Matt’s words caught in his mouth–he didn’t have an answer. What did he want to be? he didn’t even know anymore. Did he want to be his old self, the cloistered, terrified Christian who was socially hamstrung by his fear of sinning against God? Did he just want to be some dumb laborer, someone who didn’t care about the fact that Tom ruled his life with an iron fist, but who could still have a good, carefree time? Did he want to be the fiery cub desperate for anal? A good, proper daddy for Terry, someone to take care of him, and be with him? He didn’t know–he honestly, had no idea who he wanted to be. In the mirror, he couldn’t make out his reflection–it kept shifting and slipping out of his sight, and he looked away, not wanting to know what sort of image it might settle on. “I don’t know,” he said, “I don’t know who I want to be anymore.”

“Well that’s too bad,” Max said, “because pretty soon, those smokes you had are gonna start choosing for you. Still, if you don’t know what you want, there’s nothing I can do for you.” He unlocked the door of the changing room and left, Matt shaking his head, getting up and following him out, but not before slipping his butt plug back in without even noticing.

“There has to be something you can do. Why can’t you just stop it?”

“I already told you, the magic doesn’t work like that.”

“But–”

Max wheeled around suddenly and stalked back towards Matt, “Listen–I don’t give a fuck about your tiny, little problems. As far as I’m concerned, there’s no difference between who you end up ass–because you’ll still just be a weak, sniveling brat. Now get out of my goddamn store.”

Matt left–he wasn’t about to stick around and try and argue with an Alpha, but as he left the mall, he realized that he’d just confirmed the worst possibility–the smoke was still changing him, and apparently there was nothing he could do to stop it, beyond becoming someone entirely new, and he didn’t know if he could face that. Of course, it was going to happen to him no matter what, whether it was the asscub’s slow burn over the next week, or whether he went back to Bear Boutique and Max agreed to change him–he was, this version of him, was running on borrowed time.

He got back to campus and returned to his dorm room, hoping Terry would be back. He needed to talk to him about this, he needed help. Terry always said the right thing, he always knew what to do. Matt realized that he was the daddy here–that he was the one who should be leading the way, but he just…couldn’t. He didn’t know what to do, and even if he did know what to do, he would still be too scared to do much of anything. However, the room was empty–Terry must still be out on his errand. However, then Matt spotted the shorts on the ground, the same denim ones Terry had been wearing when he left, and he saw on the inside of the seat a smear of cum and…blood…

Matt rushed out of the room and down the hall to the bathroom, banging open the door and hearing a shower running. “Terry? Terry are you in here?” he called.

“Here…I’m here,” Terry’s voice said, sounding exhausted from behind the shower curtain. Matt went over and pulled the curtain back, but couldn’t bear to look for more than a few moments, before looking away and covering his mouth. Terry was sitting in the cramped, standing shower, the water raining down on him, already on the way towards going cold. “Heh…I guess…I guess I must be quite the sight,” Terry said, trying to smirk with his fat lip but only managing to wince, the one eye which wasn’t black and swollen shut leaked a tear into the shower water. “He got…a bit rougher than I was expecting. I just thought I’d take a shower, and…and get some of it off…” he said, and then he was sobbing, and Matt was down under the water with him, pulling him into a tight hug, feeling the lash marks criss-crossing Terry’s back and then he was crying himself, but he had to be strong. He had to.

“Come on, let’s get you into bed. You need to rest for a bit.”

“All this…All this and I didn’t even learn anything we didn’t already know,” Terry said, “I told him to stop, but he just…he just wouldn’t…”

“I know, here, let me dry you off,” Now that Terry was standing Matt was better able to survey the damage, and while most everything was superficial and would heal over time, Matt was much more worried about how Terry was dealing with this in his head, as his cub kept sobbing his eyes out. A few of the lash marks on his back were still weeping blood, but Matt toweled them off, hoping they would stay clean, and then helped Terry back down the hall to their room, where he tucked him into bed.

“God, I hurt all over…” Terry moaned, “I just…I just wanted…”

“Shush,” Matt said, “Just sleep for a bit, you have to…you have to rest…”

Terry looked up at him then, and a slight smile crossed his face, “When did you dye your hair, Matt? I like…firetops…” and then he was asleep, and Matt’s own problems crashed back into him. He got up off the bed and looked at himself in the mirror, and sure enough, his hair had turned the same bright red as the cub he’d been earlier. He still had his beard, at least for the moment, but he stripped down out of his now wet clothes and saw that his body hair had thinned out quite a bit, also turning red, and that he was wearing a different jock than the one he had on earlier–a bright red one. It was happening just like in the changing room, and it might even be happening faster than Max had led him to believe, but still…he did look…kind of hot.

He wasn’t really hot yet, not by a long shot, no. Maybe in a few days, when a bit more fat had filled in, and some of this body hair had gone away, then he’d be damn sexy. There wouldn’t be a single bear in the baths who wouldn’t want to use his ass. Oh fuck, would that be hot, climbing into one of the slings there, and just begging every man who passed by to use him like the little asswhore he was made to be. Hell, why not just…just go do it now? He was way to wound up about all of this. Maybe what he really needed was to relax, and everyone knew there was nothing quite as relaxing as a good, rough fuck. Matt was working the plug in and out of his hole at this point, his other hand massaging his much smaller cock through the pouch of his jock, and he already knew that he’d never be hard again without a cock or a fist in his ass, but why was that a bad thing? Why should be be ashamed of these desires? Why should he be scared of this?

He searched for a reason. He needed a reason. He knew that if he couldn’t find one, that he was going to be unable to stop himself from going to the baths right now, finding some big cocked bear and begging him to ream his ass. That without some reason, without something else to guide him, the cub was going to win, and that he was no longer sure there was anything wrong with that, but in the mirror, he saw that there was a reason.

Terry. He couldn’t leave Terry, not like this, not ever. And then, it struck him. He was angry. Not just mad, but truly furious at what had happened to his cub. Not just at the trustee who had beaten him to a pulp, though a good amount of what he was feeling was directed there. He was angry at himself. He was angry that he wasn’t there, that he hadn’t taken care of his cub, that in some twisted way he knew that this was his fault. He’d sent Terry off into harms way without knowing he’d be safe, and now…now he was hurt, and Matt was too busy thinking about cock to even do anything for him.

No, the cub couldn’t win, but not for the reason Matt had first thought. He would like being that cub, he realized. It would be fun, it would be freeing, he would be popular, and well liked, and he would like himself. It wouldn’t be a bad life, not by a long shot, or at least not a bad life in this world. No, the cub couldn’t win because then Terry would be alone. The cub couldn’t win because Matt had to be his daddy–he had to protect him, and cherish him, and raise him…and suddenly, Matt found that he did know who he wanted to be. He walked over and gave Terry a kiss on the forehead, wishing he could stay, but he couldn’t let the cub get any stronger than he already was. He had to go back to Bear Boutique, and ask for Max’s help. He wondered, for a moment, whether he was making the right choice–the moral choice–but Matt didn’t know. All he knew, was that it was the choice he had to make, for him, but even more for Terry.

Chapter 5

Marcus leaned back in his office chair a bit, splaying his legs apart and with one hand shoved his slave’s head down further onto his cock under his kilt, while he stared at the bulletin board next to his desk. He’d stared at this thing for so long now that he could probably replicate it perfectly in his mind, and he let out a growl of dismay. The resistance. They were planning something, they had to be–it’s what he would be doing in their position at least. They must know by now that Tristan and Erikson were missing, so then why were they doing nothing about it? Why not shout it from the rooftops, and try to spark a revolt? What were they even doing?

He frowned a bit, wondering if he’d overestimated their abilities. Still, better than he overestimate rather than underestimate them, and there was the other conflict going on that he needed to focus on, this infighting amongst the masters. He’d been keeping tabs on all of their activities, and Clark taking down Len was no surprise, though Jack’s aggression towards Grant was a bit unexpected. They had usually gotten along fairly well, surprisingly enough–so then why target Grant, instead of trying to forge an alliance? Still, that just left four of them now, including him and Doug. Doug didn’t seem too inclined to get involved at all and as far as Marcus could tell, he hadn’t made moves against anyone, but he might just be sneakier than the rest. A voice told him he was probably just being paranoid, but isn’t that exactly what he should be at the moment?

