forward," Chris instructs Greg, the white tiger reaching into his holster to pull out his handgun. When Greg grabs the wheel, Chris slides open the rear view window, aiming his gun out the window and taking a shot. The bullet rips through the shark's head, a spray of black tar blood exploding out the back of his head as he lets go of the truck and it races forward with a loud squeal of rubber on concrete. Chris re-holsters his gun and then takes the wheel from Greg. "Fucking Omegas," growls the muscular tiger, Gregory re-closing the rear window. "So, what's our plan?" Chris finally asks after a few blocks. "We're supposed to try and rendezvous at the lab outside of town, so we can try and get 'Dissolution' made in peace. I arranged it before we left." Chris nods his head. "Straight there, then," the white tiger murmurs, speeding up again to get more distance between him and the noise of the shot he made, and towards the lab where they would be safe.
David's flashlight cuts through the darkness, focusing on the wall switches near the hallway. He moves over there slowly, flicking the switches. No change, though, the lights remaining off. He quickly saw why; there was that black tar stuff spattered all over the lights, hardened and sealing in any light they might have offered. The air conditioning still worked, though, cooling the air as he moves further into the gym. The tiger grimaces, panning the flashlight around some more. More of that black tarry stuff was mixed with congealed blood on the floors leading down the hallway, careful to walk around it as he followed the path. Casting his light to the side, David sees the fluid from the vials again, but this time it was different. It was still all too recognizable though: Cum. Whatever came here had the same black inky streaks through their load as the vial did. He furrows his brow, gripping his backpack a bit. Then, he faintly heard it: panting coming from the owner's office. He moves down the hall to the door swiftly, making sure to mind his step as he does. "Raz? You alright?" he whispers quietly, not wanting to draw attention to himself if the vandals who tore up the gym were still around, testing the door handle. Unlocked...That white and black fluid is gushing out in steady waves from under the crack of the door, running past the soles of his sneakers before soaking into the carpet. He swallows his nerves, ears splaying backwards as he turns the knob slowly, trying to see whoever was in there before they could see him.
Cracking the door open, his eyes go wide, staring at the scene before him. There on the ground were three massive beasts: a hyena, a wolf, and a golden retriever, each panting furiously as they slept with people impaled on their cocks. If it weren't the fact that he recognized that birthmark on the golden retriever's staggeringly impressive abs, he wouldn't have even known it was Raz. Each one of the beasts on the ground put bodybuilders to shame. Biceps as huge as David's head flex as the three sleep against each other, the swollen pecs tightening and rising rapidly in time with their shallow panting. Their rock hard abs tense and raise up as they thrust their hips up into their sexual victims they have impaled on their cocks, gushing out cum from the overflowed and over stuffed asses, the wolf and dog actually having forced their knots into the rabbit and bull they each had upon their presumably colossal cocks. The rabbit and bull were already dead, blood dried on their chests and around their lips as their lungs were punctured from below by the invading members, hips and backside obliterated by the knots shoved into them that prevented far more cum from seeping out than going in. The outline of the dicks' throbbing was visible through all three bodies, though far less on the bull and rabbit, whose bodies were bloated out from the cum unable to escape around the knots. But that's when the squirrel on the hyena's knotless dick stirs as the flashlight hits his face. "h...help..." he murmurs, blood drooling out of his mouth as he reaches his hands out to David. "Shit, hang on," David whispers, stepping forward to reach the squirrel. "please..." the squirrel moans, making the mistake of tightening up as he tries to pull himself off the hyena's cock with David's help. The hyena doesn't even open his eyes, but lashes his hands out to grab the squirrel around the chest, just barely missing catching David in the process. The hyena grunts in pleasure as he jams the squirrel harder down on his cock, the squirrel groaning out with a spray of blood from his lips, involuntarily cumming at the same time as he sags back onto the cock. The hyena releases the squirrel again, stretching back out against the wolf to resume his labored panting with his other two infected. David can't believe what he's seeing, his dick hard in spite of the revulsion he feels at both the scene before him and himself for actually getting turned on by it. He backs out of the office, leaving the now deceased squirrel and closing the door behind him as quietly as he can. He speed walks out of the gym, then breaks into a full run back to the apartment when the sunlight is upon him again.
