FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Frankie looked at himself in the mirror. His eyes were bloodshot, with dark rings around them. His hair wasn't even combed, with how he'd had to peel himself out of bed to make it to the laboratory this morning. He was tired. Very, very tired. The last weeks before graduation were a sprint, and he preferred taking his time while studying. Not only that; his supervisor had called him in even earlier than usual today, citing an unusual find that he figured would be great for Frankie's studies.

It was waiting for him in the main room of the lab, in an airtight bag, and it managed to smell terrible. No, couldn't be, it was just his imagination, or maybe the previous bugs he'd sliced open. Luckily, he had a mask to wear for the actual dissection. Oh yes. It'd be the last of the parasites he had to dissect for this thesis, and this one was actually exciting; something that nobody had seen before, that seemingly wasn't documented in any biology books. It looked something like a leech, but rather than having the typical mouth, it appeared to have none at all. Rather, the thing was covered in thin filaments.

Frankie's supervisor said it probably clung to its host by binding those filaments with their flesh, but where and how he couldn't even speculate on. Ah well, in the grand scheme of things, it wasn't that bad. Frankie doubted it'd look any worse than the classic tapeworm, or- he retched. Oh, getting up this early for dissections really wasn't a good idea. He'd have to make damn sure he didn't accidentally fall asleep with his face in worm guts.

He splashed some cold water onto his face, accidentally wetting his black hair, as well as the glasses he'd forgotten to take off. Wake the hell up, Frankie boy. Vamos. He shook his head and left the bathroom.

There it was, on the table where he'd left it. Frankie dutifully put on his visor - always important for dissections - prepared a scalpel, some pins for holding the thing in place, pulled on a pair of those rubber gloves that always left his hands itchy, and then it was, as they said, go time. He turned the ventilation on full blast, just in case this one was as aromatic as the others he'd analysed and catalogued.

Okay, deep breaths. He opened the bag - marked with a biohazard label, as if he was handling deadly viruses or something - and dumped its contents onto the operating table. Beyond the immediate grossness of an elongated, black thing that looked equal parts like a worm, a slug, and a leech, it was actually a fascinating specimen. The surface of its smooth skin was indeed covered in little tendrils, with no visible mouth.

"Specimen 564-23, unknown species," Frankie spoke, barely remembering to flick on his voice recorder. "Appears to be an internal parasite of some sort. Only apparent way of ingesting nutrients is through tendrils or filaments along the length of its body. Hypothesis: the tendrils bind with either blood vessels or nerves- FUCK!"

He stumbled backwards as the worm suddenly leapt at his face, thankfully blocked by the visor. It slid down the smooth surface as Frankie fell over his chair, and onto the floor with a resounding thud.

"Specimen is NOT DEAD," he groaned, the professional attitude of years of studies still coming through despite the pain shooting up his back. Luckily, he was pretty well protected. "Appears to prefer entry through mouth or possibly nostrils- gh!"

It slipped off the visor and down through the collar of his shirt, which he'd forgotten to button in the morning rush. Now that professionalism suddenly crumbled as he felt the disgusting thing crawl down his chest and stomach, and Frankie flailed in a panic, tearing off his shirt just in time to see the parasite crawl down the waist of his pants.

Fuck fuck FUCK. "S-SECONDARY POINT OF ENTRY APPEARS TO BE-" he yelled, his fingers feeling stiff and unwieldy as he struggled to undo first his belt, and then the damn button too. Being found naked in the lab felt like a distant worry compared to what he suspected the parasite was trying to do. Just in time for him to push his pants down to his knees, he felt it wriggle into his underwear, and up along his limp manhood. A sudden jolt of pleasure shot through him as it reached his glans and squeezed over them wetly, and Frankie's knees buckled. His boxers caught on his suddenly forming erection as he feverishly tried to tear them off, and then, another overwhelming, pain-tinged surge of warm, hazy pleasure nearly sent him into paroxysms as the worm stuck its "head" into his cock, stretching the opening uncomfortably wide.

Then, it began to wriggle its way into him. Frankie managed to get his underwear off just in time to see the lashing tail disappear into him. He tried pinching his urethra to block it from getting deeper, and for a moment he was successful, holding the parasite in place, but then, it started to feel strangely good. Really good, in fact. His cock throbbed eagerly, and he felt more relaxed by the moment, the panic fading into anxiety, and then something distant that felt difficult to worry about. His fingers slackened, and in a heartbeat, the parasite squirmed so deep into him that he could no longer do anything about it. A few more moments, and a pleasant pressure was building around his prostate.

