A Security-Oriented Perspective (A SynTech Story)

By Danath

Written during the Corporate Recruitment livestream, 7/10/18

Roanan and Armitage are © Vishki

* * *

Roanan glanced left and right before refocusing his eyes on the black and white screen in front of him. He hunched over, trying to stay small as he furiously typed commands into the machine. The lab was completely dark except for the small glow of his screen, which he’d turned down as much as he could. If there was one thing SynTech was good at, it was making sure you could or could not get into the things they did or did not want you into… and right now, Roanan could tell the company did not want him accessing his research.

Three years! Three years he’d spent on the Security Enhancement protocols for the transformation serum… and they wanted to stop him. Stop him, right now, when he was sure he was on the verge of a breakthrough. If only he had more time. He’d done all he could the past two weeks after the division head sat him down and told him the news. But he needed more time… maybe days, or even less. He was so close to synthesizing the perfect molecular structures to meet the project’s protocols. So close…

A red light flashed above the door and Roanan cursed. The silent alarm. His fingers danced across the keyboard as the human struggled to enter the last few calculations he’d performed at home based on what he could remember. If it worked, if the experiment was successful, it would validate three long years of work. They couldn’t take that away from him!

The computer beeped. Next to the monitor, a large dispenser whirred as the large machines running along the wall processed the orders and began the process of combining and mixing them all just so.

It was taking too long. Roanan huddled by the side of the desk, sweat covering his pale face. He patted his knee absently as he stared at the dispenser. Open, damn it, open!

Roanan’s head whirled as he heard voices in the hallway outside.

“Probably just a false alarm,” one voice said.

“Yeah, they closed this place weeks ago. Nobody’s been in here since,” said another.

Open. Open. Open!

Just as the door slid open, activated by  the keypad on the outside, the dispener’s lid snicked open, revealing a small hypodermic pad designed to make quick, accurate injections merely by placing it against the skin.

“Hey! Over here!”

Roanan snatched the pad and slammed it against his arm as he thumbed the safety. He could feel it deliver the chemicals and dropped it to the ground as a large black panther skidded to a halt in front of him.

“Hey, you!”

The panther’s partner, a portly crocodile, arrived moments later and grabbed Roanan’s arm as the panther covered him with a stun gun. Roanan grinned, but didn’t resist as they cuffed him. The panther and crocodile didn’t notice the used hypopad on the floor as they marched the scientist out into the hallway.

Roanan found himself in an interrogation room, alone after a thorough search of his person, with one wrist cuffed to the steel desk, which itself was bolted to the floor along with his chair. Other than another chair not bolted to the floor for the interviewer, the room was empty. Even the lights were hidden and inaccessible. No two-way glass, but Roanan was positive he was under surveillance from every angle in the small room.

The human sat by himself in the chair, grinning madly, for nearly thirty minutes. He was sweating, skin turning red and flushed with heat as he felt… something. If the serum worked, the results would be very specific. If the serum didn’t work… well, Roanan wasn’t sure what was going to happen in that case. Anything was better than losing his years of research, though.

The door slammed open and a large, muscular human in a fancy tuxedo stalked into the room and banged his hands on the table.

“I’m in the middle of a $300-a-plate fundraiser for my wife’s charity when I get a phone call,” he shouted into Roanan’s face, “that some puke has broken into the laboratories under my surveillance and hacked into a workstation.”

The large human, who stood almost seven feet tall, leaned further forward as the tuxedo strained around his chest.

“And not only that,” he said, some spittle flecks landing on Roanan's stunned face, “but this insect that dares breach the security at my labs is none other than the shit they fired a month ago, and he’s been sneaking back in every night the whole time since! I don’t know if I’m more pissed at you or the slack jawed morons who work for me!”

The large, angry face was almost as red as Roanan’s. A large brown beard stretched across his jaw. Roanan thought he was probably in his late forties or early fifties, but despite the paunch in his belly, he was ripped as all get-out in the chest and arms.

“My wife,” he thundered, continuing his angry tirade, “looked forward to tonight for months. Months! And you have to get caught right. In. The. Middle. Of. It.”