Brandon finishes up at last, stroking his left pectoral as he shuts off the water and gets out of the shower. The doberman moves to the sink, wiping his hand across the mirror to get all the condensation off it. He grins in the mirror, tilting his head side to side to check his teeth and scruffy growth of a beard along his jaw, finally chuckling to himself when he's satisfied with his look. He hears a door open and close out in the main area, ears twitching as he opens the bathroom door so Paul can take a look at the water dripping off his large frame. The thought makes Brandon's dick start to rise, opening the door with a grin to see -- "Brandon, what the fuck have I told you about towels?!" David snarls, averting his gaze. Brandon rolls his eyes, grabbing a towel off the rack to hold it in front of his still stiffening dick. "I thought you were Paul. Get the fuck off my back," he growls in response. David sets his backpack down on the kitchen table, sits down himself afterwards, rubbing his forehead as he tries to think. "What's wrong with you?" Brandon asks, starting to dry himself off with the towel. "Something went down at the gym." Brandon laughs a bit and tosses the towel onto the ground next to where he discarded his boxers, David averting his eyes once more as the doberman puts on his underwear, tented out from his erection. "What, did they finally bust your ass? I bet you'd like prison, though, so don't sweat it," he says pointedly, walking over to David to grab the smaller man out of the chair and press him up against the table, arm twisted behind the tiger's back. "What the fuck are you--" "Yeah, bet you could get at least a pack of cigarettes for this ass," Brandon huffs into David's ear, teasing his boxers-covered cock against the tiger's jeans-covered ass.
David growls out, "Get the fuck off me, or I'm going for your nuts." Brandon holds for a second, his breathing sounding labored as his dick throbs against the tiger's backside, but then he blinks, as if coming back to his senses. "Relax, bitch boy. I was just fucking with you," Brandon mutters, before he pulls back to adjust his cock and move towards the couch, looking rather confused as he tries to switch on the TV. David straightens up, rolling his shoulder to try and get the pain out of him as he glowers at Brandon. He looks down at the table, noticing the used syringe and half-empty vial, those black streaks sliding through the clear fluid that remained. The tiger pauses, turning to look at Brandon again. "What the fuck is wrong with your TV, man? You didn't pay the cable bill?" the doberman complains, flipping through channel after channel of static. David doesn't respond, focused on Brandon's body to try and notice if there's anything weird with him. He's even staring at the doberman's cock, still throbbing underneath his boxers and being 'adjusted' by Brandon. Brandon finally shuts off the TV, staring back at David. "Dude, I'm fucking talking to you. Quit checking out my dick, or come over here and suck on it already." David snaps out of it, finally saying slowly, "TV was paid. Are you feeling alright?" Brandon raises one arm, resting it over the couch. The motion makes his bicep press against his skin, making the muscle look pronounced and huge; Was it that big before? David wonders. "Never better. I actually feel kind of energetic." Brandon regards his cock, then stares at the door to Paul's bedroom, getting a broad grin. "As a matter of fact, maybe I can work some of this energy off." Brandon starts to lift off the couch, his six pack abs tightening and then stretching back out into a chiseled state. David doesn't miss it, eyes widening: Brandon's stomach had never been so defined before. He moves to block Paul's door, holding his hands out as he explains, "Brandon, there was something wrong with that steroid you took this morning. I don't know how, or why, but it's making people change into something."
The doberman looks unimpressed, boredom reflected in his gaze at the statement. "Really," he dryly responds. "Because what it looks like to me is you're trying to keep me away from Paul." He starts advancing on David, muscles tightening as he moves. David watches as each flex seems to relax without losing size, then flex again to repeat the process, his mouth gaping as he watches Brandon slowly start to gain muscle mass and size in front of him. "Is that because you want Paul to yourself, or because you want me to yourself?" Brandon asks, finally within arm's reach of David. Both men are erect under their clothes, David unable to help himself at the sight of Brandon's growth and defining body. He could see the lats widen, making that V-taper to his torso all the more impressive, the doberman leaning in to rest his hand on the wall over David's shoulder, giving David a perfect view of that bicep inflating with strength and size, veins beginning to pop out from under the fur with their growth. "Brandon, you're...growing..." David chokes out, before he's jabbed in the stomach with a slowly telescoping dog cock, the doberman's erection forcing its way out through the gap in the front of his boxers. "You know, I've always wondered what Paul saw in you. I guess I can see it now," Brandon growls softly, the lust apparent in his voice. "There's a certain charm to having a twink envy your size and worship you for it." David struggles for the words against his own arousal, his eyes averting down to watch the doberman's cock wet his shirt with precum. The spot stuck to his lean, defined six pack, but...There was no black in the precum. Maybe Brandon wasn't infected? If so, then...Why was he growing?
