[TG/TF] Creatures of Myth - Part 2

Trent frantically dragged the shaving razor over his skin, watching with a groan as once again the dark hairs grew back just as quickly as he’d removed them. They were getting thicker too; he’d gone from practically hairless to well past a normal amount in less than an hour and the growth was starting to make his legs ache terribly. Though a niggling fear in the back of his mind told him that was something else; surely hair growing, even this fast, couldn’t cause his bones to hurt quite so deeply.

A crashing sound approached the camp and he froze; that didn't sound like Justin or Hank. It sounded too loud to even be human, almost like a raging bull barrelling toward the ocean. Yesterday he would have laughed at the idea of monsters living on this island like the myths said. Now though; with what he could only call a curse afflicting him, he wasn't so sure.

He jumped to his feet, wincing a little as he wobbled uncertainly on the sand down by the ocean where he had been unsuccessfully shading. He felt unsteady on his feet, like there was something wrong with them. Whatever was heading his way, he barely had time to hide, let alone run. When suddenly, out of the treeline came Hank.

Trent blinked in shock; at first confused as to how the man had made so much noise running here but then he took in just how big Hank seemed to have gotten in the last few hours. It seemed he wasn't the only one experiencing some sort of strange change because his friend seemed to have gained a foot in height and become slightly wider. He was as buff as ever, except for his chest, which looked oddly soft compared to the rest of him.

Then, Trent spied the hair. Just like him, Hank seemed to be growing a thin fur coat across his thighs and calves. Did that mean that Trent was going to start growing at any moment as well? At least he didn't need to awkwardly explain his current looks; he wasn't the only one.

“You too.” Hank gasped, “I…I got distracted hanging out in that maze while looking for Justin and then I realised something weird was happening.”

“No kidding.” Trent ran a hand through his hair feeling flustered.

His fingers trailed through his soft curls before hitting something hard and bone line at the top of his skull, making him jump.

“Let me guess.” Hank said, sounding grave, “Something hard is growing out of your skull.”

“Yeah!”

“Me too.”

The two friends regarded one another in confusion for a moment.

“Does this mean I am going to start growing?” Trent panicked, “We’re both growing hair and horns but you’re well…massive!”

“I have no idea.” Hank groaned, “God, do you think Justin is in the same state?”

“He must be.” Trent replied, “But what exactly is this state? I don’t know of any disease, no matter how random and tropical that can do this!”

“Me either.”

The two of them stood in silence for a moment before Trent flopped back down on the sand and rubbed at his sore legs, his butt was starting to ache now as well. It felt almost as if something were pushing at the base of his spine, trying to push out. It was an unsettling feeling. There were all those internet stories of scary, foreign diseases that turned you inside out and all but surely those were just a myth? He hoped so, growing leg hair was unpleasant enough.

“We need to find a way to call for help.” Hank decided after a while, “We wait for Justin to get back and then we search this whole island. There has to be, I don't know, an old military base or something around.”

Trent raised an eyebrow.

“A military base? Seriously?”

“Well these sorts of islands got used in the second world war as like, secret bases for various factions didn't they? I read all about it in history back in the day.”

“I really don’t think we’re going to find an abandoned outpost here, but maybe if we find a way to get up high enough one of our phones could get reception.”

Hank shrugged, looking slightly miffed that his idea had been nixed but also slightly embarrassed that he hadn't thought of something more obvious.

“I guess we'll wait then.”

“I hope he’s okay, Justin I mean, he must be terrified.”

~

Justin perched on the edge of a cliff, sitting on the flats of his feet, knees up against his chest. His arm was slung across his knee, balanced there as he stared in fascination. He’d been climbing down the rockface when he’d started to feel a strange itch across his forearms, assuming it was just ants crawling over his skin, he’d ignored it. Then he’d felt a tiny pin prick of pain and looked up to notice yet another feather like the one he’d pulled from the base of his skull.