He leaned in closer, about to say more, when his nose scrunched up. He turned his head and sneezed.

“Gesundheit.”

“Shut the fuck up!”

The large human sneezed again and leaned back into the chair, wiping his hand on his pant leg.

“Okay, Mr. Roanan. I’m Mr. Armitage and I’m about to make your life miserable. I’m gonna throw the book at you. You’re gonna go to prison for so long, you’ll forget what a lab coat looks like. I’m gonna-”

Armitage cupped both hands to his mouth and sneezed again.

“What the shit is that smell?” he demanded.

Roanan couldn’t smell anything unusual even though he was smelling more than usual. He could smell the squid ink pasta Armitage had for dinner. He could smell the cheap, department store cologne. He could smell the sweat beading up around Armitage’s bald head. But he didn’t smell anything particularly funny or strange.

“Okay, nevermind. Listen. I am the Vice President of Corporate Security here at SynTech. If we’d met before, I’d remember a little weasel like you,” Armitage said. “Scratch that - I know much more trustworthy weasels than you. Now, how long have you been breaking in? Where is the access hidden? You program a backdoor somewhere?”

Roanan wasn’t listening. He was distracted by something and kept glancing down at his lap.

“Answer me, you little shit!”

“Huh?”

Roanan’s head lifted back up. His eyes were glassy and a layer of fine brown fun grew in underneath them.

“Oh, you little bastard, don’t tell me…”

Armitage stood and bolted for the door as Roanan let out a groan. Armitage glanced over his shoulder as the scientist’s nose turned black. He hauled on the door handle, but it wouldn’t budge.

“Sorry, sir. Containment protocols are now in effect.”

“God damn it, let me out!” Armitage shouted back at the voice coming in over the speakers. “I will fire every single last one of you worthless god-da-achoo!”

Armitage bent over, sneezing violently again, as Roanan’s face spread into a wide, happy smile as he realized his years of work paid off. His research was vindicated and he’d proven himself and his theories. Roanan’s nose was soft and dog-like by now, and the brown fuzz growing under his eyes stretched across his cheeks, which began to sag around his lower jaw somewhat. More hair grew in around his neck and ears, but glossy black instead of the chocolate brown.

Armitage strode back across the room in two steps and reached down, grabbing Roanan by the arm that wasn’t cuffed to the desk.

“What’d you take?” he asked. “What’d he take?” he asked again, turning towards the hidden cameras he knew were in the corners of the room.

“We’re trying to find out, sir. In the meantime, we suggest not… uh… fondling him.”

“What?”

Armitage looked down and jerked his hand away like he’d been bit. His fingers had curled around Roanan’s ear and scratched the black fur sprouting along the side of his neck.

“Shit… ah, shit, shit, shit,” Armitage mumbled.

Roanan groaned again. His lower jaw distended, stretching outwards, matched closely by the large, wet black nose above, until a broad canine muzzle fixed into place. A pair of wet brown eyes sat above, with a strip of chocolate fur running up the bridge of his muzzle and around his eyebrows. The rest of his head was covered in glossy black fur, replacing the long, curly brown hair Roanan had previously, now lying about the floor where it landed after falling out.

The canine changes continued to spread downwards from his head, where a new pair of flopped-over triangular ears twitched. The fur spread across the rottweiler’s chest, puffing out his shirt, and reappeared at the end of the sleeves on both arms. Armitage stared, fingers clenching and unclenching, as his nostrils flared wide, inhaling… something. It was a musky smell, somewhere between wet dog and sweat. His large chest rose and fell rapidly as he felt a heat growing inside his body.

“Sir, please, stop fondling him. Sir?”

Armitage grunted and pulled his hands away. His tongue felt thick in his mouth and his head throbbed.What was happening? What was this smell that made him sneeze so much? Shaking his head, he felt a strange weight around his temples and pressed his palms to his ears. His ears weren’t there.

“What the fuck?”