The door opens behind the tiger's back, David almost losing his balance before Paul's strong hand props him up. The giraffe glances at the scene before him, the erection tenting David's pants, and Brandon's huge one poking firmly towards the tiger's body, still dampening the small feline's shirt with his pre. "Do I really want to know what the fuck is happening out here?" the drowsy-sounding giraffe mutters. David shakes his head and tries to explain, but Brandon speaks up quickly, "Your 'best friend' stopped me from coming in your room to fool around with you. I told you he's trying to come between us." David growls in irritation, before he finally says, "Paul, there's something not right with Brandon, I'm telling you." The doberman's growth has since slowed, rolling his eyes as he growls, "Whatever. Proof is in the precum, and it's all over your stomach," before he turns around and starts for the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Paul then looks to David, pointing down at the tiger's erection. "That does tend to paint a rather one-sided picture, man," he remarks, before he steps back into his room.
Brandon rests his hands on the sink, staring at his body now that his attention could be focused upon it. His cock still wouldn't go down, drooling pre into the sink as it throbs steadily. "Fucking tiger," he growls quietly to himself. That tiger wanted to come between him and Paul, he was sure of it. What other reason could he have for making up the shit he was hearing through the bathroom door? And, more importantly, where the fuck did that little slut get off turning down his dick? The little bitch had practically been begging for it all morning. I mean, what was the point of this body if not to get little guys like that to worship his dick? He halts again, eyes widening. He loves Paul, though. Why the fuck was he thinking like this? Did that steroid really do this to him? All these thoughts are racing through the doberman's head, clutching the side of his head with one hand, growling to himself as he started to hear a slowly rising pounding in his ears, the thumping of his heartbeat beginning to drown out the less loud noises around him. His eyes flutter as his body begins to heat up, his cock drooling pre more intensely as his free hand involuntarily begins to fly up and down the erect length. He collapses back onto the floor with a thud, eyes rolled back into his head as he gives into the pleasure of his hand on his cock, thrusting up against every motion.
Faintly, in the distance, he hears someone call his name, but he is too lost in the pleasure to care, panting rapidly. He could feel his hand stretching further around his cock as it went from a beer can thickness to a two-liter bottle with every loud beat of his heart, his other hand going to join in the stroking, fingers locking together as he furiously double fists along the length of his cock. He opens his eyes to slits to see black veins climbing up his shaft, feeling indescribably turned on at the sight and the feeling of power. Unlike Gerard, Brandon savored this sensation instead of panicking over it, finally groaning out in pleasure as the veins reach the tip of his knotted dick and he explodes in a torrent of infected cum towards the ceiling of the bathroom. The doberman sags back, staring up at the ceiling through half-lidded yellow eyes, droplets of his own virus-tainted cum slowly falling back onto his body and open mouth as he pants loudly.
Gregory is staring out the window as they drive to the lab, keeping an eye out for any approaching infected. Due to the time of day, though, the roads were fairly clear of infected, a relief to the two as they continued on. Unfortunately, Gregory notices, the roads are also uncommonly clear of uninfected traffic as well, the amount of people they pass seeming to be half the amount there might otherwise be at this time of day. "I think we're going to have some problems getting back into the city after we leave it," the cheetah complains, ears folding back as he adjusts the steel briefcase by his feet. "If we even can get out of the city," the white tiger murmurs, slowing the car as they approach the town line. Gregory blinks, staring first at his partner, but then ahead to where Chris was looking. Oh shit, the cheetah thinks to himself. Standing in the middle of the road were three huge guys, easily packed with enough muscle to shame any professional bodybuilder, towering at least a good foot over the truck. What was making the cheetah stressed out more than anything was that they were dressed in tactical gear, specifically tailored to fit them, and wielding assault rifles that they level at the truck. The 'leader', or at least the one on point, steps forward, the kangaroo, raising up a phone to look at it. The massive roo stares at Chris, then the phone, then Gregory, then the phone once more. "Reverse," Gregory says, no small amount of panic in his voice. "Reverse now!" Chris watches the roo chuff, shifting into reverse as the three begin firing on the car, ducking down below the dash with a growl. He speeds backwards, shots clipping along the frame of the truck, one or two actually piercing through the windshield and out the back. After they reverse far enough, the roo grunts and the three cease fire, lowering their weapons as the tiger spins the truck around and starts speeding back to the city. The infected roo lifts his tactical goggles, yellow eyes focusing on the phone as he starts typing in a message for HQ.