"W-what the hell is h-happening," Frankie groaned out loud, his hips suddenly bucking upwards as that pleasurable thrumming intensified. The parasite was pacifying him, he could tell that much, with some kind of calming chemical, maybe even an aphrodisiac, but why was it massaging him like that.

Nnngh. His body stiffened, cock so painfully hard he was afraid it might burst. Frankie moaned as he felt the unmistakable surge of an impending orgasm, but he was helpless to fight it, crying out loud as his cum erupted from his yawning cockslit and splattered all over his thankfully bare chest, even reaching his mouth. Unthinkingly, he licked up the hot, sticky seed where it landed, bucking his hips up in time with each orgasmic spurt.

Okay. What do I do now? There was a pretty clear list of priorities. First of all, Frankie felt he needed some more rest. He felt considerably more relaxed than alarmed, his head pleasantly empty for the moment. Oh, sure, there was a parasite somewhere inside his balls or prostate, but how much could that really do? It wasn't registering as something to worry about, not immediately so. Maybe eventually he should have it removed.

All those thoughts were, of course, entirely because of the calming chemicals the worm kept pumping into his bloodstream. It needed time to bind to his nerves, but it wasn't in great shape, having been starved inside of the sample bag for several days. As long as it could keep Frankie from worrying about it until it was too late, it'd be fine. And that meant distracting him. The two things that its genetic memory told it were most efficient for this species were rest and lust.

Frankie got dressed. He had a constant nagging feeling that he was forgetting something. It wasn't the parasite, threatening to permanently become a part of him, influencing his thoughts. Or was it? Was there something he needed to do about it? It was almost maddening, the way his thoughts kept slipping away from him, bar from a constant background anxiety. The feeling of definitely needing to do something.

Maybe I just need a bit more sleep, he thought. Yeah. That's probably it. Just flop down in bed and...

Even his thoughts trailed off. Frankie cleaned up the lab as best as he could, writing down what he discovered about the parasite, not bothering the add the detail that it'd crawled into his body. That wasn't important, it was what all parasites did. Facts already known. The interesting part that'd let him graduate with honours was that it appeared to be full of psychoactive chemicals, ones that made the host feel good enough that they simply didn't care to do anything about it.

How did he know that, again? The parasite was inside him, he knew that much. And he was feeling good and not worrying about it. If the parasite succeeded in keeping its host relaxed and calm, it'd be become a permanent addition, if those tendrils were anything to go by. Then, it'd probably be too late to do anything about it without seriously invasive surgery. He knew all of those things. Yet, those thoughts simply wouldn't join into anything coherent. Yeah. Sleep.

In a near trance-like state he made his way back home. Luckily, it was a short walk from the lab, being that he lived on campus. Outside, he ran into Andrew - his long-time friend and roommate - and exchanged a few words that he couldn't remember only seconds afterwards. Something about meeting up, and his friend observing that he definitely needed more sleep, he thought, and that much Frankie could definitely agree on. As he finally collapsed into bed for a well-deserved nap, his body was flooded with hormones again, rewarding him for following those base urges rather than any dangerous, logical thoughts, and he was asleep before he even rested his head on the pillow.

He was on an operating table. They'd found him, but none had told him what exactly was wrong with him. Rather, the faceless scientists were talking about how he needed to be dissected, because he was sick. Very sick. Too sick to possibly recover. Besides, it was no great loss. They'd slice him open and see what made him tick, cataloguing his DNA and the functions of every pulsating organ. This was how things were supposed to work.

Frankie watched as the head scientist - a Hispanic man with black hair, a stocky frame - prepared a scalpel, placing it on the table. A scalpel, and a series of sharp spikes that he'd stick through him to make sure his skin stayed off when they peeled it away. He had a visor covering his featureless face, but Frankie knew he was looking at him only as an object to study, not a living being. He wasn't complete without a host, after all.

They thought he was dead already. The sickness had already killed him, he realized. He was dead, wasn't he? He couldn't move, and his skin wet and clammy. Black, even. He had to be dead. Yet his thoughts still flowed, his thick skin still undulated. They hadn't secured him, because they thought him dead.

As the panic rose, it reawakened his dormant muscles. A sharp intake of breath. Life-giving oxygen flooded his lungs. He sprung from the operating table and slammed into the scientist.

Frankie saw himself in the reflection on his visor. His skin was covered with short, black tendrils, covering every inch of his glistening, black form. Each stretched towards the scientist's cock, like flowers turning towards the sun. He knew what he had to do.

