Arctos: Filters – Episode 3 (Part 1)

When Bruce woke the next morning, he found himself alone in the bed–but that wasn’t unusual. Jay always rose early to get started on work around the farm before dawn. Bruce had helped him out on a few occasions, but apparently Jay hadn’t needed, or perhaps wanted, Bruce’s help this morning. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that, and he wondered what it meant, if it meant anything at all. It was silly to try and parse it out, he supposed. Jay wasn’t exactly a subtle fellow–he would let Bruce know exactly what he was thinking soon enough. He got up and got dressed in the clothes he’d arrived in the night before–he hadn’t bothered to pack a bag. He hadn’t even really known why he’d even come back here.

Well, that was a lie. He’d come back here because he was lonely. Because even if Jay was a fucking sadistic psychopath (something Bruce had screamed at him when he’d last been in this house) he was also the one person in the world that Bruce felt understood him. All of him. Or at least most of him. He’d grown up in the city, but even living with Jay here on the weekends had changed him. It had been hard, figuring out what to do with himself…because he liked Jay. Hell, he might even love him. But he…also needed to feel safe, and sometimes, Jay could be scary as all hell. It was why he’d left, but it was also why he’d come back, he supposed.

Once he was dressed, he went out into the hallway, and sure enough, there was the scent of breakfast on the air. Jay loved cooking for Bruce–hell, Jay loved everything about Bruce, and maybe that’s why he could be so scary, because he loved Bruce more than Bruce could ever imagine loving himself. He loved parts of himself that Bruce could only ever imagine hating.

He trekked downstairs, listening to Jay whistling one of his old tunes off the country radio station as he cooked, and there was already quite a spread laid out on the table. Jay had heard the old stairwell creaking under Bruce’s weight, and looked over his shoulder at the hefty pig in the doorway, licking his chops as he stood there. “Well go on then, tuck in. I ain’t ‘bout tah fuck ya and not bother tah feed ya, ya know that.”

The voice was congenial, but cold. Distant maybe, or cautious. Jay wasn’t quite sure what to make of Bruce’s sudden appearance either, apparently. Bruce wasn’t about to turn down the offer, and if he rejected a meal from Jay…well, he’d never have a chance with him then. Jay was very proud about his cooking, and he had earned that pride in Bruce’s opinion. He sat down and started shoveling food into him, grunting a bit as he did, and Jay kept filling up the table as he did, softening a bit as he watched the pig eat up, but then, he’d always loved a man who could appreciate his cooking properly. They didn’t talk much though. The last argument they’d had in here was still thick, when Jay had suggested they take their relationship a bit…further, than Bruce had been comfortable with.

So Bruce filled the silence with food, and Jay started washing up the pots and pans in the sink. He could hear Bruce slowing down, getting full, and Jay decided it was time to air things out a bit. “So, you staying? Or are you just gonna come flying in here, without so much as a call, anytime you feel like it?”

Bruce swallowed his mouthful of food, and then sat back. He didn’t know what the answer was himself, really. “I…missed you, I…I’m sorry for the things I said, last time, it wasn’t…kind.”

Jay shrugged. Shrugging was his way of acknowledging something that hadn’t been needed to be said, or that should have been self-evident. When Bruce had called him a fucking sadistic psychopath, Jay had shrugged then, as his way of saying, “We both already know that–why’d you even bother saying it?” It drove Bruce a bit mad when he did that, when Jay just…dismissed him, and what he had to say, like it didn’t really matter, because Jay had already thought of it too.

“But you really…I’m not some animal, you know. I’m a person too. I might be a freak, I don’t…really know what I am to be honest. Being with you feels good, most of the time, but sometimes you really fucking scare me.”

“It only scares ya ’cause ya want it.”

“I do not want it.”

“Pig, ya gotta want it a little, or ya wouldn’t fuckin’ be back here again, now would ya?” Jay quit the dishes, and wiped his thick hands off in a towel, before turning to the table. “Now–are you staying? Or are we gonna keep playin’ this game a while longer, until I get bored with it? Cause I gotta be honest, it’s borin’ as fuckin’ hell on ice.”

“Are you not–can you just not listen to what I’m saying? Is that what’s wrong with you? What you said last time, that was fucking insane shit! I–who the fuck would agree to something like that? Did you honestly expect me to say yes?”

Jay shrugged again, and then walked over to the table. “Ya didn’t finish, pig.”

“I was saving some for you.”

“I already ate when I got up–this is all for you.”

“I…Jay, can we be serious for a fucking second?”

Jay just picked up a pancake, folded it in half, and pushed it against Bruce’s snout, waiting to see what he would do. Bruce opened up, and Jay slid the pancake in. “How about you finish eating pig? Then we can talk about it.”

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.

