Field agent

by BRK

Special agents Adkins and Barber interview a rancher in relation to their current case. There’s something odd about the handsome Latino, though—starting with the fact that he won’t get down off his horse.

Added: 18 Apr 2020 Updated: 14 Nov 2020 5,236 words 3,678 views 5.0 stars (9 votes) This story was commissioned via Patreon.

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Parts: 
D
“Damn it, Adkins, you’re driving too fast again. How can we expect people to respect authority when we don’t set an example and follow the laws ourselves?”

Special Agent Andrew Adkins glanced at the speedometer, then cast a sidelong look at his golden god of a partner, Special Agent Jake Barber. He might look like Apollo, he thought, all blond and broad-shouldered with heart-stopping blue eyes, but when he opened his mouth he sounded more like Apollo’s accountant. Adkins hadn’t seen that dick-hardening smile of his more than a couple times in the six months they’d been partnered. Maybe just as well. “It’s 45 through here,” he said, his unflappable Tennessee drawl coming out a bit. “I’m 7 over.” He’d have added that they were in an unmarked car and no one would know they were FBI, but he didn’t bother. People always knew.

“Just sayin’.”

Adkins shook his head. “You need to loosen up, pardner.” Not to mention paying attention to the things that matter, he added mentally—like how much I’d like to bone you, if that stick in your ass weren’t in the way. Adkins was proud to be an FBI agent, but sometimes Barber took it a little too seriously.

They pulled up at the gates to the massive wrought-iron gates of the Zamora Ranch, the property that abutted this part of the Nebraska border. There was a video callbox, so Adkins rolled down the window, ignoring the rush of heat rushing in to do battle with the Ford sedan’s anemic a/c, and pressed the button, pulling his ID with his other hand. After a moment an image appeared on the screen of a handsome, dusky Latino with clear brown eyes, short-cropped dark hair, a carefully trimmed beard and mustache, and, somewhat surprisingly, no shirt, though he was wearing a dark-chocolate cowboy hat that really set off those eyes. Adkins almost whistled—this guy would give Barber a run for his money in the hotness sweepstakes, and Adkins didn’t see that too often. Or maybe they’d win together, their night and day features complementing each other perfectly. There was pure blue sky behind him and the image moved and shifted, suggesting the shirtless rancher was on the move. Adkins guessed he was answering the gate alert using an app on his phone.

“Good afternoon, sir,” Adkins said, holding up his ID for the camera. “Special Agents Adkins and Barber. May we have a moment of your time?”

The rancher cocked his head slightly, though he seemed to keep moving if the motion of the image was any indication. “What about?” he asked.

Adkins quickly pegged his reaction as curious rather than guilty. “Reports of repeated vandalism over to the XR Ranch across the state line,” Adkins said. “Witnesses last time had the suspect as a man on a horse headed this way, so we’re checking all the ranches and estates in the area.”

The rancher’s lips quirked. “A man on a horse, huh?” he repeated, seemingly amused for reasons Adkins couldn’t guess at. “All right, come on up. Drive toward the house and I’ll meet you.” He pressed something on his phone, and the call-box chimed pleasingly as the gates started to open.

Adkins pulled onto the paved private road that shot straight through open, grassy fields to an unassuming white house some ways distant. They were only halfway to it, however, before the shirtless rancher came riding up on an impressive-looking chestnut stallion near a gate in the wooden fence. He was indeed shirtless and showing off a very well defined and slightly hairy chest and abs, though what drew the attention most were the strong shoulders and powerful-looking arms. Down below he was wearing nondescript jeans and boots, and though his legs were nice enough Adkins’s eyes were pulled back up to the man’s arms and shoulders, and his brilliant, asymmetrical smile.

Adkins pulled over and turned off the car, and they both got out and walked over to the gate, not bothering with their suit jackets in the heat. Adkins sized the man up as they approached. He did roughly match the witness description of a dark-haired man, mid-thirties, white or Hispanic, though no beard had been mentioned. But as they passed through the gate into the field, closing it behind them, Adkins had a weird sense that whatever the man was hiding—and he was hiding something—it wasn’t four or five nights over the last two weeks spent busting up the pipes and generators at the XR. The rider, for his part, had fixed his heated gaze on Barber. That, at least, was practically routine.