He awoke with a choked scream. Jesus. It took him several moments to remember that he wasn't a faceless worm. Right, yes. Naps always gave him the worst nightmares, and the fact that it was dark outside when he woke up was disorienting, at best. Still, he felt oddly energetic, and not only because of the shivering remains of a nightmare lingering in his mind. Better than energetic, in fact. Revitalized enough to continue his thesis project. There was something else he needed to do, first, but it took his sluggish mind a few more minutes to remember what that was. Oh, yes. He ground his erect shaft against the mattress, feeling more precum smear over the already wet cotton. That was what he needed to take care of. Actually getting enough rest had left him incredibly turned on.

He glanced at the alarm clock on his nightstand. It wasn't so late that the student bar would've closed yet. Frankie wasn't normally the type of man who'd go out seeking one night stands and casual hookups, but maybe, just this once, he deserved it. After all, he'd be graduating soon, and his body was thrumming with a virile, potent arousal. His cock was practically _begging_to sink into some eager partner, throbbing at the mere thought. He wasn't normally anywhere this horny, though, and he recognized that as a definitive problem

The more responsible part of him said it was a bad idea, that he'd probably do well to get the parasite removed first, and he might've_done that, if it wasn't for the fact that it was way too late for any clinic to be open. And he was horny _now. Would it be so wrong to just enjoy the college life for a few weeks before he closed this chapter of his life.

His cock did the thinking for him. Rather, the parasite manipulating his hormone levels did, but Frankie couldn't know that. Such parasites didn't even exist. Quickly, Frankie got dressed and headed out, already shivering with excitement.

The bar was, to his dismay, mostly empty. It was really more of a social hangout than a party place, except perhaps on Fridays. The quiet kind of bar where students could sit down and study with a pint of beer or a glass of reasonably priced wine. Frankie did remember, though, that he'd heard about it being a popular "cruising" spot for both gay students and men from nearby homes. That'd never been interesting to him before - he really wasn't enough of a slut for it - but suddenly he felt compelled to give it a try.

It didn't take too long before he'd managed to chat someone up. A man a couple of years younger than him. Frankie didn't pay much attention to anything else about his partner for the night. Some average gay student who was entirely too happy to get fucked. The moment they got home, Frankie had him pinned against a wall, hand slipping down his lover's pants to squeeze that growing bulge in his underwear. Both their cocks were hard and eager by the time their clothes came off. It was terrifying, but also exhilarating.

This isn't me. What am I doing? He almost felt like a spectator to his own actions, except for the arousal. No, he was in control, it was just that none of the decisions he was making seemed like things he'd normally do. The Frankie he remembered wouldn't fish out a stranger's cock and sink to his knees to suck it until he was drooling precum into his mouth. Nor would that Frankie pick said stranger up and toss him over the bed, ass up, as he lubed himself and then sunk inside, rough and raw, a condom never even coming to mind.

It wasn't the kind of behaviour he expected from himself. But god, did the stranger's ass feel fantastic around his cock, squeezing and milking as he pounded into him. It felt almost purposeful, like there was something he was trying to do. Maybe it's the parasite, getting me ready to infest others, he thought, groaning happily at the feel of his lover's tight pucker clenching even harder around his glans as he almost pulled out, only to sink in again with a wet, well-lubricated squelch. It couldn't be, Frankie told himself, no parasite worked like that. But the fantasy was driving him absolutely wild, to the point his entire body was trembling with lust as he ground as deep into the other man's ass as he possibly could.

He imagined how his cock would bulge as one of the parasites crawled through it, helped by the throbs and the cum spurting through the shaft. How much pleasure it'd reward him with just as it was deposited into a new host, ready to turn them into a horny slut, too. Why was the thought turning him on so much? Far more so than the squirming and eventual orgasm of his lover beneath him, as he moaned loudly, thrusting his ass back against Frankie's cock feverishly and begging him to put a parasite into him, too- no, begging for cum.

Frankie groaned as he finally erupted, burying his cock deep, deep inside his lover as his cum painted his insides, filling every nook and crevice with thick, white heat. Nothing more than cum, at least not yet. His new passenger wasn't ready. It would be, soon.

It'd already begun to bond with his body, feeding on his lust more than anything, while stoking it further. More of a symbiote than a parasite, really. An invasive one, yes, but the things it could grant its host were seen as a blessing in many places far from this one. It would never take control of the host, but merely improve them.

Frankie rolled off his lover, leaving his ass gaping and drooling with thick, sticky cum, and then fell asleep then and there, feeling both too exhausted and too good to fight the lure of sleep.