Marcus just wanted order–he was tired of all of these variables he couldn’t easily account for getting in the way of making sure the campus was peaceful. He was just going to have to get rid of all of them eventually, he realized. That was the only way to get things back to normal. Once he was in charge of campus, no one would have to know, but then he could know everything. He could put cameras everywhere, he could know everything about everyone. On one, then, would be able to make a move he couldn’t predict–no one–and once that happened, then maybe he could stop feeling so paranoid.

He didn’t hear the phone ring at first, because he wasn’t expecting a call from anyone, and when it did finally intrude into his thoughts, he almost let it go to voicemail, because if he wasn’t expecting a call, that meant that something else was going on that he didn’t know about, and that meant it might be a trap. He thought it over, decided the risk was minimal, and picked up the receiver. “Marcus McSimmon, Security Sevices,” he said.

“Hello Marcus, I’m calling to put in a tip, about the resistance.”

Definitely not what he was expecting. Who in the world would know something about the resistance that he didn’t already know? “Who is this?”

“I’d rather stay anonymous,” the voice said.

Marcus covered the receiver with his hand, and said to his slave, “Trace the number. See if you can tell me anything about who this guy is.” His slave immediately got up and hurried into another room, where he started the trace, Marcus keeping an eye on the clock, knowing it would be a few minutes before he had any information, and he spoke into the phone again, “Alright, what’s your information?”

“Hold on, I have something I want, first. I want you to get rid of Clark Bonarte. Then I’ll tell you everything I know.”

“Why in the world should I think you have anything?..Hello?” Marcus said, but the line was dead. He set the phone down, already knowing that his slave hadn’t gotten anything useful out of fifteen seconds, but he had a good idea of who the caller might have been. Clark had gotten a bit rough with the trustees a few days ago, and if there was anyone who might have some information that Marcus didn’t, it would be someone pretty high up. How did he know, though, that his wasn’t just a ploy? That whoever was calling wasn’t just trying to spur more infighting between the masters? Well, then again, of course that’s what they were doing, and probably looking for a little revenge along the way. Clark was an unpredictable shithead though, Marcus knew that much, and getting him out of the way would be one less thing he’d have to worry about complicating the larger picture, and if the caller did have something on the resistance, then all the better for him.

“Slave, give me the whereabouts of Clark Bonarte–put him up on my screen if you can.”

“Yes sir, here’s the feed sir.”

The screen of Marcus’s computer flickered to life, showing a security feed of Clark crossing campus, his slave following meekly behind him on a leash. Clark deduced from the direction he was heading that there was probably only one place he was likely going–Doug’s dorm room. Marcus got up out his chair, a bit pleased that he would be able to hit two bears with one dart, and he headed for the security armory. He’d been stocking up tools just for situations like this, and he already had a feeling that Doug and Clark could both use some time in the other’s shoes.

Chapter 4

“Are you sure the lead is a good one?”

“Yeah, TJ dropped a word in all the right places, and what do you know, the guy calls me the very next day. He must have really been interested in finding someone to fuck,” Terry said, “I’ll give him a good squeeze, and see what pops out.” He pulled on those denim shorts which hugged his ass so tight, and Matt felt excitement pulse through him, not that his cock would respond. For what felt like the hundredth time today, he reached around and gave his ass a scratch, frustrated by how it kept itching. It had been two days since his run in with Butch and Leon, and the effects of the smoke were still there, like Tom was taunting him, every time he had sex with Terry. It was just making him angry at this point, but he was doing his best to not let it show in front of his cub. Terry was already worried enough about him at this point, and there was no reason to give him more to stress about.

“And you’re certain he’s on the board?”

“Yes, Matt, quit fretting, I’ll be fine. This isn’t the first time I’ve handled a VIP client, trust me.”

“I do trust you. That’s not the problem. I don’t trust this guy you’re meeting especially if he won’t give you his name. I just…I just don’t want to put you in harms way for information which might not even be helpful.”

“Well, we won’t know until we ask, will we?” Terry said, leaning over and giving Matt a kiss, “Don’t worry Daddy, you still have my heart.” He gave Matt a wink, and the strutted out the door to his meeting. TJ had heard that someone on the board of trustees was looking for a cub to fuck, and he’d dropped Terry’s name in the offices. Matt hadn’t expected it to pan out, but now there Terry went, into the lion’s den–alone. Matt reached around and scratched his hole again, and now that he was alone, he slipped a finger in and let loose a little moan.

He still hoped it was just his imagination. He did get out as fast as he could, right? And there wasn’t any smoke around now, so how could he still be changing?

No, he couldn’t even let himself think about it, better to just think about how nice it felt having something in his hole, but he needed something bigger. He dug around for his fun bucket and pulled out one of his dildos, sliding it into his hole as easy as could be. He’d never been able to do that before, but suddenly everything, no matter how big, just slipped in so easily…it was hard to go all day without something up there all the time now. Yeah, he did love having something huge stretching his hole, he was such a asswhore, yeah, but god, he still wondered…wondered what it might be like to get fucked like this, with this amazingly sensitive hole. But he had to be a daddy for Terry, he had to be strong, but still…His thoughts drifted back to Tom suddenly, and with a force Matt couldn’t halt, back to their rough fucks. He’d always complained that Tom would shove his cock in too fast, but that wouldn’t be a problem now, and Matt bet that his ass would be able to last for fucking ever like this. Maybe…maybe he could just call him up for a quickie. Yeah, maybe Tom would be into that.

He was on the bed now, slamming the big dildo home over and over again, jacking his cock with the other hand, moaning Tom’s name over and over when he came, spurting his cum all over himself, licking up anything that landed by his mouth hungrily, and he finally came back to himself, and embarrassed, he hauled the dildo out, with some regret he noted, and put it back in the bucket.

It really was getting worse. It wasn’t just his imagination. He got up and looked at himself in the mirror. He didn’t have a measure or anything, but when he wore his overalls now, where they’d hit his boots perfectly before all that happened, now they puddled down on top of his feet. His shirts were too big in the chest and too tight in the belly, and getting worse every day. Even his beard was thinning out a bit, as his hair continued to push back towards his forehead. It was happening slowly, sure, but it was happening. He couldn’t deny it.

He wondered whether Terry had noticed. Probably not…then again, maybe he had, and just didn’t have the heart to tell Matt what he was seeing. Matt started questioning everything all over again. Maybe he was just crazy. How could Terry not notice, and if he had noticed, why wouldn’t he say anything? Matt was sick of looking at himself at this point, sick of wondering. He had to know for sure, and it was becoming more and more apparent that there was only one place he could go to find out for sure. He found the wrapper he’d pulled from the smoky room, the one labeled with the name Bear Boutique. He had to go. Sure, everyone he’d talked to warned him not to, that getting out of the store unchanged was easier said than done. Still, Butch and Leon had managed it, why couldn’t he? It was the only way he could be sure. He got dressed, his clothes fitting a bit worse than when he’d had them on earlier, and unable to help himself, he took a small butt plug and slid it into his hole, giving a little sigh of pleasure as it settled into place, and he pulled on his coat and set off for the mall.

***

It looked innocuous enough, just like every other store around him in the mall, maybe people were just exaggerating their tales of the place. Still, Matt was a bit scared to go inside, just because, well, he’d be crazy not to be a bit scared, he supposed. Sill, he couldn’t put this off any longer than he had already, and it was getting hard not to think about popping down to the restroom and jacking off in a stall, while he fucked himself with a dildo. In fact, there were probably some glory holes…maybe, maybe he could find someone to fuck him. That would be so damn nice–he needed a good fuck so bad…

Matt shook his head and before he could second guess himself, he walked into the store, but there was no one at the front register, or in the store at all, actually. However, he could hear some shouting from behind a beaded curtain, and out of curiosity, he crept back and pushed it aside.

“I just don’t get what’s up with you, it’s like you’re a completely different person!” he heard someone shout–the leather clad man covered with tattoos, with the word “BRUTE” written across his forehead. He was shouting at a shorter, chubbier, and quite frankly filthy biker, who appeared to be standing his ground, despite how close Brute was to his face.

