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It was only sheer luck that saved Frankie, Chris, and James from the apocalypse. Nobody predicted it was coming, and when the government realized the bombs were on the way, it was too late; few had the time to seek shelter, if they weren't already in a sheltered location. These three, however, were already studying the effects of radiation on genetics, and as they worked with bare DNA, they did so in a bunker, perfectly sheltered from even background radiation.

For them, the apocalypse was hours later than it was for the rest of the world. In that little bunker, they toiled through the night, still trying to meet the deadline for their project as the rest of the world outside was reduced to irradiated dust and worse. Not only did millions die in the flash of an eye, but many of the survivors began to mutate, having no shelter from the radiation hacking through their own genetics, rearranging them into increasingly bizarre shapes.

That was, of course, what Frankie and his two collaborators had discovered too. The lethal effects of radiation had been known for ages, but since then, a new discovery had been made. Specific frequencies and specific doses could be utilized to induce half-controlled mutations in a host, rearranging them into new vital shapes rather than simply destroying.

They hadn't been the first to discover it, and what was happening outside of their perfectly sealed-off world deep beneath the university was proof of that. By the end of the night, maybe half of humanity remained; the other half were something else, now. Just as Frankie, Chris and James had recreated the events on the microscopic scale, stabilizing the radiation-damaged DNA into something valid_and _vital. Something that, they realized, would allow the host to continue living.

The first time any of them realized something was wrong was when they tried to call the professor supervising their work, and received no answer. Rather, they _couldn't_receive an answer; the phone line was entirely dead.

"That's odd," Frankie sighed. "I guess one of us has to go up."

The reason that_was such a big deal was because of how deep the bunker was. The stairs were practically _endless. A long, winding staircase - or in the case of emergency, a ladder that reached another end point - was the only way out.

"Not me," Chris grumbled. Despite having drank what felt like a dozen cups of coffee, he was starting to feel the tiredness setting. All-nighters weren't a merciful mistress.

"Not me, either," James quickly added. "Or maybe we'll just draw for it?"

It was an idea as good as any. They drew straws - or rather, test tubes, owing to the lack of straws in the bunker - and James drew the shortest one. Grumbling the entire way, he moved to slowly leave the main laboratory and make his way up those horrible stairs to see what was going on.

Then, as James and Chris were working on properly documenting their findings, they heard him rushing down at breakneck speed, nearly stumbling several times, the sound of his heavy footfalls echoing throughout the whole bunker.

"There's nothing left!" he yelled as he barged into the laboratory, a wild look of panic in his eyes. "Fucking nothing!"

"What are you saying?" Frankie asked.

"Someone bombed the goddamn university. And half the city! It's just rubble!"

"What the fuck are you on about?" Chris sighed. At first, he thought James was lying, pulling some kind of stupid prank, but the fear in his eyes looked real enough.

Suddenly, he didn't feel tired, and neither did Frankie. They'd have to see it for themselves, though.

"Do we have any gas masks? Or like... Geiger counters?" Frankie asked, rummaging through some of the lab's drawers until he found something. A cold war era Geiger counter, it looked like, which only needed its batteries replaced before the light would turn on. No display, of course. For how well-funded the university was - or had been, maybe - this was a bizarrely outdated relic of the past. But it'd work.

They left James to calm down in the little bunk room down there and made their own journey up the stairs. Normally, the stairs led to a shack on campus grounds, surrounded by fencing. Yet now, as they reached the surface, what greeted them was surreal, like something out of a movie. The shack, for one, was entirely gone. It wasn't nothing, but the entire university building had indeed been reduced to rubble, as if it'd been ground zero of a... yes, the Geiger counter ticked to life, and it ticked rapidly. A quick glance around the surroundings showed some more intact buildings further away, and a yellowish hue to the air, likely dust that still lingered.

Frankie and Chris knew enough about radiation that they immediately closed to hatch and descended back into the safety of the bunker, their hearts in their throats as anxieties surged.

"Did we get_nuked_ while we were working?" Frankie asked, as they made their way back down.

"You heard that fucking counter," Chris snarled. He'd already been frustrated, tired, and angry, and now all those emotions were bubbling to the surface. "We definitely got fucking nuked. Jesus, is it just this city or..."

"...or the entire country?" Frankie asked.