Another dream. In this one, he was human again. Almost. Human, except unnaturally elongated and narrow, like a vessel waiting to be filled, or a shadow cast by the setting sun. An outline, gaunt and empty, barely skin and bones. Slowly, though, he was changing, and his dreaming mind watched it all from a detached, impartial point of view. Frankie watched himself squirm with pleasure as his muscles grew to match his frame, swelling with raw strength. He continued watching, observing every twitch of muscle and sinew, the strange pulsations of fat being rearranged, into what seemed like breasts, heavy and feminine in contrast to the rest of his body. To Frankie, the dreamer, it was a bizarre sight, watching Frankie, the dream, grow increasingly different to himself. Absentmindedly he wondered how it'd feel, having tits like that, tracing a finger over his own chest.

Suddenly, his dream-self clutched at his stomach, doubling over as if in pain, and then falling over backwards, groaning. Anxiety set in, quickly shifting to panic. The flesh between his legs swelled and then split open, forming an unmistakably female slit behind his swollen balls-

-and the dream shattered as his alarm rang. Frankie woke up with a gnawing sense of anxiety. He felt almost hungover. Had he really- yes, he had. He could still his cologne on the bedsheets, and there was a wet stain on his sheets. He definitely had. What'd gotten into him? He'd have to get tested, seemingly having fucked some stranger without even wearing a condom, and- and- he'd liked it. In fact, as soon as he thought about it, he wanted to bring another lover home the next night.

There was something more, too. He was acutely aware of two things. One, his cock was poking his navel. Like he'd gained several inches overnight. That strangely swollen shaft strained pleasurably, still hard. Or hard again, from the erotic smell of sex and cum lingering in the air. Second, he was acutely aware of his feet, even the light brush of his cotton sheets over his soles leaving him shivering, sending jolts of pleasure along every nerve, all converging on his steely erection. Sure, Frankie had always had a thing for getting his feet rubbed - not that he'd had time to experiment much, given his long studies - but this was beyond that. They were almost as sensitive as the cock itself.

None of that worried him. Well, it did, but the increasing concentrations of calming chemicals and lusty hormones in his blood worked wonders for drowning all those worries out. He could still see a doctor, he reminded himself, but there was no hurry. After all, if this was the kind of stuff that hosting the weird slug-worm did, he could afford to enjoy it a little longer. His hand clasped around his lengthened shaft and he stroked himself into another quivering, cum-soaked orgasm.

That cycle continued, for a few days. He studied during the day, getting closer and closer to his graduation. Then, at night, he brought home a lover from the bar for another feverish night of fucking. Sometimes, he came just from having one of them lick his feet. Other times, he was on top, rutting his cum into their mouths or asses. And then, he'd have nightmares again. That was the one downside.

The nightmares were growing increasingly intense, like the kind of half-awake, incoherent night terrors that one might have when deep in the grip of sickness. He'd be looking at himself in the mirror, only to see a horrifically stretched-out monster, at first. A rubbery, seemingly boneless version of himself, faceless but unquestionably lusty. With each passing night, the image of himself changed, though, slowly solidifying into a new, beautiful shape, a lusty hermaphroditic beast that almost reminded him of a werewolf. A werehyena, maybe, unnaturally virile and muscular at the same time, that he'd stare at with fear-tinged fascination, the dream-mirror grinning back at him with a mouthful of sharp, menacing teeth.

When that mouth opened, the reflection's tongue was stiff and elongated like a cock, too. Swollen with lust, and the shaft bulging as the worms crawled through it.

Each time, he was awakened by the sound of himself whimpering or choking down another scream, only for the parasite to calm him down immediately. It didn't leave much room for restful sleep.

Andrew had certainly noticed his roommate changing. Frankie had always been a little shy, an average nerdy student. Now, suddenly, he was bringing in random horny men every night? Andrew reasoned it had to be the stress of his studies getting to him. He'd heard about it happening, of students burning out and turning to hedonistic, destructive pursuits to cope. Risky pleasures to take their mind off the stress for at least one night. It didn't seem like it was helping, either, given how Andrew could hear him groaning and tossing about, probably in the grip of nightmares every night. This latest one was what finally prompted him to reach out.

The next time he saw Frankie waiting for his morning coffee, Andrew approached him. He looked haggard, as if he indeed hadn't slept for days, hands trembling around the empty cup.

"You doing alright, Frank?" he asked.

"...yeah, just kinda tired all the time," Frankie replied, after thinking about it a for a few moments. He recognized the worry in his friend's voice, but he couldn't focus his thoughts. It was all a blur, the pleasures of the last few nights and the terrors that followed.

"Right. I've just noticed you don't seem to be sleeping that well," Andrew continued, tactfully deciding to bring that up rather than Frankie's new lovers.

"Oh? Oh, yeah. I've been having these nightmares, it's getting pretty bad," Frankie admitted. "Like, I dream of transforming into this... monster, I guess? And it's both terrifying and makes me a bit..."