Arctos: Filters – Episode 2 (Part 3)

Jean, on the other hand, felt like things were finally going good for him. No more hanging on crazy guys, or pigs, like Bruce. No more stern silent types, no more wasting time on guys who would never be able to open up to him. He was done. Done trying to fix men who couldn’t even see that they were broken. Done with people who took his goodwill and patience and caring and just threw it back in his face. He was so done–and yet, when a very, very drunk Bruce showed up at his apartment building, squealing for him through the intercom, what in the hell was he supposed to do? The dumb animal was going to wake up all his neighbors, if he kept up that racket–and Jean knew that Bruce could keep up a racket like that for a lot longer than anyone would expect, especially when he was drunk. He had no interest in hearing him out, but if listening to him plead got him to go away faster, then all the better for everyone.

So he let Bruce in, and while he tried to keep the stony heart he’d promised he’d keep for his own sanity, he also couldn’t quite help but listen as the pig begged him for forgiveness. It sounded good, on the surface. It sounded like Bruce had finally come to realize just how much of a mess he was, and that Jean had always only been trying to help him. Or at least, that’s what he wanted to hear, so badly. He wanted someone to take care of, he wanted someone to want him to take care of them. He did know best, really. He knew how to take care of men like Bruce–if only they would just let him help them. Could he really trust him though? This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened, this wasn’t the first time someone had opened up, only to shut back down the next day, when the beer wore off, and then the whole thing would begin again. How likely was it, really, that Bruce wanted what Jean was offering? Maybe he was just here because he hated being alone more.

Jean tried to keep his guard up, but he couldn’t. He pulled Bruce into him, and he could…smell the sex and food on him–he could imagine what the big pig had been getting up to in the last few days since they’d broken things off. It was almost enough to push him away again, but Bruce was so…tender, and sweet, and so many other things he’d never allowed himself to be, all of the things Jean was looking for in a man. It was a terrible idea, he knew that. He should have never let him in the building, he should have never even answered the intercom. It was too late for that though, and so, he pulled Bruce into his bedroom, both of them shucking their clothes as they went, and then fucked like they did the first time they hooked up. Through it all, they both wanted to believe that they could be right for one another. They wanted to believe that this was better than being alone, and they thought that if they both believed the lie hard enough, that it might, just maybe, come true.

Bruce thought about it, lying there in Jean’s bed beside him, looking at him, thinking about what he’d have to give up to make this work. Jean would never be willing to accept him–the real him, after all. He knew that. He’d have to change. Clean up. Figure his shit out. Deal with his anger, his binging, his promiscuity. He’d have to learn how to be normal enough for Jean to love, learn to grow into the person Jean wanted him to become…but as hard as he tried to convince himself that he could, that he wanted to at least try, he knew it was a lie. He knew that it a couple of days, it would break him, and they would fight, and everything would fall apart all over again–unless he did it. Unless he made Jean into someone who wanted Bruce to be everything Bruce wanted.

He pulled the covers off him, slowly, making sure to not wake him up. He went out and turned on the hall light, just enough so the camera could take a decent picture of Jean, and then he booted up the app. This was…a terrible idea. He knew it was, and yet, he just couldn’t get it out of his head, no matter how hard he tried to discount it. It was the only way they could be together, be happy together, and stay together. It was the only way that Bruce could get what he really wanted…and maybe…maybe Jean would want it too, in one way or another.

Arctos: Filters – Episode 2 (Part 2)

When he did wake up again, he felt…so much better, aside from the hangover. Everything about his old self, that old Bruce, was just a distant memory now, and in its place, all he could remember was being this massive, sex obsessed pig. It was like everything that had felt so empty before was full now–full of gluttony, and lust, and other base desires, but at least full. So what if Jean didn’t get it? He didn’t need Jean–he could find plenty of other guys around town eager to use him like the sexy hog he was. He got on the various apps he used for hookups, and less than an hour later he had a guy over to his apartment, begging Bruce for his piggy cock, and already it was better than most of the sex he’d ever had with Jean. Once he was finished with the first, he kept inviting men over, and when he couldn’t find anyone, he’d just sit around and masturbate, thinking about how he wouldn’t have to clean up for him, thinking about how he wouldn’t have to deal with Jean wanting to talk about complicated shit, like feelings, or what Bruce wanted in a relationship. He wanted to fuck, right? But then why, as the days wore on, and he continued his constant sexual conquests with men obsessed with his freakish body…did he keep thinking about him, the entire time? Why was he still so damn angry at him? Why did he…still want him, so damn badly?

After a few days, the sex got old, as it always had before. Everyone wanted to see him as this animal, wanted to either treat him like some mindless beast, or be ravaged by him, but none of them really seemed to give two fucks what Bruce wanted. Sure, maybe he did enjoy ravaging, but was this all he was for people? Just some fucking animal? He knew he was more than that, but no one else saw it–Jean was the first person, he realized, who had seen anything about him beyond the surface, and that…that had terrified him, more than anything else in his whole life, more than the bullying he’d suffered at school, more than the looks of disgust he got on the way to work–the notion that someone might actually care had been too much for him to handle in so many different ways, he’d just lashed out and pushed him away, rather than deal with what he was feeling. Everything felt like a jumble, suddenly. As all of his old problems with his life, and with Jean, as a human had begun to fade away, all of his new past life as a pigman was coming into relief–and he was beginning to wonder if he’d made the right decision after all. Jean…might not have been the sexiest guy, but he’d cared about him, and he’d cooked real good food for him, and…and what if he’d just made the biggest mistake of his whole life, without even realizing it at the time?

