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Frankie stared at the vials. He'd barely slept at all for days now. A breakthrough loomed just ahead, he knew it. He just had to figure out the right way to reverse the genetics of the unseen retroviruses that he was working on. Once reversed, they should in turn reverse the changes almost half the population had already suffered.

He was lucky, himself. The virus had spread like wildfire, faster that any would've expected, and its effects were even less foreseen. Yes, they'd had a few pandemics in the recent years, but none that directly inserted itself into the host's very DNA to reconfigure it. Rumours abound that it was a designed virus, carefully crafted to reduce most of humanity to something else, made by some evil mastermind, though everyone blamed a different group for it.

Frankie knew better, of course. Though young at only 28, he was one of the leading experts on viruses. The virus was something ancient that nobody had seen in ages, but that was no reason to believe it had been engineered. Rather, it'd emerged from one reservoir or another, and its function was simple. Each time it infected a host, a new variant would spawn, carrying genetic markers for that host and all the previous ones. These were then integrated into the next host's DNA, and on the carousel of evolution went.

When it first began, the changes were subtle. Humans would grow tails, perhaps animal-like ears, maybe even animalistic genitalia, or in some far-flung cases, tentacles or feathers. It'd snowballed from there once the virus had gathered genetics from species that humans liked. Lions, tigers, sharks, horses, and the like. The moment the first leonine human had been moulded into existence by its virulent touch, certain groups had deliberately gotten infected to pursue what they perceived as a superior form, more representative of their souls.

What they'd forgotten to tell everyone was that the virus also degraded their minds. With bestial physiques came bestial minds, and that effect seemed to grow stronger each time the virus mutated. Then there'd been something perhaps purely accidental; it'd began to affect the sex drive as well.

From there on out, anyone could've seen how it ended. With every half-beast stuck in a permanent rut or heat, it began to quickly bring society into ruin wherever the plague touched. It was the holy grail of viruses, effectively; a disease that made the bearer feel amazing and spurring on every instinct that made them want to spread it. Husbands gave it to their wives, teenagers to their crushes, business owners to their secretaries and vice versa.

They'd barely had time to quarantine any cities at all, but Frankie had, as he knew, been very lucky. His city had been paranoid after the last pandemic and quickly implemented, at first, first strict border checks and then walls. A few others had managed to, as well. The rest crumbled as their populations quickly morphed into endless primal shapes, each hornier than the last. A few “desirable" strains had emerged and grown dominant, those being the lions and tigers, with hyenas, wolves, sharks and such sustaining their populations but simply being fewer in number.

And here then, was Frankie, world-leading viral engineer, in one of the safe havens that remained, days behind on sleep and trying to force his tired mind to solve the question the world had posed to him: how would one revert the changes?

He knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that it was at least possible. If re-configured genetics had changed humanity, repeating the process could also reverse it. Maybe he could return his friends and loved ones to a safe, normal world. All he had to do was crack the code. He closed his eyes, picturing the past as the future. Nothing had been perfect, but nothing ever was; at least it was better than half of humanity reduced to mindlessly rutting hybrid beasts.

He dozed off. It was only for a microsecond, perhaps, but it was enough for his fingers to lose their grip on the tray of samples, and by the time he realized that he'd nodded, it was already falling. Then, as if in slow motion, it crashed against the floor, vials shattering in a shower of glass and liquid.

That spurred Frankie into motion, adrenaline surging through his body. He rushed for the alarm switch, but upon reaching it, he hesitated. If he hit it, they'd come to sanitize the lab and he'd have to sit through at least a month of quarantine, which would delay his work, maybe making it impossible to solve the situation at all.

He glanced at his lab coat. There were some splatters, but he was fully covered except for his face. He couldn't see anything on his face in the mirror, which meant that he was safe, wasn't he? The virus wasn't airborne, at least not yet, and if no droplets had landed on his face, Frankie reasoned, he was still clean. That meant he could simply sweep up the mess himself, incinerate it, and then return to his work.