He trailed off, never quite finishing his sentence. Andrew had a pretty good idea of what he'd wanted to say though. Horny. What else could explain his recent behaviour.

"Why? Did something happen?" Andrew asked. "We can talk about anything, you know. Like, remember that time when I accidentally broke that window..."

"No, there was just this small accident in the lab the other day," Frankie replied, and just as he was about to mention the specifics, a wave of that by now familiar relaxed horniness swept over him, drowning out the night's anxieties. "...nothing serious though, don't worry."

His cock was swelling again. Would Andrew be up for anything fun? The two had never really had any kind of intimate relationship, and more than anything, over the years they'd been roommates they'd developed a kind of brotherly relationship, supporting each other when it was needed. It'd never been sexual, but suddenly, Frankie couldn't help but fantasize about how Andrew would look, panting with lust between his legs as he sunk his beautiful cock into that clenching little slit- slit? Frankie groaned, the mismatch between his real body and the one in his fantasies was almost physically painful when he suddenly noticed it. He excused himself, sitting down by the kitchen table and rubbing his temples.

"Are you sure you don't need to talk? Or see a doctor?" Andrew continued.

"No, no. I'm fine," Frankie insisted. "I dunno, it's just the nightmares. Must be the stress, right?"

"Well, tell me about them. How do you turn into a monster? I mean, I did a minor in psychology didn't I?" Andrew smiled, pulling up a chair next to his friend.

"Fine. So like..." Frankie began, falling silent for a moment as he tried to recall some of the dreams he'd had. In all of them, his body was amorphous and rubbery, stretching and swelling in impossible ways. That's what he told Andrew first, and he nodded. Then, Frankie continued, once his new body has finished changing, he looked like an animal, except on two legs, and grossly oversexualized, with lactating breasts and hermaphroditic genitals.

"Hm. Were you abused when you were little?" Andrew asked.

"No, nothing like that. I mean, the dreams are scary but... I also kinda like them," Frankie replied. Understatement of the century, there. Just imagining himself transforming like that without the nightmarish miasma felt pretty sexy. The beautiful, strong muscles. The gaping slit between his legs. The squirming inside him as he prepared to infest someone else. He shuddered.

Frankie kept talking, never noticing that ever so slowly, the dreams were beginning to manifest in real life. The parasite had been looking through his deepest desires and fetishes. Those were, as it happened, always the easiest way to go. Any host found it much harder to resist when they enjoyed what was happening to them on a fundamental level, having secretly been desiring it for years upon years.

And so, it began with Frankie's feet. He only felt a faint tingling, at first, almost as if his legs were falling asleep, so he adjusted himself on the chair. Sight unseen, his toenails were slowly narrowing into solid, sharp points, even as his soles grew more and more sensitive. As the numbness faded, Frankie squirmed, trying to adjust himself so his feet weren't touching anything at all. Every touch of his socks felt almost like someone tickling his cock directly.

Frankie had to excuse himself. Luckily, his friend had a class to attend to in just a few minutes after that, anyhow. Not that he'd get a lot of studying done; Frankie definitely didn't seem well, and that was all he could think about. Weird nightmares were one thing - he had them too, now and then, especially during finals - but his behaviour had changed too much to blame it all on poor sleep. Andrew weighed his options; sooner or later, he'd have to involve a professional, maybe book an appointment for his dear friend with the school psychologist.

The moment Andrew left, Frankie collapsed onto the floor, tearing off his socks to stop himself from cumming just from the strange, pulsating pleasure shooting through his feet. That's when he saw it, the reality of what was happening; he was changing. Not like in the dreams, not exactly at least, but before his eyes, his very flesh was shifting. Was he still dreaming?

He picked up his phone, only for it to fall out of his hand again when another calming, soothing wave of warmth swept over him. No, nothing was wrong. This was all meant to happen. His toes were meant to twist and bend as his feet became more like paws. It was perfectly natural.

The wonderful, thrumming pleasure grew in his very core as he squirmed. A wet, maddening itch was slowly developing between his legs, growing stronger with each wave of pleasure. His fingers were there in an instant, feeling the spot behind his balls slowly grow softer, more pliable. Was this it? He pressed against that good feeling firmly. Was he going to grow a-

He let out a yelp as his fingers suddenly sunk into_him. The sensation was indescribable, as suddenly nerves that he'd never felt before were firing on all cylinders. Newly developed muscles clenched around him. For a moment, Frankie was afraid that he'd somehow pushed hard enough to tear his very skin open, but when he brought his hand back to look at it, there was no blood. Only a kind of glistening wetness. One that- he sniffed it- smelled _intoxicating, like a bitch in heat, begging to bred-

Frankie couldn't help it. He stuck his fingers into his mouth, fingers scraping over his increasingly sharp teeth, tasting his new feminine sex on them. Fuck, I taste amazing. God, what's even happening, I can't...

