You’re…somewhere. It feels like a forest, and for some reason you’re on all fours. It smells absolutely wonderful. Wait, no, there it is. That’s the smell of burnt flesh.

Your brain was just overloaded from hypersensitivity. You blink a few times, clearing your vision. So you’re not in a forest. And judging from the blasted glass all around you, you’ve just made a very painful entry. The pain hits you harder than a truck. Your entire body feels like its been grated, mulched, seasoned, and sucked through a tube. Even your insides feel like they’re—

“Oh, here it comes!”

You retch, spitting blood onto the now smooth hemisphere you find yourself in. Black blood sizzles and evaporates as you finally get your bearings. You get back onto your two feet and look around. In one direction is a blasted wasteland, the other a boiling sea and a mountain of lava and stone spewing ash into the skies. You look over your arms, seeing the last of your burnt skin darken to a ‘healthy’ mauve.

“Whelp. Hopefully I’m not on Hell.”

Barren wastelands of a planet aside, you don’t think you could pull DESIRE from nothing. Oh wait, there’s something moving in the mountain. A very large piece of the mountain moves, eyes crying yellow magma. It swings its glowing orange arm casually, another part of the mountain collapsing in on itself. Can it even feel sexual pleasure? You’re not sure you can take a cock the size of a building. Its eyes glance over you and feel a burning coat of hate sizzle your skin.

REVULSION.

You go the other way.

Thankfully, the stone giant leaves you alone, more focused on digging thought the mountain and crushing…houses? Impossible.

Hours later and the ashen land of black stones fades away to sand. You might consider donning clothes to protect you from the heat. But it feels pleasantly cool enough.

“I guess temperature isn’t really a problem for a being that has to find lust from the coldest gulags of Russia to the hottest Arizona ladies.”

But still. You really like your suit. You think back to how you made it appear, and snapped your fingers. Again, it fits you perfectly. You can’t help but rub yourself a little bit too much.

It’s a really fine-ass suit.

And it’s a fine ass.

Maybe you can spawn a demon vehicle? You snap your fingers and point in front of you.

Nothing.

Maybe hoping for a Ferrari was too much. You hold the image of a motorcycle in your mind and snap your fingers. You feel the pull of something being created. You open your eyes and spot a bunch of clothes in front of you. A biker girl getup. And even then, you feel…emptier.

Best not waste magic or energy and start flying in a direction. You flap your leather wings and take to the skies.

It was a bit awkward to fly, switching between hovering and flying. After a few makeout sessions with that hot, hot sand and the discovery of a few new muscles, you managed to start flying in a single direction. Without crashing into hot sand. You find that you can keep your wings open and catch thermals high, high upwards. But with each flap, each movement, you feel it.

The Hunger.

You were really drained from regenerating, and those crashes didn’t help. It isn’t a hunger that pulls at your stomach like when you were human. It’s in an emptiness. An emptiness that fills your entire being, down to the soul.

Mostly in your snatch.

You could imagine that without a soul, you’d feel a lot emptier. You find yourself depending more and more on thermals to get you farther and farther. Until finally, in the distance, you see them.

Mountains.

And the subtlest hint of the thing you are running low on.

DESIRE.

Even from far away, you feel things about those that lived over there. They are restless. They are all male. And they are very horny. Your body begins to change, and you land to better look over yourself. Your suit dissipates, and you groan in exasperation. The horns on your head move to the sides of your head, curving outwards and smoothing over. You feel your jaw lengthen somewhat.

Your legs bend backwards painlessly and grow dense fur from the knees down. Your feet stretched until they were part of your legs, leaving only the front of your feet to turn into cloven hooves. Your ears lengthen and flop horizontally. Your spade tail is covered in fur. You get a fair bit more heavyset, emphasizing your breasts and thighs more than would be natural on a human being.

And you were pushing the limit before.

So the guys over there appear to be minotaurs. And you were a minotits. You squeeze your ample red breasts together, pushing a stream of milk out onto the sand.

…

And it just keeps going.

Apparently milk capacity is a very attractive trait among bovines.

After sufficiently wetting the sand, you take in a deep whiff of the pent up frustrations. It turns you on and fills you with energy all at once. You try something small.

“Mirror.”

You snap your fingers and a full-length mirror appears. A very sexy minotauress looks back at you. Her tits dibble droplets of milk from her suit as her more demonic traits accentuate her features. She wiggles her tongue like a snake, trying to elicit a laugh, but it only frustrates you further.