"Yes! Okay, priorities, right? If we got nuked, the radiation on the surface is gonna dissipate real quickly, right? There should be some rations down here, and then we can get the fuck out of dodge," Chris spoke, the plans coming out at a rapid pace. "But we'll probably have to gather... fuck, fuck, fuck," he yelled, kicking the stairwell railing hard enough to make it shake.

"Calm down, calm down," Frankie spoke. "If there are any rations we'll live off those until the fallout settles. Then we're going to explore the nearby stuff-"

They'd reached the bunker again, where James was frantically going through drawers in the adjacent rooms. Those rooms weren't even used for anything, the bunker had long since been repurposed into a laboratory, but they still had whatever supplies they'd once been stocked with.

"-and look for enough stuff to get us as far away from here as possible, right?" Frankie continued. He didn't feel calm, but if there was one thing that was important in a situation like this, it was avoiding panic.

They counted the rations that were in the bunker. No more than three days for three people. Frankie seemed to vaguely recall that the radiation levels would sink rapidly, though. 48 hours and it'd be one percent of what it had been? Of course, it'd stick for much longer in soil and things like metal, or so he thought. Frankie cursed himself for not remembering the details. The Internet was out, and the university library was, if not gone, at least in inaccessible ruins.

"T-there's that grocery store nearby at least?" James asked after a few hours of trying to calm down.

"Yeah, if it didn't get blown up. I was thinking the same. One of us would have to go, eventually," Chris replied. He had the demeanour of someone who hadn't quite fully grasped the extent of what he was witnessing, but maybe that was good. It'd give him time to process it.

"Isn't all the food going to be radioactive though?" Frankie asked.

"It s-shouldn't be," James replied. "I don't think it absorbs it like that. I mean it's not growing or anything... and they already irradiate some foods."

"Right, as long as we wash it well it should be okay. It's getting there that's gonna be hard," Chris continued. "At least we have this... Jesus, how old is this thing? Million year old Geiger counter..." he grumbled.

"I think it might literally be cold war era," Frankie replied. Then, he broke down into laughter. Nobody had really bothered to replace these supplies since those times, it seemed. Just in time for the actual nuclear apocalypse.

The three of them eventually settled for waiting two days and then sending out a scout. Straws were drawn again, and this time, Chris drew the shortest ones. He hadn't been expecting anything else, already having resigned himself to having the worst possible luck. What else would've caused a nuclear apocalypse in his lifetime?

At least it'd give him some time away from Frankie. While they got along on a professional level, he'd never exactly been on board with Frankie's homosexuality. It was always there like a small thorn in the back of his mind, bothering him. It was irrational, really, and Chris knew that, but every time he thought about Frankie - and possibly James - fucking, it threatened to make him dry heave. At least he could've gotten stuck in this bunker with some of the hot female students if it was going to happen anyway. But that was what having the worst possible luck dictated.

Granted, sex was the last thing on Frankie's and James' minds, at that very moment, but Chris wasn't thinking clearly. He was instinctively avoiding the two. An irrational reaction stress, perhaps, mingling with his homophobia. On some level, he knew he was being exactly that, irrational, but there was precious little he could do about it. The last thing he wanted was to see them kiss, or worse yet, fuck.

Twenty-four hours later, things were much the same. There was no word from the outside world, but that was to be expected. Chances were that nobody who knew they were in this bunker was even alive, still. Equally possible that nobody who knew the bunker even existed remained.

Topside, things were grim, though not as grim as the three of them were imagining. Many,many were dead, but the survivors had begun to mutate rather than die off, their bodies twisting into increasingly unnatural and exotic forms. Where any scientist would've expected only cancerous tumours, they were growing tails, fur, new sexual organs, radiation-damaged brains in many cases reverting to primal instincts, reducing them to a state more appropriate for bestial shapes. That was happening across the globe, everywhere the bombs had fallen, and yet, the unaffected areas knew nothing with the world's information-veins having been slashed open by the cataclysm.

No more Internet was, perhaps, the hardest part for Frankie to get used to. He was a scientist, and very quickly it became apparent how limited his physical brain was. He was smart, perhaps brilliant, but even a brilliant scientist's mind could only hold so many things at once. The Internet had been, to him, like a great memory bank, and a set of remote senses through which to behold the world. Now, all of that was gone, and he couldn't even remember which radioactive isotopes a nuclear blast would produce, nor how long each would last and where they'd be most likely to land as the fallout settled. What crops would be safe to eat? Which direction would they travel?

He knew nothing, and it was disconcerting.

