Harrison loved Halloween–mostly because it was an opportunity to grind himself up against as many scantily clad women as possible, whether they liked it or not–but to be honest, there weren’t many who didn’t. After all, Harrison was a proper alpha male, as far as he was concerned–with an eight inch cock to boot, and the skill to use it. This Halloween he was showing off all of it, wearing a slightly too tight wrestling singlet and not much else, and he was getting so much attention he wasn’t paying attention to much else–he went to the fridge to grab a beer for himself, and grabbed something else instead–an odd soda pop in an odd looking can. He popped the top and took a sip, then grimaced–it was so damn sweet! He never drank pop–that shit could ruin a physique faster than anything else, but once he’d gotten one sip of it…it was kind of good. As he danced around in the living room, he finished it, determined he’d only have just one and then go back to light beer, like usual.
Instead, he found himself at the fridge, digging around for another soda–he just wanted one more, and one more couldn’t hurt. Besides, he was pissed off–Amy had just told him he stank, after he tried to dance with her, but whatever–he knew he smelled great, he always did. He did find another soda like the one before, and started slugging it down, but the more he drank, the less he felt like dancing–the less he felt like moving at all, really. In fact, all he was really feeling was, well, hungry. The house had ordered plenty of pizza of course, but Harrison had already eaten his one slice…but a few more couldn’t hurt. He started stuffing himself, the other guys from the frat laughing as they walked by, wondering who in the world had invited the fat ass–and what sort of balls he must have had, to come wearing a wrestling singlet of all things.
Harrison, mostly, was just confused. Confused by how hungry he was, confused about why the musk rolling off his pits was making him so damn horny, confused about why he just wanted to take a few of those sodas to his room, load up some porn and jack off for the rest of the night…but then, it wasn’t that confusing at all, and so he did just that, sitting alone, jacking off for a solid hour before his roommate, a cleanfreak by the name of Eric, came up with a potential conquest, and assumed their room was free. He opened the door, and gagged at the stench inside, the girl he was with running off immediately. He grabbed for the air freshener he usually kept by the door and sprayed it all over–at least until he heard the scream inside, and turned on the light.
There at his desk, wearing nothing at all (since the singlet had long since lost the battle with Harrison’s exploding frame) was a four hundred pound slob, covered in greasy hair with a thick beard, hand around his sizable cock, jacking off to the nastiest porn he’d been able to find on the internet–or at least, he had been. He’d spun around in his chair when he’d heard the door open, and the air freshener Eric had sprayed had been replaced by the nerds with…something else–a living latex spray, which was no coating a wide swath of Harrison’s large frame.
“What the fuck is this shit?” Harrison said, trying to wipe it off with his filthy hands, but he only succeeded in coating himself in more and more of it, and the liquid rubber seemed to be spreading all over his body as he sat there.
“Who the fuck are you?” Eric said at him, but by the time the words were out, Harrison couldn’t reply–the rubber had covered his mouth–all he could do was try and scream, until he was completely coated–and then relaxed as the rubber began to…shift, and squirm, conforming to Harrison’s body, and his new desires–and then the massive rubber drone stood up from the chair, and took a hesitant step towards Eric.
Before Eric could run, a tube where Harrison’s cock had been snaked out and forced itself into Eric’s mouth, the rubber sticking to the inside of his mouth–dragging him closer to the drone as other tubes began to emerge from the stink drone–from Harrison’s pits, from his ass, from his feet, all designed to collect his stench and feed it directly to Eric’s struggling body. Eric fought for a while, at least until the pleasure centers in his mind were rewired–and then he started to jack off, while the drome began to feed him its putrid concoction distilled from Harrison’s body, bloating up Eric with fat, warping his body’s chemistry to be even stinkier, and eroding his mind until a few hours later, when the rubber hood retreated from him, he was nothing more than a disgusting, fat slob, just like Harrison had been–and then the drome abandoned the new slob to jack off in his room, and went to go find other young men it could corrupt in the house.