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Arturus staggered out of the carriage, his head foggy and his body drained. His body was sore, too: he had a few cuts and scrapes or something, but the strangest feeling was his asshole. It felt all stretched and loose. He tried to think about what had happened: he'd gone into the carriage because the man they were supposed to be guarding - some plump, perfumed, effeminate merchant - had wanted to talk to him. He'd sat down, taken off his helmet, and they had been making small talk. Arturus remembered talking about his family, sitting there thinking the merchant was weird, but that he had to play nice or Derrick would have his ass. After that it was just the fog.

Speak to Derrick, and tell him that I wish to speak with him.

Arturus frowned, scratching at his back. Had the merchant asked him to do something? He couldn't quite remember, but he was certain of it. The words were rattling around in his head in the merchant's voice: Arturus didn't know any other man who talked like that who had even bothered to talk to him. "Should do it just in case, don't want to get in trouble."

Sniffing, Arturus glanced around, automatically reverting to his training: scan the environment, watch out for anything out of the ordinary, and keep an eye on the ordinary. He kept his hand by his scabbard, jogging back to Derrick. His boss wasn't too happy to see him; Arturus thought it wasn't all that fair, since he didn't want to talk to the merchant at all.

"What were you doing in there?" Derrick barked, the older man's scarred face twisting into an angry smirk as he looked down from the back of his horse. His hand pointed at Arturus's messed-up uniform. "Making out with the lady of the carriage?"

Arturus's brain throbbed, angry at Derrick about his stupid joke. He kept his cool though; bad-mouthing Derrick would earn you a knife to the guts, and that was if you were lucky. "He wants to talk to you," Arturus answered, pointing back over. "The merchant."

"Talk, talk, talk," Derrick grumbled, "we're not going to get anywhere at this rate." He snorted, getting his horse to walk over. Arturus found his feet following along. Was he supposed to? He frowned.

Follow him along here, and make sure nobody else sees me.

"Yeah, that's right." Arturus jogged back. His asshole throbbed, an angry red gaping mouth; sweat trickled down his crack and seemed to get sucked inside, stinging at the raw flesh. Each step felt like it was tearing him open even more, turning that hole into a chasm. But he needed to be there before the carriage door was opened. He cursed Derrick again, panting heavily as he raced forwards; Derrick was already getting off his horse, and Arturus's brain was on fire about him getting to the carriage without him there.

Glancing over his shoulder, he made sure that Jhared, the guy who had been sent to replace him, was looking the other way. Standing close to Derrick, he heard the old man whisper, "What's the matter now?"

"Nothing," Arturus answered, the words coming out of his mouth sounding to him like someone else had stolen his voice. "I think he might want me to run some errands for him or something like that."

"You think? He might?" Derrick scoffed. "Maybe you ought to just stay sitting in that carriage, scatterbrain." He stepped up to the door, rapping on the wood. Arturus did his best to seem relaxed, although his hands shook by his sides. At a moments notice, he would have to grab Derrick and restrain him, not that he understood why. He cast his eyes about; everybody was too busy or too disinterested to be paying them much notice. Even the merchant's coachman had gotten down to inspect the horses.

"Enter," the merchant spoke through the door. "It's unlocked."

Derrick reached out for the door. "Arturus tells me you wanted to speak with me, something about sending him off to do some errands?"

"Yes, there is something that I would like to have him do," the merchant replied, his voice becoming irritable. Arturus noticed that, as the merchant spoke, Derrickmocked him by making his hand into a flapping duck bill. "But I want to talk to you about it. Privately. I have a few things that need attending to, things that pertain to the role I hired you to perform."

"You should go in," Arturus prompted, scratching at his neck. The stinging in his ass had died down a little, but now he was itching like mad. "We're in danger the longer we're fucking around." He knew Derrick couldn't argue with that; it was a cruder version of one of his own rules. As he scratched, his other hand fidgeted. He really wanted to get out of here soon, as twinges and gargles manifested all through his body.

Derrick pursed his lips, then grabbed onto the door. Arturus swung his eyes around, making sure nobody was about to pass by. "Alright, sir," Derrick said, stepping forward, trying to peer into the carriage's shadows. "What is it that you - " Arturus heard his irritability disappear, and heard the creak of Derrick's leather armour as he went for his weapon. Immediately Arturus's head filled with a frantic warning.

Don't let him do that! Bring him to me!