“Oh fuck off Brute, I’m done having this conversation.”

“At least tell me why. Why in the fuck did you beat up Beast like that?”

“Because he called me Scuzz. I told you that isn’t my name. If you use it, I’ll beat you down too. My name, is Maxwell. You can call me Max, if you’d like, but that’s it–got it?”

At the curtain, Matt found himself taking deeper and deeper breathes. The scent of these men, especially in confrontation–it was intixicating–even the biker, Max, who was hardly clean…Matt just wanted to…to crawl over, and…and well…do anything the two of them wanted him to do. Suck their cocks, clean their bodies, clean their boots, clean their holes–anything. Maybe one of them would fuck him, that would be amazingly hot, to have someone like that give him the honor of being a dump for their cum–he would be so happy–

Matt caught himself about to step through the curtain and go beg the two men to use him as they saw fit, and before he could give in, he stepped back and retreated towards the fresh air of the mall. That couldn’t have just been the smoke he was subjected to–there had to be something else going on for him to react like that. He was about to book it out of there, never come back, and just deal with what was happening to him when he heard the rustle of beads. He turned around and saw the dirty biker looking at him from the doorway. “Something I can help you find?” he asked.

Matt saw the name Scuzz emblazoned on the man’s forehead, but figured he wouldn’t use that name if he could help it. In fact, his head told him, the only appropriate way of addressing this man, was the word ‘Sir.’

“I…I guess, well, sir…” Matt said, stumbling over his words like a lovestruck cub. He could smell that scent again, and it was just aching to make him submit, bending his will to this filthy, beautiful master, standing right in front of him.

Max sighed, walked over to the counter, picked up an aerosol can and sprayed it all over himself, and a few moments later, Matt felt clarity return to him. “Sorry, I was working up a bit of a sweat in the back. Curse of the Alpha and all that.”

An Alpha–that explained why Matt had felt like that. He’d never meet one, but he’d heard plenty fo rumors about Alphas and their thralls. Matt gave a bit of a shiver, but was glad he had control of himself again. “Th-thanks, it was getting a little hard to think there for a second.”

“Don’t worry about it. Now, what can I do for you?” Max asked.

“Well, you see…” Matt started to explain, “There was this…this prank some guys pulled on me. They, well, they burned some cigars they must have gotten here, and forced me into a room with all the smoke, and well, I’ve been…I think I’ve been changing, even after I got out. I was…well, I just want to make sure I’m not crazy.”

“I see,” Max said, “Well, let me give you a smell.” He walked over to Matt, the sudden closeness a bit surprising. While the spray had concealed the Alpha musk, the rest of the filth on Max’s body stunk plenty, and Matt did his best to breathe in through his nose. Max leaned over him, taking a few sniffs around his face and chest, before settling back and thinking for a moment. “Yeah, I remember those two. They came in two days ago, bought some cigars. I smell…some cub-an, asshog, and subsmoke, I think. Yeah, even a little exposure is enough to trigger the change. It just take longer. How long were you in the room?”

“I don’t know, maybe a minute?”

“Hmm…yeah, I’d say you’ll finish changing in about a week and a half from the initial exposure. What are you, a couple days into it?”

“You mean, I am still changing? How can I stop it?”

“Stop it?” Max asked, and then laughed, “Man, we don’t sell anything that stops a change, are you kidding me? You’re just gonna have to get used to it.”

“No, I don’t want…I don’t want this. Please, isn’t there anything you can do?”

Max sighed, “Well, we could always counter this change with another one. I mean, the force of the change is pretty weak. The only reason it’s advancing is because there’s nothing pushing back against it. Still, how do you know this isn’t what you want? Maybe we should make sure before you buy anything you might regret later.”

“What are you talking about?” Matt asked, but Max wrapped his arm around his shoulder and pulled him along towards the changing rooms behind the clothing racks.

“Here, let me show you what I mean,” Max said, shoving Matt into the room and following him inside. The small room was a bit more spacious than any changing room Matt had ever seen, with one of the long wall dominated by a large mirror. He caught a glance of his reflection and did a double take. That wasn’t him in the mirror. It couldn’t be him, there was no way. Reflected back at him was the image of a short, chubby cub, dressed not in the flannel and overalls Matt had come in with, but instead in a red leather harness and a red jockstrap, his hair no longer a dark, nearly black brown, but a fiery red. His beard was gone, replaced by a short, thin goatee, and he as fat. Well, not so much fat as plump, with a big, soft ball gut and two of the roundest, firmest moobs he’d seen on a man, with pert nipples ringed by a soft layer of the same red hair as the rest of his body, which joined a soft treasure trail down into his jockstrap. His skin was so pale too, and his face was freckled a bit even.

The itch in his ass was suddenly a flame, and he reached around, grabbing for the butt plug he’d put in earlier, but instead finding his ass filled with a ten inch, beer can thick dildo, also red, which he started thrusting in and out of his ass. “Oh fuck yeah, fuck I need something up my cubpussy!” he moaned, his voice higher, and with a hint of a lisp…wait…Matt though. No…No it was just a reflection, wasn’t it?

He ripped his eyes away from the mirror and looked down at himself, letting out a bit of a shriek when he saw that, in fact, it wasn’t just a reflection, not anymore. He was the fat, pale, hairless cub he was looking at in the mirror, helplessly slamming the dildo home in his ass, but he knew his cock wouldn’t get hard unless it was filled with something…something else. A big cock, two big cocks, a fist, two fists, anything, anything as long as it was alive, as long as there was some man wreaking and abusing his worthless hole. “Oh fuck I need a cock,” he said, then turned to Max and dropped to his knees, “Please sir, please fuck me, this cub is such a horny asspig, I need it so bad sir, please.”

Max laughed, “Sorry cub, but you wouldn’t like what my cum might do to you.”

“But I need to cum sir, please, isn’t there anything you can do? My pussy is aching sir, my hole needs a man to fill it, it’s so empty…”

Max felt a twinge of pity in him. The old him, well, he would have never put himself in a position like this. Still, where had those old principles of abstinence and freedom gotten him? Here he was, trapped in a foreign dimension, in a foreign body, with these foreign beings which were just aching to be dominated. Max felt his cock harden in his grimy jeans, leaking a bit of his alpha cum. It would be so easy to turn him. He hated Toilet, hated that sniveling worm of a thrall, but this one, this little cub could be everything that Max wanted. He could be his true first, the thrall he kept. Max shook his head, pushing the thought away. He wanted to wait. He wanted his body back first. He would take a thrall then, when he was back to normal, and besides, he already had a someone in mind for his first conversion–Tristan. That little cousin of his, oh the things Max was going to do to him…

“Alright you fucking cub–I suppose I have to help you out a bit, or you’ll just be stuck like this. How about I shove my fist up that hole of yours?”

“Oh thank you sir,” Matt said, got down on his hands and knees and shoving his ass towards Max. “Put it in dry sir, my hole can take it. I want it to be rough.”

“Well aren’t you just a little assslut.”

“The biggest assslut sir! Now please, please fist my cubhole sir!”

God Max wanted to fuck that hole so bad, but he resisted, getting down on his knees and working in a few fingers. The cub’s ass nearly swallowed them down, and they slid in so easy, that in a matter of moments, without Max really remembering how, his entire fist was buried in the cub’s hole, Matt moaning and groaning like a complete whore, his red jock showing the first blot of precum as his tiny cock hardened now that his hole was being used properly. “Fuck cub, this is the easiest ass I’ve ever had,” Max said.

“More sir, give me more! I need it so bad.”

Max felt the cub’s hole grip his arm and start pulling him in, massaging his arm a bit as it entered. He could only imagine what that would feel like on his cock. Maybe just one fuck, but Max held off. Giving in now would be complacency. Besides, if he had an ass like this around all the time, he would never get around to freeing himself from this hellhole. Now he was in up to his elbow, and Max reached between the cub’s legs, massaging the pouch of his jock, making the cub squirm.

“No, no, don’t jack me off, put that fist in me too, I want them both.”

“Fuck, you are a horny asscub.”

“Just do it sir, please!”