He watched now as that itching continued and a new, tiny feather poked its way out of his skin. It was fascinating to watch, slightly uncomfortable, but not painful. Now that he had identified the sensation he could feel it happening across his shoulders, beneath his skirt and on the back of his neck more. At this rate he’d be covered in a few hours. At least partially.

Justin couldn’t help but feel…excited. Yes, growing feathers was a bit weird but they were oddly beautiful and frankly, it was the strangest thing that had ever happened to him. Idly, he wondered if he would get interviewed for medical journals and the like when they finally got picked up; that could be exciting, maybe he’d get famous. The incredible bird man!

He grinned to himself; for once he would be the centre of attention. He liked the sound of that. He stroked the new feather with his sharp nail. It had taken on a slightly darker colour now, a shiny grey, and the tip was ever so slightly hooked, making it perfect for cleaning his new decorations.

A sudden chill passed down his spine and he realised it was because the sun was setting; he’d been gone almost all day!

“Fuck!”

The others were probably going to throw a fit; he was sure Trent had an emergency radio of some kind. Even he wasn't stupid enough to come to a deserted island for a week without some form of communication. He’d probably called whatever the Greek version of the coast guard was and would be pissed as all hell that Justin had apparently spent all day enjoying the sun and sky alone without telling anybody.

He quickly began to move down the cliffs, shoving his sharp toes and nails into the stone with increasing ease. By the time he reached the bottom he was sure something else was changing besides his feathers. His nails were totally black, the skin on his feet were taking on a leather texture that seemed to almost numb them and strangest of all was his chest.

Justin winced as the stone cliff dug into the soft skin there. His chest seemed so much more sensitive now and each time he was forced to hug closer to the mountain he could feel the skin protesting. He must have smacked into a sheet of rocker at some point because the skin seemed almost swollen.

By the time he was low enough to begin walking he was sure the muscles there were swelling. He could see his shirt growing tighter and the fun of his new feathers seemed to fade away. No matter how much he pressed or rubbed, those two round bumps didn't get any smaller and all his ministrations seemed to do was make his nipples turn hard.

They almost looked like small breasts and Justin prayed the other two didn't make the connection. He was going to cop it plenty already without them making fun of him for having ‘tits’.

As he walked back through the jungle he couldn't help but feel an innate feeling of wrongness. Walking didn't feel right and as he watched the birds dart between the leaves he felt that longing again, to take to the skies. His cheeks turned red; this was stupid. He only ever tolerated flying in planes, why did he suddenly have the overwhelming urge to be up high in the air?

Shaking his head free of the thoughts he finally returned to the campsite only to freeze when he spotted two monsters sitting on the sand. No, not monsters; Trent and Hank! Hank was enormous, muscles bulging far past the normal human level, with two small points appearing from the top of his dark hair and thick hair on his legs. Trent on the other hand had much softer looking hair coating his and a much longer pair of horns already curling around his ears. Almost like a ram’s horns but not yet fully formed.

“I…I…what?” Justin gaped.

The other two turned to face him and their jaws dropped.

“You’ve got feathers!” Trent cried, “And talons! Where’s your hair!?”

“What do you mean ‘where’s my hair’? You realise that’s a completely insane statement to make, right?”

“But we’re both…you don't have horns either!”

“Okay, did I miss something? Did you dose our drinks last night with furry drugs or something? Is this where you come out and admit to having some sort of animal fetish?”

If there was a designer drug that could do that sort of thing he was sure Trent would find it a lark.

“Hell no.” Trent replied, getting to his feet and wobbling a little. “We just thought we were all going through the same weirdness. Hank and I seemed to be the same but you’re all…birdy.”

Justin’s lip curled.

“Uh, hate to break it to you Trent but Hank is looking a lot more bovine than you.”

“Bovine?!” Hank cried, “As in, like a cow? Are you seriously calling me fat!?”

“For fuck sake dude, look at your reflection, your nose is totally flat and black.” Justin replied.

Hank rushed to the water, crashing out to try and find a patch still enough to see his reflection, leaving Trent and Justin on the beach.