Instead of ears, Armitage could feel a bony protuberance stretching back from all sides of his skull like a fan. It ran from one jaw, up the side of his head, across the top of his skull, and down the other side, arched backwards to protect the rest of his head. The texture was strange - rough, hard skin, but flexible at the same time.

Armitage gasped when he felt the bones in his face suddenly shift. The awkwardness made him cough and sneeze all at once. His nostrils spread outwards, flattening as they shrunk to a pair of holes atop a large, dark yellow beak-like mouth. The beak was white and felt bony and hard except for the very edges, which were softer and more pliable. It ran into the skin that formed around a short muzzle where his nostrils flared, while at the tip, above the new beak, a large white horn speared out and up, curling slightly backwards as it grew. With his fingers, he could feel a pair of matching horns sprouting from his growing skull above the ridges of tough skin where his eyebrows used to be. The last few hairs of his beard fell to the floor as he stared at the rottweiler, breathing hard, a mixture of anger and confusion spread over his new features.

Roanan barely noticed the triceratops. He was in too much pain. His hips stretched backwards painfully, pushing outwards against his pants, which were keeping him from moving… something. He wasn’t sure yet what was going on, and it wasn’t until a loud rip echoed in the room and a pair of hind legs unfolded from the seat of his blue jeans that he realized he was turning taur.

The rottweiler slid off the chair, supporting himself mostly on his forelegs as the bones stretched and grew. His spine cracked as it elongated down his lower body, extending further his legs wiggled and flexed. The rich, glossy black fur covered his lower half except for the underbelly, which featured the same chocolate brown as on his upper torso and face. He huffed, gasping as the relief of finally bursting free of his clothes was accompanied by an intense arousal. Roanan’s clawed hands reached for his crotch, but his lower torso was bare where it met his taur-body. He twisted his leg to the side, lifting it, and craned his upper body around. A groan left his lips when he saw the thick sheath almost half a foot wide swaying between his hind legs, connected by the base to a pair of swollen, chocolate brown testicles.

Armitage stared as well. The triceratops’s large skull was fully formed now, increasing his final standing height to over eight feet counting the triple horns. The muscular human’s torso swelled as the fabric surrounding his beefy chest strained and stretched to fit the powerful fibers below. The not-quite human grunted as the front of his tuxedo pants swelled with arousal. His eyes locked onto the rottie-taur’s hind legs, staring at the thick rump.

Armitage closed his eyes, trying to will himself to stop. He didn’t want to touch the transforming canine. He didn’t want to transform himself. He certainly didn’t want to fuck the dogtaur, despite how hard his cock was as it pushed down the right leg of his tuxedo pants, clearly outlined against the fabric, swelling larger and fatter by the moment, far larger than normal. Armitage was not gay, and sliding his thick cock into the rottweiler’s fat, flexing, muscular rump was… was not… what he… he wanted…

Shaking his head, Armitage groaned and stumbled backwards, until he was leaning against the wall. Every breath he took infused him with more of the rottweiler’s powerful scent, encouraging him to take control, to be dominant, to show the canine his place in the order of things. To claim the thick rump, abuse the wide muzzle, to make the rottweiler his bitch…

No!

Armitage closed his eyes, determined not to look. He tried to control his breathing, but his body just would not cooperate. A ripping noise mirrored the sound of Roanan’s clothes tearing earlier. The almost fully transformed male’s arousal speared into the air, surging out in a huge arc as the massively thick, veined monster pulled upwards, splitting its way through the far-too-delicate fabric of the security chief’s tuxedo pants. Armitage’s nostrils flared as he felt the weight of his newly engorged maleness for the first time. It was a light pink, brighter than the burnt umber skin stretching across the dinosaur’s growing body. Long and thick, it retained its human-like appearance despite everything else on Armitage’s body changing. The fat crown flexed as it curled backwards, incredibly hard and already leaking. The tuxedo pants clung to the dinosaur’s bulging thighs, wrapping around the muscles in his legs as his whole body swelled with power and muscle. The urge to mount the moaning and panting rottie-taur grew inside him, but he tried to quash it. He wasn’t gay… he wasn’t gay…

Roanan shuddered as his thick cock stretched from his sheath. It, too, was human-like, but incredibly oversized, close to a foot of maleness already drooping out of the taut, chocolate brown sheath. Veins as thick as Roanan’s fingers ran up the sides of the monstrous shaft as his balls visibly swelled, inflating several inches in diameter as the taur’s tail stretched back across his hips. It was wide, but not very long, and flapped up and down with excitement across his heavy nuts.