"What the fuck was that?! You didn't tell me they could use guns!" snarls Chris, his ears flat as he speeds away from the edge of town back towards it. "Omegas can't, but...Those must have been Betas," Gregory mumbles. "That means Almae used the A-Virus already. Shit..." Chris is looking extremely frazzled now, his fingers gripping the steering wheel tighter. "We have a plan for this, right?" The cheetah snorts and shakes his head, replying, "I didn't even know A-Virus was completed! It's not like I was project lead on it. He must have had Adam finish it off for him." Chris sits silently as he continues to drive back towards the city. "This is going to make things a lot more complicated," he finally growls, slamming his fist against the top of the steering wheel. "Where's another lab in the city?" Gregory thinks on the question a moment. "The only alternatives we have now are Almae Biologistics, which is guaranteed to have what we need to make the antivirus, or a medical clinic near downtown, which may or may not have what we need. Everywhere else probably isn't going to be close to good enough," the cheetah says. "I think I'll take 'maybe' over Almae at this point. Tell me where to go," the white tiger mutters, speeding towards the city as the sun starts to descend from high overhead.
Warren checks his tablet, receiving a message from one of the perimeter teams. A smile crosses his lips, stepping into the hallway from reception. Punching in the code, the heavy inner door slides open. "My Lord--" the armadillo begins, but then he silences as Erick growls to him. The lion has a cougar pinned to his desk, fucking him a bit more violently than he had some of the other converts. Over half of the lion's brutalizing length and thickness is decimating the cougar's insides, the lion's hands squeezing his own length through the cocksleeve he'd turned the smaller feline into. Warren watches with interest and lust, the front of his business slacks tenting out with his erection as he rubs it slowly through the fabric. Finally, Erick pulls out and sprays more of his infectious cum all over the cougar's ruined body, huffing deeply as he stares down at the feline. "This one had the audacity to fight back," he growls, wiping the blood staining his cock off onto the cougar's fur, before turning to face Warren. The lion's confident smirk returns as he settles onto the corner of the desk, narrowed eyes focused on the Armadillo. "So, what is it? Surely you had more business with us than that," he jests, indicating Warren's open fly and the cock he was jerking all too brazenly now. "Yes, my Lord. I cannot help myself in such a display," he explains, before clearing his throat and ignoring his cock to raise up his tablet.
"We had a report from Beta Team One. They spotted the traitors at the city line and forced them back to the city," Warren reports, his cock still erect and unattended as he does. Erick smiles at that news. "Then they will have no choice but to return here, yes?" "We think that's a high possibility, unless they happen to have a way of getting additional samples of your gifts." The lion looks over to the latest recipient of his gifts, the cougar already starting to twitch as muscle and flesh repair itself, black veins trailing up his erecting cock. "We doubt they'd be so foolish as to try and get it from my flock. This is good news," he murmurs, slowly rubbing his hand along the cougar's rebuilding, bettering body, one finger slowly circling the smaller feline's throbbing erection to tug on it gently. The sensation makes the cougar groan out weakly, red blood that slowly becomes replaced with black trailing from the corner of his muzzle. "And what of our flock? Are the additions coming along at pace?" the lion asks, standing up to move across the room and look out the window at the city below. "Yes, the Omegas are growing in numbers exponentially. The initial distribution was a bit lower than the leopard promised, but the converted quickly made up for that deficiency," Warren says. "Very good. There is only one more thing we wish," Erick says, before turning to face Warren again. "Return to pleasuring yourself to our glory. You have earned it." The armadillo moans slightly at the permission, bowing his head before he starts furiously working his cock to the sight of his Master's divine body.
"Look, I'll admit I got hard, but that was because the guy was growing - literally growing! - right in front of my face! You know how I am about muscle, I can't help it," David insists, his arousal having left as he finishes explaining to Paul what happened at the gym, how Brandon injected the steroid, how Brandon had been acting like he wanted to fuck him all morning. Paul is now dressed, seated at the table as he listens intently to David's story. It was definitely an interesting story, his eyes looking over the weird fluid in the vial Brandon had left on the table. "Relax, I believe you about not instigating it. But the rest of this story?" The giraffe rolls his muscular shoulders up in a shrug. "I don't know, man. It's just really hard to believe. Steroids don't make you grow in less than a day, and they sure as hell don't make your dick that big." David folds his ears back at Paul's response, about to suggest that they go to the gym to see right now, when suddenly a heavy thud is heard from the other side of the bathroom door. David stops, looking towards the door as Paul stands up, starting to call out, "Brandon?" The tiger tries to grab his friend's arm to stop him from moving closer to the door. "Don't. He could be sick from the steroid," the smaller male warns. But Paul pulls his arm away, shaking his head. "That's all the more reason to check on him and make sure he's not..." The giraffe trails off as he hears a squish under his shoe. Looking down, both men see a white fluid with that inky streak through it flowing slowly out from under the crack of the bathroom door, David's eyes going wide. He opens his mouth to tell Paul to get away from the door, but no words can be said before Paul calls, "Brandon?" louder.