“You’re right.” Trent scratching his head, fingers tangling in his curls which Justin swore were longer than yesterday.

“You have curly horns and hair but…you don’t look cow-ish.” Justin admitted. “What the hell is happening?”

Trent explained that they had no idea, only that they'd started to change some time after Justin had left.

“Or maybe it was before and we didn’t notice.” Trent sighed.

“Well, we’d better call for help at the very least.”

“How?”

“What do you mean how, there is no cell service but you bought an emergency radio or something right?”

Silence; Justin's heart began to hammer.

“Trent. Tell me you had an emergency plan for this trip. What if one of us got sick or fell off a rock or something, you did plan for that sort of thing, right?”

Trent bit his lip and his cheeks turned pink. Were he not absolutely furious Justin would have laughed at how cherubic his face looked.

“You are fucking kidding me! And you two think I’m the idiot one?”

“This was supposed to be an adventure, what sort of adventure is it if you can just call in help the first time somebody gets a splinter?” Trent argued, looking embarrassed.

“This is more than a splinter!” Hank cried from the water, one of his giant hands covering his flat bovine nose as if that somehow made him look less strange. “This is your fault man, now fix it!”

“I will!” Trent stamped his foot in the sand and promptly lost his balance, landing on his butt with a wince. “We’ll go find a place with reception tomorrow and we’ll be home by dinner time. You’ll see.”

~

It had been an awkward night to say the least. They had all barely eaten their dinner around the campfire, picking at the food in silence as the other two glared at him. Like this was actually his fault! Okay so maybe having an emergency plan might have been a good idea but how was he supposed to know turning into animals was a threat?

His stomach churned as he crawled under the blankets atop his expensive air mattress. The night before he’d slept like a babe, swaddled in the soft Egyptian cotton cushioned by what felt like a cloud. Tonight he tossed and turned, falling into light sleep only to wake when another stab of pain moved down his legs. He could feel the soft fur there brushing against the blankets and it seemed to irritate them all the more.

He’d managed to drift into some sort of doze when a strange snapping sound and a spike of pain shot through both his legs so suddenly he yelped. The pain disappeared as soon as it had come but he could tell something was different. His legs felt…wrong.

No, that wasn’t the right work, it wasn't that they felt wrong, but something definitely felt different. He got to his feet and stood, for the first time without wobbling since the hair had started growing that morning. He felt…sure footed again at last which was a relief. But he could tell the way he was standing was different. His feet felt smaller and yet somehow stronger and in the dim light he could see that something was different.

He grabbed for the torch and shone it down on himself and had to hold back another cry. Hooves, shiny black cloven hooves were what greeted him at the end of his now digitigrade legs. It took him a second to realise what exactly they reminded him of and when he did he felt humiliation wash over him; a goat. He had goat legs. That explained the ram style horns that were curling around his skull, now curling back against his ears which had also grown a thin layer of peach like fuzz.

Humiliated and unsure what to do he dove back beneath the blankets, curling up into a ball. His chest was aching but perhaps that was just his heart thumping against his ribcage. He stayed awake the rest of the night; hyper aware of his own body to the point that he didn’t hear similar sounds of shock and horror coming from the tents next door.

~

It was late morning when all three of them finally emerged; Trent had spent a good few minutes struggling to find a pair of board shorts that still fit around the new shape of his legs. The waistband was pulled tight around his widening waist. He was sure the others would laugh as soon as they saw him but instead it was he who was struggling to keep his face straight.

So much had changed in just one night; Hank’s legs looked similar to his own, with hooves and thick fur but with rippling muscle to match his top heavy torso. He was totally shirtless and had tied two hoodies around his waist to make a makeshift loincloth; evidently he didn’t fit into any of his clothes anymore.

Justin was also shirtless and had just as many feathers as he did hair on his head and his own feet had completely changes shape to that of a bird, with yellow, leathery skin and talons to match, as well as sharp talons on his fingers and dusting of feathers along his shoulders and arms.