James had recovered from his initial shock, at least, and was hard at work. He'd dug out all the tools he'd found in the shelter and sorted them. They had an axe, two knives, entirely too many utensils, two Geiger counters. Condoms, dated to the 1960s. A shovel. Plastic bags, and so on. None of it seemed immediately useful, but he was determined to not let any of it go to waste if he could think of even the most remote possible use for it.

The rations tasted of little but dust at this point, but at least they didn't seem to be spoiled. Dry, salted crackers formed the majority of their new diets. Some kind of dried meat - which Frankie seemed to recall was called pemmican - was the rest. The wet canned goods, they didn't dare to touch, afraid of botulism as they were.

Two days later, it was time for Chris to set off. He'd made a plan. He would make the shortest possible journey towards the grocery store right outside of the campus grounds, and gather whatever he could. The plastic bags that James had found would help with that.

Up the stairs he went, and then out. Outside, it was deathly quiet. No people, not even birds. Today, the air itself was still, which made every footstep sound ear-splittingly loud, and the Geiger counter's slow ticking like the tolling bells of doom. The radiation had gone down massively, of course. At least the laws of physics remained as they had always been. Chris had been half-worried that nothing would make sense anymore, but so far, it did. Bar for the rubble he was walking across.

The first dozen or so meters was rough terrain over crumbled buildings beneath the reddened skies, but soon he reached almost intact streets and buildings. It seemed like the bomb had fallen very near the university, or at least nearer to it than the city.

Chris stayed as far away from any solid structures as he could, for as long as he could, as every time he approached one, his little warning system went wild. The grocery store, once we reached it, seemed mostly intact bar for the windows having exploded inwards from the shockwave.

Before he could enter, he heard a strange wet smacking from a side street. As always, his gaze was drawn towards what he knew he'd rather not see, and he paid the price immediately. In the alley, two werewolves were fucking. _Werewolves._They were both obviously male given one was pounding into the other, grunting and whining, and the other had a massive red shaft, erect and eager, that bounced, spitting precum against the wall with each thrust.

This was it, Chris realized. He'd finally snapped. Either that, or werewolves existed now. Gay werewolves.

One of them turned its head to look at Chris and gave him a trembling come hither_with his claw-tipped finger. Chris took a few moments to react at all, with his mind struggling to take in what he was actually seeing, and even more trying to figure out if it was _real. Then, he quickly slipped past the alley, leaving the wolves to their carnal union. He heard a lustful howl only a few seconds later.

They had no interest in chasing him, right now, their lusts sated. There was no way he could avoid the radiation-induced changes forever, either way, and sooner or later he'd join willingly.

Cool it, Chris. Maybe everyone's a fucking gay werewolf. You focus on your task.

He had dropped his Geiger counter near the alleyway, and so he thought that the heavily irradiated grocery store was safe. It was anything but, and as he quickly filled his two bags with as much food he could carry, it was already slicing through his DNA, sparking the same kind of effects that'd turned the two he'd seen into lusty werewolves. By the time the bags were full, it was unavoidable. By the time he actually left the store - spending a few more minutes to eat as many chocolate bars as he could, suddenly feeling very hungry as his body demanded more nutrition - he was already changing. The very first change was something relatively innocent; his nose, growing damp and wet like a dog's.

Chris' face went pale when he saw his counter on the ground, next to that alleyway. Quickly, he snatched it up, the damage had already been done, and the device provided no warning this far from the store. He looked around. The wolves were gone, at least, though he could still smell their raw, primal sexuality, hanging in the air in thick, scented clouds. In the alley, there was only the wet, white proof of their mutual climax. But in that puddle, he saw something that caught his eye; a necklace of shimmering gold, with a gemstone of some kind. If there was somewhere that hadn't been bombed, he could tell it'd be worth a lot.

And so, Chris slipped into that alleyway, trying to not inhale too much of the musky scent of sex, and picked up the necklace, stuffing it into one of his pockets, still covered with cum. He saw no other trace of the wolves.

All the better. At least they'd not come after him. Chris began the journey back to the bunker, unaware of what was happening within him. The only thing he could notice was his mind growing increasingly fuzzy, but he chalked that down to stress. He'd not been exposed to any radiation, after all. Unless it'd been in the grocery store, but was unlikely, he'd been in there for such a short time. Many were the rationalizations of an anxious human mind.