Almost immediately, his back arched as he came, violently. Every last drop of what would be his last load of cum as a human shot from his cock in thick, pearly ropes. He moaned with feverish ecstasy. He let out a trembling moan, unable and unwilling to do much but let the orgasm pulsate through him. There was a growing, delicious wetness between his legs, a needy, empty clenching inside him, the sensations twice - no, a hundred times - as strong as any climax he'd enjoyed before them.

With Frankie properly ready and helpless, the parasite began to sculpt its new host to be become the perfect vessel. His balls swelled anew, almost to the point of bursting before the skin around them had time to stretch as they filled with a new kind of seed, more suitable for the thing he was transforming into. Along with them, his cock grew, too, oozing precum as it lurched and stretched. His foreskin peeled back, leaving his entire shaft the raw, red colour of his glans.

He had no time to focus on the changes, or even enjoy them beyond the blissful spasms. He bit his tongue as he thrashed in the wake of each shuddering shift, a coppery tasted of blood filling his mouth only for a brief moment before the wound healed. Fur was beginning to grow in around his cock, spreading over the rest of his body like rust, black-splotched, fully covering his former tan skin in a protective, rough, and yet sensual pelt.

It was a dissolute sensation, one that left his very identity fuzzy and diffuse. Frankie found it harder and harder to think of himself as a professional, as a student soon about to graduate, as his transformation progressed. Instead, more and more, he identified as the thing from his dreams, his strange bestial reflection.

The strangest sensation was when another wave of arousal suddenly nearly made him choke on his own tongue. It felt like a slab of meat in his mouth, nerves only rewiring a second afterwards, and then, it was suddenly very, very sensitive. Yet, it only barely fit inside his muzzle - had he always had a muzzle? Surely not, but it felt as if he had - and it wasn't until his lips gained sensation again that he realized it felt like a cock, too. Tapered, slick, canid. He suckled on it, delighting in the heat of precum dribbling down his fur-clad chin, groaning.

A quick glance downwards revealed that his normal cock looked like that, too. There was barely a trace of anything human about it, anymore. It was bright red, noticeable. Animalistic. Like an obscene symbol, a summary of all the changes wrought on him.

The final change was, at least for the moment, when that itchy heat spread to his chest. Immediately, Frankie's hands were there, feeling his flat chest swell slowly, as if he'd been stung by a wasp. Only, it wasn't painful. An ache, yes, but a pleasant one, like a second puberty that left him first with a-cup sized and undeniably feminine breasts, nipples swelling to match. Small, at first, but rapidly growing, and his rough palm groping them, kneading that tender flesh, felt amazing. There was another kind of wetness spreading there, a fragrant scent of milk wafting up to his flaring, hyena-like nostrils. God yes. He realized he looked beautiful, gazing down his body. Two soft, feminine mounds contrasted with an profoundly masculine, eager shaft stiffly bobbing in the air, drooling precum just as his breasts leaked milk with each milking squeeze.

He had to show this to Andrew. There was no malice in that realization. At least, not much malice. Mostly, it was a desire to share that euphoric transformation. He felt happy, almost blissfully so, thankful to himself for being such a good host that he'd never even attempted to remove the parasite, and letting it grant him this gift.

It'd already reproduced by the time he managed to stand up again, every muscle in his body burning pleasantly. He'd never used them before, and yet they were strong and ready to pounce the next compatible host.

His thoughts weren't human anymore. Nothing distracted him as he waited, still as a statue, standing next to the door and waiting for Andrew to return as the sun moved across the sky.

When he did, the second the door closed behind his roommate, he was instantly in motion. There was no need to drag this out. He didn't want to scare or hurt his friend, after all, merely share the happiness of his new existence. Frankie pounced him, his sheer mass easily overpowering his friend.

"Wh- what the- help-" Andrew stammered, his voice choked with fear. He had no idea what was happening. His back hurt from being bowled over. On top of him was a kind of horrible beast that could never exist to begin with, its ravenous maw open, and in that maw, a cock, twitching with anticipation.

Frankie didn't say anything. He couldn't even if he'd wanted to, but he didn't have to, either. Instincts granted to him by that new, alien cohabitant guided his every move. His pressed his mouth against Andrew's, maw engulfing almost half of his head. Frankie could feel a new-born healthy worm in his throat, seeking a new host, and he new exactly what to do.