The door suddenly splinters out and shatters into wood chunks as the hulking dog charges towards the source of the voice, yellow eyes narrowing as he lunges onto Paul and knocks him to the floor. "Holy shit!" Paul cries, unable to believe that Brandon was both taller than him and actually able to overpower him. His arms feel like he's trying to hold up a cement structure, his muscles swollen from the exertion and sweat quickly beading on his forehead as he struggles to keep Brandon back, the dog jabbing his massive erection along Brandon's torso towards his mouth. The giraffe turns his head, the infected precum slicking the fur along his throat and under his jaw, but keeping away from his mouth. "Get him off me!" he roars to David. David rushes into his room and grabs his bat by the door frame, returning to the kitchen to smack the doberman across the back with the aluminum. The doberman growls, but seems otherwise unfazed by the hit, his musculature flexing to completely negate the blow as he continues trying to jab his cock into Paul's mouth. David rears back again, this time aiming for the head, slamming the bat right onto Brandon's cheekbone. This seems to work a bit better, the pain actually loosing the doberman's focus on Paul and causing him to roll off the giraffe. Unfortunately, this makes him focus his attention on David, snarling as he quickly springs back to his feet while staring at the tiger. "Oh shit," David mutters, before backing into the kitchen and trying to keep the table between him and Brandon, who follows him in there. Brandon moves left, and David moves right. David moves left, and Brandon moves right. Finally, David throws the bat at Brandon, who simply knocks it away to clatter along the hardwood. The tiger lunges for his backpack where it had been left on the table, reaching inside it, but the doberman grabs the tiger's wrist through the backpack's fabric and yanks him across the table, trying to line up his cock to jam at the tiger's face as he's tugged towards it. The cock instead slides along the tiger's shoulder and back as David twists to the side, drooling infected precum along the tiger's shirt as David reaches his other free hand into the backpack, struggling to get something out of Brandon's incredible grip. Finally getting over the shock of the situation, Paul rolls over to retrieve the bat, standing up onto his feet as quickly as he can. The huge giraffe winds back, then swings, smashing the doberman in the ribs, the force the giraffe put into it actually denting the bat on Brandon's muscled lats, but succeeding in knocking him away from David and to the floor.
David is free to pull the gun from his backpack now, rolling off the table to stand next to Paul and aim the gun at the infected doberman. "Stay the fuck down, man!" David warns, but then grunts as Paul moves between him and the doberman so he can't fire at Brandon. "What the fuck are you doing?! It's Brandon!" Paul protests, his eyes wide with shock at the sight of a gun. The tiger is about to respond when he's suddenly yanked down to the floor, sliding between Paul's legs as Brandon grabs his ankle and tugs him towards him. The tiger fires the gun, piercing the doberman's chest, but it does nothing but anger the doberman more. He snarls at the tiger, smacking the gun away to slide it by Paul's feet, pitch black tar blood quickly sealing the wound and spattering onto David's shirt, adding to the number of fluids Brandon had put on it. Paul watches the wound close in horror, finally coming to grips with what David told him earlier. David is struggling in vain with the doberman's enhanced strength, as the infected dog finally grips the waist of the tiger's pants and forcibly yanks it down to expose the tiger's ass. "Shoot him, Paul! For fuck's sake, shoot him!" David cries as the doberman starts to line his cock up to infect the smaller male. The tiger grits his teeth, eyes closing tight as he braces for the pain of insertion, but then he hears the gun fire again, twice. Brandon freezes, the black tar dripping out of two holes in his head before it seals the wounds once more. But this actually seems to have finished him off, the doberman slumping motionless onto the tiger, his drooling dick mere inches away from the tiger's exposed pucker. Paul drops the gun to the ground, staring down at the sight of his dead former boyfriend atop his best friend, struggling to process what the hell just happened.