Arturus felt himself being overwhelmed with strength. He said something, which he couldn't hear over the sound of blood rushing through his body, like a roaring lion. Derrick glanced towards him, but Arturus was already moving. He grabbed Derrick between the legs with one arm; with the other hand he clamped Derrick's jaw shut. Grunting, heshovedDerrick into the carriage, dropping him before the merchant.

"Thank you, Arturus," the merchant hissed. Arturus watched as hisvaguely humanoid form dissolved, scaly loops unfolding. The snake-merchantwrapped its muscular body around Derrick, whose struggles weakened the longer the snake looked into his eyes. Arturus's mind started to hurt then, his muscles locking as he went back into the grey fog.

This isn't happening. None of this is happening.

As the snake squeezed around Derrick with its coils, Arturus's body began to tremble more pronouncedly. He stared ahead, blind and deaf, as the snake creature stared at Derrick. Arturus's body slackened, and backed out of the trailer.

You have done well. I wish you to start to follow along after us.

Arturus closed the carriage door. His body felt queasy and upset; he shook the fog out of his head. What had just happened? Derrick had come over, and the merchant had asked him to come in so they could talk. He remembered being asked to go get Derrick, so he'd done what was asked. His insides gargled again. Arturus reckoned they probably weren't going to need him for a while, and with his organs making strange noises, he thought it might be a good idea to go somewhere private.

Arturus walked away from the carriage, slow at first. However, not long after starting, he broke out into a jog. He didn't care about the pain in his asshole any more, or the strange aftertaste that seemed to be lingering in his mouth. He just had to get out of there. The queasy feeling seemed to be connected to the blinding headaches. "I'm gonna be sick!" he thought.

"Hey, Art, where are you off too?" one of the other guards called out. Arturus didn't stop to see who it was, and his brain didn't get a chance to remember his name with the throbbing and pounding, and the distracting queasiness.

Behind him, Arturusshouted out, "Bathroom!" Running farther away from the back of the procession, he plunged off of the road and into the trees. He immediately felt better: the headaches went away, and he didn't immediately feel like he was going to vomit. He panted, watching the carriage. Derrick came out, shaking his head; he then turned, barking orders to the other men. Arturus thought about catching up, until the queasiness reminded of why he came here. Trying to remove his pants, he watched as the carriage and the men began to move.

Squatting down, Arturus waited for whatever it was that wanted itself out of his body to leave it. He scratched, leaning against a tree and panting for breath as he waited. The carriage moved towards the horizon, dragging the unpleasantness with it. His body seemed to be over the strange feeling that had swept over it. He knew that he really ought to run and catch up with it, but the sun felt good on his bare legs and he wanted to air them out a bit. It felt so good that he started to fumble with the top of his leather armour, the strange fog messing with his thoughts when a strange feeling of deja vu struck him, and he became too curious about it. He even worked his way out of his boots, wriggling his toes as they started to feel cramped. "There we go," he said to himself, "all nice and relaxed."

Although this particular countryside was unfamiliar, Arturus knew this kind of area well: he'd grown up on it, along with his parents and siblings. Cities could be fine places, but there was always a little too much going on, and people seemed less trustworthy. He suddenly missed the farm, remembering the times where he used to wander around exploring the land, his mother getting furious when he came in caked in mud.

That didn't seem likely to happen today; it had been some time since it rained in this area, and the ground was quite firm between Arturus's feet. He wriggled his toes through the sticks and grass below the trees he'd gone to for privacy, before walking out into the clearing. At some point he would need to catch up to the party. Either that, or he wouldn't get paid. He turned, looking at his armour. His sword was sitting there too, in the scabbard by the pants he'd wriggled free from.

When your body begins to transform... You will transform, and then you won't need clothes or armour or weapons.

"I don't need them," Arturus repeated out loud, his voice sounding far away. He shook his head, looking back at the armour. He didn't really need them, did he? No, of course not; he wasn't a guard right now, and who would go up to a strong, naked man like himself?

He looked down, flexing his muscles; they responded by shooting his brain full of happiness. He grinned, checking himself out like it was the first time seeing himself naked. "I look pretty fucking good," he thought, running his hands over the visible muscles of his body. Arturus's fingers moved over the skin; it had been darkened by the sun, so he didn't see the fuzzy bristles that bumped up against his fingertips, but he could feel that they were there.

Arturus frowned; he didn't remember being hairy before. His head started to throb, fresh sweat beginning to run over the contours of his face.

Do not think about it too much. You don't need to be good at it. You are just transforming.