Right?

Right.

Instead of hitting the alarm, he picked up a brush and a dustpan, donned a respirator, and went to sweep up the shards of glass. He dumped them in the hazardous waste sanitizer, and then poured an eye-wateringly strong antiseptic on the floor. It'd destroy any viral particles in a matter of seconds. Then it was simply a matter of sweeping the resulting foaming mess up and dumping that too. If it meant being able to continue his work, Frankie didn't mind performing janitorial duties.

He was berating himself internally. Good job, Frankie. You know you have to sleep, right? Didn't your mom teach you anything? Go to bed, you idiot, or you're just going to spill all the samples.

Everything cleaned up, he was just about to produce a tray of fresh samples before the adrenaline finally wore off and made him realize that he was actually far too sleepy to continue, at least today. Yes, a brief nap would be the best, certainly. An eight hour nap, at least. The world can fend for itself for just one night.

Frankie wandered to his sleeping quarters, collapsed into bed, and fell asleep immediately, staying unconscious, suspended in black dreamless sleep for twelve hours.

He was bleary-eyed when awakened by his friend – and sometimes lover – Matt. It was the kind of abrupt awakening where he could barely speak English, or any language at all, mumbling angrily at his concerned friend.

“Hey, Frankie? You missed breakfast and everything, are you feeling okay?" Matt asked, rubbing Frankie's shoulder. While Frankie normally liked being touched well enough, it felt like nails on a chalkboard this “early", and he settled for just growling and grumbling as Matt slowly tugged his mind back into the waking world.

“-yeah I'm okay," he groaned. “Haven't slept that well for… dios mio, I dunno."

“Well, that's good at least. You gotta take better care of yourself," Matt beamed. “Here, I brought you some sandwiches. Where would you be without me?"

He placed the two sandwiches on Frankie's desk.

“Someone's got to save the world, you know. And someone will. I'd just prefer it if it was you," Matt grinned. He looked almost relieved that Frankie had, in fact, only been asleep.

“Yes mother," Frankie grumbled sarcastically. He stretched as he got out of bed, his back and joints cracking. Sometimes, he hated being tall. He had the biggest bed they'd been able to find and at over six feet tall, it still wasn't enough. Then again, surviving the apocalypse probably wasn't meant to be comfortable. That could wait until he'd cured the virus. God, he'd buy the biggest bed available. A whole room that was just a giant bed and an AC unit.

All things considered, he didn't feel bad at all. In fact, as he woke up, he was starting to feel unusually energetic, a pleasant feeling of strength almost vibrating in all his muscles, like he'd had a bit too much coffee. A bestial vigor that he couldn't wait to put to use analyzing more samples. He'd been so close to a breakthrough yesterday in sequencing the viral genome, and after that it was a simple matter of _re-_sequencing it.

Matt left him to his morning rituals, having a job of his own to attend to. The smaller man worked with construction, and it showed. He was muscular, but lean, the hard graft burning every ounce of fat from his body. It left him looking mouth-watering, to say the least.

Frankie stood up. He was still his stocky old self, not having time to keep working out, much less working physical labor, thanks to his calling in the world unseen by most but experienced by all. And for some reason, right now, he was rock hard. He hadn't noticed it while working the cobwebs of sleep from his mind, but he was pent up, alright, with his cock jutting out proudly, damn near demanding to be touched with how it ached erotically.

Did it seem a little bigger than before? A little longer and thicker? Nah, must've just been how turned on he was. Frankie forced himself to ignore it; he didn't have time to play with himself… and if the need grew too strong, he could just ask Matt for help. The thought actually made him twitch with anticipation, imagining his friend moaning and groaning like a bitch heat as he-

-nope, not the time for that. Frankie devoured the sandwiches, and went for his morning walk. He liked making his rounds around the lab's perimeter wall. One side faced the city, where he could see people going on with their everyday lives. The other faced the suburbs, which had been long since overrun. The beasts didn't really seem to care much for attacking, happy to just live their lives as well, even if their lives were focused on considerably simpler matters.