Who was Max to deny the cub his pleasure? His second fist slipped in just as easily as the first, and soon he was pummeling Matt’s hole, sliding both fists in and out as easy as could be, the cub shivering and shuddering with every pounding thrust into his ass, and with a loud groan, he filled the pouch of his jock with a massive load and collapsed onto the carpet, Max sliding his fists out as he went down, watching as Matt’s original form reasserted itself, leaving him lying on the ground, trying to process what had just happened to him.

“There, see?” Max said, “That wasn’t so bad, was it? You sure did seem to enjoy it.”

“No, no I can’t let that happen.” Matt said, pushing himself up. His hole was so sore from the pounding, but god if that itch hadn’t disappeared for the moment. It was an amazing relief, but if he fell into that trap–well, in another week, that’s who he would be. A cub wandering campus begging men for their cocks and fists, returning to Tom’s room every night for another reaming, with Butch and Leon there too, probably. Even worse, as he was imagining the scenario he was getting turned on big time. He had to fix this, he couldn’t let that happen to him. “Please, you have to help me.”

“Well it’s not that simple,” Max said, “I can’t just change you into anything. There has to be desire behind it–drive. That’s what makes it all work. There has to be will behind it, or it all just fizzles out, wasted. So, if I’m going to help you, you have to tell me what you want to be.”

“Can’t it just be a small change? I don’t…I don’t want to…”

“Don’t want to what?”

“I don’t…I don’t want to, well, forget.”

Max cocked an eyebrow at him, “So finally, I get to meet a member of the oh-so-famous resistance which has been such a thorn in my cousin’s side.”

“Tristan’s your cousin?”

“Oh yes, not that it matters.”

“But that means you know where he came from, what he’s doing. Why is he doing this? Where did he go?”

Max laughed, “Please, I don’t give out my answers for free.”

Matt frowned at him. “What could I give you in exchange?”

“How about we discuss that later,” Max said, “You still didn’t answer my question. What do you want to be?”

The glow returned moments later, and Grant had to stop his rows for the moment, because his skin started to itch. It was all of this body hair and these too tight of clothes. They always made him itch, but he never seemed to remember to go get some better fitting garments. He took advantage of his momentary break to take a sniff of his pits, and then a longer one, his hand rubbing his hard cock in his shorts, as he let off another belch, and feeling braver, he lifted his arm up over his head, rubbing his nose right in the pit, loving the feel of his hairy pits grating against his wild, tangled beard.

“Hey, Grant, if ya ain’t too busy over there,” Jack said with a smile, “Would ya mind spottin’ me on the bench press?”

Grant looked over his shoulder sheepishly, a bit embarrassed to have been caught getting off on his pit stink by someone as hot as Jack. “Sure man, I’d be happy to,” he said, got off his machine and hurried over to where Jack was positioning himself under the barbell. Even just standing over him, Grant could take in the musk which surrounded Jack. How could he have not noticed how amazing that smells before? He’d always thought that he’d hated it, but already he couldn’t get enough to satisfy himself suddenly. Again, he was struck by how he looked in the mirror across the room, and yet, it was his reflection–why did it bother him so much? Everything just seemed so…different, all of a sudden.

“You ready Grant?”

“Oh…yeah, whenever you are.”

Jack started pressing the bar, Grant counting off his reps, but mostly unable to take his eyes off himself. There was something wrong here, something that should be obvious, but it was like something hiding impossibly well right in plain sight. He shouldn’t look like this. That’s what was wrong. He didn’t know what he was supposed to look like, sure, but it wasn’t this–this massively fat man with a dingy beard and greasy hair, with clothes too tight, his skin bursting with hair. He grabbed the barbell as Jack was in the middle of one of his last reps, and shoved it down, pinning it against Jack’s chest, catching the big bear off guard. “What the fuck have you done to me, Jack?” Grant said.

“What the–what are ya even talkin’ about!” Jack cried, trying to push the bar off his chest, “Let me up, will ya?”

Grant felt a tremor of doubt in his chest. No, it couldn’t be Jack. Jack wouldn’t do something like that to Grant…right? No…no, of course not. But then that meant that they were both in danger, that Marcus or Clark or Doug were somewhere around here, maybe even manipulating them both. “Look, I don’t…I don’t think it’s safe here, I think one of the other masters…I think they did something to me.”

“Just let me up!” Jack shouted, and Grant helped lift the bar back into place, letting Jack sit up and take a few deep breaths. “Alright, what it the world are you talking about?”

“Someone did it to Len man, they changed him, they kicked him out of the program, and now I think they’re doing it to us. Do you…do you feel different at all?”

“No, do you?”

“I don’t…My head is telling me that this is all wrong, that…but I don’t know, it just isn’t right. It isn’t right at all. And there’s this glow I keep seeing, this weird glow, and then…”

“A glow eh?” Jack said, it didn’t happen to look like this, did it?” Grant turned around to see that Jack had a small handheld raygun in his hand pointed at Grant, and a second later, the tip of the gun engulfed Grant in that same glow, and he felt sucker punch to the gut. It was Jack–Jack, his hero, had been doing this to him–whatever this was. Shouldn’t…shouldn’t he be happy about that? The glow faded, and he was left trying to sort out the sudden crush of contrary feelings. Honor, fear, confusion, lust–he didn’t know what to feel, or why he should be feeling any of it. “It’s just a little something I picked up from Bear Boutique a little while ago–somethin’ called a Slobifier. Great little thing, ain’t it? Not only can it make someone slobby, it can change how they think, ‘n even change how they treat other slobs.”

“That’s amazing,” Grant said. He loved it when Jack spoke–he loved listening to Jack’s voice so much. He’d do anything for Jack.

“Yeah, sure is. Now Grant, how about ya do a few reps yerself? I’ll spot ya.”

“Oh..sure! Yeah, we can do that, but why are you…I mean, why me? Why use it on me?”

“Well, because you were such a tight ass before, I figured you could stand to loosen up a bit.”

“So I was different before–who was I? Tell me what you did.”

“Why? Ain’t you enjoyin’ who ya are now?” Jack said. Come on, lie down on the bench, and lets keep going with your workout.”

Grant was torn. He wanted answers, but he also really needed to do what Jack said. He couldn’t resist obeying anyone as dirty as he was, so he figured they could always talk about it later. He lied back down on the bench, and Jack went around to the head, and when Grant looked up, he saw that Jack had stripped off the denim shorts he’d been wearing and had nothing on other than his signature suspenders strapped onto one of the filthiest jockstraps Grant had ever seen. He wanted it. He wanted it on his face, in his mouth, all over his body. “Oh fuck Jack, why have you been hiding that from me?” he said, and went to lick the pouch, but Jack backed off.

“Nuh uh, ya gotta finish your reps first.”

“Please Jack? Please just a taste?”

“Are ya tellin’ me that you’d rather taste my nasty, pissy jock instead a workin’ out?”

That was a stupid question, Grant thought, why would he ever choose differently? He nodded, “Fuck yeah, man, give it to me.”

Fine, ya can taste it,” Jack said, “but only if you piss yourself. Right here, right now.”

“What?” Grant asked, taken aback.

“I wanna see ya piss those army shorts of yours. I want to see them soaked. I want to see you fucking piss your pants like a real nasty son-of-a-bitch. Then you can taste my sweaty jockstrap.”

Grant really wanted to taste it. What harm could there be in pissing his shorts? Something about it felt…just wrong, but thinking back, he’d woken up more than once after a night of drinking to find he’d pissed himself. Who really cares? Still, between his hard on, his inability to look away from Jack’s jock, and his nerves, he found pissing to be next to impossible. “I…I don’t think I can.”

“Do ya want some help?”

“I…I guess so. I do really want to taste your jock.”

“Well, the slobifier here, I can use it to make you incontinent. I can make it so ya have to piss yourself. How does that sound? I mean, ya can’t taste my jock until ya piss those shorts, so what have ya got tah lose?”

That was a horrible argument, or, it should have been a horrible argument, but everything that came out of Jack’s mouth just seemed to make so much more sense than it really should. And hadn’t that gun, that slobifier been the source of the rest of his problems? Were they really problems at all? And he did want to taste his jock, so what choice did he really have? “A–Alright, I guess you can do that to me.”