The taur tugged his wrist against the table. He had to lean over because he was still cuffed to the steel frame. His shirt strained as his upper torso thickened up, getting not just a layer of perfectly formed muscle under the sleek and shiny coat of short-cropped fur, but a thick layer of subcutaneous fat, making him look slightly pudgy all the way around despite how the huge muscles in his shoulders and along his lower half bulged and moved and shifted as he stretched his unfamiliar limbs.

With the way the handcuff held his arm, he had to go down on his knees on his forelegs, but he kept his hind legs straight, hiking his hindquarters into the air. His huge cock drooped towards the floor beneath his wagging tail and fat rump cheeks, all presented perfectly to the growing triceratops on the other side of the small interrogation room.

“Sir, we’ve found the means he used to dose himself. We’re analyzing it now. Sir? Sir?”

Armitage took a step forward, eyes glazing over. His cock hurt with the need in his aching balls as the thick cheeks of the rottietaur’s huge, round rump swayed in front of him. Roanan was almost as tall as the triceratops by now and a little bit longer than that, the perfect height for the dinosaur to mount the bent-over male.

Mount and own. Claim him. Fuck him. Own him. Do it. 

Do it!

Armitage’s large feet dragged on the floor. His fancy, shiny dress shoes split at the seams as large, three-toed feet spread wide. Large white claws as big as the toes themselves pressed outwards from the last knuckle, the same white color as the triceratops’s horns and fingernail. Behind Armitage, a long, burnt umber tail snapped back and forth, tipped with some sharp-looking bone studs and strands of shredded black fabric.

“Uh… sir? We’ve got a little problem out here… it looks like Jones and Smith were also affected by the serum. Sir? Sir, please don’t play with his balls. Sir?”

Armitage rolled the rottietaur’s fat testicles in his paws, hefting the huge orbs. Roanan whined back at him, panting hard as his monstercock stretched and flexed outwards. Displaying innately submissive behavior, Roanan flipped his tail up, exposing himself fully as the dinosaur’s rough, thick fingers rolled his fat balls back and forth. He dropped them and watched them bounce, grinning as he ran a palm over the fine velvet fur coating the taur’s rump.

Armitage shook his head and pulled his hand away. His cock ached. Every fiber of his body told him to do it. But he couldn’t… he wasn't… he had a wife, for fuck’s sake. Been married twenty years. So why was he so attracted to the muscular, thick hipped, moaning male rottie in front of him?

“Sir! Sir, there’s a situation out here… it’s… hnnnnggg… Jones and Smith are… nnffff… what’s that… what’s that smell?”

His cock flexed and the fat length of pink meat slid against the rottie’s flank, spitting pre-cum as it hit. Armitage closed his eyes, moaning, large tongue pressing against the roof of his beak-like mouth. The rottietaur’s hips pushed back as a lewd groan left Roanan’s panting muzzle. The taur was about done growing, it seemed, topping out at around eight feet tall, counting the flopped over ears. His pelt was slightly loose, so that when the dinosaur’s fingers clenched around good handfuls of canine posterior, the fur pulled taut over the shifting muscles and layer of fat beneath, giving Roanan a deliciously thick and smooth feel.

“We’re trying to open the doors now, sir,” the voice said over the intercom. It was labored, heavy, hard to understand, and there were sounds of growling and wet slapping in the background, making it hard to hear everything. “Wait… us… begging… smell… ahhhnnnnnffffff!”