The depression hit hard, and fast. The sex dropped off, and instead of finding random men to fuck online, Bruce stayed in his apartment, ordering a different takeout every hour, never once stopping until he was certain he was going to burst. He would look at pictures Jean and him had taken together–sometimes as the real Jean, and other times using the filter profiles Bruce had made for him, his fantasy Jean, a Jean…he hoped might be able to understand all of him–the sexy, wild hog, and the person behind the gruff, abrasive act he’d put on for as long as he could recall. He wondered if he’d be willing to give it a try, just once, to see…how it felt for them both. Maybe he’d understand how much Bruce needed this, even if he didn’t like it. Maybe Bruce could finally manage to show him what Jean wanted to see, to explain everything he’d never had any words for at all…but how could he ever even show his face there again, after making such a mess of things? In the end, he got drunk enough that the terrible idea of going back to Jean and begging him to forgive him sounded better than the idea of going on alone. He had to at least try, after all. He’d try, and Jean would shoot him down, and then…and then, maybe, he’d be able to get on with his own life, and put this awful episode behind him once and for all.

Arctos: Filters – Episode 2 (Part 1)

For the next few weeks, he managed to keep the desires better under control, only pigging out on rare occasions, usually after having a bit too much to drink. Each time, he would begin with the package from the last time he changed…but each time he did, it never quite felt like enough, and so he started adding more and more filters to the package he’d been curating for himself. He gave into the snout next, but discovered that it did more than just affect him cosmetically. It was much harder to talk–his mouth just didn’t seem to be designed for human words, and it was so much easier (and so much sexier) to just lay around the house grunting, oinking and squealing his way to orgasm after orgasm. One night, in a drunken haze, he went and added a thick brass ring in his pig nose as well, and the sensation of it tugging down on the end of his snout was so hot, he went and added rings in both of his ears, and in his nipples as well. Out of curiosity one night, he decided to swap out the fat filter he’d been using for one that was even larger–and also decided to make himself a bit taller. The result was him growing to almost seven feet tall, weighing close to 600 pounds, listening to the floor creak underneath him as he lumbered to and fro, snorting, groping for his now slightly too small cock–but he fixed that too, his piggy member growing to almost ten inches long. He found a barnyard musk filter, and soon he was smelling like he’d been rolling around in muddy manure all day long–and the stink turned him on even more, made him long to be in a real puddle–longing for….someone. No matter how much he changed, though, no matter how extreme he pushed himself, something was always missing. He would turn the filters he’d used on Jean’s photo back on, and just scroll through, fantasizing about having a big, butch farmer to fuck his piggy hole, roll him around in the mud, collar him, chain him on all fours, treat him like the animal he deserved to be.

And then, in the morning, he would usually wake up with a hangover, still in his piggy form, take all the filters off, hating how…ashamed he was of this human body now, and he would go to work, and go see Jean, and just feel…miserable. He was so focused on himself, and his own strange obsession with the pig he’d begun to identify with, that he didn’t notice Jean losing patience with him. For a month or so, Jean took a softer tack. He could tell something was wrong, that as much as his boyfriend tried to tell him there wasn’t anything going on with him–he was clearly lying. Bruce was distracted and morose. He would be non-responsive, and then something minor would set off an inexplicable tirade of anger. He couldn’t read him–and he was no longer sure that he even wanted to know. Why was he putting all of this effort into a man who clearly had no real interest in being honest with him?

As Bruce found himself falling back into his obsession, he began to cling tighter to Jean as a reference point to himself, but Jean was already pulling away. Where Bruce had seemed mysterious and thoughtful, all he saw now was someone with no self-awareness, and no capacity for a mature relationship. Just as Bruce was beginning to think he could make this relationship work with Jean for the long run–Jean pulled the rug out from under him and broke up the next time they got together. He was so stunned, he didn’t know what to do about it, or what to say, or even what to feel, as Jean ran down the list of reasons why he didn’t think Bruce was ready for a relationship, and why Jean didn’t want to bother helping him learn. Bruce could only sit there, listening to Jean describe someone else. Someone he’d come to hate as well, someone he’d never understood. He just wished that he could just get away, back to his apartment where he could get drunk, turn on his filters, and be who he really wanted to be. Be the pig he was coming to think he really was, on the inside. Jean was surprised by how little push back he got from Bruce, as he explained his reasoning. He didn’t seem to care–and to Jean, that only served to cement for him that leaving him was the right decision.