“You’re one of those goat things.” Hank rumbled, pointing at Trent, “Like from Narnia.”

“A Satyr.” Justin corrected, “And you look like a cow so…minotaur.”

“Those are both from Greek myth right?” Trent questioned, “That makes sense I guess, Greek magic island and all. What does that make you?”

“A harpy maybe?” Justin guessed, “Those were more on the Roman side of Greco-Roman but-”

“Yes, yes, you took Introduction to Ancient Mythology last semester, we know.” Hank groaned, clearly hating that Justin was as close as the group could get to an authoritative opinion on their state. “I don’t think it matters if it makes sense, what matters is that I have a tail.”

Trent had to hold back an honest to god giggle as Hank turned around with his arms crossed looking pissed off. He really did have a tail, a thick ropey one with a tousled ball of hair at the end, just like a cow. Something about seeing that tail swish back and forth in the wind while Hank grumbled was inherently funny and he was forced to bite down on his lip until he felt it swelling from the pressure of his teeth.

“Look, let’s get going.” Justin said hurriedly, “I’m feeling…restless.”

Some of the feathers dusting his bare shoulders seemed to fluff up in irritation, his head kept darting from side to side in a distinctly bird-like fashion. He looked jittery and about ready to jump at the slightest sound; yet his face showed no obvious fear. If anything he seemed unaware of the new ticks.

Hank stared down at Trent and he suddenly realised his friends were waiting for him to take the lead as he so often did.

“Uh, this way, toward the mountain, Justin can climb pretty well, maybe if we get to the top or one of the higher cliffs we can get reception.”

They grabbed their tablets and phones, anything that could be used to send a message and threw them into a backpack which Trent slung over his shoulders. Despite it being a normal size it felt heavier than it should and he cursed Hank’s body for being too bulky to fit the straps around his thick arms. What was the point of having a muscle wall when it couldn’t even do the heavy lifting?

They trudged through the jungle and Trent did his best to keep a jovial attitude; he didn't want the others getting stressed and snappy with him again. If he could keep the levity up, maybe the day this was all a funny memory would come faster. He hummed a little tune under his breath and found himself oddly spellbound by his own song, his legs taking on an odd skip that felt natural to his little hooves.

Navigating the jungle became much easier when he stopped trying to walk like a human and let the little bounds take over. It was almost like a dance, skipping and humming through the trees, hands waving at his sides. It was quite lovely really; a nature hike through a Greek island, just like he had always planned. His curls bounced against his shoulders; they had been growing rapidly all morning but he couldn’t bring himself to care; he felt so…free. If only his chest didn’t feel so odd.

As he continued to skip along the forest path he began to realise he was feeling something else bounce; something that wasn't his angelic curls. It was his chest, his butt as well, they seemed to jiggle and move of their own accord and that tightness from the board shorts got stronger and stronger with each passing minute.

A groan behind him made Trent stop and he turned to see Hank, red in the face, arms crossed over his chest and a deep red blush across his cheeks.

“Sorry.” He muttered, “It’s just…well…”

“It's your ass, dude.” Justin blurted out, “It looks pretty.”

Trent blinked, twisting to see that indeed, his butt cheeks had swelled, turning round and bubbly almost like…a woman’s. His good mood was immediately doused in cold water as he turned back and looked down at his chest. It was so obvious now that he’d connected the dots; the two round swollen shapes on his chest were tits!

He turned back to Justin and Hank; both of them were in the same predicament. It was damn obvious with Hank it was almost embarrassing he hadn’t realised earlier. With his increased size his breasts were already the size of Trent’s head.

“Oh god, we’re…turning into women too?” Trent panicked, “Animals and women?”

“Mythical creatures, technically.” Justin said, not sounding nearly worried enough. “I suppose that makes sense, harpies were almost always women in the stories…”

“Oh well, at least the stories make sense now.” Hank snapped sarcastically, “What are we going to do!?”