Sometimes, on that part of his walk, he'd catch a brief glimpse of a lion or tiger, whichever dared to venture closer. The area around here was, the guards told him, not really dominated by either faction, though certainly they'd both have preferred it to be.

That morning, as he walked along the “wild" side of the wall, he heard grunting, and immediately perked his ears. There – not too far from where he was standing – he could see a tiger. Two tigers, in fact… and once Frankie understood what he was seeing, his maleness shot up to full stiffness again. They were mating, shamelessly, in the open. Two males, it seemed like, one on top of the other, thrusting a cock that scarcely could belong on a tiger into the other. It looked almost equine, thick and flared, and the receptive partner snarled happily with each rutting thrust.

Frankie found himself leaning against the fencing, fantasies of just hopping down and letting them both take turns mating with him, flooding his mind with the infection. And once transformed he'd take his place pounding into them in turn, establishing himself as the leader. Mrf. The sweet imagined sensation of the tigers down below clenching around his swollen, bestial breeding rod…

Frankie shook his head, breathing deeply of the fresh morning air. The mating couple beneath roared in mutual, glorious release as they reached their peak, tensing up as one filled the other with his seed. Jeez, just how pent up are you, Frankie? Should've just masturbated before leaving for your walk. You're going to knock stuff over with how bad you're tenting.

He was tenting, already, firm cock bulging needily against his jeans, enough to make even Frankie blush despite his usual headstrong nature. He had no real idea what'd come over him. He hadn't been exposed to the virus, after all – that fact had already been archived in his mind and accepted as truth, even as his libido kept spiking at the slightest provocation. Definitely gonna need Matt to help tonight.

Of course, inside him, a lot more changes were happening. No matter how much he pretended it hadn't happened, plenty of the infinitesimal viral particles had landed in his unprotected eyes and nose when he had the accident, slowly rebuilding the tall Hispanic man from the inside. The first sign, other than his swelling cock and spiking sex drive, was perhaps how his feet grew more sensitive with each step, the webbing in particular leaving every step feeling particularly soft and erotic. The second, still unseen, were the developing rough patches of skin around his rump, and the increasingly dense fur that was sprouting along his torso.

Perhaps it was only denial, but all Frankie really knew was he felt unusually itchy and horny as he went about his day, even dropping by the lab eventually as he'd been planning to. At that point, though, he was feeling far too easily distracted to get any real work done.

It wasn't until the moment when he suddenly felt air flowing in through the side of his neck that he stumbled home, finally accepting that something was seriously wrong. Thankfully, everyone in the lab was hard at work, so they didn't see any of his changes. Not the way his nose had started to grow longer and blunter along with the rest of his face, nor the way the nub of a tail was pushing against his pants.

Oh, he wasn't just becoming one thing. He'd dropped a whole tray of samples, after all.

As he got home, Frankie tore of all his clothes, panting with anxiety, and oddly enough, lust. When he gazed at the mirror, he gasped, barely recognizing himself. He looked almost twice as muscular as he had been, fat melting away to fuel changes elsewhere on his body. His stomach, though very toned, was also rough to the touch, like…

…shark scales? Drunk on how good it all felt, Frankie traced a finger down along his new muscled stomach, and down to a cock that looked less and less human. Rather, it was black, splotched with red, the glans growing into a flare that practically demanded to be sunk inside someone. Like a horse's, maybe, his academic mind told him. He felt around it and realized that wasn't even all of it; another length of stiffness was quickly forming and swelling, leaving him with two cocks. Like a hemipenis. Except those were a lizard thing; sharks had claspers. Frankie's logical mind scolded him for even thinking of the distinction. He was becoming some kind of horrifying mutant, but what could he do, at this point?