Bruce left as soon as he could find an opportunity, and on the way home, everything Jean had told him just…didn’t seem to matter to him in the slightest. Maybe everything he’d said was true, maybe it wasn’t. It didn’t really matter, in the end, because all of Jean’s complaints weren’t about him, not really. They were about a man, about the man he’d been, but this had clarified something for him–Bruce didn’t want to be that man anymore. Nothing about the way he’d been made any sense to him anymore–the only time he felt complete was when he had those filters on, when he was a pig. A real pig. He knew it was impossible though. He knew he could never really be that pig, and he knew that being that pig couldn’t possibly solve all of his problems overnight. He got home, and started drinking. A few beers in, he turned on his filters and sat down on the couch, listening to it creak under his heft, groping his slimy cock and scrolling through pictures of him and Jean–and then he started digging into the app a bit further.

Underneath the settings, he found what he was looking for–reset default form. He clicked it, and a warning window popped up, telling him that if he reset his defaults, the filters he currently applied would become more detailed and fleshed out as they were fully incorporated into reality–but that once the choice was made, there was no going back. While he might be able to use other filters to get back to something close to who he’d been–it would be gone forever. His memories, too, would disappear or become faint. More like a half-remembered dream. This would be him, forever. He would finally get to be the pig he knew he wanted to be…but what if he didn’t really want this? Did it matter? He wanted it more than who he’d been, he knew that. He could always be something else, later, after all. All he really knew, was that he was done being this particular human, forever. Still, he wavered for a couple hours, and didn’t work up the courage to do it until after a few more beers. He didn’t remember much about the process–just a splitting headache, the sensation of the world twisting around him…and when it was finished, he didn’t feel…particularly different. Or at least, no different than he usually felt. Then, he passed out, snorting and snoring on the couch, and he didn’t get up until the early afternoon the next day.

Arctos: Filters – Episode 1 (Part 4)

Jacking off had never felt like this before. Every stroke was so thrilling, and his heavy balls were throbbing with excitement. He didn’t last long, and after a few minutes, he was spraying his piggy cum all over the floor in his apartment, feeling the orgasm building inside of him, and it just kept coming. Wave after wave of pleasure washing over him, overwhelming his mind and his sensation, and he sprawled out on the couch, enjoying the feeling of his body settling around him, enjoying just…being a pig, for once. Being a pig like…like he should be, right? Like he wanted to be.

Was this just something he’d always wanted without even realizing it? Or was it just that being this…empty and simple felt so much better than anything else he’d felt before? No one would expect him to be anything special, not like this–not even Jean. Jean–he didn’t know what to feel about him now, especially after their nice day today…or what had been a nice day. Suddenly he was feeling a bit…differently about it. About how Jean just didn’t understand him, and what he needed. Sure he was sexy…if that’s what you were looking for in a guy, but Bruce wasn’t sure if that was what he was looking for at all, really. It hadn’t been enough to get him off today at least. He tried telling himself that the dissatisfaction he was feeling was different, but to this version of himself…it was just how things had happened. He’d had a decent day with a nice enough boyfriend who he wasn’t that attracted to, who wasn’t that attracted to him, and…why was he even with him in the first place?

He opened up the filter app again, and started scrolling through it, but he wasn’t quite sure what he was looking for. He took a look at himself with a pig snout, thought about adding it to the package, but hesitated. It seemed like…a dangerous idea, even if he did look damn good in it. Then, as he was looking through some old pictures of him, all of which were modified by his new piggish self, he scrolled past a picture of Jean and him taking a selfie–and the program recognized his boyfriend’s face as a target.

Curious, he pulled up the photo and added a filter, only for the app to display a warning message. While he could test filters on a photo, and create packages for use later, no filter applied to an old photo would be effective on the subject. Filters could only be applied to real life by taking a live photo. That piqued his interest–and he started by taking the pig package he’d applied to himself, and put it on the picture of Jean.

In a moment, the photo of his slim, good looking boyfriend had morphed into one that looked quite a lot like him–floppy ears, a second chin, the hint of a fatter chest at the bottom of the selfie. It was hot, sure, but was it quite what he was looking for? He thought back to their sex earlier, how Jean had fucked him (was that what had happened? Part of him could remember topping…but bottoming was more his thing, right?) but it just hadn’t been enough, really. Dick a bit too small, and not nearly…rough enough. No, what he wanted was someone who knew how to ride a pig’s ass properly. He took the filters off, and then looked around on his phone until he found a different picture of him alone, a full body one of his standing in the kitchen cooking a big meal for Bruce (that was one saving grace, the skinny fuck sure could cook!) and then started looking through the filters again, this time thinking about what he’d like to see.

He added some weight first, and then a bit of muscle, giving him a thick, powerlifter physique. Next hair. He toyed with a few filters, but kept adding more, until he had a thick layer down his arms, over his shoulders, and down his ass (along the way, he’d found a filter to edit out clothing, and found a much nicer view after that). A new cock, eight inches long, and uncut. Better, but it could be more than better. He needed a man who knew what a pig wanted, after all. He found the lifestyle filters he’d noticed before, scrolled down until he found one called Farmer John, and applied it–and this time the entire photo shifted.

