Funny Houndpocalypse

Three human men huddle together in the wilderness outside of their crumbling city. Each day that passes is another day their memories of the old world grow faint. A world where horrid beasts don't hunt them, a world where they lived in comfort... it's impossible to imagine. One of them throws some sticks into their small fire. "Horrid things. I've heard they can corrupt you with just a touch. Saw my own mother sprout fur and fang with just a tap of their pawpad, start fucking my brother until I had a sister instead... watched her fall too."

Another shivers in shared trauma. "I heard they can do it just seeing them... watched my whole church fall into an orgy after it bounced it's vile, hirsute tits. The cross shriveled up in front of me on my way out." The third man throws a blanket around his trembling shoulders. "I know all it takes is a whiff of their scent." He starts. "My own daughter tried to shove her new knot down my throat after just a few moments being in the same room as it. Barely escaped..." he spits in a disgust that doesn't hide his fear. The three men then sit in silence.

No sounds by the quiet crackle of a small fire and of guns being cleaned and loaded. They agreed to hunt one of the beasts destroying their world, as they had the least to lose of their new community. Only their own companionship was keeping them sane. "I heard that they can be anywhere!" A fourth voice speaks up, leading the men to jump to their feet and frantically point their boomsticks around. "I heard that they can do whatever they want however they want, too~!" It continues, giggling with joy.

"Corrupt with a touch~" the voice sing songs out, as a massive paw manifests out of their small fire and boops the first man on the nose as he shrieks in fear. "With sight~" she continues, that massive paw pushing on the ground and a massive figure coming out of the fire. Fur the color of destruction and flame the color of creation, the Hellhound's full majesty is revealed to the second, who falls to his knees staring at her breasts, tears rolling down his face. "And of course with scent!" She finishes, gripping the third man and shoving him into her armpit, his cries muffled by fur and flesh. In unison the three men grow fur, hips, height and breasts that shred their armored clothing into nothingness. Each new hound shares fur the color of beginning and flame the color of innocence, eyes growing duller as human lives end.

The three new little sister hounds stare at the guns in their paws quizzically, brains completely empty of anything except basic hound instincts. The big sister who has hunted this world's population to near extinction looks down at them warmly as they start to fellate the barrels. A second party of men jump to their feet and sprint in the direction of rapid gunshots and howls. Could it have worked? Did they really manage to injure one of the beasts? Is there hope for their world? They clutch this tight to their chest as they burst into the first camp. Blood and brain covers the dirt, a trio of identical hounds missing chunks of their heads but still giggling and clapping their paws in joy, cumming uncontrollably. The second party of men turn to run but simply smash face first into the big sister's round stomach.

She laughs at them and throws them to her newest little sisters, their heads already reforming, who coo wordlessly and put the barrels up to their heads too, excited to see what happens. The ruined city's survivors clutch their covers tighter as the gunfire continues all night. They never learn what happened to the two hunting parties. But they notice a trio of newborn hounds giggling brainlessly and chewing at the gates and have a very solid theory...