If anything, Adkins’s curiosity was more pricked by the horse. Adkins had grown up helping run the family stables and knew his horses, but the chestnut was behaving oddly in a way he couldn’t figure at first. Then he realized: the horse was always looking exactly where its rider was looking, but it wasn’t doing anything else—no shifting, no tossing, no personality. It was as if it were a mere extension of the handsome man watching them from his back. Darned peculiar.

“Could you come down off the horse, sir?” Barber asked curtly. Adkins could tell he’d also noticed the partial description match and was eyeing him favorably for a pair of cuffs.

“No thanks, Agents, I’m good,” he said happily, looking over Barber with transparent lust. He moved closer and extended a hand downward toward them. “Rick Zamora.”

Adkins shook first, meeting the rancher’s eye as he bent to shake, and Zamora smiled wider, as if he was pleased by the idea of Adkins trying to suss him out. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Zamora,” Adkins said.

“No trouble,” the rider said.

Barber shook briefly. Peeved at having to carry on a conversation in the still-bright late afternoon squinting up at his interviewee, he brusquely began running down the dates and circumstances of the vandalisms. Zamora watched the golden hunk of an agent with rapt attention, a subtle blush staining his cheeks as his eyes drifted to the bulging shoulders, heavy pectorals, and thick biceps filling out Barber’s open collar white dress shirt.

Zamora nodded and told them that he hand his hands were leading a starlight horse-ride for the county commissioner’s college-age sons on one of the nights in question, which, if verified, effectively ruled him and his employees out as suspects. Adkins barely listened. He was more intrigued by how Zamora seemed unable to hold back his growing need for Barber. Adkins had often encountered something similar in interviewees before—heck, he’d had a permanent hard-on the first two weeks of their partnership, and periodically surprised himself with a big, hard Barber-boner whenever his partner was being friendly and cooperative.

But the intensity of the rancher’s lust was like nothing Adkins had ever seen. It was like he was just made that way, libido on 11 and climbing exponentially up from there. Constitutionally Zamora had so much ardor in him—or maybe so much potential jizz—that when he saw an exceptionally hot guy like Barber, containing it was almost impossible.

When he glanced over at his partner he saw that Barber was feeling it, too. Adkins had never seen Barber turned on or amorous in any way, which had probably done a lot to quell Adkins’s unrequited attraction to him. But Barber was looking red in the cheeks, too, and slightly flustered—and there was a big, hard bulge Adkins had never met before in Barber’s dark, soft-pleated trousers.

Adkins turned and gaped up at the handsome, wide-shouldered Latino. Was Zamora so saturated with heated, fathomless arousal that it was spilling off him, irradiating them with almost palpable lust? Adkins checked himself and realized he was hard too, though he’d barely noticed, caught up as he was in Zamora’s epic craving and Barber’s unprecedented responsiveness.

As he looked over the scene, though, Adkins realized there was an aspect of this situation that was even more bizarre than the rest. The strangest thing about the rancher’s indisputably growing attraction was that the chestnut was also manifesting a powerful arousal a concert with his rider’s. From where he was standing Adkins was able to watch in astonishment as the stallion’s cock was unsheathing and slowly hardening even as Zamora drank in his perfectly beautiful partner. Even stranger, it wasn’t a horse cock, except in the literal sense: the massive erection extending further and further along the horse’s belly was a dark, dusky human dick that matched Zamora more than the horse, though it was more the size of the rancher’s leg than anything Adkins had ever seen on a man.

As his eyes shot back up to the clear brown, brim-shadowed ones of the man they’d come to see, an inescapable, impossible conclusion snapped into place in his head. “No way,” he gasped.

Zamora glanced at him and tossed him a knowing grin, then addressed Barber, whom Adkins could tell was still simultaneously suspicious and incredibly aroused, though he seemed to be losing focus. A few spots of sweat had appeared on his forehead. “There’s a culvert leading to the state line on the far side of the property,” the rancher said, his voice a little huskier than before. He shifted a little si that he and the horse were more or less facing Barber. “I’ve caught miscreants sneaking through there before. We should check it out. You’ll, uh, need a horse, though,” he added, eyeing Barber as if considering what kind of mount would be best for him.

Barber was getting distracted by his own inexplicably welling passion. “What?” he said, his gaze fixed on Zamora’s.

“We need to ride together,” Zamora said, leaning forward slightly. “Would you like me to give you a horse?”

“Yes,” Barber said dazedly. Riding together clearly sounded very good to him. Then, shaking his head slightly, he added, “Yes, that sounds like a good plan.”