Upon arriving at the bunker, he realized they'd made no plan for how he'd get back in. Panic began to sink in as he paced around the entrance, suddenly feeling as if he was being watched by every strange beast that'd appeared since the bombs fell. Werewolves, hyenas, he was imagining the worst. And no doubt they'd all be fully erect, mindlessly horny beasts, wanting to rut him like a bitch in heat.

Chris felt an eerie twinge of arousal at that thought, but he barely noticed that with how much he was panicking. He banged on the bunker hatch, hoping that his friends would hear him eventually, before someone - some_thing_ - else did and took advantage of it, pinning him down and ...

The hatch opened and he practically jumped inside, only barely avoiding hitting Frankie on the way down.

"What happened? You look terrified," Frankie exclaimed. Chris was pale, sweat running down his forehead and nose.

"People have fucking mutated," Chris mumbled. "Mutated. Like there's, fucking werewolves."

Frankie was aware of no such thing being scientifically possible. But Chris seemed like he was, at least, certain that he'd seen something like what he described.

"Did you get the food at least?" Frankie asked. They'd discuss this later. Go through if it was at all possible.

"Yeah, I did. Look at the bags. But like, what the fuck are we going to do? There are _werewolves_out there," Chris yelled.

"Calm down, we'll think about it, right? We'll sneak out and... avoid them. Until we're a good distance away," Frankie replied, as the two of them made their way back down that massive stairway.

Within Chris, his damaged genetics were already having an impact on his form, recombining into something new and even more vital than the original configurations. The next time he moved, it was with a swaying gait, halfway between feminine and animalistic. His nose grew wetter yet. Neither he nor his friends - or coworkers, as he thought of them - noticed any of those changes. There were more important things to focus on than how Chris moved, after all, and with the Geiger counter, there was no chance he'd been exposed to too much radioactivity.

Werewolves. Big, horny werewolves. Chris couldn't stop thinking about them. Those enormous angry red cocks. Their haunches, flexing and shuddering as they rutted. He justified it all to himself as picturing his enemy, in case they ever had to fight one. Between bouts of anxiety, he couldn't focus on any given aspects of his hazy, shivering thoughts, though.

The three ate some of the food after checking it very carefully with their old Geiger counter. It wasn't much above background levels, and so, each one ate. Indeed, it wasn't the food that they should've been worried about.

That night, when each went to bed in the common bunkroom, the changes coursing through Chris' body accelerated further. A strange scent began to slowly emanate from him, a musky, pheromone-laden scent, like that of an animal in rut. While not nearly as potent as the radiation that gave birth to it, that scent too was transformative, tempting the mind itself to reshape the body.

And in his pocket, the heavily irradiated pendant that he'd already forgotten about only sped it up, all of the harmful rays it emitted quickly absorbed by his body instead.

The next day, all three had suffered some changes, though none more so than Chris. He was shrinking, his body growing more hairy and his skin taking on a pale pink appearance. And his cock, on the few occasions he had a chance to see it, was growing longer and more sensitive, a swelling slowly forming at the very base of it. He didn't mention that, even as he realized he'd clearly been affected by the radiation outside. Something harder to change was how horny he'd began to feel, almost overnight, and increasing with each passing hour. That swollen shaft was pressing eagerly against the inside of his pants, twitching and throbbing eagerly as he looked at his friends and their firm, masculine bodies, even though his conscious mind still found the thought of sex with other males disgusting.

It was disconcerting. But as long as he didn't go outside for a while, he'd be fine, Chris reasoned. He didn't feel unhealthy, just different.

James, meanwhile, who slept closest to Chris - who had strictly refused to sleep next to Frankie - had been the second most affected by that element of corruption Chris had brought into their "safe" bunker. Along his skin, though hidden by his clothes, were stripes, his body covered in a thin layer of fuzz in black and white. The biggest change wasn't that, though; it was that he felt stronger_and _less worried with each passing day. Maybe this wasn't quite the cataclysm they'd imagined it being. He was, at least, growing less worried about it, his confidence swelling along with his muscles.

The changes were the slowest for Frankie. All he noticed was that his feet felt a little more erogenous, and his nails a little sharper, but he could chalk both of those down to simply being isolated and growing desperate, and a lack of a manicure. He knew all too well how easily the human mind turned to thoughts of sex and any desperate intimacy in times of crisis.

They decided to not leave just yet, together. They'd let the radiation dissipate for a little longer. It no longer felt as pressing or as anxiety-inducing. After all, the three men felt safe here.