Nothing. That thought came with a strange mixed feeling of sinking in his stomach, and a breathless anticipation as his thoughts began to twist and morph under the transformative viral assault. As he watched himself, in real time, he was growing fur. Striped in some places, brown in others, red in others yet, soft and luxurious where rough protective scales weren't forming. But those visual changes could only distract him so long. When he took a step to get some water – his throat felt parched, and those gill-slits on his neck doubly so – he almost doubled over as pleasure shot through his soles, up his legs, seemingly all converging on his throbbing cocks.

Frankie. Get it together. Focus. Retain at least some part of yourself. For the love of god, don't cum. Just let the changes finish and then go back to working like normal. If you can reverse the changes on yourself you can reverse them on others too.

All he had to do was to keep his mind intact, somehow. He focused on what was important as a new shark-like tail erupted from the end of his spine, stretching out into something prehensile and strong. Important things like his work, like the survival of humanity. How he was on the verge of a breakthrough in reverse engineering the virus doing all of this.

His cocks throbbed lewdly and in unison, another jolt of pleasure muddying his thoughts. A rough hand – feeling more like the paw of a tiger – slipped down to squeeze the lengths together. It felt amazing, far too good. No wonder it'd spread so quickly. He thrust into his palm, feeling his overfull sack tighten already at that slight sensation.

The worst part was how he kept thinking about he'd spread it, now. Maybe he'd start with just a kiss, and then have them lick his feet until he pumped his infectious cum all over them. Inside them, where it'd ensure they transformed even faster. Or maybe he'd worship their feet, touching and nuzzling them, coating them in his saliva until they looked more like beautiful paws. Maybe he'd… maybe…

A sudden feeling of tightness swept over his chest, and something stranger yet between his legs, just behind his engorged and swollen testicles. On his chest, a heaviness – a tingly heaviness – that made him want to press himself against something, to knead and caress. The mirror revealed that his toned pecs were growing out into breasts. Feminine, full breasts, immediately leaking with white milk that no doubt was infectious. He wasn't only becoming a completely unnatural animal hybrid, but he wasn't even going to remain any single gender, he realized.

He needed to see what was happening to his groin. Frankie rolled over onto his back, spread his legs wide, and holding his balls up, glanced at the mirror. A small slit along the length of his taint, pink and feminine despite the bristling masculinity of the rest of his new form. He pressed against it and moaned out loud as he suddenly felt those forming lips yield, his finger slipping inside him with an indescribable flurry of sensations shooting through him. He felt so warm, so wet, those instincts to mount someone taking a back seat as a burning, gnawing emptiness demanding to be filled in turn grew.

He could let one of the tigers or lions mount him. There was no doubt in his mind that he could become a mother too, if he just let them milk themselves dry inside him. Frankie felt himself clench, now, barely any human touches left on his body or mind. Gods, there were so many pleasures he wanted to try, the goal of saving the world feeling like a distant, faded memory.

He curled his finger in that warm wetness and groaned, clenching around his own probing digit. Even then, he was perhaps even more focused on how amazing his feet felt. There were a few more cracks, each accompanied by the now expected jolts of pleasure, as they grew, before settling on an almost humanlike form. Well, as humans they could be with sharp, lethal claws sprouting from the tip of each toe, and webbing binding each toe together. He didn't dare touch them, knowing that he'd probably cum from a single massage, and his now tainted seed needed to go inside someone.

That was it, then. The transformations seemed to ebb, the erotic surge of energy slowing down to a trickle – but just as Frankie relaxed, one final searing high of mingled pleasure and pain gripped him. A fin sprouted from his back, violently, with enough force to cut through the drywall behind him. Frankie collapsed, panting for a few seconds, watching his dual cocks bobbing in the air, his new and obscenely mutated, oversexualized, beautiful form heaving as he fought to catch his breath.

He'd definitely have to show this to Matt. Definitely. Just after nightfall. He had the feeling that Matt would need a few moments to really get used to his new form.