Hank stamped his heavy hoof down on the ground and there was a strange shudder. There was a sudden shift beneath their feet; Trent could feel something in the way the ground moved; almost as if he were aware of the roots parting beneath him. He left to the side with grace, landing almost daintily upon his hooves while Justin jumped and almost seemed to hover thanks to the longer feathers on his wings. Hank on the other hand, had none of their grace and suddenly disappeared into a hole in the Earth. He cried out and the dull thud of his heavy body hitting the ground below made Trent wince as he carefully approached the hole in turn.

It appeared to be a small hollow in the earth, a place where the roots of the trees had formed a small bridge over what must have once been a cave entrance. Almost fifteen feet below them, Hank was rubbing his ass and looking embarrassed.

“Are you okay?” Justin called. “Are you hurt?”

“Just my pride.” Hank moaned, “But I don't think I’ll be able to climb back up.”

Trent and Justin shared looks; that was bad.

“I can hear the beach though. I think maybe this tunnel will take me to another exit?”

“We’ll come down too. Worst case scenario, I can climb out without any problems.” Justin suggested. “And Trent is so light now you could throw him back up.”

“Hey!” Trent pouted and Justin shrugged. “It’s not my fault you’re getting tiny.”

Trent looked down at his burgeoning chest and sighed.

“Not in the places I want to be though.”

Despite everything there was a tingle of excitement passing through him. He tried to quash it down but well, he was a red blooded man under all this and watching as Justin jumped down the hole making his tits jiggle with the movement elicited more arousal in him than he wanted to admit. Now was not the time to be getting turned on; but he couldn’t really stop himself.

Trent gave himself a firm mental slap and followed the two down the hole, trying his best to balance on the sheer walls with his goat legs. Just when he thought he was safe, a rock slipped and he ended up sliding down the rest of the way on his ass, earning snickers from the other two.

“Very funny.” He flailed, “Help me up.”

Justin reached down and his brow furrowed.

“Hey, are you…shorter?”

He was; he and Justin had always been the same height but now he was almost a full head shorter. They had been so caught up in everything else happening he’d not even noticed.

“Uh guys, you might want to come see this!”

Hank's voice echoed from around the corner of the tunnel; Trent grabbed one of the phones and turned on the flashlight. He didn’t want to bring up the fact that apparently, Hank had dark vision now if he was walking around down here without need of one. He and Justin turned the corner and found themselves in a large open space; a huge cavern with a few loose but obviously man made stones visible under the layers of dirt. Another ruin.

“Woah.” Justin breathed and Trent followed his gaze to where Hank was standing.

Covering the entire back wall of the chamber was an astonishing mural. The painting depicted a scene from Greek mythology that sent shivers down Trent's spine. In the mural, men in ancient army helmets were depicted arriving on a lush, uninhabited island. They looked joyous, carrying baskets of fruits and vines, as if they had discovered paradise. But as he examined the mural more closely, Johnathan noticed that their appearances were gradually changing.

Different squares seemed to show the passage of time. Some of the people's faces elongated into the snouts of Minotaurs’, while others sprouted wings and became Harpies. Still, more grew goat-like legs, turning into Satyrs. It was a chilling transformation captured in vivid detail, as if the artist had been an eyewitness to this eerie metamorphosis. More than that, every man grew a feminine shape and chest to go with it. Several of them were shown embracing; two satyrs were clearly making love, growing more and more animal with each passing day.

“This…this is what’s happening to us.” He breathed, “It’s this island, it really is cursed.”

“If everybody who comes here becomes female, that must be why there is nothing but ruins, eventually they all died out.” Justin guessed.

“Or maybe they just ran out of stock.” Hank added, pointing to the other wall, showing sailors washing up on the shore being greeted and seduced by the various creatures on the island. “The warning must have kept men away, so now the island is trying to start again with us.”

“Is that why I’ve been feeling so…” Trent trailed off and the other two blushed; clearly they’d been feeling it too; it made sense, they’d both been checking out his ass earlier after all.