The next night, Chris couldn't keep his hands off his cock. He excused himself to visit the bathroom, and in there, he admired himself, staring at just how beautiful his cock was becoming. Thick, much longer than it had been, throbbing with masculine energy. And increasingly, shaped like that of a dog. It's not gay when it's just me, he told himself, clasping his fingers around his cock. Though, ooh, fuck yeah. Maybe Frankie and James look like this too. That thought made his shaft jump to full hardness, and his mind was promptly _flooded_with thoughts of grinding against them with feverish need, getting them just as hard as he was. Sinking his cock into them, and letting them do the same to him.

Fuck, that's gross. Why is it turning me on so much? Chris thought, but he was already stroking himself frantically, enjoying even the hardness of his shaft against his palm. He did his best to think of curvaceous women, but with each jolt of breath-taking pleasure, fantasies of excited men with even more excited cocks crept into his minds. Forming a line to get fucked by him, to fuck him, violating his virgin rump and leaving him dripping with their seed. And oh god, he'd moan, he'd let them, he'd beg for it, offering his cum-soaked ass to a whole fucking queue of men-

-he came in thick, messy spurts of white, far more than he'd usually cum, and that pleasure shook lose more of the transformations, making them reverberate through his body as his muzzle began to stretch out into something more animalistic with each beat of his heart. He caught as much of his steaming hot spilled seed as he could with a hand and promptly licked it up. Hiding the evidence, he justified it, but found himself savouring the taste nonetheless.

Chris didn't know what to do. In the mirror, he watched as he continued changing. Into a dog. A were-dog. A poodle, he realized, masculine but slender and_sexy._ His tongue lolled out from the side of his growing muzzle.

Luckily for Chris, and unluckily for this friends, his musk seemed to have a stupefying, soothing effect on the others. They didn't notice him, much less pay attention to him. It was the same with James, who was transforming more and more, seemingly unaware of it until the changes began to overtake his head, sweeping through him and leaving him more and more bestial.

That left Frankie as the odd one out. All that's changed on him was a slight sharpening of his nails and teeth, and of course, those far too sensitive feet. Had he paid attention, he'd have noticed that his hands were flaking, too, growing rougher almost to the point of scales, but it was difficult to pay any attention, somehow. Instead, even as his friends changed so fundamentally, he ended up lying in bed and daydreaming of the day they'd leave, rather than _preparing_for it.

Chris's need was growing increasingly overwhelming. At first, he was determined to fight it - he didn't want to be gay, after all - but slowly his senses were warping, his cock doing more and more of the thinking. Even masturbating didn't help, as each time he came he was ready to go again only a few minutes later, his body spending colossal amounts of energy on refilling his heavy testicles with seed.

And over that last day, the mental changes took hold, fully. At first, he could no longer get off to fantasies about women. Then, he no longer wanted to, fantasizing only of muscular, masculine bodies pressed against his slender, canine body as they pounded their seed into him. He was gay. He'd always been gay. It was, in a way, a wonderfully natural, liberating realization. And so, between moments of greedily groping each other, Chris and James made a plan to bring Frankie up to speed as well. After all, it wasn't fair that he was the only one not granted a new, sexy form. Oh sure, he'd resist at first, but it was, really, for his own good.

The apocalypse wasn't the end of the world. It was the beginning of something new and beautiful, of soaring lusts freely expressed with everyone they met.

There was nowhere to run in the small bunker. Not that Frankie ever had the chance; he'd decided to sleep for that one night longer, observing what'd happened to his friends but not expecting them to suddenly start acting like lust-starved beasts. Least of all Chris, who he knew was straight. Thus he was surprised when awakened by someone first slamming the door shut, and then pouncing on top of him, pinning his still sleep-dazed form against the bed.

This was Chris, but Frankie only knew that because he'd seen him change. He looked nothing like the stocky, tall, and grumpy Chris that he'd know. Rather, with a pair of surprisingly strong arms pinning him down, Frankie found himself looking at what most closely resembled a humanoid poodle, who spoke with a high-pitched, effeminate voice. Despite the bizarreness of the sight, he was still far stronger than the human Frankie, and his massive cock bounced and throbbed with anticipation.

Chris had, evidently, gone off the deep end and surrendered to the mutations warping his mind, and as much as Frankie tried to squirm and push the were-dog off, he couldn't move an inch, at most managing to ineffectively kick his legs.

All the while, that heady scent of primal masculinity was filling his lungs with each breath.