“That’s a good pig,” Jack said, aimed the gun at him and let loose once more. Grant didn’t feel any different once the glow faded, but a second later, he felt a strange warmth spread in his shorts, and sitting up, he could see the front of them darken, the piss flowing beyond his control, before flowing onto the bench and off the sides, where it dribbled onto the carpet.

“Fuck, oh fuck Jack that feels so good, and it reeks man–it fucking reeks…”

“You like that, don’t you, the smell of piss?”

“Oh yeah…oh, I don’t…I don’t feel too good…” Grant said, feeling a cramp in his gut. A moment later, he let loose with what he was expecting to be a fart, but was much more than that, shit suddenly packing itself into the back of his tight shorts. “Oh…oh god, I just…just shit myself.”

“Feels even better, doesn’t it?”

“God, it does…no, no this is so fucking messed up.”

“But you do get to taste it now, isn’t that what you wanted?” Jack said, pushing Grant down onto the bench and leaning over his, smashing the filthy jock right into his face. A second later, Jack started pissing himself, the stream flowing out of the jock and down over Grant’s face, into his open mouth, Grant couldn’t seem to close it for some reason, he needed that piss in his mouth, and the jock pressed against his nose stank of stale cum and piss and he was in heaven. He could smell his own shit now, mixing with the piss in the air, driving him to new heights of pleasure, and suddenly he was shooting his wad right into his shorts, letting it sink in with his piss. He’d never cum spontaneously like that before, but he had just as little control over that as the rest of his fluids, suddenly.

“Ha, alright, I think yer ready fer the truth,” Jack said.

“What do you mean?” Grant said, but the glow surrounded him again, and suddenly, as though a different light was shining on the events of the past hour, he remembered. He remembered all of it, how he’d been, how Jack had been changing him slowly, slowly reducing him to this…this nasty fucking slob! He scrambled up off the bench and backed away from Jack, “What the fuck!” he sputtered, “You fat fucking pig, what the fuck did you do?”

“Now, now, be nice, I ain’t the only ‘fat fucking pig’ here anymore.”

“Change me back.”

“Hah, no way”

“If you don’t change me back,” Grant said, starting to advance on Jack, but the redneck leveled the gun at him, and he stopped.

“You probably don’t want to find out what this thing will change next. All I did just now was make you aware of the changes. As much as I like having you as a lovestruck little pig, I’d rather finish off with the real Grant.”

“Why me?”

“Everyone’s picking off somebody. Don’t tell me you weren’t thinking the same thing.”

“But why me?”

“Because you’re a fuckin’ snob, dumbass. I just want tah show ya that yer nothin’ more than a pig, like me, everyone else is gonna be, and I’m gonna be king pig, whether you like it or not. However, judgin’ from the cum stainin’ yer shorts, I think ya like it more ‘n ya let on. Reagrdless, I’m done wit’ ya now. There ain’t no way yer gonna stick around in the masters program, since the only thing gettin’ you off in the near future is the smell a piss ‘n shit.”

“You can’t just leave me like this, remembering who it the fuck I was!”

“Sure I can. I wouldn’t want you tah have any regrets, would I?”

“You fucking asshole.”

“Don’t worry Grant, you’ll settle into it. Before long, you won’t be able to imagine bein’ anythin’ other than a filthy pig, ‘n ya’ll love it all. Now why don’ ya march on out a here, while I’m goin’ easy on ya. Drop out a the program, ‘n I won’t have tah pay ya another visit wit this guy.”

“Please, don’t leave me like this. Just do me that fuckin’ service. I’ll drop out, I’ll do whatever you want. Just change me back.”

“But I like you much more like this, and don’t worry, by the time I’m through with this campus, everyone is going to be as dirty as us. Won’t that be fucking hot?”

Grant did his best not to think about it, but it was making his cock hard again, and Jack was coming closer now. “Keep…keep back,” Grant said.

“Just think about it Grant, think about who you used to be, that tight ass marine, think of all the work you had to do. Now, all ya have to do is laze about, pissin’ and shittin’ yerself, cummin’ on occasion. Isn’t that a better life?” Jack said, rubbing Grant’s crotch.

“No…No, I don’t think it is.”

“Why?”

Grant didn’t have an answer to that–why didn’t he have an answer? It should be the simplest question in the world, but he was…enjoying this. Enjoying this a lot. He let out another belch, and that pleasant self-satisfaction filled him with pride. He tried to fight it back, but it was authentic. He did feel proud of himself. He was reveling in this in ways he couldn’t even begin to grasp.

“How about this. How about I trust you to help me out?” Jack said, and Grant felt Jack press the gun into his hand. “Everyone needs to feel like this, Grant. People fight it, they always do, but you can bring them down to our level. You can show them how wonderful it is to be a slob.”

“No…”

“You can’t fucking resist me, Grant,” Jack said, leaning in close, and Grant nearly fell forward, desperate to get Jack’s scent on him–in him, everywhere. Jack needed to be in charge, he realized. The world needed him to lead it, and if Grant…if Grant could help him do that, it would be an honor. He was down on his knees then, sucking on Jack’s cock through the wet pouch of his jock, and Grant realized that he’d been beaten. That he had accepted Jack’s world, that this was indeed best to him, and that he would do his best to help Jack succeed, because it was the right thing to do. It was right, to serve Jack, and he did need to show everyone else how true that was. Jack let his cock slip out of the punch, and Grant happily sucked it down, tasting the filth coating the shaft, thankful that Jack, his master, was allowing him the honor of service. It was an honor, a true honor, and when Jack’s cum filled his belly to the brim, he came again, without touching himself.

“Ya know what ya need tah do, don’t ya?”

“Yes sir,” Grant said.

“That’s a good marine. Now get to work,” Jack said, and left the gym, Grant following him out a few minutes later, wanting to get out before anyone caught him in there, and before he could meet any traffic on the way back to his dorm who might smell the shitload in his shorts. He got back before his cadet had returned from his run, and he sat there, in the dark, smelling himself, holding the gun and terrified of doing what was necessary. It couldn’t really be the best thing, could it? But Jack, his master, had told him to do it–so he…he had to, as sick as it might make him to do it.

When his cadet came into the room, panting a bit, the stench of musk in the room was overwhelming. “Holy crap…what is that,” he said, “Sarge? Sarge, are you there sir? What’s that smell?”

He could just barely make out a fat figure sitting on the bed, holding something, no, pointing something at his chest. “I’m…I’m sorry Cadet,” he heard his sarge said, and then he was surrounded by a strange glow, and then, nothing much mattered to him. He could smell it though, he could smell what he needed. Snorting a bit, he made his way to the bed and buried his face into the seat of his Sarge’s shorts, smelling and licking at the shit there, hungrier than he’d ever been in his life, and Grant felt a shiver run through him. Still, he did need someone to clean him up a bit, and who better than his cadet? It felt…surprisingly good, he realized, to make someone into a slob like him. Maybe Master Jack was right. Maybe they were all just pigs at heart. Well, Grant would do his part. If Jack wanted an army, he was going to get an army. He had a sergeant to lead it after all–now Grant just had to recruit all the soldiers he could find.

Chapter 3

“Well Officers, here we are, the scene a the crime,” Jack said, leading the massive men to the spot in the forest where the strange corpse had been found once people had woken up from hibernation. “We don’ know much about what happened, other than the fact that Tristan Newbeary and Professor Erikson are missin’ but I was hopin’ the two a ya could help us with that.”

Jack was a big man, but even he didn’t really want to get on the bad side of Officers Leather and Rubber. The two of them were infamous on the force, not only for their imposing physiques, but also for their curious methods of punishing any wrongdoer who crossed their paths.

“Well, if the two of them are just missing, then there’s no crime for us. We have better things to do than run errands for you, Jack.”

“Well how do ya know there wasn’t a crime committed?”

Leather cocked an eyebrow, but looked over at his partner rubber, the muscle bound hulk, his huge cock crammed in the leather thong he always wore. “Rubber, why don’t you give the place a sniff–nothing can beat your nose at sniffing out a crime.”

Rubber chuckled a bit, but apparently Leather wasn’t kidding. The rubber clad hulk stepped into the middle of the scene, and took a deep inhale through his nose, a bigger breath than Jack had ever seen someone take before, and he held it for a good minute, his eyes clenched tight, before exhaling it in a large burst. “There’s something on the air alright,” Rubber said with a growl, feeling that familiar, lovely rage start building in his gut, “something happened here…murder? Kidnapping? and something…something foul. Fuck, something, really, really rank.”