Instead of a small apartment kitchen, Jean was now standing in a spacious kitchen in a house, somewhat worn down, but still nice. Jean himself had a few changes, but nothing too noticeable–dirt on his hands, his beard a bit longer and knotted, and when he removed the clothes filter, his shirt and jeans were replaced by overalls and a flannel shirt. Fuck, seeing that had his piggy cock leaking all over his belly and thighs, and he started stroking himself again, scrolling through, finding other pictures of his boyfriend, and the filters carried over. Now, in every picture where his young, slim city boyfriend had been, instead there was a hulking muscle bear farmer…and it wasn’t long before Bruce was shooting again, imagining Jean behind him, plowing his ass, telling him what a good pig he was in that sexy country drawl he could almost imagine…but not quite.

The pleasure ebbed, and in its place was restlessness, shame, and disgust. He took the filters off, not noticing they were saved as a package when he did, and then also took the filters off himself as well. It wasn’t possible. He wasn’t a pig, not really, and Jean…Jean didn’t deserve that, did he? He took a shower, still felt dirty afterwards, and then climbed into bed and tried to sleep, but couldn’t get comfortable. It took him an hour of flopping back and forth to realize it was because he was trying to accomodate a gut that wasn’t there, and the frustration came roaring back, but he refused to give in, and eventually slept–though it wasn’t restful, and he awoke in the morning, dimly recalling he’d dreamt of a big, burly farmer fucking him in a mud puddle, and wondered if he was ever going to feel normal again.

Arctos: Filters – Episode 1 (Part 3)

It was difficult to explain how it felt, exactly. On one hand, he had never been this big before–he guessed he was around 250 pounds or so, with a hefty gut, and a rather wide ass as well. He gripped it, and gave it a shake, and it felt good. Really good, somehow, in a way he didn’t even expect. He shook it again, and his cock was hard as a rock, slapping against the underside of his new gut–and the fact that he was so excited unnerved him. Before he could do anything else, he hurried over to the phone and undid it, and the ears, and decided that he had to delete the app…didn’t he?

He already missed it–how could that even be? Even though he’d only been that big for a moment, he felt off balance, like the version of him with that thick gut was the real one, and the skinny version, the real version, was fake. It was so disorienting, that he turned it back on–and when he had it back, he felt so much better, like everything was exactly how it should be. He looked at himself in the mirror, with his gut and floppy ears–and he liked it. It looked good, and right. Why not…keep them for a while? It’s not like he can’t change them back when he gets bored of it, right? And if he could always change himself back later, then why not try a few more changes? It was just for fun after all.

One filter in particular had caught his attention, when he’d been scrolling through–mostly because it had seemed insane that the app would even offer something like that. There it was–a filter that would, apparently, give him the dick of a pig. He didn’t even know what a pig’s dick looked like–he put the filter on, pointed the phone down at his dick, and was surprised at what he was looking at on the screen. It was…curly, and ran up his belly from a sheath, instead of sticking straight out from his crotch. He reached under and grabbed his cock–but what he was looking at, and what he was feeling didn’t match at all, even if the program did a good job rendering his hand stroking up and down the filtered image…but he wanted to know what it would feel like, now that he’d seen it for himself. He took the picture as he stroked it, and he swore he could feel it shifting in his hand, the pleasure intensifying, and he let off a grunt of excitement, put down the phone on the counter, and kept stroking–and thinking about Jean, and how he’d left his place without getting laid.

He was always so caught up in feelings, and wanting to know him, the real Bruce, he said, but he wasn’t complicated. He was just a horny pig, craving sex, and food, and…why not give him a taste of what he’s missing? He sent the dick pic he’d just sent to Jean, hoping to entice him a bit, still stroking, thinking about maybe heading over for a bit of fun, but the messages that came back were…not what he was expecting.

Jean was furious. He shows up at his place, acting strange, refuses to talk about it or anything else, leaves, and now he’s sending him dick pics? Jean wanted to know what in the hell he was thinking, and reading the messages…Bruce found himself asking the same question. What on Earth was he thinking?

He went into the app and reverted the changes–all of them. He felt normal again, the raging horniness from before wearing off, though he found himself…missing it, like he did all of the changes. Still, that wasn’t him. He sent an apology, but while Jean read it, he didn’t reply–had he really just fucked up his relationship so quickly? Then again, maybe it was for the best…though they’d been getting along so damn well, hadn’t they? Everything felt confused in his head, and he wasn’t quite sure whether what he was thinking and feeling was really himself, or just the lingering desires of the pig he’d been for a few minutes. He decided it would be best if he just went to bed, and tried to sort in all out in the morning–and thankfully, with a good night’s sleep, he did feel better, and the longing he felt for that other body was much less powerful than it had been, though it hadn’t gone away entirely.

Things were better with Jean too…though that was harder to try and manage. All Jean wanted was an answer. Why had Bruce been acting so strangely? But he couldn’t tell him the truth. Would he even believe him, if he tried to tell him? He doubted it–he’d just sound crazy. Instead, he told him that he’d had a bad day at work, and hadn’t been feeling well that evening, and while it was a lame excuse, maybe that lameness helped sell it. That, or Jean was just eager to believe something. They made up, had a nice day, and had a good round of sex, though Bruce found it difficult getting hard, and maintaining interest. He ended up not being able to cum, and when he got home he was hornier than ever, and frustrated at himself for not being able to even tell the truth about what was going on with him. Frustrated because the longing he’d hoped would keep dying away had come roaring back, now that he was horny.