“God, I’m hot!”

It felt nice to use the Lord’s name in vain without feeling like Krakatoa jizzed in your mouth.

“I’d fuck me.”

You feel a cock erupt from within and stand at the ready. You stare at lil’ big Quinn for a minute.

“I’ve really changed mentally if I still think I’m succulent.”

Experiments are for later. You just wonder if it’d be simple to turn back into a human form. As soon as the thought comes to mind, you shift back. You don’t feel any emptier. You shift between minotaur and human forms at will with little delay and no drain on your energy. Even though you’re quite tall in human form, topping off at just over six feet, as a minotauress, you’re nearly eight feet tall.

“I guess that’s what he meant about base forms.”

Although you love the suit, you’re not sure if it’d be best to waltz in a three piece, even if you want to be led around by your tie. A snap of your fingers and a quick costume change occurs, your suit shrinking into a pair of tight chaps and a tight vest that showed some ample underboob. You look down and smile. Hang in there, buttons! You will the mirror out of existence and start flying towards the encampment in your minotauress form. Once you get close enough, you start jogging, helping form a healthy sheen of sweat over your luscious curves.

Feeling all that pent-up DESIRE makes your sex quiver with anticipation.

When you’re finally at the edge of the camp at the foot of the mountains, you’re being leered at by the two mino’s bearing battleaxes at the entrance. Seeing them, you recognize that there’s probably a lot of dimorphism going on.

You’ve got a human face, ears and pseudo-snout notwithstanding. But they’ve got thin fur covering them from their necks up to their bull heads. Their horns are much bigger than yours, extending nearly a foot from their heads compare to your modest couple inches. Despite their beastly faces, your enhanced demon vision could pick up more subtle human features. Mostly forward facing human eyes and the way they carried themselves seemed a lot like a pair of very bored dudes. Here’s hoping they speak English.

“Oh, please help me,” You whine sexily as you bring your arms together, “I’m lost and so very afraid.”

“Really?”

Jackpot. You’d rather skip learning a language to get into their pants.

“Well, we can keep you safe, cow, but there’s a fee. Do you have any money?”

You’ll play along.

“I’m sorry sirs, but no.” You bring a finger up to your bottom lip. “But I am quite talented in many ways. Is there any way I could pay you two to get in and eat?”

The two minotaurs grin to one another and turn back to you.

“Aye, you’re a bit tall for a cow, but you’re a pretty lass. We’ll be willing to give you protection and something to ̶ ̶ “ He licks his lips and continues as you lean forwards, exposing your ample ass as your tail swished back and forth, "̶ ̶ eat. But we're a community of bulls here. We share everything. Food, cots...”

Your hungry cunt drooled at the implications, images of yourself being used from every hole at the same time racing through your mind. Every hole until you were absolutely drenching in white, thick ̶ ̶

“What are you two doing? I hope you’re not trying to extort a member of your own kind.”

Odd, that one may have been just as pent-up as the others, but he stood by his duty. A muscular white minotaur approaches, as tall as you are. His eyes glance to your body for less than a second before meeting you in the eyes.

He barely flinches.

“Leave the lady alone, can’t you see she’s a powerful sorceress?”

Smart.

It looks like magic is generally accepted here. The two stand at attention and nod.

“Sorry, sir. It’s just…”

“I understand.” The white one nods. “Don’t let it happen again.”

They salute and turn back to their stations.

“I apologize for my subordinates. I am Lieutenant Tungsten. We’re in a bit of precarious situation.”

You nod and fall back into a sort of hyperaware trance. Somehow you can sense the souls of everyone around you. It wasn’t as wide ranging as your demon-sense, but it gave a lot more information. Their DESIRE filled you with a taste of their lust, but this sense gave you more of the underlying emotions.

You read their souls and find a disturbing mixture. Curiosity, anger, loneliness, sadness.

Desperation.

“You see,” Tungsten continues, “We are exiles of Minos, no doubt you’ve visited or once lived there, being a minotaur yourself?”

“Sorry, no. I was born in a faraway land. I’ve heard very little of Minos, could you tell me more?”

“Your parents were very lucky, then.”

You think back to your parents who plagued your life with their eccentricities and drama. But apparently they’re in Heaven now, so they had the last laugh.

Motherfucker.

And fatherfucker.