Matt had spent the day worrying about his friend. Most of it, anyway; the work he put in building new homes and reinforcing the barricades didn't always leave time to think about anything else, but when the opportunity arose, he was thinking about how he'd help lift Frankie's spirits. There weren't really much in the way of restaurants, or anything else, but maybe they could just sit together on the wall, watching the wilderness slowly reclaiming the suburbs. Frankie had always liked that. With a couple of cold beers, maybe.

Clearly the poor thing was working too hard. Yes, there was a world to save, but if Frankie burned out, who else was going to do it? Well, certainly nobody in this city; it'd all fall to the other remaining ones, and Matt wasn't sure if they were making any progress at all.

Besides that, he was close to Frankie, always wanting what was best for him. He spent a sizable chunk of his paycheck on some pre-fall cans of beer to share. Back then, they'd been considered cheap swill. Now, with the only option here being home-brewed sludge and moonshine, they were a precious commodity. If only they'd ended up in one the cities that still had a brewery.

That night, then, after work, Matt made his way towards Frankie's home, a six-pack of the stuff in hand. It was halfway between a romantic gesture and a brotherly one, but that made for the best kinds of relationships, didn't it?

Unfortunately, he was constantly beset by the gnawing feeling that something was wrong. He felt tense and uneasy, but then again, that was more or less a constant these days. It wasn't until he knocked on Frankie's door and some sort of horrific monstrosity answered it that Matt realized things were far worse this time.

Pure adrenaline surged through his body and he set off running. The beast growled behind him. What even was it? Something he'd never seen before, that was for sure. Some sort of hybrid. Matt screamed for help, trying to wake up everyone else, but his voice only carried so far in the city, and he didn't live in the most densely populated part of it either.

He dashed through the street, hearing the thing closing in, only slowing down when he squeezed his way through the most narrow alleyways, until he realized – to his terror – that he'd reached the perimeter wall. It was a dead end, nowhere for him go except…

Matt dashed up the wall, movements fuelled by fear and adrenaline. The beast might not find any grip in the fence at the very upmost part, leaving him some time to get away while it forced its way through. With a deep breath, Matt leapt off into the dangers of the suburbs, hearing a mournful cry behind him.

He landed in the overgrown bushes beneath, and they cushioned his fall enough that he didn't break anything, though the impact knocked the air out of his lungs regardless. Matt didn't stop moving; he couldn't, opting instead to crawl away from the city, intending to circle back around the other side where the guard barracks were. They'd be able to protect him, if that beast was still following. What had it done to Frankie? Maybe, Matt told himself, it'd just set up in his apartment, waiting for him. Yes, that had to be it; Frankie usually worked late. It hadn't necessarily eaten him.

Then he heard a deeper growling in the trees next to him. A thud of something heavy landing. Not the thing that's been following him, but no less worrisome. Matt spun around, trying to pinpoint the sound, and realized that he was standing eye to eye with a lion. Black-furred, eyeing him with a curious expression. Matt froze. All he could really see of him, in the dark, was a pair of eyes, the glint of white fangs, and a dull red shaft that was already swelling in anticipation for what it was about to do.

Then, it pounced him, effortlessly knocking Matt down once again, drooling over him as it feverishly clawed through his clothes with just enough feline grace to avoid cutting any deeper. This was it, Matt realized. At least it'd been a decent enough run. Lots of famous people died before reaching 25, right? He tried focusing on that thin sliver of humor to distract himself from the pain that was sure to follow.

But the lion wasn't planning on hurting him. Instead, it nudged the helpless human onto all fours the moment it'd torn his pants up enough to bare his vulnerable pucker.

“You'll make a fine lioness," it growled. “Why else would you have come here, if you didn't want it?"

The beasts could speak. They just usually didn't bother, unless it was to strike fear or lust into the hearts of potential victims. That attempt succeeded, and Matt shivered. It was absurd how quickly his day had turned from a regular hard workday into a horrorshow that he'd not be leaving with his faculties – or his body – intact.