Armitage pressed his hips forward. The triceratops’s bare length slid across the rottie’s tail hole, leaving a string of precum as it pushed paws and up, hot dogging the moaning canine’s cheeks. Armitage closed his eyes again, trying to imagine his wife, trying to imagine his past girlfriends. He’d never been into guys. Never even experimented, never been tempted even when guys at the gym offered him blowjobs. He was a breast man, a faithful husband. Never cheated with another woman, let alone a male. Not interested… until now… until this rottweiler. The smell of the panting canine taur triggered something deep inside, something that demanded he exert his control, exude dominance, own any pathetic males he pleased and put them in their places, to treat them like the beasts they are. The head of his human-like maleness throbbed against the longer fur on the underside of the rottie’s tail, spitting more precum as his trembling maleness squeezed into the thick rump cheeks, spreading them wide from top to bottom. His large claws scraped down the taur’s flanks, making Roanan groan aloud.

“Fuck… why… what… are you doing.. to me...”

The rottie clenched his rump and wiggled, groaning as he felt the fat length pulse warmly. Still bent down on his forelegs, his hind legs spread to accommodate his growing sheath and balls. The huge muscles rippled across his incredible upper torso and long, strong taurbody pulled his fur tight again as he pressed backwards as far as he could, until the cuff around his arm stopped him. He desired nothing in the world more than the dinosaur’s rough touch.

“Please,” Roanan heard himself say, shocked at his own voice, “please fuck me! I need you!”

The steel cuffs stretched and strained. Roanan moaned and groaned in equal measure as his thick maleness stretched larger yet, nearly three feet at this point and almost a foot thick in the middle, twice as wide as before, with a musky set of perfectly abusable balls draped between his hind legs.

“Oh… you fucking slut,” Armitage gasped. “What did you put in that… hnnnng… formula?”

The rottweiler just groaned and flexed, clenching up again. The links holding the two clasps of the handcuffs split and the big taur could finally push backwards. His tail went down, pushing the tip right to his pucker, as his hind legs reversed, impaling himself on the triceratops’s thickness. Armitage tried to backpedal, but there was nowhere to go and his shoulders and back smacked into the wall, cracking the concrete blocks under the paint.

Armitage’s shirt and suit splintered as the seams gave out. The dinosaur’s eyes opened wide as his fat cock tasted male ass for the first time. Hot, tight, warm… he shoved forward, burying his aching length to the hilt as Roanan’s whine of submissive pleasure echoed in his ears.

“That’s right… you… fucking… bitch!”

The dinosaur’s hips dragged back and slammed in with each word. Roanan’s feet slipped on the floor, scrabbling for purchase as his upper arms held onto the wall and desk, propping him up under the muscular male’s assault. The fabric of his t-shirt gave out as he howled, his cock stretching almost five feet long now, with two-foot-diameter balls swinging back against the dino’s thick legs. Strands of colored fibers clung to the taur’s upper torso, hanging from his plump nips and deep-cut abdominals.

Armitage’s hand reached out and grabbed the back of the rottie’s neck, using his thumb and finger to pinch the loose skin. Roanan whined even louder as the dinosaur’s muscular bicep flexed, pulling his upper body back roughly, forcing him onto all four feet. His hips slammed forward at the same time, delivering another shock of fat dino cock to the transformed taur’s system.

The rottweiler’s massive length slapped against the floor, sending a spray of pre-cum between his front legs. Then it flexed upwards, thudding against the belly of the canine’s taurbody. Now at full size, it was magnificent in its obscenity. It jutted beneath Roanan like a cannon, the mushroomed tip reaching all the way to his forelegs, throbbing potently against his newfound undercarriage, defying all reason and shame.

“You’re gonna be my puppy dog,” Armitage crooned, regularly bouncing his wide, muscular hips off the taur’s plump rear end. The dinosaur snarled as he felt a rush of dominant energy surging from inside his chest. “You’re gonna be my cute little buttslut…”

Roanan nodded his head, tongue hanging out, only too happy to hear the dinosaur tell him what was going to happen next. He needed it almost as badly as Armitage needed to dominate him.

“Sir… uh… oooh… sir, Jones is… he’s… nnnnnnfffff… please let us in, sir… we need you… trying to open… open the door!”