"Transforming?" Arturus lifted his hand in front of his eyes, turning it over as he watched the hairs growing over his wrist. He scratched his back with his other hand, rubbing on a patch of much thicker hair that had grown there earlier. "Seems like I am transforming. That's..."

That's good. Only travel at night, and stay in the shadows.

It made sense to Arturus. "If I travel during the day, somebody might see me and get frightened. That would be dangerous." Still, he hadn't changed a lot, and there was nobody around to see him anyway. His weapon and armour were almost repellent: Arturus wanted to put in as much distance as he could, just in case he got anxious and put them on again. He flexed again, making himself feel better.

Arturus jogged parallel to the road; it was quite easy, as this part of the country was relatively flat. It was mostly farmland now, with large blobs of forest here and there for hunting and logging. As his body warmed further in the sun, and he breathed in the fresh country air, he felt invigorated. His manhood flopped around, jostling with his balls as he ran across the grassland, the blood surging into the area as thinking of his own strength and vitality aroused him.

A patch of trees cut across his path; it wasn't too large, and Arturus guessed it was probably for animals to shelter under if there was too much rain or sun on a particular day. There weren't any animals in sight, though, and the day was perfect. The spot could have just been his; a little hideaway for himself.

Arturus was nearly blinded as the memory surged into his head: he was younger - not all that much younger, since he had only stopped growing into an adult a couple of years ago - and was burgeoning onto manhood. He had gone off exploring, similar to what it felt like he was doing right now, and had removed his clothes when he'd started feeling a stirring, still new but becoming familiar, in his pants. "Why not?" Arturus chuckled, heading for the wooded hideaway. "Just like old times."

Once he'd reached the woods, Arturus's cock was fully erect. It stood proudly, a cool, caressing breeze blowing over it as he hunted around for a good spot: one that let him keep an eye out around him should someone else come by, while offering him enough privacy. He found a nice spot, where the trees angled inwards, the sun reaching the spot below a tree Arturus sat up against, rubbing the black hairs that coated his back.

Nestling into a comfortable spot between the roots of the big tree, Arturus grabbed his shaft, giving it a lazy, gentle squeeze. It gave him a familiar pulse of excitement, as he leaned back, closing his eyes. That seemed to get rid of the remaining pesky headache that seemed to come from seeing the stretching flesh of his penis, his strokes moving further as more of him thrust out of his closed fingers. He wriggled his toes, feeling a tugging in them; it reminded him of taking off those breeches that wrapped around your whole feet. He hadn't worn them since he was little, but the sensation had stuck with him.

Arturus stretched his legs open, letting his balls hang down. "Funny," he thought idly, moving his hand up to where the fleshy tip thrust out of his foreskin for a good couple of inches of exposed cock, "I didn't think they were that big." He didn't give it much thought, however. It made the headaches come back. All he wanted was the simple pleasures any kind of soldier wanted.

"Urgh! Yeah! That's the stuff!" Arturus felt pent up; a thought danced around, whispering that that shouldn't be right, the same one that made him want to touch his asshole. He wondered exactly how big it was. At the moment it had recovered, but he still thought he could easily fit a finger up there, maybe even a couple. He'd have to move though, and right now he just wanted to relax and play with his cock.

The flesh felt slippery and slick in his hand. Arturus scratched at his chest. It felt heavy, like his muscles were growing as he sat there. He shifted his hands around, feeling the pronounced contours of his pectorals, the tip of his finger wedging itself into the almost closed chasm above his sternum. His head started to throb, until he remembered. "The transformation! That must have been it!" Arturus snorted in excitement, bringing his hand up from his chest to his tingling face. The nostrils he touched seemed wide, as was the lips. "Don't worry about it," he thought, "Master said that I would be transforming."

Arturus shuddered, thinking about the master. His mind had fogged over before when he tried to think of it, but he seemed to be getting a small peek into his forgotten past. He remembered, standing - no, it must have been squatting, because he was just so fucking big - as he showed himself off for his Master. He shuddered, remembering the serpentine eyes staring into his soul.

Feeling overwhelmed for a moment, Arturus grabbed the rest of his growing cock with his other hand, squirming as the rough skin on his hands came in contact with the exposed flesh of his erection as it stuck out of his sheath. "Sheath?" Arturus looked down, noticing his foreskin - sheath, he corrected himself - had retracted, having attached itself to the line cleaving its way through the bulging, almost overlapping, abdominal hills. Looking at his cock, he was reminded of something, but the fog had shifted onto those parts. He remembered his father, and a bull. He could almost see the outline of the man, muscles straining, as he held back the horny bull using a rope.