The lion climbed onto his back and Matt didn't dare move, no matter how heavy the werebeast was. At least it wasn't whatever had been chasing him, he tried to console his frazzled mind. Just a lion, simple and horny. It'd force its cock into him and soon enough, if Matt knew anything about the infection, he'd not care anymore. Probably even enjoy it. He felt the heated tip of the lion's manhood grind against him, slipping between his cheeks, a little closer to his entrance with each little jab of his hips.

“Rrf. You should be happy I found you. Rather than the tigers," the black lion rumbled on top of him. A pair of strong arms tightened around him. “I can tell you need a strong, dominant male to keep you happy…"

Matt kicked backwards in the desperate hope of hitting something – anything­ – sensitive and distracting the lion for long enough for him to get way. The angle didn't allow it, of course, nor would he hurt the beast even if he had leverage. The werebeast barely even noticed, continuing to hump at him, smearing precum where his throbbing cock touched. It seemed to immediately leave Matt's skin feeling warm and sensitive.

“Just… relax," the lion growled. “You'll feel so much better. So much stronger. So much… hornier- there we go."

His thick shaft finally jammed against Matt's entrance, pressing firmly against the tight ring of muscle, the last defense he even had to prevent himself from becoming just another slavering, horny beast like so much of humanity. No matter how hard he clenched, though, the lion's cock was tapered, almost designed to pry him open, and he could feel himself yielding slowly but surely, stretching obediently around his assailant's dripping breeding rod.

Then it slipped into him, and Matt moaned with aching pleasure as it did.

Frankie was sniffing the air wildly. He'd spent a precious few minutes tearing through the supposedly werebeast-proof fence at the top of the wall, and during that frustration he'd lost track of his friend. Enough of his human mind remained that he recognized it as a bad thing; Matt lost alone in the undefended suburbs. Yes, Matt was competent, a lovely person, but none of that would protect him if the other beasts found him first, and Frankie wanted to be the one to claim his beloved friend. He let out a roar of frustration, sniffing the air wildly trying to find Matt's scent, but instead his nostrils only filled with the musk of lions.

They'd been stalking around the perimeter. His perimeter. His territory. Another growl spilled from his lungs. Thanks to wild mutations he'd undergone, he was much stronger than the rest of them, practically bristling with muscle and sinew. His mouth was full of razor-sharp and jagged shark fangs, his claws effortlessly slicing through the vegetation in his search for Matt, and even the fin on his back lethal to anyone who got pushed against it.

And yet, he felt helpless, furious about losing his friend. His balls were so swollen they hurt, but it was his ego that'd taken most of the bruising. Then, he heard someone else roar only a few meters way. Frankie's nostrils flared as he took in the scent.

He smelled Matt, his washed and clean scent almost entirely drowned out by that of a musky lion. Frankie's fur bristled and he rushed towards the source, only to find – to his dismay – Matt beneath a lion rutting into him. Already, in what must've only been a few minutes, Matt had begun to change too, his body slowly growing a coat of sleek black fur that made him almost invisible in the night. He was moaning, but that, Frankie couldn't blame him for.

Just as he was about to pounce, the lion roared again, triumphantly, and hilted himself inside Matt's body, balls and taint both visibly clenching as he no doubt reached his peak. Frankie slammed into the other feline hard enough to send the both of them rolling off into the bushes. In a flurry of activity, the lion struggled free, baring his fangs and claws, furious about having his orgasm interrupted – pearly lion-seed was still oozing from his throbbing shaft - but the moment he actually looked at Frankie, all the fight seemed to drain out of him.

The lion turned tail with a defiant snarl and set off running into the growing forests between abandoned rows of houses. Frankie didn't chase him; he had more immediate concerns. Matt was whimpering with what sounded like disappointment and need. Looking more like an oddly feminine lion with every passing moment. Frankie did what came naturally, out of possessiveness, dominance, and lust, replacing the lion on top of his friend.

