***WARNING***
This story contains raunch, watersports and scat. Don’t like it? Don’t read it, or don’t complain later.
*****
Why do I always do this to myself? Harry thought as he wiped his sweaty palms on his shirt, and glanced over at his date next to him, who was engrossed in the movie playing on the screen. He’d met Jeff online, and was still amazed the cute cub had agreed to come out with him, even if it was only for dinner and a movie, and on the implied condition that Harry pay for everything. But now…now he’d guzzled his god damn mega-sized drink, he had to piss like a racehorse, and the movie was only half over. He didn’t want to be that guy, that “guy who disturbs everyone by going to the bathroom in the middle of a movie,” but it was starting to look like he wasn’t going to have a choice.
The whole night, really, had been going like this. Jeff had been perfectly sociable, while Harry had spent the entire time tripping over his words like a schoolgirl. He already could tell that Jeff wasn’t happy with him–probably because Harry hadn’t been completely honest. Sure, the picture he posted was a few years old…well, ten years. He was a lot greyer and quite a bit fatter in real life, and he hadn’t exactly shown off his best side at dinner, shoveling down a giant plate of spaghetti and getting sauce down the front of his shirt. Jeff had been nice enough about it, but, well, Harry had ruined his chance for anything aside from a handjob in the movie parking lot…maybe…if he was lucky.
God, he had to go, he didn’t have a choice. He stood up, and with a hushed, “Sorry…” squeezed his chubby ass past Jeff’s face, and hurried out of the theater, down the hall, and into the bathroom. Of course, before he could get to the urinal, he had to look at his face and body in the mirror, and he cringed a bit–no wonder Jeff had no interest in him. Sure, he’d showered before the date, but he’d forgotten his deodorant, and his hair was a couple of weeks overdue for a trim–not that his balding hair looked great cut back, either. And he really was a lot fatter than his pictures on the site–probably by a good fifty pounds, though he did his best to avoid weighing himself and finding out for sure. He heaved a sigh and said under his breath, “I wish someone would…help me figure this shit out…” and his face turned red as he said it. How stupid, a wish? That was ridiculous. But no sooner did the words leave his lips than a sudden wind erupted in the restroom, whipping Harry’s hair and clothes about, and when he turned around, he found that he was no longer alone.
There in the middle of the room, was a muscular, older man wearing nothing other than a pair of black boots and some grandfatherly glasses perched on his nose. In place of clothing, his entire body was covered in a series of intricate tattoos which Harry swore were dancing and shifting in front of his eyes, though whenever he looked at one straight on it stayed perfectly still. “Hello Harry. You wished for help?” the man said, smiling warmly, “I think I can be of some assistance here.”
“Who…who are you?” Harry said, backing up against the sink as the man approached him.
“Me? I’m the Fairy Godfather. Did you really need to wait so long? I’ve been getting all antsy, watching you flounder here,” the man said, cracking his knuckles, “Shall we get started?” with twirl of the wrist, a wand of some dark, slender wood appeared in his hand, and pointing it at Harry, he felt a strange force press into him, and a moment later, he too was naked, and blushing further, he rushed to cover himself.
“How…what are you doing? Bring me back my clothes,” he said.
“Those things?” the fairy said, “Oh no, those were far too classy for your true tastes, don’t you think? I mean, a polo shirt and khaki shorts? Did you really feel good in those? Sexy? Happy? I didn’t think so. I’m here to help the real you shine through, the more honest and comfortable you, because that’s the only way you’ll be able to relax and have a great time with Jeff. Now hold still, I’m thinking.”
This is insane, Harry thought, I have to get out of here, but when he tried to move, he found himself glued to where he stood. Apparently, when the fairy said to stand still, he meant it. As the man approached, Harry began to notice that he wasn’t all that…clean. He could smell him from a few feet away, in fact, and the ripe musky smell was overpowering. But…he was a fairy right? Maybe he really could make Harry’s dreams come true–and it was beginning to look like he wasn’t going to have a choice in the matter, considering he couldn’t get away.
“Hmm…yes, exactly as I’d thought,” the fairy said, whirling his wand once more, “a young man in denial of his true desires, and his ideal form. Well, the easiest solution to that is to bring the ideal form out! What do you say?” he said, and before Harry could answer, he’d waved the wand and a shower of sparks shot out, slamming right into Harry’s belly, winding him and making him double over.
His ideal form? Did that mean he would be young and muscular? Or at least attractive again? Hell he’d settle for the picture he’d taken ten years ago, if nothing else. He managed to stand back up and turn around to face the mirror, and gasped. “What in the fuck did you do to me?” he shouted, appalled at his new image staring back at him in the mirror. His hair and beard had grown longer and tangled, looking like he hadn’t bothered to care for them in months, if not years. He was even fatter than before, with a massive apron hanging down past his groin which was covered in dense, matted hair, and beneath it he could make out crude tattoos which covered him from the top of his neck down to his wrists and ankles. He made the mistake of opening his mouth in horror, spying the rotten, yellowed and crooked teeth in his mouth, and he whirled back around to face the smiling fairy, and said, “Well? This is my ‘ideal image’? What the fuck?”