No, your father was a bull. A strong bull, just like you.

"Must be it," Arturus said, his heavy jaw hanging down, a long tongue pouring out. The fog shifted, and he saw the figures merge and twist. Now the image showed his father, the huge stud bull, holding a weak human slave with a length of rope. His father's brilliant, green eyes glowed lustfully as he held the struggling human, his massive pink bull cock ready to spear the human should his Master say so.

Arturus clenched almost too hard onto his cock. Under the thick black fur one could still see broad veins and arteries feeding the swollen, firm muscles with their heavy, iron-rich blood. The same blood that fuelled his cock, his heart racing as he double-handed it, letting the first strings of clear fluid spit from the top and leak down over his fingers.

Making a loud, deep gasp, Arturus arched his back. The sharp tips of his short, but quickly growing horns dug into the tree behind him, ensnaring him for a few moments until he wrenched himself free in a shower of bark and sticky sap. He laughed at himself. "What a stupid calf mistake to make!" he thought. The fog in his head shifted again, Arturus's human childhood fading into the grey, as the new memories of growing up entered his head: he remembered running around with his siblings, all naked as the masters made their rounds. He remembered growing his first horns. He remembered riding with his Master. He had been very impressed with Arturus; he could almost feel the excitement pulsing through the snake's mind as the scaly hand reached out to touch his bulging body.

Arturus's face had changed greatly with the growth of the horns; his ears had sprouted out, and his face had elongated into a short muzzle. The lust-glazed eyes peeking through under the half-open eyelids were glowing an ominous green. While the human features had been mostly changed, their ghosts still hung about. Taking a hand away from his cock to wipe off the drool took almost all his inner strength, but it felt like something that he should do.

He realised why a few moments later, as the fog rolled further away from his time in the carriage. Master had been very taken with him, and had wanted him for his very own. "No wonder my hole is so sore!" Arturus grinned; rocking forward slightly, he tried to see if he could reach the hole again. It was itching, hungering to be penetrated. The caravan returned, the once-foggy memories almost garishly bright. Arturus felt lucky that he enjoyed that kind of attention, especially since his serpentine master had not only two shafts, but a thick tail, and would use both.

Arturus snorted; he accidentally rolled over his tail, which was pulling out of him like warm, hairy taffy. Sitting like this was comfortable, but awkward. He remembered how easy it was for the humans, and for the first time envied them. He looked down, wriggling the end of his large toes that ended in bulging bovine hooves. Bulls did most stuff on their feet: why was he sitting down, in such an awkward position that just invited pain to his tail?

Arturus wasn't sure, rolling to his side. He didn't like letting go of his cock, but there was no way he'd be able to get up without them. The veins bulged as they tensed up, his dark fingernails digging into the dirt as he shifted his weight onto his hooves. He moved from sitting, to lying, through crawling; gripping the tree allowed him to pull himself to his feet, balls and tail swinging.

Grinning proudly, Arturus went back to stroking his cock. Now he rested one hand up against the tree, bracing himself against it, while he rested his heavy forehead on that. His horns still tangled themselves up in the bark and the pale wood underneath, but with now needy he was, and how much thick fluid was now trickling out of his cock, he knew it wouldn't be long.

Arturus conjured up an imaginary human, pinned between him and the tree. He would be strong and hung - for a human - with short hair. Master would also be there, watching as he performed his duty, sliding his cock into the human's asshole, just as Master penetrated him. This time, he deliberately dug his horns into the tree, gritting his teeth and shifting about, hand sliding past his swollen balls and along his sticky, musky taint to Master's prize. He plunged his largest finger inside, groaning at the intense memories it triggered: the thick, serpentine tail sliding under his own, stretching him from the inside out.

If you do what I say, you will be greatly rewarded.

Arturus wanted that reward; he wondered what it would be as the rest of his changes to fill out his body to match the mental image of himself that had emerged from the grey fog. He hoped it would be being sent out to transform humans; his aching balls were ready for that. His black pelt would make it easier to hide in the dark, so he could do a good job catching them to bring back for Master. Maybe Master meant to fuck him again, maybe using one of - or both! - of his shafts in his hole.

When Arturus tried to speak, his mouth failed him. It was a bull's mouth now, so all that came out was a deep bellow that rose in pitch. The fog rolled in over the concern: slowly the concern was forgotten. All he needed to do was listen and obey, because he was a slave, and a good one too. He was here, hiding from the humans so as not to give away Master's secret plan. Their forces were still small, but they would soon grow as he brought human males in to convert into slaves. The mine throbbed, his very blood attracted towards it.