In spite of the rutting he'd received, he was still tight when it came to Frankie's equine cock. But that first kiss of his flared head against Matt's pucker was intoxicating, feeling better than Frankie could ever remember sex feeling. If it was his love for his friend or the infection rewarding him for spreading it, he didn't really know. Or care. All he wanted was to feel his friend milk him to the very last drop, and then take a turn breeding his new, clenching cunt in turn.

He gave it everything he had, feeling the lion's smaller load of cum drool out of his friend, with the flared cocktip doing its best to scoop it all out, making space of his own, far more potent seed. Even his precum was having an effect; Matt's muscles were already tensing and growing with each little thrust, reverting him towards a more masculine form. Frankie wasn't really paying attention to any of that, though, his world fixated entirely on his friend's tight sphincter squeezing around him.

“Just relax," he growled, when Matt clenched a little too hard, and that was the moment when Matt realized it was Frankie he was mating with. Yes, his voice sounded a little more bestial and far deeper, but his heart soared with excitement knowing it wasn't some stranger about to finish his transformation. He thrust back eagerly, almost causing the both of them to fall over.

That was about it as far as either of them talking went. Soon they were both simply vocalizing, expressing their pleasure in animalistic grunts and snarls while they thrust and rocked against each other, shivering and panting in raw carnal pleasure.

The changes that Matt was yet to experience all happened to the slapping rhythm of Frankie's hips. Even if just barely, Frankie could see darker stripes growing into his already black fur, along the physique changing towards more tigrine muscle than a lion could ever dream of. The mane remained just barely noticeable, only a little fluff surrounding his head, shoulders and chest.

“Mine," Frankie growled. His hips were moving like a jackhammer, and he was pumping out so much precum that the rutting was starting to sound downright wet. “Mine," he repeated, feeling that overwhelming pleasure starting to boil inside him. He was past the point of no return already, but he wanted to prolong the moment by just a few seconds, thrusting rapidly so that he kept edging towards an even stronger orgasm rather than cumming immediately.

Still, even he could only move so fast. Franke grit his teeth before deciding to lean over Matt and bite his shoulder, instead. In the throes of pleasure, it felt like just the right thing to do. He could barely think at all, finally getting to claim what remained of his friend's humanity. The pleasure reached a fever peak and he felt the cum rushing up his shaft after an initial, heavy throb. He gave in, snarling, and hilted his massive cock all the way into Matt's guts, powerful claws and feet both digging into the very asphalt for more leverage in a desperate bid to sink just a few centimeters deeper.

And then he came. In a roar of pleasure, all of his former human ambitions bled out of his brain in an instant, as if leaving his body with the ropes of slick, tainted cum that erupted into Matt's body, filling him to the very brim in just a few spurts. The rest gushed out around his throbbing shaft, splattering onto the ground. He had a lot to give. What felt like gallons of seed flooded into the lion – liger, maybe – in an endless moment of soaring ecstasy, shuddering spasms that blanked out his mind, and a deeply rewarding sense of proud satisfaction.

He'd never imagined it could feel like this. Even that orgasm, though, only satisfied half of him. Though his cunt clenched too, practically drooling out excitement along his thighs, it needed something more. That could wait, wait until he finally finished seeding his friend. His mate.

His orgasm was obscenely strong. Strong enough that, before it was even fully over, he slumped back onto the overgrown asphalt. He watched the gush of his cum flooding out of Matt's gaping ass, and it reinforced that strange sense of pride. The way the lion's legs wobbled when he stood up did it even more. Then, Frankie's cock throbbed and the last strong spurt of cum splashed over his own muzzle, coating his panting tongue and flaring nose with his own warm, masculine scent of release. His tongue darted out to taste it, and with his new animalistic and acute senses, he briefly lost himself in tasting his own pleasure. There was barely any aspect of humanity left in it; only that bestial lust and potency remained. The single-minded desire to…

…his legs spread on their own accord, the feminine aspect taking over now that the stronger, masculine one had been satisfied. He needed more. The aching, tingling slit that'd taken its place between his legs demanded attention.

