Arctos: Filters – Episode 2 (Part 4)

He loaded up the package he’d made for Jean, and looked at him on the screen–and he realized it was the first time he’d ever seen him in real life, breathing in front of him. All the other times it had just been still shots, warped from their own past…but this was so much clearer. He was…huge, for one thing, and that was saying something, since Bruce was over six and a half feet tall at this point. Jean was bigger than him, meaner than him, hairier than him…is that really what he wanted in a man? Usually, when he’d been with men, he liked to be the dominant one, topping them with his thick pig cock, making them squeal along with him while he fucked them…but as hot as those scenarios were, they weren’t the ones he remembered. The ones he craved–and which terrified him–were with the men like this. The ones who could overwhelm him, the ones who knew that what Bruce really wanted was to be treated like a fucking animal. They beat him, they caged him, they fucked him, they mocked him–all of it made his pig cock harder than anything else. Now, right in front of him, was a man…bigger than anyone he’d ever had sex with, someone strong enough to take him in a straight fight. Did he even know what kind of person he was going to be? He could only guess, he supposed…but while it made him nervous…he had to do this. It was the only way he could know for sure.

He took the picture. The screen loaded for a couple of minutes–it always took a little extra time when there were so many filters…and Bruce couldn’t really recall how many he’d ended up loading into the package. It was quite a few, maybe even a few more than he’d ended up using on himself. The picture loaded, at last, and he put the phone down. There, lying in front of him, was Jean, the hulking farmer of his dreams, snoring away on his king size bed, naked, ten inch cock half erect. The room around them had changed too–after all, they weren’t in an apartment anymore–they were in Jean’s house, on his farm, out in the middle of nowhere. Bruce crouched down beside him, snout next to one of Jean’s armpits, and took a whiff–it was hay, and sweat, and mud, and hard work…and his cock was so damn hard. Jean had always gotten him harder than anyone else–but he also terrified him. Why in the hell had he come back here, was he crazy? Hell–maybe he was. That, or maybe Jean was right. Maybe…Maybe Jean did know what Bruce wanted better than Bruce did. But what would happen when he woke up? After all, he hadn’t reset his default form–he supposed that when he woke up, he would have full memory of both himself as this Jean, and as the Jean from before–but if he found out what Bruce had done to him…he would be furious, and Bruce didn’t want to see either Jean that angry.

So what choice did he have? It was…such a violation of trust, he knew that, but he was so deep already, what the hell did it matter, fucking this up a little further? The only way he’d know, is if he went the whole way, all the way. He went into the settings, choose reset default form, and the program warned him, as it had before, that any changes made would be irreversible. Part of him felt terrible, but…but this was the only way he’d be able to know, really know, what he wanted. Besides, it wasn’t like the old Jules would be around to complain about it anyway–if anything, this man should be thanking him for letting him exist at all. He accepted the warning, and waited while the program began the process of resetting defaults.

He’d been drunk the last time this had happened. Well, he’d been drunker than he was now at least. Before, all he’d really felt was an odd, sweeping shift around him, and a bit of a knot in his gut, but this time, it seemed more…forceful–and he wasn’t even the one it was focused on. He supposed it was good that Jay was asleep for it, because it seemed…painful. He curled up tight, moaning and groaning, and as he writhed on the bed, his body kept shifting, looking too small or too large, out of proportion, once he even looked like his old self–just for a moment, but enough to give Bruce a bit of a heart attack when it happened–and then things settled back down, he rolled back over and fell back into his usual deep sleep, snoring logs, just like how Bruce remembered him when they’d been together…before Bruce had called it quits, and run off back to the city, a few weeks before.

That…didn’t sound quite right to him, somehow. Part of him was trying to say that it was Jay who had called quits on the relationship, that he’d gotten tired of Bruce never wanting to open up and change for him, but the more he thought about it, the harder his head hurt, and the more wrong it all seemed. He was tired–he’d be able to remember everything a bit better in the morning, he was sure. He climbed back into Jay’s bed and slid closer to him, smelling his musk–not quite as strong as his own…but more authentic, somehow, and wondered if this had been a good idea, coming back. Jay had seemed…happy to see him though, and hadn’t mentioned anything like what he’d wanted to talk about before, when Bruce had left. Maybe they’d be able to work it out after all.

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