Leather looked at his partner curiously, “What was it?”

“I…I don’t know,” Rubber said, taking another breath. “All I can say, is that it’s one of the worst crimes I’ve ever smelled, it’s horrible…it’s making me…really angry…” he said.

“Well then it’s settled,” Jack said, “Ya’ll can hunt the two a them down then.” He looked at Leather and Rubber, but neither one was listening. “Right you two?”

The growl in Rubber’s throat was growing louder, and he suddenly threw a punch into the trunk of a tree next to him, his fist bursting through the wood like it was hollow, and making the entire century old tree shudder, and nearly tumble to the ground. “We have to punish this, this is…this is…” Rubber managed to get out, but the rage was quickly consuming him.

“Well what was it, Rubber? What was the crime?”

“I don’t…I don’t know. It was an abomination here, someone did something unnatural…they did it…there,” he said, pointing towards the science building where Erikson’s labs were housed, “but the perpetrator isn’t there, he’s…he’s gone. He was the one kidnapped, but not the murder, no. We have to punish this, Leather, this should have never happened.”

“Well now hold yer horses fellas,” Jack said, “I just need ya tah find them, not punish them.”

Quicker than Jack had imagined him capable of moving, Leather had crossed the distance between them, “You don’t get to decide matters of justice, Jack–we do. That’s our role. It’s what we do–what we are.”

“Hey man, I know that,” Jack said, backpedalling, but Leather had caught a whiff of something off Jack, and it wasn’t just the redneck’s filthy musk, and he pursued it, sniffing a bit himself.

“You’d better watch yourself Grant, I can smell…intent. What are you planning later?” he said, “At the…at the gym? With…someone in the military? That mean anything to you? Maybe we should stake that place out, make sure you stay out of trouble.”

Jack did his best to play it cool, “I ain’t got no idea what yer talkin’ about, Leather. Ya know I’m a good, law abidin’ citizen.”

“Well then you won’t mind if we pursue the crime here as we see fit, since you wouldn’t want me to charge you with obstruction of justice, would you? Are you planning on getting in our way?”

“No sir, you do what you do best.”

“Good. Rubber, lead the way. Let’s find out what happened here, and make sure whoever did this gets their proper punishment.”

Jack watched the two of them stalk out of the woods, back towards their squad car, which was still comically small for their massive frames, but the two of them made it work somehow, and he wondered who, exactly, the two of them were pursuing. Was it Tristan? Erikson? Who had kidnapped who? And which of them had committed a crime bad enough to make Rubber react like that? Hell, Jack already knew the answer to that question. It was Erikson–who knew what that crazy professor had been up to in those labs of his? Jack had never had much interest in science, preferring to focus on his Masters studies, but from the rumors he’d heard, it had been some pretty strange stuff. Still, the good news was that Leather and Rubber were going to find him. Of course, the bad news was that Erikson was going to get what sounded to be a pretty stern punishment. Still, Jack wasn’t entirely sure that was a bad thing–after all, that just meant there was one less person in his way. Still, Leather had been a little too exact in sniffing out what Jack had planned for later. He wondered, briefly, whether he should wait, but decided against it. The power struggle had already begun. He’d spotted Len getting three fists crammed in his hole the night before at the club. Jack didn’t know who had done it to him, but he sure as well wasn’t going to stand by and let someone else come to him. No, Jack would lead–and once everyone else loosened up a bit, they would understand that, and he knew just who to loosen up next.

***

Grant, wearing the Army tank top and fatigue shorts he always wore to the gym, let himself into the weight room with the key Coach Red had given him, and shivered a bit. Even though everyone was awake, and Spring was coming, there was still a definite chill of winter in the air, especially this early in the morning. Still, he’d rather work out now than have to deal with all of the jocks and amateurs getting in his way during the daytime. Grant was regimented above all else, and if he didn’t adhere to his workout schedule, which had been optimized for maintaining his body fat right at seven percent, he got angry. And for his cadet’s sake, he’d been trying to get angry less often. Most days, he had his cadet work out with him, however after the long sleep, they’d gone into their first work out a few days ago too quick, and he’d pulled his shoulder pretty bad. He was doing a five mile run instead of his usual work out, and Jack would need to time everything perfectly to get everything done without his usual spotter, assistant, and slave on hand to help him out.

However, when he walked into the weight room, he was surprised to find that the lights were on, and that there was someone there already lifting, and much to his surprise, it was Jack. Jack–big, slobby, redneck Jack, was working out. Grant had never seen him lift a weight, much less do any kind of real work at all, so what in the world was he doing here? “Hi Jack–I’m surprised to see you here this early.”

“Oh! Hey Grant,” Jack said, setting the dumbbells he’d been using down. “I wondered if I might run into you today.”

“I’ve never seen you work out before.”

“Ha, well, that’s cause we’ve never worked out at the same time!” he said, “I usually come durin’ the day, but I thought I’d try out the early mornin’, since you’re always talking it up.”

“Who gave you a key?”

“Coach Red, who else? He gave one to you after all, I just suggested that it’d be fair fer me tah have one too.”

Grant just stared Jack in the eye. His story was plausible, but almost too plausible for Grant. Something fishy was going on here, and he’d have to figure out what it was. Everyone in the masters program was on edge since Erikson disappeared, wondering what was going to happen to the college now, if he nor Tristan came back soon. Still, maybe he was trying something new. Grant didn’t really have any reason to be suspicious–still, he was going to do his best to keep his eye on him while they worked out. He trusted Jack as much as Jack trusted him–which was not at all. “Alright,” Grant said, “Just try and stay out of my way. I have a routine, and I like to stick to it, alright?”

“Ha, I know how ya is wit the sticks up yer ass. Ya really should try and loosen up, ya know.”

“Thanks, but I think you’re loose enough for both of us.”

Jack let out a big belly laugh at that, and went back to lifting his weights, leaving Grant to start his own workout. He checked the time, and headed over to the pull up bar, jumped up and started on his first set. While he started out keeping an eye on Jack in the mirror in front of him, he quickly became immersed in his own work out, and keeping up with his schedule. Trying to watch Jack while he worked pushed second onto his times, and he just couldn’t allow that. He was so focused that he almost didn’t notice the strange glow engulf him in the mirror momentarily before disappearing again, so quickly that he wasn’t even sure anything had happened at all. However, the next time he pulled himself up, he nearly lost his grip, when he caught a whiff of the stench coming from his pits. It was some of the worst BO he’d ever smelt, and he thought back, certain he’d put deodorant on. Had he forgotten? In his confusion, he realized he’d lost count of his reps, and dropped back to the ground, trying to regain his composure. Even with his arms down, he could smell himself, and he realized the smell wasn’t just coming from his pits. His entire body was suddenly sweaty, his tank top nearly soaked through, and while his pits were the worst by far, all of his sweat was rank. But that’s how it always was, wasn’t it?

Grant shook his head, trying to clear it, and remember. He hadn’t put deodorant on, but then again, he didn’t use it anyway. Nothing could really cover up the stink of his pits, and he hated the scent of that stuff anyway. He’d much rather just go all natural–people could just deal with it, and he’d always sweated hard during his workouts, so why was that odd? He glanced over his shoulder, and saw Jack facing away from him at the pec deck, focused on his own routine, and he glanced up at the clock, cursing himself. He’d fallen minutes behind now–he couldn’t afford any more distractions. He jumped back up and grabbed the bar, ready to pull himself up when the glow returned. He was certain he’d seen something now…wasn’t he? Still, he couldn’t let it distract him, he had a workout to do.

He tried to pull himself up, but found it surprisingly difficult. Huffing and puffing, he could only squeak out eight reps before dropping back down, breathless. What in the hell was up now? He’d always been able to max out closer to twenty-five, not at eight. Still, considering the weight he was packing, he had a lot more weight to haul up there than other guys, Grant thought, giving his small, but firm gut a pat, so maybe it wasn’t that surprising. Still, the only way to get better was to keep at it. He jumped up again, missing the glow this time, and grunting and groaning, fought with the bar, desperate to get just one rep out, but there was just no way he could get his fat frame up, and he dropped down again, a bit unsteady on his feet.