The truth was, his human cock didn’t compare to the sensation of that pig cock he’d had for a few minutes. He…wanted to feel it again. It couldn’t have been as good as he remembered, could it? He hadn’t deleted the app, though he knew he should have. He opened it back up, and found that the program had autosaved the three filters into a package under a second tab–labeled past forms. He activated it, stripped down, and just…looked at himself. He was a…sexy fucking animal, he had to say that. He’d never really been one for chubs, really, but looking at himself (no, not himself, at…at the pig, at the pig he’d been? At the pig he could be?) he found all of the sexual energy he hadn’t been able to muster earlier, with Jean. So he took a picture, shook his gut a few times, then grabbed his cock and got to business.

Arctos: Filters – Episode 1 (Part 2)

“Are you alright?” Jean asked.

“Yeah, yeah, sorry,” Bruce said, “Just…had a weird day today at work, is all.”

“Well, let’s talk about it, if you want.”

“No, it’s fine, I’m over it.”

Jean narrowed his eyes, “It doesn’t look like your over it, if you’re running to the bathroom and locking me out.” He sighed, “Bruce…I love you, but I can’t keep up with the narrative sometimes, you know? You have to let me in on occasion, if I’m going to be able to understand.”

“Seriously, I’m fine.”

It was clear that Jean didn’t believe it, and Bruce wasn’t surprised. They’d had this conversation (or argument, depending on how loud their voices got) plenty of times before, about the fact that Bruce wouldn’t open up to him…but in all honesty, Bruce didn’t know what Jean was looking for. He wasn’t a complex guy–he had a job, and he worked, and he liked Jean, and liked having sex–but Jean always seemed so…concerned about him, for some reason that Bruce didn’t really understand. It just felt like he wanted to get inside his head, but Bruce didn’t really want anyone in there, as far as he was concerned. If that meant he came off as distant and detatched…well, maybe he was.

The fight didn’t develop any further than that, but the frustration ruined the evening for them both, and to Bruce’s disappointment Jean didn’t invite him to stay the night, claiming he had an early morning the next day for work that he had to get rested up for. Bruce walked the way back to his apartment, and his thoughts turned back to the strange app he’d downloaded, and the ears he’d accidentally given himself–he opened it back up, being careful not to trigger anything, and looked through some of the options, surprised by the sheer variety the app could provide–and if they all worked like the ears had, the possibilities were…intriguing. However, for whatever reason, Bruce was drawn back to the ears, turning the filter on as he stood waiting for a crosswalk, looking at himself. He could almost feel them, just by watching himself move. To his surprise, he found himself missing them, despite the fact he’d only had them on his head for less than an hour. Still, not in public–he got back up to his apartment, triggered the ears again, and when he felt them flopping against the side of his head again, like before, he let off a sigh of relief he hadn’t even been aware of holding in.

He went into the bathroom and just stood in front of the mirror, playing with them, wondering why this all felt so natural to him. More natural than his human ears, even. Then again, in this reality, he’d always had them, so why wouldn’t they feel natural to him? Unnerved, he opened the app again, ready to get rid of them, but the screen had changed, and was instead showing a list of recommended filters for him, though since he’d only used one filter so far, all of them were, well, pig related in one way or another.

There was a filter that would make him look like a farmer, one that would make him chubby, another that would make him obese, and another that would make him fatter than he was really comfortable dealing with. Others focused on more piggish features–some added snouts, others made his hands and feet become trotters–and one promised to give him a sizable boar cock and balls. His squeamishness eventually gave way to curiosity. It wasn’t like he couldn’t just change back, right? Just to check, he removed the ears again, put them back on, removed them, put them back, removed them. He stared at himself, human again, wondering why, even with the app removed, he still didn’t feel…right, looking at himself like this. He’d never even thought about being a pig before in his life. He had a couple of friends who were furries, but he’d never once understood whatever they were talking about, or been interested in it, especially not erotically. It didn’t make any sense to him, and yet, when he turned the ears back on, he still felt so at ease in a way he couldn’t quite describe.

There was really only one way to know, he supposed. He pulled up another filter, the recommended one that would allegedly make him chubby, though not massive like some of them would, apparently. The screen displayed an error at first, telling him that he needed to back away from the camera and allow for a full body shot–then, when he did that, it also insisted that he remove all of his clothes. He did so, standing a bit awkwardly a few feet away from his phone, where it was propped up on the counter. He could see himself in the mirror, his usual body at least, and then below it, in the tiny phone screen, a body that was similar, but definitely larger, though it was too far to make out details very well. The app was on a timer, so he went up, pressed the trigger button, and then went back to position, watching the screen process–longer this time–and after a minute or so, his picture popped up. Bruce didn’t need to see the picture though. After all, he had his new gut already hanging off of him.