“Hear that, pupslut?” the dinosaur asked, his voice gravelly and harsh as he tugged on the back of the rottie’s neck, pulling the gasping male against him as his other paw clung to the taur’s flanks. “Once I’m done with you, I’ve got a whole other room of horny little cocksuckers to take care of.”

The dinosaur grinned and thrust his hips. What had he ever seen in women? His wife would understand.

“Look at you… whining like a bitch,” he growled, slamming his thick shaft deep again before pulling it out to the tip, making the rottietaur’s tight ring clench and clench again. “Big fucking cock on you is wasted… look at how big you are… you can’t fuck anything. No wonder you’re such a beta dickbitch! Ha!”

A slap rang out as the dinosaur’s palm smacked against the taur’s flank, sending the muscles flexing and layer of plush fat beneath the velvet fur jiggling. He rocked his hips forward at the same time, making Roanan squeal as the huge shaft drove in despite the tightness.

“I’m going to own this whore ass,” Armitage said, leaning forward and jerking the rottie’s torso back, bringing the canine’s flapping ears closer to his large beak. “I’m going to break you and make this all worth it…”

Again and again the sound of his hips bouncing off the rottie’s plump rump echoed in the room. An orchestra of squeals and moans and squelches followed as the dinosaur’s huge body slammed forward, wide legs powering his refrigerator-like upper body forward as the last few scraps of his tuxedo drifted to the floor, where a growing puddle of pre-cum from the taur’s oversized length washed across their feet.

There was a pounding on the door and the sound of excited males in the hallway. Armitage sneered as he leaned back, thrusting harder than ever as a whole series of new scents invaded his nostrils. Too many sluts… too many eager bitches to fill with his seed… 

His wife never moaned like this. Wife. Ha! This rottweiler bitch would be his wife now. The dinosaur’s beak clacked as he forced himself deep, trying to shove even his fat balls into the squirming, wiggling hindquarters of the gasping studbitch beneath him. He’d make this rottieslut his new wife… a big-dicked beta male with so many muscles and such a good scent and the way he felt and squeezed and clenched just made Armitage’s head feel so good at the knowledge he was going to get his fuck on with so many hot, muscular gay beasts, all submissive to him and his big dino-cock…

“Annnnfffffff!”

The dinosaur came good. Thick rivers of seed erupted out of the rottie’s tailhole around the thrusting, flexing shaft, pouring down the oversized canine nuts between his legs and adding to the mess on the floor. Armitage’s paws sunk into the canine’s rump, squeezing the ham hocks together around his length as he held himself deep, the whole massive length twitching and flexing nicely inside.

“Nnngggg… take it all, slut,” he gasped, leaning over the rottie’s back end and wrapping his arms around the large underbelly. “Take… it… all!”

The vicious thrusting resumed as more thick seed squirted out, overflowing even the large rottweiler’s ability to handle the load. The large canine’s muscles stood out, glinting under the shifting pelt, as his overlong human-like maleness rose up, flexing into his underbelly. An eruption followed, splattering against the wall opposite, running down in rivulets, gallons of the stuff painting the plain gray walls white. He howled, humping backwards, desperate to please his owner, his master, his dominant dinosaur daddy… he could feel the big male’s breath on his lower torso and shuddered, driven to orgasm all the more as the huge stalk pummeled his tight hips again and again and again…

“Sir! We’ve got the door open!”

Immensely large male canines, all taurs like Roanan, pushed and crowded at the entrance, gasping and moaning as they watched their boss slam into the squealing rottweiler. Each sported a massive arousal, easily as large, if not larger in the cases of the bigger boys. Their muscular and developed bodies shifted with eagerness as they dribbled and leaked across the floor, tongues wagging as much as their tails as they hoped they’d be next in line to satisfy the huge dino’s needs.

Armitage grinned as he pinned the rottietaur underneath down, forcing the male’s knees to stretch out beneath him as he wrapped his fingers around the base of the canine’s tail. Tendrils of sticky, sparkling dinoseed stretched from the rottie’s wide rump to the tip of the triceratop’s shaft as Armitage dragged his enormous maleness free despite how tight and warm the canine clenched. Once out, Roanan collapsed in a pile of arms and legs, gasping and moaning as he weakly stroked his drooling shaft. He was almost entirely covered in a thick glaze of cum that soaked into his short fur and accentuated the muscular outlines of his large, transformed body.