Hell, what it the world was he thinking, trying to do pull ups? He’d never been able to do a pull up once in his life, he thought, giving his gut a good shake. It’s firmness was gone, and it sagged out the bottom of his sweat soaked army tank quite a few inches. That was embarrassing–he could at least dress in clothes that fit him when he went out, for Christ’s sake, what had he been thinking? His shorts were stretched uncomfortably tight around his thighs as well, and turning around, he could see that the top of his ass crack was actually showing over the waistband. It was disgusting, surely he wouldn’t go out looking like this by choice, what was going on?

His worries were suspended for a moment by a sudden cramp in his gut, followed by a massive belch which nearly rattled the equipment around him, and he clamped his hands over his mouth in shock and mortification. That was definitely not normal, what the fuck was going on? He was staring at himself in the mirror when he caught sight of that glow again, but forgot about it as soon as it disappeared. Ah hell, he thought, who cares what he looks like? He doesn’t have to be ashamed of himself, so why should he care what other people think of him.

“Dang man, that was an impressive belch. I didn’t know you had it in you,” Jack said, catching Grant off guard, and he blushed. Jack had liked that? Well, maybe…maybe he did care a little bit, about what people thought. Well, he cared about what Jack thought, at least. He’d always liked Jack, even…admired him a bit.

“Ha…you, you really think so?” Grant said, a bit giddy, “I bet…I bet I can do another one.”

“Oh? Let’s see.”

Grant started working the gas in his guts around, opened his mouth for another belch, when the gas erupted out the other end, with a nasty, wet fart that stank to high heaven, the shock on Grant’s face even apparent to Jack, who erupted with laughter.

“Holy fuck, Grant, that was awesome!”

“Ha, I wasn’t expecting it, but yeah, I guess it was, wasn’t it?” There was that giddy feeling again, or was it attraction? No, there was no way he could be attracted to Jack. That was just…gross, right? I mean, the guy didn’t shower, and from the state his pig was always in, he was into some pretty filthy stuff. Still…there was something Grant couldn’t shake. He liked getting compliments from jack. He wanted Jack to like him–that made him feel really good. He shook his head a bit, and realized he’d completely messed up his workout schedule, but who cares? Jack didn’t have a schedule, so why would Grant need one? Still, if he couldn’t do a single pull up, he really needed to work on his back, so maybe some rows would be a good choice.

He headed for the rowing machine, setting it for his usual weight, but found it surprisingly difficult to reach the pull bar with this gut in the way. Again, he was struck by how odd it seemed to him, that he was fat. Still, he’d always been fat, right? But then why was he working out? There was something he was missing, something odd going on here, but he couldn’t figure out what. Still, lunging forward, he managed to grab the bar without hurting himself and started rowing, when that glow came back. He wasn’t facing a mirror now, so he caught it just outside the field of his vision, but nothing seemed different when it faded, so he forgot about it, as he leaned into his pits a bit, enjoying the smell wafting off them. He could still smell that fart he’d let off earlier, and the rank stench was so hot, he felt his cock start to harden in his shorts.

Chapter 2

“–and then I did this one just before the meeting, so it isn’t quite finished, but I’ve been pretty sure that, well, that the light I saw in the forest, that it wasn’t really a yellow, but more of a green, you see. I mean, that’s what it was in my hibernation dream, I think–at least, that’s what I remember, and the figure, well, I think that rather than saying it was like a shadow, it was more like a mirage, like the air just sort of bent around the body, and then it almost shimmered into being. I think I thought it was shadowy, because the light behind the body was so bright that the bod–”

“Look, as much as I love the art gallery each week, Ron,” Dennis said, before stuffing his fat hand back into the bag of chips he had in his lap, “This art of yours isn’t helping. It’s just bullshit, alright? I mean seriously, what does it matter whether the light was red or purple or whatever.”

“Yeah, well if you’d seen what I fucking saw, then maybe you’d care.”

“Yeah, well none of us saw it, and none of us care, so why don’t you just fuck off?”

“Guys!” Matt said, “Enough, Dennis, leave Ron alone, we’re all dealing with this in our own way, alright?”

“Yeah, some ways are just a bit more productive than others,” Dennis scoffed through a mouthful of chips.

“Yeah, well at least I have a healthier coping mechanism than eating myself silly.”

“I told you, I was fucking cursed,” Dennis shouted, “I can’t fucking help it.”

“Preaching to the choir, man,” Gus mumbled, looking a bit bored, “”weren’t we all? Still I think you’re looking pretty good.”

Dennis rolled his eyes. Gus’s boyfriend Clay was probably the fattest guy on campus now, and pumped cum from his cock into his fat rolls as he walked, and Dennis couldn’t help but feel a bit envious.

“Look, let’s get back to what we were doing,” Terry said, “Do you want to keep going Ron?”

Everyone looked over at the big bear, cigar in his mouth, eyes welling up, and he ripped up the watercolor he’d painted, and started sobbing. “I’m trying to remember, I really am, I know what I saw was important, but I just can’t…I can’t…”

Terry was off his feet and had the big bear in his arms before anyone else could react, and Matt felt his heart swell. He’d made the right decision, crossing campus. Terry was the sweetest, most compassionate man he’d ever met, and he was lucky to have him now. Terry had been surprised and gleeful when they’d woken up in each others arms, and the sex, after their cocks had been pent up in hibernation for over a month, had been long, their orgasms massive and numerous, like everyone else on campus it seemed like, but for them, it had been special. It was a new beginning, and when Matt got his stuff from his dorm room a day later, and told him he was moving out, he was able to do it with a confidence that caught even Tom by surprise.

However, this first resistance meeting was not going as well as Matt might have hoped. Before hibernation, they’d been discussing whether or not a long sleep would hurt or hinder their memories. Apparently, the later was the case. Nearly all of them reported having a harder time recalling what they had been, and five members hadn’t even shown up, making Matt worry that they’d lost their previous identities entirely. Ron was the exception–he’d spent his entire sleep caught in the same dream he’d had every night since the changes–the forest, the light, and the figure. He had never gotten more out of it than that, and Matt was worried it was driving him a bit insane, especially since assholes like Dennis didn’t have much sympathy for him. Still, even Terry had admitted to Matt in private that Ron’s art shows had gotten more eccentric and wild as of late. The art, which had begun from reasonably understandable, representationalist roots, had, in the month before hibernation, taken a far more surreal and abstract direction, and Ron’s mental stability had started wearing thin as his art was driven further and further from life. When his cub left him a week before he fell asleep, it crushed him, and Matt was now seriously worried about him, and whether he might hurt himself.

“Look, maybe we should just call it a night. We’ll meet again next week. Make every effort you can to find everyone who didn’t come tonight–see if…well, if there’s anything left, but don’t give us away.”

“Hold on,” TJ said uncrossing his tattooed arms are leaning forward. He hadn’t said anything yet this meeting, and everyone had forgotten he was there, “There’s something else that we need to talk about, something big. I mean, I don’t have all the details, but…well, there are plenty of rumors flying around the administration building, and I think we need to look into them?”

“Rumors? Really?” Gus asked.

“Don’t discount rumors, trust me,” Dennis said, “What are people saying?”

“Well, apparently, there were some disappearances that happened on campus that happened over hibernation, or at least, that’s what I’m hearing.”

“Who went missing?” Matt asked, “Is it anyone we…uh, know?” he asked, wondering whether their missing members might have been abducted.

“No, or at least, that’s not what people have been saying,” TJ said, “It’s a lot…worse. Well, I don’t know, it’s just…if it’s true. then–”

Oh just spit it out already!” Dennis said.

“Ok, ok, Vince heard from Greg, that, when Harry was up by the board room for the trustee meeting, he heard someone shouting, and they said that Professor Erikson and Tristan Newbeary were missing, along with Frank Longen. Just gone, and no one knows where any of them went.”

Everyone was silent–even Ron stopped his blubbering for a moment. “What…What does that mean?” Matt asked, “Who’s in charge now?”

“Well, best possibility? Someone on the board of trustees took control, but I don’t think so. Rumor has it, the person shouting in the meeting was a member of the Masters Program. My best guess? They’re in charge now.”