"I'm a good slave," Arturus thought. He thought of his return, Derrick bringing him to their Master. Maybe Master would give him a collar, one made from one of the shiny metals that the humans collected for their weapons or coins. He could almost feel the weight of one as it snapped around his neck.

"Moo-uh!" Arturus bellowed, the weight of the phantom collar making him even more aroused. Keeping one hand pumping his pole, he moved away from the tree; his other arm caught his upper body, long enough that he almost looked like a normal bull should someone only be making a passing glance. His balls were really churning now, an explosive level of fluid collecting in his ducts, an excess dribbling from the end of his shaft.

Arturus bellowed again, mouth agape as his tongue hung over his broad, flat teeth. His glowing green eyes closed and rolled back into his head; his asshole clenched down on the imaginary cock he could almost feel fucking him like Master had done earlier with his tail. The hot fluids building up started to flow along the centre of his shaft, his massive body unable to contain any more.

Bellowing victoriously, Arturus came. His ejaculate sprayed everywhere, a long thick first blast of creamy white followed by the greener tinges of his new, true seed. It blasted out the last remnants of Arturus's humanity, which disappeared into the grass as his tail raised. His hand kept pumping, his body unable to stop until he could not stand it any more. Letting go, he allowed his cock to work on its own, standing for a while on all fours comfortably with his tail raised into the air.

Arturus's mind was clear and relaxed. All of the grey fog was gone. He was a simple beast that didn't worry about anything that he wasn't told to do. All that meant was that he needed to follow the orders of his Master. He snorted, pleasure washing over his body as his huge lungs gulped in the fresh, crisp air all around him. He stayed like that for some time, dropping his muzzle to the ground to sniff at his own seed that formed a thick pool underneath him.

Only travel at night, and stay in the shadows.

Eventually the euphoria passed, although Arturus still felt very good. He pushed up, raising onto his hooves, then stretched his arms into the sky. All of his huge, bulging muscles shifted under his black hide, a wave of strength flowing under his skin. Relaxing back down, he looked up at the sky. It wasn't going to be dark for some time, so he went back out to the field, dropping on all fours again and having a snack to recover some energy. The grass tasted fine: he wasn't eating for pleasure, as there were other things that filled his mind that he'd rather have in his mouth.

After grazing for a couple of hours, Arturus shifted upright again and looked along the human road. He wouldn't be able to travel along it, but his eyes were good and, more importantly, he could feel a gentle tug in his head. It was like the force that drew him towards the mines, only smaller but stronger. He had never been to the mine, Arturus remembered that; why would he, when the task of him and his Master was to catch human slaves to send to the mine, "processing" some of them beforehand.

Walking towards the source of the beacon, Arturus cut across fields. He walked slowly, as he was not in any rush with the sun in the air, but he didn't dawdle as he needed to find Derrick. Humans had poor eyesight at night, and it wouldn't do to let him flail around. Arturus imagined his Master gifting him with Derrick, the old human was wily and strong, and he thought Derrick would make an interesting diversion.

Derrick will be waiting for you, and will smuggle you to where I have set myself up.

The sun started to hang lower in the sky, turning Arturus's shadow into a larger, flatter version of himself. The closer he got to the human cities, the more careful he had to be; more of them were passing by, and Arturus knew that dropping to all fours while standing far away would not work once enough humans were around. His Master's beacon summoned him onwards, and he moved as far from the road as he could.

Darkness crept around as the sun dropped to the horizon. Arturus was getting close now; the human buildings were becoming more frequent, and his progress slowed. He sniffed, smelling their puny trails of musk, and avoiding them when he heard their gibbering talk. His eyes scanned around, peering out of the slits between his nearly-closed eyelids; Arturus knew they glowed, and that humans were dull and weak in many senses, but they had sharp eyes of their own.

As he hid in the last clump of bushes before the city walls, Arturus recognised one of the passing scents. He let out a short bellow, instinctively knowing that Derrick would know that it would be him and not some other bull. He peeked around, scanning, watching as one of the human shapes moving through the shadows pulled out, stepping towards him.

Derrick approached his hiding spot. "Wait here," he told Arturus. "I have a cart to hide you in. If you hear a noise, poke out your head and bellow like a bull. The guards will leave you alone if they think you're a bull."

If you do what I say, you will be greatly rewarded.

Arturus had done all that his Master had wanted, and he couldn't wait to have his reward.