“Mr. Zamora—” Adkins started to say, but the rancher cut him off.

“Agent Adkins,” Zamora said amiably, “could you do me a favor and stroke along my flanks a bit? Just the flanks, that will be enough.”

Adkins glanced down at the cock underneath the horse. It was all the way hard now and so huge it was almost poking out between the front legs of the chestnut. It was also aimed directly at Barber. His own brain was swimming with lust. He stepped closer. “What are you doing?” he asked.

Zamora raised a brow at him. “I’m giving him a horse,” he said. Bending down a little, he added, “I guarantee it will make him more fun to be around.” He winked.

Adkins looked at his golden god of a partner. He’d often thought Barber needed more sex to unbend his occasional officiousness a bit, and making him more like Zamora meant the increased sex part was more or less guaranteed. But as Barber filled his vision, all Adkins’s arousal-muddled brain could think was how much hotter Barber would be if he were more of a man—no, more than a man.

And then, all at once, he was no more able to contain his desire than Zamora. He felt it flooding out of him, mixing with the heady arousal Zamora was churning out and with Barber’s own burgeoning need. No longer questioning, Adkins reached up and began stroking the chestnut’s mighty flanks.

Barber was looking between them, a small furrow of confusion between his brows. “What… what’s going on?”

“Your horse is coming,” Zamora said. He sounded a little breathless now. Adkins stroked along the horse’s flank firmly, wondering if he should get down under and take more direct manual action. But when Zamora repeated, “Your horse is coming,” he could tell three was no need. Zamora was about to blow.

Barber’s eyes widened. “Are you—what—?” he stammered.

“Yes! Yes, it’s coming,” Zamora said, and then suddenly Adkins was looking not at a man on a chestnut stallon, but a huge, magnificent Zamora-centaura. A man… on a horse. And what a man. He was bigger than before in both his human and his equine parts, with muscles like small boulders and horse parts the looks capable of astonishing feats of strength and endurance. He had longer flowing hair and a thicker beard, though his chest and abs were only a little more hairy. Handsome before, he was stunningly, darkly attractive now as he roared his orgasm, letting loose an almost literal flood of hot spunk that doused his golden god partner from head to toe.

Adkins kept a shaking hand on the centaur’s brawny flank—he had cum too, in time with Zamora, though again he’d barely realized it—and stared as all of that hot jizz, enough to fill a horse trough or three, started to disappear, absorbed into Barber’s transforming body, his clothes melting away as though they didn’t belong. Adkins watched in fascinated awe as Barber grew in size, scaled up a full foot taller, even as he developed a second pair of legs behind the first, and another pair of arms to match. Two red, rigid cocks jumped against his cut, hairless ten-pack abs, and two more, even larger shafts were trying to shove between Barber’s powerful front thighs.

Adkins gaped at Barber. Barber gaped back at them, then down at himself. “What the fuck?!” he said quietly, his voice filled with wonder.

Adkins looked up at Zamora. The centaur seemed just as surprised as he was. “Was that supposed to happen?” Adkins asked.

Zamora shook his head, still staring at Barber, who had just discovered he had four hands. “It’s always turned guys in centaurs like me before,” the centaur said, sounding perplexed. Then he shrugged his muscular shoulders slightly. “Perception filter should still work,” he added philosophically. “Everyone not in the know will just see him as a very desirable but normal human, with clothes and everything.”

Adkins looked back at his partner. “Is that so?” he asked. He wondered what had happened differently with Barber. Probably, he’d realized at some level that he couldn’t keep being an FBI guy if he was a man on a horse. He’d accepted the transformation, but through force of will Barber had stayed a man. No, Adkins corrected himself, his dick starting to harden again already—more than a man.

“We should… check out that culvert,” Adkins said absent-mindedly, staring hard at his bronze, beautiful boytaur of a partner.

“The culvert. Right,” Barber said, blinking back up at him as sounding just as stupefied as Adkins. They both looked at Zamora.

With the help of the fence and Zamora’s great strength they were both able to climb up on the giant centaur’s back. Then they set out at a gentle pace toward the other end of the ranch, with Adkins grasping onto Zamora’s sweat-damp torso and a still somewhat dazed Barber holding onto him from behind. Having just seen what Zamora’s cum could do, and with his partner’s two front hard-ons digging implacably into his back as he clung to him with all four of his powerful, sexy arms, Adkins found he couldn’t help wondering just what kind of potency Barber’s spunk might now possess.