“You see, every ninety-nine years, seventy-seven bulls and seventy-seven cows are exiled from the island, to better control the population. Most of the times, they aren’t sent at the same time of year. Sometimes the bulls and cows split apart and explore the world independently, but most times, we form hordes, moving together in large groups searching for the other groups. Sometimes we settle down, sometimes we keep traveling.”

“There are seventy-seven of you here?”

“No,” He sighed. “We are the last. We were close enough to witness Minos’s destruction. We returned and brought back refugees, but we found no women or children. Ironic that we would band together to become raiders ourselves to survive. We number in a little under two hundred bulls. Damn that fire giant.”

Two hundred cocks. Just craving to be used…no, no. You push down those feelings.

Fire giant. That mountain was Minos. You understand the sadness that permeates the souls of these men. Strange they found nobody but the men. It must hurt that much more; they probably lost families, lovers, children, their entire culture.

You’re somewhat thankful you’re a walking cliché with ‘the eternal battle within’ going for you. It makes it easier to side multiple sides of an issue. For one, there’s your own survival at stake, and you don’t know how long your reserves would last. But for another, you can’t leave these guys here for a slow, painful death.

Not without getting laid. Shit, no blending!

“Come, I’ll get you my share of food, some water, and a map so you can find your way back. We should hurry, we don’t want the Captain or the other Lieutenants to see you.”

Aww, how sweet.

But still, you’ve been on the other side of the penis fence, so you know more about false chivalrousness.  Not the beta kind, but the ‘pull your chair out for you so you don’t see the roofie slipping in your drink’. And this guy is a stranger. How can you trust him?

You look up to Tungsten and read his soul. He is resolute, regretful of what he’s had to do to survive. Sure, he wants to bone you, but he accepts you as a person who has lost their way, just as he has.

You’d be okay with having his babies.

Wait, what?

Ctrl+z!

Ctrl+z!

You are interrupted from trying to undo those thoughts by someone pulling your hair. You fall on your plump ass, unharmed either due to your amazing cheeks or your demonic resistance.

“What do we have here?” A voice bellows, gathering the attention of all nearby mino’s. “A cow in MY camp?! A god must have heard my prayers! What are you doing here, SLUT?!”

Man, what a fucktard.

“Apologies, dear sir!”

You give a nervous smile and relish as the enormous brown minotaur flinches at the sight of your demonic eyes and sharp teeth.

”I was just passing through, hoping for a bit of food from a generous minotaur such as yourself!”

He scowls and pulls on your billowing black hair harder, pulling you off the ground.

“You CUNT!”

He punches you in the gut, and you mime doubling over in pain.

Why fight back?

Sure, you can rip this guy apart, but when he punches you and pulls on your hair, his DESIRE grows.

And you Hunger.

He’s getting off on this, and you’re getting off on him.

“You think you can come into MY camp, eat MY food, and drink MY water that MY bulls worked so hard for, without paying?”

“Captain Titanium, please don’t be so harsh on her.” Tungsten interjects. “She’s just as desperate as we are and ̶ “

“Shut it, Tungsten!” Titanium yells. “You and your stupid honor! This THIEF was going to USE our resources.”

“I was going to pay-Ugh” You release an unintentionally sexy grunt as you fake trying to escape Titanium. “I am a powerful sorceress, I could offer all of you my services, help you!”

“You’re going to give me a service, all right.” Titanium leers. “A damn good one, by the look of you.”

He pulls you up and traces his fingers up your thigh and towards your obscenely big tits. In a deft motion, he rips open your jacket, he golden buttons spiraling onto the ground. He clamps down on a nipple and you let out a gasp as a stream of milk squirts onto the dusty ground.

“You tried to steal from all of us. And now you’re going to pay all of us.”

“But sir!”

Tungsten tries to stop him from pulling you away, but is stopped with a look from you. You let out a sad sigh, and look away.

“This is a way of the world here, Tungsten. My purity is a small price to pay for my life.”

Trying not to laugh.

You’ve sort of accepted you’re a cum-gargling, vagoo licking, tentacle-riding slut by now. You’re smaht like that. You’re pulled into the tent and thrown onto a cot.

“I’m going to use every hole you have, whore.”

“Oh, no” you purr, “Please don’t defile me in every way possible.”

A niggling sensation draws at you, the last vestige of your humanity screaming out. Maybe a bit of privacy would be nice. You imagine a bubble of silence lining the tent and snap your fingers. A gray shimmer races across the cloth and the sounds from the outside fade away.

“Shut up, bitch.”