"Sorry, Frankie, I need to fuck you," Chris growled, equal parts playful and domineering. "But mhm, you'd be way too tight for this big boy," he continued. His blunt claws dug into Frankie's shoulders, and already his hips were moving, bucking and thrusting as he grinded his massive, dripping shaft against Frankie's belly.

Someone else entered the room. By process of elimination, this then was James, but he was even less recognizable, so tall that he barely fit through the doorway. His motions were feline and predatory in nature, his muscles bristling with that wild, mutated strength. A tiger, with a cock even bigger than the dog's. Longer than a foot, easily, and he began to openly stroke it, chuffing with pleasure as he watched Chris grind against his friend, pointing that yawning cumslit at the tip towards him in a very threatening way.

Yet, Frankie couldn't look away as a dribble of precum oozed from that slit, drooling down his friend's length. It didn't even look human, but rather red and tapered, with little nubs covering the length of it. Briefly, Frankie wondered how it'd feel inside him. Not that it'd ever fit, as he was.

"Oh, I know what we can do," Chris giggled. "I got this pretty necklace, I think it helped me get all sexy."

He bucked against Frankie's prone form again, digging in his pocket for that necklace. It was still covered with dried cum.

"This cute little thing should help you get adjusted," he added, twirling it around a finger before pressing the oddly warm metal right against Frankie's cock, hoping that the radiation would turn him into an even more submissive cockslut of a beast. Or maybe a dominant one. Chris didn't much care; at this point, he just wanted cock. Lots and lots of hard, throbbing cock, on him, in his mouth, under his tail.

To his delight, Frankie let out a deep groan as his cock began to blacken and swell with the irradiated necklace pressed against it. Not like necrotizing tissue; no, rather life and lust were practically shooting through it as his base thickened to something wrist-thick that slowly grew along the length and towards the glans, well-defined veins forming along the surface to support the new amount of blood it'd take to make that soon-gargantuan shaft erect. Not only one shaft, but two. Chris drooled as he watched Frankie's member slowly divide into two, almost as long members that were beginning to look almost equine.

A good fucking by a stallion was exactly what he needed, and he leaned down to run his broad canine tongue over that wonderfully firm, slick masculinity, pressing his nose against it and inhaling the increasingly sexual, musky aroma.

But he couldn't wait any longer. His own cock was practically begging for attention too, and he'd had his eyes on Frankie's shapely rump from the moment he'd first began to transform. Now, he'd finally get to feel that tight ring of muscle squeeze and clench around him. Maybe the pendant could help with that too.

Together, Chris and James seized Frank and rolled him over, the tiger effortlessly hoisting him up and propping all the spare pillows they could find under his stomach to leave his ass high up in the air, his little pucker fully exposed. There was nothing Frankie could do; with how amazing his engorged cocks were feeling, he was beginning to want this.

Chris moved the pendant, briefly brushing it over his friend's stomach before moving to his ass. The effects on the latter were readily apparent, his muscles both growing and tightening, bones creaking as his hips began to widen to support his soon-to-be stature. Wider hips meant he'd be able to take more, too.

What only Frankie noticed was how the eerie heat of the necklace seemed to stick to his belly, and only moments later, there was a horrid, brief cramping that felt like eels in his stomach, squirming as old organs rearranged and new ones developed, only barely fitting inside him as his body as a whole grew larger. An empty sensation, that he'd never felt before, immediately followed by a desire to get filled, like...

He let out a painted groan as bones began to snap all throughout his body, some critical level of rearranged DNA apparently having been reached. Frankie groaned, and he wasn't even sure if it was with pain or pleasure; each crack of his bones sent a jarring sensation down his spine, his vision blanking out for a brief moment as if struck by electricity. Yet, there was a fiery lust to it, a shuddering waves of pleasure accompanying each excruciating change.

He was still squirming. Half to get away, and half thrusting his upturned ass towards that sexy, horny poodle, that emptiness inside him demanding to be filled. He didn't know it then, but that commandeering voice was his new womb, yearning to be fertilized, and the effeminate poodle was more than willing to give him that sticky, warm, and blissful gift of maternity, if in a strange, mutated fashion.

_ _"Mm-hmm," Chris cooed in his melodic, feminine voice. "Beg for it. I want to hear how much you need my sexy cock. You're already grinding on me so I bet you need it pretty badly. A warm load of cum for your cute butt."