The dinosaur swung his hips around, knocking over the interviewer chair as he crouched over, unable to stand up fully straight because his horns kept scraping the ceiling. Licking his beak, the incredibly muscular dino put both hands on his hips as he surveyed the crowd of powerful, obedient, well-hung muscletaurs at the doorway, each one sporting obedient and needy looks on their cute muzzles as they jostled for attention from the boss.

Armitage’s thick arousal pulsed, dripping, still fully erect as he shoved his way through the sleek haunches and ripped pectorals, grinning as he felt the paws and muzzles worshiping at his overdeveloped chest and barrel belly. Reaching out a paw, he snatched a radio hanging by threads from a tall Dalmatian-taur with a lean and toned body.

The dinosaur used the tips of his claws to adjust the frequency as the chorus of enchanted, deep-voiced moans echoed around him in the hallway. Holding the radio up to his beak-like mouth, the triceratops spoke:

“Company A, Commander Armitage. All agents on duty, report back to base for additional training. On the double!”

Armitage grunted as three separate pairs of paws stroked along his maleness and dropped the radio. Reaching out an arm, he arbitrarily pulled on the nape of the nearest canine’s neck - a pitbull, this one with a tan coat. Thrusting the pit bull’s torso against the wall, the dino used both hands to clench the male’s wiggling hindquarters, holding the taur’s backend in place. His maleness dripped across the pit bull’s long lower back and rolled down his sides, leaving streaks in the gleaming tan pelt. The taur’s biceps bulged as he lowered his front legs, arching himself back in desperation. Armitage’s grin stretched even wider as he felt the shift and movement of the hugely aroused canines crowding in on all sides, more jealous than ever they weren’t the ones to get reamed by the huge dinosaur’s thickness.

“Who wants to get it next after I’m through with this pup?”

* * *

Several days later…

“Yes, that’s right. I’ll send you my report in a few minutes. Thank you,” Armitage said. He leaned back in his chair and smiled as he hit “Send” on the computer screen. The report - “My Security Staff is Now Composed Entirely of Huge Muscular Beta Male Taurs that I Fuck on the Regular.pdf” - flew through the company intranet to the office of the COO.

With that taken care of, the massive dinosaur stood up and stretched. His salary was going to take a hit, what with the divorce and all, but for now he was staying in the company-provided housing on the other side of the campus. He lived in the apartment above the stables, a leftover building from an old agricultural school. He assigned his new security team each a stall and even procured a few otters to make sure they were fed and brushed every day when not on duty. The dinosaur grinned. He reserved satisfying their need for male dick only to himself. They could suck, lick, and stroke each other all they wanted, or bury their dick in the nearest non-security backside that could fit their oversized schlongs, but only the dinosaur was allowed their rumps.

At the moment, though, he wasn’t in the stable, but at his office of the large command center, connected by a hallway to the interrogation rooms. He glanced around, nodding with approval. Three well-hung canines of various breeds sat or stood at their stations, eyes glued to the consoles, monitoring the other taurs prowling the labs on regular patrol. All total, the dinosaur dominated - that is, employed - nearly three dozen muscular doggie-thots. And every huge, ripped, powerful male was at the beck and call of the huge dino daddy.

He remembered how the after-analysis explained why he became a dinosaur, rather than one of these randy, fuckable studs. It was his allergy, the lead scientist theorized, that caused a reaction with the mutation, reversing its properties, dominant instead of submissive, reptile instead of mammal. Whatever it was, his allergy to canines was long gone. The change to his sexuality, however, was irreversible. Armitage verified that himself when he was balls-deep in the scientist after the debriefing.

“Honey… I’m… ahhh… I’m leaving you!” the scientist had moaned, hardly able to speak as Armitage mounted him. “The engagement… is… ah… Ahhhh… AHHHoofff!”