Arctos: Filters – Episode 1 (Part 1)

“Wait, is this the right one?” Bruce asked himself when he opened up the app on his phone, and started scrolling down through it. One of his coworkers that day had mentioned some new app that did some sort of really cool photo filters, but by the time he’d gotten home he hadn’t been able to remember the exact name. This one had sounded familiar though, and so he’d downloaded it from some company named Arctos. He booted it up, and it looked…well, like a lot of other filter programs he’d seen, but nothing particularly special. He’d just have to ask him for the right name tomorrow at work.

He browsed through the selections in this one, and was actually impressed by the sheer number. There were filters to change facial hair and hairstyle, filters that made you look like someone from a particular occupation–and then he saw something he hadn’t seen before–there were filters that the app claimed could change the look of your whole body. There was a buzz from his phone, a message from Jean, his boyfriend, checking to see if they were still on for dinner tonight, and Bruce decided to send him something funny. There was a collection of animal filters, and he found one that looked like a set of floppy pig ears. He turned it on, and was surprised by how lifelike it was–when he turned his head, he could see the ears swinging with it, and the physics of them was surprisingly realistic. He tilted his head to the side, letting one ear flop against his cheek, while the other one hung down, and then tilted it the other way. He didn’t know what company this was, but this was actually way more impressive than the one his coworker had mentioned. He took a photo of himself with the floppy ears–though it took a while for it to pop up on the screen, and then he sent it to Jean, along with a message that he was just about to leave.

He slipped his phone into his pocket, grabbed his coat and stepped out of his apartment. Jean lived a few streets away, but Bruce preferred walking, rather than trying to catch a bus. He hit the street, checked his phone again, and saw a message from Jean–“There’s my handsome man,”–but no mention of the ears added to the photo. Bruce was a bit annoyed that Jean didn’t mention the filter, he usually liked silly things like that, but it wasn’t a big deal, he supposed. Bruce just enjoyed the Spring chill on the twenty minute walk to his place, not really thinking about much in particular beyond how excited he was for Summer to finally arrive. He buzzed for Jean, who let him into the building, and Bruce hiked up the three stories to his apartment, where Jean was waiting for him. He gave him a kiss, and stepped inside, hanging his coat up on the hook inside. “Did you like that pic I sent?” he asked, “Kind of cool, right?”

Jean looked at him a bit puzzled, “Of course, you’re always cute in a photo–are you just fishing for compliments, or what?”

Bruce rolled his eyes, “Yeah, but the ears Jean, come on.”

Jean just chuckled, “I know you feel self-conscious about them sometimes, so I never know if I should say anything or not, but of course they looked good–they always do,” he stepped closer, reached up and flicked one of the floppy ears hanging off of Bruce’s head, and watched his boyfriend’s face go pale, both hands flying up to the side of his head, and then he dashed to the bathroom like a madman, locking the door behind him.

They were there. The ears, they were real! Bruce grabbed one and gave it a tug, wincing from the sudden pain. It couldn’t be possible, it didn’t make any sense! He stared at himself in the mirror over the sink, tilting his head side to side like he had into his phone half an hour earlier, watching his new ears flop and hang just like they had, just like…they always had, right? He fumbled with his phone and pulled up his photos, looking through his selfies, and sure enough, his ears were there, in every single photo. His pig ears. Had he really walked all the way over here, and not a single person had looked at him? Or had they been looking, and he was just so used to the stares at this point, that he didn’t worry about it?

“Bruce?” Jean said, “I’m sorry, I…I mean, you asked, and I didn’t want to upset you, alright? Let’s talk about it.”

Bruce went back to the app, and his photo was still up. He backed out to the camera, and there, in the upper left hand corner, was a button marked undo. He slammed it, watched the screen process for a moment, and when the screen came back alive, they were gone. His normal, human ears were right there, like they’d never left. He looked in the mirror, and again, the pig ears were gone, and also from all of his photos, which had also turned back to normal. He heaved a sigh of relief, and then opened the door, where a very concerned looking Jean was standing.

Arctos: Cable (Part 2)

“Come on, bro, get off me–I’m late for my fuckin’ class…”

Jared pushed mah head up, ‘n I moaned–how fuckin’ much did I fuckin’ drink last night? I mean, I ain’t no stranger tah hangovers by any fuckin’ measure, but this one was like someone had dropped an engine block on my noggin. Beside me, Jared gets up and stretches, givin’ his big jock gut a nice scratch,’n then heads fer his room–in front a me, the TV is still on, but unlike the night before, it ain’t holdin’ mah attention–just a fuckin’ rerun. I know all these Mechanic Stars episodes by heart anyway.

I haul mahself outta the deep indent in the couch, but it seems a bit…harder than it should be, fer some reason, ‘n give a good belch, mah gut rumblin’ when I do.

“Nice one, bro!” Jared shouts from his room.

“Plenty more where that shit came from, trust me–’n git a load a this!” I hike up a leg, give a shake, and pop outta fart fer him too, hearin’ ‘em chuckle as he’s gittin’ dressed. “Fuck, what fuckin’ day is it, anyway?” I mutter.