Excitement kicked through him as a new thought arose. With Barber’s need to get off so amped up Adkins could feel it soaking into him from behind like waves of convection coming off a fucking kiln, the likelihood he wouldn’t find out just what Barber’s spunk could do to a guy, and very, very soon, was fast approaching zero.

Adkins licked his lips. Partnering with Barber might turn out okay after all.
“I think my ‘perception filter’ is broken,” Barber groused under his breath as they moved through the office, all eyes on the golden god.

Adkins looked around at the analysts and fellow agents tracking Barner’s progress with awed gazes and mouths ajar. He clocked Bill Redkin, a fresh-faced, tight-bodied new number-cruncher, unconsciously adjusting what looked like a sizable insta-boner in his cheap, department-store trousers as he stared at Barber walking past. Sitting behind a nearby desk, Jerry Wosznowicz, a thirteen-year veteran who looked like a competitive MMA fighter, watched Barber pass, licking his lips.

It was almost like they could see what Adkins saw. Almost.

“Relax,” Adkins soothed as they entered the main bullpen, attracting even more eyes. “This is just you, partner. Haven’t you ever noticed—?”

He was cut off by a barked “Adkins! Barber!” from the corner office off the bullpen. Adkins didn’t mind the interruption. Every interaction they’d had since the encounter with Zamora during the now-celebrated XR Ranch case (which had wrapped with five major indictments and a major boost in Adkins’s and Barber’s reps in the Bureau) had told Adkins the same thing: that whereas he, Barber’s partner and the only one in the know, saw Barber as he truly was—a gloriously muscled, gloriously naked, 7’6” golden humantaur with huge shoulders, flowing hair, jutting pecs, four boulder-hurling arms, and two enormous, flushed, drooling cocks up front surpassed in size only by the much larger pair of cocks thrusting forward from his rear legs and constantly poking his form, round balls from behind—everyone else saw the uptight, three-piece-suited, yet unbearably handsome Barber he’d always been, the Barber that left most guys helplessly aroused and painfully hard even without them perceiving his true, beyond-masculine, beyond-human form.

Adkins smiled to himself as he entered their boss’s office. He’d been on both sides of the Barber effect. He’d had a constant erection over his partner at first, too, at least until he’d actually gotten to know what a repressed and rule-oriented stick-in-the-mud he was. Now, of course, he was so relentlessly turned on by Barber’s transformed physique that it took all he had not to shove him into a supply closet and suck his exposed, rigid, pre-slicked front cocks until he got to see Barber’s face in the throes of orgasm at last. His hands itched to do it even right here, right now, in front of their no-nonsense boss, but he balled his hands and forced himself to focus on the present moment.

Lou Costas, the special agent in charge, was leaning against the front of his desk, looking them over critically. He looked like a pro quarterback in his prime, firm muscle showing under his white shirt and well-made, dark brown trousers, though his eyes had seen more than most guys encountered on the gridiron. Like Adkins he was completely and very obviously hard, a thick tube visible along the crease of his left hip, and he was ignoring it masterfully. His shrewd gaze lingered unexpectedly on him instead of Barber—he was used to being thought of as the smart one, not the hot one, so the slightly heated attention was a bit disconcerting.

“You been hitting the weights harder than usual, Adkins?” Costas asked, sounding unsure of exactly what about Adkins was drawing his attention.

“Not really, sir,” Adkins answered, surprised. “Maybe I’ve been just basking in Barber’s aura a little too long.” He made it sound like snark, but if Costas was seeing him as, what, buffer than before, maybe being around Barner really was slowly changing him. Not for the first time, his brain fixated on a question he was desperate to know the answer to: What could Barber’s actual cum do? What’s going to happen when I finally get to make him blow his load, in my mouth, in my ass, all over my body

“Uh huh,” Costas said, done with the subject. He addressed them both. “Jenkins is going on maternity, so I need you to pick up the Finchley Twins case. Get the files from her. They’re the key to bringing down their dad and his money-laundering cartel, but so far they’ve refused to flip, so…” He glanced between the two of them. “See what you can do.”