Armitage enjoyed listening to the “straight” husky call his fiancee and cancel his engagement between powerful thrusts into his tight, virgin taur-rump, furry cheeks gaping around his immense saurian girth. Even now, flecks of his cum from his most recent fucking clung to the husky’s fluffy ass as the former human fixed his eyes on banks of surveillance feeds, the newest member of the dino’s pack. Unfortunately, further tests afterwards determined that Armitage himself was no longer infectious, so his pack count would remain steady until the science goons could figure out just what the hell Roanan ran through that machine. Roanan himself wasn’t much help anymore with anything requiring more thought than “Perimeter clear” or “Harder, harder!” Armitage still looked forward to hearing the results, as he had plans to expand his army of security canines throughout the SynTech campus and snuff out crime permanently.

Armitage turned his armored head, hearing heavy footfalls as Roanan entered the room, padding in at a purposeful trot. Heavy body armor covered his upper and lower halves, molded to fit his oversized arms and legs. A black helmet with a retractable visor fed him augmented reality data through the command center computers. A large pistol and stun gun set in holsters at the junction of his upper and lower body while, hanging from quick-release straps along his lower back, a large and powerful-looking rifle sat, ready to be used in case of any really dangerous security intrusions. Originally designed to be mounted on triple-axle vehicles or larger, the massively built rottietaur could aim and fire the exceptionally large gun with ease. With each step, the fat and full sheath and sac hanging between his hind legs bounced, stretching the shiny taut fur across it.

His teeth bared in a ferocious snarl as he thrust a struggling rabbit down at the dinosaur’s feet.

“Sir! One intruder, no pass, sir!”

The moaning, submissive, begging rottweiler from before was gone. Roanan was on duty and lived up to the part. His cock was soft, firmly tucked away, all business in front of the boss. He snapped off a salute and waited.

The short and lean rabbit staggered on his feet when the taur’s hand shoved him forward. He steadied himself and attempted to reason with the huge dinosaur. “I tried to tell him! This is all just a misunderstanding! They said my ID would be valid until my new one is issued! I-I can prove it!” he said, fumbling in his pocket until shaking paws producing a leather wallet from his slacks.

Armitage nodded, taking the wallet but ignoring the rabbit standing nervously in front of him.

“Good boy,” he said, beak curling somewhat. 

 The rottie’s tongue hung out as he panted in response to the praise, and Armitage’s heavy cock stirred at the sight of the wide, wet canine flesh unfurling from his slutty muzzle beneath the armored helmet and visor.

Armitage glanced again at the rabbit’s wallet, examining his smiling picture on the expired temporary employee ID. Another picture tucked into a plastic sleeve of the rabbit wearing a colorfully bright shirt posed beside a cute female rabbit. A gorgeous ocean sunset provided a stunning background. Apparently the rabbit was new to SynTech and recently started in one of the research labs. Well, that was going to change. Armitage required a few additional hires to complete his “SynTech Security Prime” project, as he’d explained in the executive boardroom the other day. The COO told him to take his pick of employees and she’d approve any transfer requests. 

“As for you,” he said, snapping the wallet shut in his closed fist, and looking down at the rabbit, “No ID, no pass, no reason to be here… and I really don’t like scientists who go places they shouldn’t.”

The dino snapped his fingers. Instantly, every taur in the room swiveled and stood at attention, staring with alert eyes, ears up, tails extended. The large, muscular saurian pointed at the rabbit, who shrank backwards, quivering with fear and a growing sense of arousal as his quivering noise drank in the heady musk of the assembled pack of enormous, muscular canine taurs. Armitage smirked. The rabbit would do nicely as the first Assistant Kennel Maintenance Operator on staff. On many staffs, in fact.

“Sic ‘em.” 

Every guard in the room unholstered, though they didn’t touch the assortment of weapons strapped to their uniforms. One by one, oversized arousals spread free of tight sheaths, growing by the foot rather than by the inch. Canine muzzles dropped open, eyes narrowed, tongues lolled out as the scent of arousal and musk grew even thicker in the air. A series of low growls signified the start of a pack hunt. 

There was nowhere to run.

The end