He was almost nothing like the Chris that Frankie had known, surly and vaguely homophobic. And it turned Frankie on in a rather bizarre way. Getting mounted and bred by someone so much smaller than him. And so, he begged, his voice a growling hiss of lust. Already, his body was beginning to look less - or perhaps more - than human, firm and sleek musculature swelling up along each limb, patterned in black and white. In particular, it was his legs, gaining a sinewy look of strength as fur covered most of them. Like a kangaroo's legs.

"Aren't you getting all sexy? Such a good boy," Chris beamed, positioning his oversized shaft snug against Frankie's clenching pucker, and thrusting inwards, hard.

Frankie groaned again as the head slipped into him. He had been fucked before, but there was a certain lusty naughtiness to know he was the first male that cock had ever claimed. Then, a loud moan slipped form his lips as well as in addition to the immense stretching, he felt someone take a hold of his feet.

James' strong fingers pressed against all those transformation-sore muscles, rubbing and kneading, digging into every tender spot, the sensation so exquisite that it made Frankie see stars. His body responded with another eager clench around Chris' pulsating shaft, which was just beginning to rut into him with heavy thrusts.

As that cock pounded against his prostate and the rough but sensual footrubs pushed him towards a soaring climax, other lusty fantasies were already filling Frankie's head. He'd pay them back for this with a good rutting. Already he was bigger than the gay poodle rutting into him - though it felt far too amazing to actually make him stop, Frankie would let him seed him fully - and the moment he was done he'd bowl him over and fuck a plentiful load of cum into him in turn. And then, into the tiger as well. Maybe both at once. The thought alone made his stretched, puffy pucker clench around the poodle's slowly inflating knot.

But before he did that, he wanted to feel him throb.

At some point Chris had put the necklace around his neck where it belonged, and the transformation had only sped up further. Along his neck, a hood was forming. A scaly, cobra-like hood that flared with lust, his moans sounding increasingly like pleasured hissing along with coughing barks of desire. He was too far gone to even know what he was becoming, but it was more than one thing, and every moment felt wonderful. The long, upturned ears and the muscular legs had at least led Chris to a conclusion.

"Yeah, I'm gonna fill you up, you weird mutant kangaroo boy," Chris cooed. "Ready for your first big load of doggy cum?" he giggled, between grunts and moans.

Frankie was, but just then, he felt the tiger's raspy feline tongue run along his foot, all the way from his curling, splaying toes to the top of his heel, and with how incredibly sensitive his feet had gotten, that was enough to push him over the edge. Instead of words, all that came out from his new muzzle was a braying cry of ecstasy. Yet that pleasure was immediately shattered by another wave of changes, and he failed to actually reach that messy climax; a tail. A long, snaking tail erupting from his back, immediately coiling around Chris' body like an amorous serpent. Each inch it grew tugged on his very spine, leaving Frankie alternatingly numb and oversensitive. Along with it, one final transformation; his balls suddenly felt bloated. It was the kind of ache only males could know, but it only lasted a brief moment.

"Ooh, double the balls, too," he heard Chris moan. "Bet you're gonna cum like a horse. But first, here's your own hot cum injection..."

Double the-

He felt the dog's shaft throb inside him, throb and buck and flex as it strained against his inner walls, immediately followed by a surge of wet heat inside him. It didn't take a genius to figure out what was happening; he was being seeded, inseminated. Yet what he didn't know was that when his body was given that first intoxicating sip of virile cum, it was swimming deeper into him, into a womb he didn't know existed. Soon, his belly would swell, as masculine as he was, as the inevitable happened. The same thing that always happened when a receptive egg was bathed in impossibly potent seed.

And yet, Frankie still hadn't cum.

By the time Chris was spent, with all of the newly minted dog's cum safely deposited inside Frankie's body, he was aching for release. James, next to him, stroking his feline shaft seemed like a fine target to take out that need on.

James was clearly hoping to be top of him, next. Already, by the time Chris pulled out of Frankie's well-seeded ass, James was moving to sink his cock into that cummy mess, but that was when Frankie's mind finally snapped under the pressure of lust and the transformation. With a hissing roar, he leapt from the bed and onto James.

The tiger was bigger than him, but not stronger, nor did he have those predatory instincts.

"You're mine," Frankie growled, pressing the massive tiger onto the floor. "Mine."

His clawed hands slipped down James' muscular chest and twisted one pair of nipples, then another. Roughly. The tiger had three pairs of them, thick but masculine, and pinching them made the big cat squirm, an expression of pure desire dawning on his face.