It was painless and fast, the way he sealed Andrew's fate, making sure he'd transform just as the hyena had. His cock-like tongue pushed between the human's lips and halfway down his throat, briefly threatening to choke him. A series of almost orgasmic, undulating throbs along his neck, around the very base of his engorged tongue, helped the parasite along, and finally, it slipped wetly through his cockhead and into Andrew's body.

Frankie pulled away, a satisfied and toothy grin on his face as he focused on watching Andrew, wanting to see every moment of his transformation. Unlike what's infested Frankie, this parasite was healthy, and so, it'd get to work immediately.

Andrew was only barely aware of what'd happened. He felt something slither down his throat, squirm in his belly - no, in his guts - for a moment, which was then followed by a brief spike of dull pain as whatever the nightmarish beast had done to him continued somewhere even deeper inside his body. Then, suddenly, pleasure. Eye-watering, thrumming, vibrating pleasure in his prostate, radiating through his whole body, drowning out the terrified screams in his mind.

Frankie stood up, feeling almost - no, not almost - proud, an immense satisfaction within him, a heated dopamine rush at having accomplished his duty, his very purpose.

His friend began to change almost immediately. It was beautiful, watching his new passenger get to work. His muscles surged with strength as they grew, especially his legs, clothes ripping off as seam after seam tore. Frankie couldn't immediately recognize what his was becoming, the rapidly growing fur a mixture of black and white, but he helped remove what remained of Andrew's tattered clothes. What he did recognize once Andrew was naked was his friend's cock growing, just like his own had moments before. He stared at it openly, each throb leaving the shaft a little longer and thicker.

It became more obvious when Andrew's ears began to extend the moment the fur reached his head. The growth was almost tumorous, but perfectly ordered, the parasite making sure that every cell ended up exactly where it was needed. In only a few heartbeats, he had the long and floppy ears of a bunny. Along with the ears, his feet grew. They'd never be as sensitive as Frankie's - he'd never had that kink, and as such nothing for the parasite to amplify - but a bunny needed big, strong paws. They kicked as his transformation finished with a small stub of a tail bursting from the base of his spine, and Frankie only barely dodged it.

Frankie's previous lovers were suddenly parenthetical. An appetizer, at best, compared to the sheer beauty of his friend thrashing about as he changed, becoming just like Frankie himself. And yet, wildly different. He leaned down, pressing himself against the bunny's furred body and sinking his teeth into Andrew's shoulder, drawing blood only briefly before he immediately healed again. Already, his hip were bucking and thrusting, completely beyond any conscious control, only seeking to claim his friend as a lover, perhaps a mate.

Andrew groaned. Unlike Frankie, he'd had no time to adapt at all. His transformation had been fast and violent. Mind-shattering, in a way, leaving him in a weakened, trembling state. His new form was strong, sturdy, a muscular anthropomorphic rabbit that almost looked older than Frankie with how his silvered hair and short beard framed his otherwise slender and elegant features. Yet, his mind wasn't there yet. Oh, the lust was, to be certain. Frankie watched his friend moan and shiver, his cock hard as steel and dripping with precum. There was just no apparent urge to do anything with that overwhelming desire.

Clearly he'd need more encouragement, Frankie realized. He was aching to have that juicy, dripping slit between his legs put to its proper use, but first, the aching pressure in his heavy balls had to be relieved, before he outright burst.

There was nothing gentle about it. Only pure, carnal lust that'd he hoped would rub off onto his freshly transformed friend. God knew Frankie would pump him full of lust, in thick, warm gouts. He climbed on top of the former human, pressing his firm erection firmly against him, and Andrew responded automatically, with newfound instincts. With an almost submissive moan, he pushed his ass up, presenting his virgin body for his fellow host.

Frankie didn't hesitate. He pressed his leaking, tapered tip against that inviting, bare hole, and pushed inside in one rough motion, lubricated by his plentiful precum.

"Rrrh. Next, you'll be on top. But for now," he grunted, letting his breasts squash against Andrew's soft fur, soaking it with his tainted milk. "For now, just- ngh- just relax and enjoy," he added, with a stuttering voice, hoarse with desire to seed his friend. His cocktongue was gradually muffling his speech again, until all he could produce were hoarse, throaty grunts and growls. It stopped him from biting, but not from locking lips with the bunny again, thrusting that stiff new appendage into his throat again. There was no trace of resistance, this time. Instead, Andrew eagerly sucked on it, with a wild hunger evident in each motion.