Adkins bit his lip and spared a glance up as his stoic-miened god of a partner. Though he scoffed at the idea that his record was better than any other diligent agent’s would be, Barber was already famous for his uncanny ability to garner testimony and evidence from practically any informant. How different would things be now, with Barber was so transformed he was actually radiating arousal, sex, and possibly even more?


They found the Finchley Twins in the expansive, fully-equipped weight room of their oversized mansion just out of town. Sweaty, shirtless, and bristling with carved, thick muscle obviously built through years of training, their matching navy sweatpants their only attire apart from blue and white paisley bandanas holding back loose, damp black hair, they looked like a set of bosses you had to fight halfway through an upmarket martial arts video game.

One was doing bench presses and the other was spotting him, but when the two agents entered the one benching immediately racked his weight and stood, and the other moved to his side. They were gaping at Barber, and, gratifyingly, at Adkins as well, their exertions and sweat-damp, red-flushed muscles making them look like Barber and Adkins had already had their way with them. Adkins saw they were already tenting their sweatpants, though it wasn’t clear whether they had even noticed they were suddenly boned as fuck.

They moved slowly and almost involuntarily toward the agents as if drawn toward their beauty, even as one of them said defiantly, “We know why you’re here,” and the other added, “We’re not going to testify.”

Then Barber smiled. It was a wide, radiant, and—shockingly!—thoroughly debauched smile. The two men stopped, their eyes wide and their cheeks hot. Dark, wet dots appeared in their sweats where their wide, rigid cocks seemed to be trying to push through the thick cotton fabric. The smile alone would be enough to push them over, Adkins thought. Fuck, Adkins himself was ready to cum from the brilliance of that smile, and he was only seeing it from the side, not getting it full-force liked the brothers were.

He watched in awe as Barber stepped toward them and seemed to grow. Adkins thought he knew Barber’s fully transformed state, the version he had seen every day and whacked off too every night since that fateful encounter on Zamora’s ranch. But as Barber became more and more impressive, swelling in size and beauty with every step, his hair cascading longer, his muscles swelling, his cocks burgeoning, Adkins realized that Barber had been holding back. All this time, he’d thought he’d been the lucky one to see the true Barber, but now he knew he had not seen anything yet.

What the twins saw as they gaped up at Barber, his golden hair brushing the ceiling, Adkins didn’t know. Maybe they didn’t see all of it, though they saw enough to reach out and each grab with both hands one of the chest-high, bigger-than-before front erections towering directly in front of them. They seemed not to notice Barber’s pre-spitting giant rear boners, which had shoved past his front legs and were now prodding the twin’s sculpted thighs through their increasingly sodden sweats.

“I think you’ll do the right thing,” Barber told them, his voice seeming to reverberate through the weight room. Adkins watched their chest and shoulders upper arms shift and jump as they mindlessly worshiped this man and his cocks, Barber’s words sinking into him as well as the twins. The twins, staring up at Barber as they stroked his slick, tree-trunk front cocks together, nodded dumbly. Of course they would. They would be imbued with a need to fulfill his desires, and of course Barber, always the federal agent first, desired only justice.

Adkins felt it, too. Please him. I must please him.

With a bolt of clarity, however, Adkins saw what Barber truly needed. Barber was aroused, too, titanically aroused, all the fucking time. And now, in this state, Barber was ten times more aroused than his usual desperate condition.

Barber needed to cum, more than any man ever. And it was up to Adkins to make it happen.

Afterwards Adkins wasn’t sure what happened to his clothes. All he knew was that when he jumped up on Barber’s rear ass he was completely nude, just like Barber, his massive-looking cock standing iron-hard and ready as he grasped Barber’s head-sized pecs from behind while simultaneously licking Barber’s neck. He shouldn’t have been big enough to reach, not with Barber having become juist about as tall as the room itself, tall enough to loom over the impressively muscled twins (now straddling the colossal erections shoving out between Barber’s front legs). But somehow he was. As he stroked and caressed the firm, round pecs his hands smeared with precum, and he wasn’t sure if it was from the now chest-high cocks, or if Barber was so full of pre-jizz his nips were leaking it as well as his cocks. He kept up with Barber’s heavy pecs while feeling up the stone-hard ridges of Barber’s pre-smeared twelve-pack as well, the whole time mouthing and licking Barber’s neck while sliding his own prodigious cock up and down the middle of Barber’s broad back. Remembering how effective stroking Zamora’s horsey flanks had been, Adkins slid his legs along Barber’s muscular, humantaur sides, accidentally finding Barber’s slippery, still-expanding rear cocks with his feet between Barber’s two sets of legs.