"And you," Frankie added, gesturing at Chris. "You had your fun. Worship my fucking feet while I fuck him and get ready for your turn."

There was no way the dog could resist his commanding voice, deep and throaty. He sunk to his knees immediately, that satisfied smirk of having just pumped his cum into the mutated Frankie's body fading from his face.

"Fuckin' take it," Frankie growled, thrusting into James. It was only the size different that allowed the tiger to take his massive girth without tearing. Instead, James yowled like a cat in heat as that thickness spread him wide open. It wasn't the first time he'd been fucked, or even the first time Frankie had fucked him, but it was the first time he was fucked by someone hung like a horse.

"You know, I'm going to fuck you until you grow a pussy," Frankie snarled, thrusting heavily. "And then I'm going to breed it. That's what you need. The both of you!"

He thrust deeper still. James let out a dissolute moan as Frankie hilted himself in that tight heat, his constantly leaking precum all the lubrication they needed.

Yet he had two cocks. The other one was also throbbing for attention. In the spur of the moment, he grabbed Chris from where was, massaging his scaly paws, and threw him on top of the tiger.

"Better yet I'll do it to you both at once," Frankie commanded, and Chris obediently squirmed onto his back with his legs spread wide, the tiger's massive bulk easily supporting his smaller, effeminate form.

Chris was smaller. Him, Frankie afforded the little mercy of swiping up some of the cum oozing from his well-bred ass, and smearing it into the dog's puckered little hole, before he pressed his second shared shaft against it.

As he slipped inside, it was almost too much. Twice the clutching, heated bliss around his cocks was enough to shatter a lesser mind. Frankie's claws dug into James' hips and he grunted as he began fucking the both of them at once. His own mind was crackling under that heated pleasure too, but what shone through the cracks wasn't something mad, but rather raw, carnal, and bestial.

The rutting was quickly fuelling the transformative fires further, from where they'd previous ebbed. James and Chris were like clay in Frankie's arms, vessels for his growing dominant urges to reshape into perfection. And right now, what he wanted was more pleasure.

In unison, the dog and tiger shuddered as they began to shift. Each felt the other tremble as a heat began to build inside them, their bodies strangely responding to what Frankie was doing to them. It seemed that was what the radiation had done; shattered their genetics enough to be malleable, in a constant state of change, adapting and surviving. Or as it was this very moment, adapting to provide more pleasure for their wonderful, growling alpha.

In spite of all the ways their flesh had already warped, the wet emptiness forming within them was the strangest of those sensations. A feeling of something utterly pleasurable and yet agonizing growing between their legs. A soaked, shivering _splitting,_a sensation of stretching wide. Just as Frankie had imagined it, two needy pussies were forming behind the pair's balls. Picture-perfect bestial _cunts._The scent of their heat alone was enough to fill Frankie's mind with burning desire.

On the next thrust, he seamlessly pulled out of their asses and into those plump, new feminine sexes. The radiation would take care of any bacteria. Not that their gushing wetness would allow anything to stay inside them, bar for maybe cum.

If their asses had felt good, the full-shaft massaging their pussies provided was heavenly. It wasn't long before Frankie was thrusting at a feverish pace, reduced to a purely feral state of mind, one in which nothing existed except the sweet caress of the bodies he was so hard at work breeding. Each clench, each tug made him growl, Chris' spilled seed drooling down his legs like a sensual caress.

He was going to breed them. Just as Chris had bred him, which he hadn't even realized yet. Their bellies would swell with his offspring. He _needed_to claim their mutated wombs.

That, Frankie did. He hilted himself inside both Chris and James at once and let himself go. His seed, thick and plentiful erupted into their wanting bodies. Each pulse of his cocks felt blissful, so base and primal, and that virile accomplishment gave him the brief moment of clarity he needed. This cataclysm wasn't the end of the world. It was a new beginning. A new, wonderful beginning for a new breed of life.

He collapsed on top of his two lovers, and they all in turn fell onto the floor, panting with exertion, into a puddle of cum that Frankie had never even realized was forming. He wasn't sure when Chris and James had reached their peaks, but they'd spilled a lot of their cum, on top of each other and onto the floor. Not that Frankie minded the mess, now. He didn't mind anything in that sweet, passing moment of empty-headed bliss.

The world seemed a lot lighter, then. The radiation wasn't a problem. It was a gift. One he already longed to share. But there were, of course, surprises on the way, in the form of three new mutated lives slowly growing within each of them.