For a while they all looked at the mural and Trent felt his blood warming; the pictures were so detailed. Especially the love making ones. He could see Satyr women just like him rolling together in the grass, riding the cocks of sailors. A deep ache formed between his legs and a soft moan escaped his lips.

“M-maybe we should leave.” Said Hank and he rubbed his thighs together, “It’s getting a little stuffy in here.”

Justin nodded and Trent followed on after as they followed the sound of ocean waves. That hollow feeling inside him was getting stronger and stronger; he swore he could feel his balls shrinking back into the fur around his crotch now and judging by the odd gait his companions were walking with; they were feeling it too. They eventually reached a small cave opening, just large enough for Hank to pass through. A desperate sort of need was building inside Trent now and the idea of ignoring it made it almost painful.

“Let’s split up.” he suggested and the other two nodded rapidly, Justin didn’t even hesitate to start running back toward the mountain, raising his feathered arms to give him more lift as he jumped up the cliff face at the caves edge.

Hank was moving quickly, crashing through the forest and Trent found himself blissfully alone and able to fall to his needs with a moan. Wetness was forming between his legs and as he squeezed them together he realised he couldn’t feel his cock and balls at all.

His whole body shuddered and he felt his butt grow again; finally pushing his shorts past their breaking point so that the fabric tore open. Wiggling free of the strips of fabric he tore off his shirt before it could go the same way, leaving him naked on the soft sand.

Trent laid back and opened his legs, a beautiful pink pussy shone back at him; glistening and wet under the sun. Between it, his wide hips and rapidly growing chest there was nothing male about him left; or human for that matter.

His heart pounded and panic began to set in; even if he could find a place to call for help nobody was going to believe this. Instinct drove him to his feet; a desperate need for comfort spurring his body forward, back into the jungle, desperate to find even a scrap of normalcy to calm the whirlwind of emotions. Each leap forward caused his new breasts to bounce; a constant reminder of the insane changes his body was going through.

Without realising, he found himself back in the meadow and the serenity of the place seemed to wash over him. The panic dimmed, leaving him only with the burning arousal between his legs.

Trent groaned; the light breeze felt like a lover's touch on his new folds. The sweet scent of his meadow seemed to increase the blood flow between his legs and he found himself feeling more and more horny as time passed. Wetness formed, mingling the with e dark curling hair between his legs and his curiosity grew. Nobody could blame him for wanting to play with his new pussy could they? Just a little?

He reached down with his now soft fingers and ran them along the length of the folds, shivering as his body was rewarded with a wave of pleasure unlike anything he’d ever felt. His pussy lips were far more sensitive than a cock; no wonder women went so wild in the bedroom, if this was what a light touch could do then what would something with a bit more pressure elicit?

He got his answer and saw stars; soon his hand was moving of its own accord, stroking and circling his new clit. He alternated slow, teasing strokes with hard presses to the tiny numb, womanly moans escaping his throat as his Adam’s apple melted away.

A pressure began to form, not just inside him but at the base of his spine, just above his ass. He couldn’t stop though; not now that he had started. He plunged a finger inside his new hole and began to thrust it in and out. It felt good, but he couldn’t help but feel like there was something missing; one finger simply wasn't enough. He knew his body was craving a man's cock and that made him flush with embarrassment.

Still, he couldn’t bring himself to stop. Instead he closed his eyes, his breath quickening as he remembered those paintings. The Satyr women bouncing on those sailors' cocks; he imagined himself in their place and suddenly the pleasure became complete. He felt that pressure at the base of his spine burst as a small, deer-like tail formed just above his rump and he came. The orgasm was the strongest of his life and left him reeling for what had to be minutes afterwards.

He laid back, cushioned by the soft grass of his meadow and shivered. Despite being naked he didn't feel cold, in fact, he felt remarkably comfortable and at home. The warm sun beat down on his body and he felt his eyes closing in pure relaxation. Laying on this grass was far more comfortable than that air mattress had ever been.