“Well, what did you expect? I am the Fairy Grungefather after all.”
“Grunge…what? I thought you said Godfather!”
“Then you thought wrong–you really shouldn’t make assumptions like that.”
“Wha–but…You shouldn’t make fucking assumptions that I want to look like this!” Harry cried, “Change me back!”
“Oh don’t worry, you’ll be back to normal come dawn.”
“Dawn? But I’m on a fucking date!”
“Oh would you calm down? Do you think I haven’t watched you all these years? Watched all those jack off sessions in that filthy, unwashed jock of yours, while you smell your ripe pits? Sensed that tingle of pleasure you get when when you don’t wipe your ass after you take a shit? That self-satisfaction when you piss a bit in your underwear ‘on accident’?”
That’s…I mean…” Harry said, but the blush gave him away–he did have a thing for raunch, but so what? That didn’t mean he wanted to look like this!
“Yeah, cat got your tongue? Well I have a better use for it anyway,” the fairy said, and held up one arm, the reeking pit inching closer to Harry’s face. “Go on, lick it. I know you want to.”
“Fuck…Fuck no,” Harry said, “I’m not gonna lick out your nasty pit.”
“No? Hmm…Maybe I underestimated just how stubborn you are. You know what you need? You need to loosen up, so how about I take all those inhibitions of yours, sexual and otherwise, and hold onto them for the night, hmm?”
Harry tried to shield himself, but he was helpless as the fairy raised his wand once more, and Harry felt all of the walls of resistance, of social pressure, and of proper etiquette simply disappear. And a moment later, when the fairy raised his arm again, all Harry could do was grin and lunge forward, lapping up all the filthy sweat he could find. “Oh fuck! Oh fuck, you’re so fuckin’ nasty man, I can’t fuckin’ take it,” he heard himself say, but on the inside, he was panicking. It felt like all of the brakes had been ripped out of his head–there was literally no stopping himself now. He felt the urge to piss suddenly reassert itself, and before he even realized it, he released his bladder, soaking the underside of his grimy apron, feeling it run down his legs and start puddling on the floor around him, and he tore himself away from the fairy’s ripe pit, got down on all fours and started lapping up as much of it as he could from the filthy tile floor.
Worst of all, Harry realized that his cock was rock hard through all of this, because…he wanted to do it. Deep down, he’d always wanted to do something like this, and this rush, this freedom was unlike anything he’d thought possible, and it only made him hornier. He let go at some point, stopped trying to put his feet on the brakes and just rode along, relishing the taste of his own piss, and the stench of his own filthy puts he could smell every time he bent down. Sure, he’d pissed on himself in the shower a few times, even tasted it once, but this…this was filthy. This was raunchy. This was so fucking hot. His licking was interrupted by a sharp, cutting whistle from across the bathroom, and Harry whipped his face up, wet hair throwing piss across the room, and he saw the fairy over by the urinals, his boot up on the small one, presenting his ass in Harry’s direction.
The piss no longer interested him. He crawled across the floor, loving the sensation of his hairy belly scraping across the tile, licking his lips the whole way. With no fear or trepidation, he dove into the crack, licking and chewing at the filth caught in the fairy’s ass hair, his tongue probing as deep as it could into the hole, and a moment later, he found his reward approach. “Go on Harry, I know you’ve fantasized about this. All those pictures you keep hidden deep on your computer? Those ones you can only bring yourself to look at when you’re drunk? Time to be one of them, Harry–time to take the big leap, pig.”
Harry felt himself cum as he took it in his mouth, chewed in a few times and swallowed, thankful when the fairy turned around and helped him wash it down with some of his piss, before nutting his own load onto Harry’s tangled beard. Exhausted from the thrill and exertion, Harry collapsed back onto the cold tile, panting, and when he finally managed to roll over and pick himself up, he was alone again. Suddenly afraid, he hurried back to the mirror and let out a sigh of relief when he saw he hadn’t changed back into his old self–the freedom from worry and inhibition was too amazing to let go of just yet. He looked at the piss puddle still on the floor, but held back–after all, he needed to get back to his date. Besides, leaving it there for someone else to find…oh fuck, that was damn hot too. On the counter, he saw a pile of clothing–though not the crap he’d worn when he came in. The fairy had been right, after all, he hated wearing classy stuff like that. The tattered army shorts worn commando, yellow stained wife beater, and black work boots were a much better choice, and he saw a letter underneath them, written in rough, but legible, script.
Harry–
I realize that your date tonight probably will not be as interested in your new self as we are, so I’m lending you a few, small spells to help out. Again, these will only last until dawn, so enjoy yourselves. By the way, your pumpkin is out in the parking lot, and your castle awaits you two after the movie.
Sincerely,
Your Fairy Grungefather
On the rest of the sheet, Harry saw several spells scribbled out, along with directions for how to use them, and he grinned wide–maybe he could turn this date around after all.
*****
What? More interaction? Yeah, I might as well take some spell suggestions from you guys. Send me them a message, and if I like one, I’ll try and work it into the story’s conclusion on Friday.
Bracken's Corner 