“Your turn," Frankie huffed. Matt had never been much of a top, and so he hesitated despite the intoxicating scents filling the air and his raging sex drive, but the moment Frankie reached down beneath his balls to raise them a little, just enough to show off his soaked pussy, he was already on top of the tigershark, thrusting away. The penetration was slick and effortless, muscles tensing with instinctive ease as he drove his cock into Frankie's body.

“T-thank you," Matt growled. “I didn't r-realize it was you. Or I'd have… let you…"

He was rutting him quickly, a wet slapping sound accompanying on each buck. While Frankie was almost a foot taller, Matt was strong enough to lift his legs up and drive deeper into that slick, feminine sex. It felt amazing, and he realized – albeit dimly – that he was going to cum embarrassingly quickly. Not wanting to be outdone, he grasped one of Frankie's feet by the ankle and began to knead the leathery but soft sole firmly, digging his thumbs into the muscles beneath. Were they still as sensitive as he remembered they'd been, when Frankie was still a human?

He got his answer in the form a deep, throaty growl of pleasure. The tigershark squirmed, his feminine slit clenching each time Matt caressed his feet.

“Just fuck me," Frankie snarled, hooking his free leg around Matt's back and guiding him into the thrusts. It was such a strange sensation, still, but his body was practically burning for Matt's seed, demanding to be fertilized. Something, perhaps, like how a bitch in heat might feel. Frankie had no idea how being pregnant might feel, but he wanted it to happen, badly.

Even then, it wasn't the pounding that was going to make him cum. Oh, it felt fantastic, sloppy, wet, each stroke of the lion's swollen cock like someone pleasuring his very soul, but it was his feet. They were so sensitive, radiating shivering pleasure through his whole body as Matt caressed one and then the other.

Matt tensed, hunching down and thrusting as deep into Frankie's body as he could, holding himself there. He let out a low rumble, and Frankie felt his cock jerk inside of him, followed by a tickling splash of something wet, warm, and thick deep in his very core. Matt was breeding him, there was no doubt of that, and Frankie wallowed in that sensation, as well as the unspoken promise that he'd soon be birthing more hybrids. But he hadn't experienced his first feminine orgasm yet.

All of that changed the moment Matt leaned down to give his foot a single long lick, all the way from heel to the tips of his toes. His climax hit him like a freight train, and suddenly he was thrashing, growling, roaring with ecstasy as he clamped down like a vice around Matt's ejaculating length, body squeezing and milking in a passionate attempt to squeeze out as much of his seed as possible. His “male" orgasm had been good, but this one was dissolute, seemingly encompassing every part of his body. Every muscle, every inch of fur-covered skin was aglow with pleasure, his limbs trembling and his eyes fluttering while Matt finished draining his balls into him.

By the time that climax faded into tingly afterglow, Matt was already snuggled up against him, stroking and caressing over his firm musculature and soft, feminine breasts.

“I guess you didn't save the world after all," the newly-minted beast murmured.

“Just… rrf, had the… wrong approach," Frankie rumbled. He was still trying to catch his breath, scarcely able to believe how intense his orgasm had been. Yet even then, his massive cocks were slowly stirring back to life, already preparing to go again.

“Mrf, I'm already getting horny again," Matt whispered. Sure enough, he'd never gone soft at all despite giving Frankie every drop of his cum. “Maybe if we sneak in and have fun with some of your co-workers…"

Oh yes, they would. Maybe Frankie would use the rest of the viral samples as lube while he hammered and rutted these wonderful, horny urges into every single other person in the safe zone. Either way, the future looked bright, happy, rock-hard and soaking wet. Just not quite as human as he'd originally planned, during the life he barely remembered now, planning his next conquest with the stud whose offspring his belly would soon be swelling with.