At this point Barber let out a sudden, deep moan, and this admission of lust and need kicked matters into a higher gear. Each of the twins was using mouths, tongues, and all four meaty hands in abject worship of Barber’s monumental front cocks, and as Adkins continued rutting against his back and caressing his godly torso Barber bent his head back to kiss Adkins as passionately as he’d ever been kissed. All of a sudden they were cumming together, a volcanic climax the size of ten orgasms, all shared between them. All of them were erupting as if from a single, mile-high cock, and Adkins felt as though he could cum like this forever, eternally spending limitless human spunk deep into the universe.


Though his satchel, now mysteriously containing his wallet, badge, and keys, remained by the door the exercise room, Adkins never did find his clothes; and after sharing a shower with the handsome, hard-muscled, long-tongued, four-armed and double-cocked Finchley Trips and securing their solemn and earnest assurance they would testify against their father and his elaborate criminal enterprise, Adkins had no choice but to try just brazenly walking out naked alongside his equally nude and still much-larger partner, Adkins’s two large, bare feet padding as silently as Barber’s foursome on the soft, beautiful carpets of the mansion’s grand hallway. Sure enough, the butler who’d shown them in took no more notice of Adkins’s six sculpted arms and the enormous and indefatigable erection he had nuzzling his sternum than he did of Barber’s (once again) 7’6” humantaur physique and plethora of stiff, weeping cocks (somehow he had three up front now, at least for the moment, all of them smearing precum along his collarbone as he walked, and his two rear adamantine erections had so far failed to recede much past his hefty, considerably oversized balls). Unless the old retainer was so unflappable as not to take notice even of large, naked men with impossible, leaking erections, Adkins reckoned his nervous hope might well be his new reality: that he now possessed a perception filter, too, and could walk amongst ordinary men transformed with the same impunity as Barber and Zamora.

As they strode down the driveway toward their SUV Adkins looked up at his partner thoughtfully, swinging his satchel a little from his middle right hand. It was high noon on a clear, bright day, and with his flowing golden hair and tanned, impressive physique practically shining in the brilliant sunlight Adkins thought he looked more like an Apollo than ever. A mega-Apollo, he mused, remolded to drive men more mad with desire even than did his usual, more human form. Even now, Adkins wanted to cum just from looking at him, and a welling of precum was already re-sliming the newly sculpture-worthy torso he had only moments before scrubbed very clean in the course of a prolonged, five-man shower.

“You surprise me,” Adkins said eventually. “You really do. I’d never have guessed you’d have…” He faltered, unsure how to phrase his thought.

“Used the effect I have on others to advance the case?” Barber suggested, looking ahead with his usual serious expression.

Adkins was taken aback. He’d never heard Barber talk like this. “What, this whole time? I thought you didn’t even—”

Again, he hesitated, and again Barber finished for him: “—know how attractive I am?” He spared a glance down at Adkins, lips quirking. “What kind of a maroon do you take me for?”

Adkins eyed him consideringly. “You just don’t think it’s important,” he decided. “Except for the greater good.”

Barber smiled, and Adkins felt his heart stutter. “If you want to put it that way.”

They reached the SUV, and Adkins turned to him. “So… what about for the good of your partner, who needs to think straight if he’d to come up with all the clever plans?” he said with a crooked grin. “After all,” he added gesturing to his newly upsized and apparently unrelenting dick, “you’re the one responsible for exactly how hard I am right now.”

Barber nodded soberly, as if considering Adkins’s logic, but he was also eyeing his giant cock with obvious hunger, his own cocks spitting little arcs of pre in response. “We do need you thinking clearly,” he agreed, eyes dancing. “We can… definitely build some new routines into our schedule.”

Adkins smiled. “Now you’re finally on my wavelength.” He moved around and got in the driver’s side, with Barber, who was these days a little too big for the passenger seat since his transformation, climbing in the back. As Adkins pulled his seatbelt on over his naked, freshly altered form and started the engine, a new thought occurred to him, and he sat a moment, letting the car hum around him. Barber’s cum would change him—something he’d only gotten a taste of so far. But if he was becoming more like Barber… what might his cum do to the humantaur god behind him?

Adkins put the SUV in gear and pulled out into the street with a wicked smile on his face. He could not wait to find out.

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