“Tuesday–don’t you have work, bro?”

Fuck, Jared’s right–I gotta be at the shop in a few hours. Still–first things first, gotta take a leak. I heft myself into the bathroom, stand in front a the toilet ‘n let loose, the sharp stench a beer piss in mah nose, ‘n I grunt. From the sound a it, I’m gettin’ most in the bowl at least, but I ain’t never been one tah aim real good. Doesn’t help I can’t fuckin’ see mah cock either! I give it a shake, and go to back out, when I see mahself in the mirror…’n I freeze.

I freeze ‘cause the fucker I’m seein’? That ain’t the fucker I ‘member bein’ the night before.

I mean, sure, I remember mahself good enough. Three hunderd pounds a beef right there, huge fuckin’ gut, hefty moobs, covered in a whole lotta fur. Fat jowly face with a big goatee–same style as Mick on Mechanic Stars, cause he’s mah favorite–shaved head too. I see all that–I know that’s me, but at the same fuckin’ time, I know it ain’t right, but I can’t pin down why I fuckin’ think that!

“Make way bro,” Jared says, and squeezes past me to the toilet, adding his own load a piss on top a mine. I wanna ask ‘em if he…thinks this is right. I mean–he’s the one in college, right? Not that he’s smart ‘r anythin’, he’s a meathead jock, really, but I’m dumber than he is.

“Jared–is there…do I look right to ya this mornin’?”

“I mean, ya could do the world a favor and take a shower, but you’re the same big pig as always, Mike.”

“Yeah, but…coulda sworm I was…that we was…”

Jared finished pissin’ ‘n squeezed back past, my cock doin’ a little throb when his gut slides by. “Sorry man, gotta go. If I’m late to class again, they might kick me off the team.”

“Yeah, sure–a’ight…”

Mah belly was growlin’–I never can think ‘bout shit on a empty gut. I git in the kitchen ‘n cook mahself breakfast–Jared eats a bit and then runs out the door, wearing his usual grungy looking gym gear a ain’t never seen ‘em wash in his life. Still–smells damn fine. So does breakfast–might feed a regular family a four, but I sit down at the table ‘n inhale all a it by mahself, lean back and let out a long belch, feelin’ a whole lot better. Still, I’m havin’ a hard time shakin’ the feelin’ that somethin’ just ain’t quite right ‘bout all a this, ‘n I try ‘n think back tah the night before.

I swear I was studyin’ shit, ‘n then I got sucked intah that marathon a Mechanic Stars…Yeah! ‘N when I got home yesterday, Jared was zoned out too, in front a the fuckin’ game! Did…did the fuckin’ TV do this shit tah us?

I hear a click, ‘n the sound a the TV flippin’ on all by itself.

“Think we have ourselves a smart one in here, don’t you Mick?”

I know that voice–it’s one a the mechanic stars! I look out at the TV, ‘n see Mick ‘n JD from the show on the screen, just…starin’. Starin’ at me.

“Have a seat, Mike.”

Their voices ain’t right. They ain’t got the drawl they usually do. I should run, but instead, I waddle back intah the room and sit back down on the couch.

“Yeah, there’s the stupid fucker, look at the fucking slob.”

“Keep your eyes here Mike–we know what you want–what you like to watch.”

The two mechanics turned tah one another on the screen, ‘n started makin’ out, sloberin’ all o’er each other’s fuckin’ faces, greasy hands, grubby clothes, ‘n I can’t fuckin’ tear mah fuckin’ eyes away. I feel mah cock throb again, ‘n reach into my nasty boxer shorts tah start strokin’ it, mouth open, drollin’ intah mah goatee.

“Yeah, I think the pig likes it, don’t you Mick?”

“Of course he likes it–he’s just a stupid, disgusting mechanic pig like us–what else could he possibly be?”

“Probably spends all night slobbering over that sexy jock roommate of his, begging him to fuck his dirty piggy hole with his cock, smelling his old jockstraps while he jacks off.”

There’s….somethin’ in mah hand. I bring it tah mah face, ‘n sure ‘nough, it’s one a Jared’s rank jocks. I take a long snort a his musk ‘n feel mah cock start leakin, I shove the thing in mah maw and start suckin’ on it.

“Yeah, that’s a good piggy–give in. Let yourself go. TV knows what’s good for you, TV knows what you are. You’re a nasty fucking piggy, and you’re happy as can fucking be.”

It’s true, it’s all fuckin’ true. I can feel those old memories just drainin’ out mah head, I’m so dense anyway, can’t remember much shit at all! I’m fuckin’ close though, strokin’ hard suckin’ on Jared’s jock ‘n sniffin’ mah filthy pits–mah cock explodes all over mah thighs, ‘n I’m pantin’ ‘n huffin’, sweatin’ all o’er but feel so fuckin’ good…

Then I look ‘oer, ‘n see Jared in the doorway–must a fergotten somethin’–yeah, fergot tah fuck his pig, a course! Fuck it if he’s late fer class–he knows he can’t leave wit’out plowin’ mah shit hole!