He could feel the worms squirming around inside him. None would come out. Andrew was already infested, after all, but they massaged his prostate as he picked up his pace, rutting into his formerly platonic friend with frenzied need, driving his bloated shaft deep into his very core, growling with each clutch of his tight entrance. Yes, this was what he'd always been meant to do. The last traces of his former humanity and ambitions left him along with the heated, leaking precum. This was so much better. Just fucking. Raw, primal, and uncompromising, pumping every last dreg of his seed into every available hole, and with it, the worms, letting everyone he mounted shared in the bliss he was feeling.

It didn't take long. Watching Andrew transform had turned him on so much he had almost reached orgasm without any stimulation. With a loud, rumbling growl he hilted inside the bunny's ass and let go, snarling and panting as his corrupted beast-seed swelled forth, hopefully soaking into Andrew's body and washing away any hesitation he might have about breeding_Frankie in turn, spilling his seed into that quivering new _cunt just as eagerly.

"Fucking- fucking take it," he roared. "Doesn't it feel wonderful?"

Andrew could only moan in response, feeling that wet heat gush inside of him, changing what little remained. He felt every firm, heavy throb, and his new nose picked up so many scents he'd never noticed, all equally alluring. Frankie's heady musk, the new and dripping _need_between his legs, the smells of countless others they could grant their shared blessing to.

Before Frankie had even finished seeding him, he pulled off, and the last few ropes of cum splattered over his toned ass. It didn't matter. He'd have more in a matter of minutes. Instead, Andrew turned around to bowl Frankie to the ground, forcing himself between his sprawled legs, _needing_to be inside the herm, more than he'd ever needed anything in his life.

That was exactly what he did. He didn't quite have the same growling dominance as Frankie did, but he was just as possessed by the strange, roiling lusts. His shaft, despite its girth, sunk in between his legs easily. His arms hoisted the massive hyena up by his legs so he could sink In deeper yet, and a deep, throaty sigh of pleasure resonated in his lungs as he finally felt that wet, warm embrace. The sensation was amazing, every part of the hyena's inner walls simply clamping down on him, firmly caressing every inch of his cock.

Andrew began to rock his hips. A leisurely pace, at first. He stole a lick along Frankie's foot as he thrust into him, and the hyena shivered, his eager new sex twitching around him in turn. His cock twitched too. Andrew wanted more of that. He took an entire toe into his mouth, tongue slipping between them, teasing and caressing, only barely managing to hold Frankie still as he licked away.

Those dual sensations of being claimed for the very first time, and having his oversensitive feet teased so cruelly, had Frankie squirming, panting, throwing his head side to side. The pleasure was loud, overwhelming, mind-shattering - almost too much to bear. He'd have said something, but his tongue was too swollen with desire to do anything but moan. The bunny's cock seemed to finally scratch that incessant, hated itch he'd been feeling ever since the transformation began, soothing it, and yet making it worse, making sure that he'd need more, ever more, never fully satisfied. Just the way the parasite that'd bonded with him wanted it.

They came nearly in unison. Frankie's toes curled in Andrew's mouth, and he clamped down harder around him, briefly, before those totally unfamiliar contractions began. Unfamiliar, but not unpleasant. Quite the opposite. He feared, for a brief moment, that he might simply pass out, or perhaps even die, as he came both as a male and female at once, each contraction of his pussy around that delicious, thick firmness lodged inside him also sending out a pearly rope of cum. A little more watery than it'd been when he was still human, and more of it. Far more.

Frankie felt a heat - just as Andrew had felt only moments before, and what he was still dripping with - deep inside him. The rhythmic thumping of the bunny's heartbeat in his cock, each heavy flex, throb, and buck. A dull ache he could only guess was him grinding against his cervix. His mind was swimming with euphoria, with pure, welling, ecstatic bliss as he milked his old friend dry, making sure every drop of him was safely pumped where it belonged. Deep, deep, in his very core.

Finally, the two collapsed into a heaving, panting pile of satisfaction.

"...feel better now?" Andrew finally asked. His cock twitched inside Frankie, weakly, in the aftershock of their mutual release.

"Yeah," Frankie replied. He could finally talk again, his strange cock-tongue having softened, he could still taste the cum drooling from it. His eyes were closed, and for a brief moment, he was fully sated, more relax than he could remember ever being. "D-don't think I'll be having any nightmares anymore."

Indeed, neither did, as they fell asleep, both full of the other's seed and drained by both orgasms and transformations. They were through the mirror; their human selves were behind it, now, and their bestial new forms in the waking world. A whole new existence, a kind of negation of what once was, all granted to them by that wonderful worm-thing. There was only one coherent thought shared between them; they'd have to bring others through, too. They had to show everyone how good this felt.