“What does that mean?”

TJ shrugged. “I have no idea, but it seems like we should do something about it, right? Aren’t we the feared campus resistance movement? This might be the chance to come out of the woodwork and take advantage of some chaos to try and fix this?”

“How, we still don’t even know what happened.”

“It was the woods, whatever happened in the woods! Why won’t any of you believe me?”

The meeting devolved into flurry of voices, until finally Matt shouted, “Alright, that’s enough!” and everyone settled down. “Look, we don’t even know if the rumor is true–we need to confirm it, and then we ought to try and find out what happened, and if there’s anything we can do about it.”

“What in the hell would we do, even if it were true? If Tristan disappearing isn’t enough for all of us to just change back, then what in the world is it going to take?” Dennis said.

“Well maybe we need to find him.”

“And how are we supposed to do that, exactly?”

“Look, I think everyone’s tempers are running a little high right now,” Terry said, “Why don’t we give this a break for a week, split up, see what we can find out, and meet back here, same time next week. I think the best thing we could all do is just calm down a bit.”

No one disagreed, and got up and left, none of them feeling good about how the meeting had gone. Matt looked around, a disheartened. Terry and him, when they’d started gathering people together, hadn’t planned on forming a resistance group. It had just been a way for all of them to come together and keep remembering who they were before the changes swept campus. However, once Tristan had labeled them the resistance, the mantle had fallen on them to try and do something, but none of them had a clue what was going on in the first place. It was hard enough just hanging on to who they were, without also trying to save everyone else. Soon, everyone had left aside from Terry, Ron, and himself, and Terry came over. “look, I think I need to take Ron back to his room, and make sure he’s ok. The guy is…well, pretty exhausted. I don’t think he really…slept, this winter, do you know what I mean?”

Matt nodded, “Yeah, I understand. Hey, maybe, uh…maybe give him one of those blowjobs of yours. They always put me right to sleep,” he said with a grin, hoping the joke wasn’t too ill timed, but Terry just smiled, and walked back to Ron.

“Alright you big lug, let’s go get you to bed.”

“But I…I have a painting I need to finish back in the room, I don’t want to sleep yet,” Ron said, but the exhaustion in his body was obvious. Terry gathered up the bears artwork and helped Ron stumble out of the room and off to his dorm, leaving Matt to walk back alone. It was just coming up on dusk outside. They’d found that meeting in the evening let them both have some privacy but also avoid the suspicion of late night meetings. If security stumbled on them, they usually just said they were a study group, and they didn’t really bat an eye, often enough. The best disguise usually was just hiding in plain sight. Still, the walk back to the dorm was empty, and so when Matt heard the voice call his name behind him, he flinched, and felt a bit of a knot form in his stomach. “Matt!” Leon called, “There’s our man, hey Matt, wait up!”

Matt sighed. He’d known that something like this would be coming down the pipe eventually. Tom was too much of an asshole to talk to Matt directly about what had happened, so naturally he’d send his two surrogates, Leon and Butch. Unfortunately, Matt actually liked both of them. They were both nice guys, fun to party with, and great in bed. It was just Tom who the jackass of their group. Unfortunately, Leon and Butch didn’t see it that way. They thought Tom was a natural leader, and that he and Matt were perfect together, never minding how Matt might feel about it. The few times he’d complained to them about Tom’s rough treatment, they’d usually dismiss his concerns with a joke, or just insist that Matt must like it since they were together. He kept walking, pretending, for the moment, that he didn’t hear them.

“Matt,” Leon called again, running up, Butch chugging along behind him, “Hey come on, aren’t we still friends? We just want to talk.”

“I’m not talking about Tom, if that’s what you want to talk about.”

“Nah man, we don’t have to talk about Tom,” Leon said, laughing nervously, “We just haven’t seen you in class lately, and we were a bit worried.”

“I switched majors.”

This caught Leon off guard. “What? But Construction…Construction was your life man, what’s up?”

“No, construction is Tom’s life, I never cared for it. I’m going into Daddy Studies.”

“Daddy Studies? Seriously? You want to end a stodgy old prude or something?”

“I’ve been enjoying it a lot more than fucking construction.” Matt was still walking. Leon had made a few attempts to get in front of him, but Matt just kept going. Finally, Leon grabbed him by the arm and pulled on him to stop, and Matt yanked his hand away, “Don’t fucking tough me.”

“Dang man, calm the fuck down,” Butch said, “We’re all friends here.”

“Look, I know Tom sent you here to talk to me, but I’m not going back to him, alright? So why don’t we just go our separate ways, since neither of you can see him for the asshole he is.”

“Look, we know Tom can be a bit rough around the edges, but that why you two were so great together! Because you could take it. I mean, now Tom’s just a bit, well…” Leon said, “Look, we’re worried about him, and we were thinking that if you just talked to him, maybe he would be a bit better.”

Matt rolled his eyes, “I’m not talking to him. I have no reason to talk to him.”

“Look, he’s really in a bad way,” Leon said, “I’m serious man, you know how Tom has his bad spots, well this one…well, he’s really wreaked man, he fucking loved you.”

“No, he loved my holes.”

“No, he loved you,” Leon said, throwing himself in front of Matt, making him stop, “Look, I know that the two of you have had your differences, I know your relationship wasn’t perfect, I know all of that, but think about Tom for a second, he hasn’t been to class, he’s throwing shit around the room, he’s fucking nuts at the moment.”

“And you think I want to talk to that?”

“I’m just saying that it might help him.”

“No,” Matt said, pushing onward, “I’m not going to talk to him. He wreaked our relationship, not me, I don’t care how he feels about it. He can go see one of his fuckbuddies and work it out of his system. God knows, he had plenty of them behind my back.”

“Alright, I’ve had enough of this,” Butch said, “You need to talk to him. At least clear the air for the rest of us.”

“No. I don’t have to.”

“Do it, or we’ll go ahead and tell security about that little meetings you’ve been having with those friends of yours. I don’t think that it’s a study group–there isn’t enough fucking involved. So what could it be, I wonder?”

“Well, it is just a study group.”

“Oh yeah? For what class?” Matt didn’t have a lie ready for that one, and he fumbled his words for a moment, before he decided to just keep on walking. “I fucking mean it, Matt,” Butch said, “I’m not bluffing here.”

“Oh for fucks sake, fine, I’ll fucking talk to him,” Matt said, “But not because you’re threatening me, just because it’s the only way the two of you will fucking leave me alone.”

Butch and Leon beamed a bit, glad that they’d gotten through to him, and the three of them changed direction, setting off for Matt’s old dorm, where Tom was supposedly locked in his room, smoking up a storm, and sure enough, there was so much it was leaking out the cracks of the door. Matt wondered how in the hell one guy could put out that much smoke, but then he was through the door, Leon and Butch nearly pushing him inside, and shutting the door behind him.

“Tom?” Matt called into the haze, “Tom, are you there?”

There was no answer. Matt walked a bit deeper, the amount of smoke inside making even a practiced smoker like himself cough a bit. The tobacco was also different from anything Matt had ever smelled Tom smoking before. He preferred darker, almost burnt tobacco, and this was much lighter, almost sweet around the edges. It was making him feel a bit floaty…and happy. As he worked his way deeper into the room, he found that there was no one there at all, and that all of this smoke must have come from the pile of of ash in the tray on the bedside table. Feeling a little woozy now, he worked his way back to the door and called out, “What gives guys? Tom’s not even in here?” However, again, no one replied, and when he tried to door, it was locked, or not locked, but barred. They were keeping him in there, but why?

“Oh you little fucks,” Matt said. It was the smoke, there was something in the goddamn smoke. Already he was feeling something change inside him, and without even hesitating to looking the mirror, he started ramming himself against the door, trying not to breathe in, but it wasn’t budging. He looked around and saw the window and threw it open, but there was no way he could get the smoke to clear in time. He looked down–his room was on the second floor–he could make it, provided he could slip through the window.

It was a tight fit. In fact, Matt thought that the reason he eventually squeezed through wasn’t because he was small enough, but because he was getting smaller, but slip through he did. However, he made the mistake of going out head first. Luckily, the bushes down below broke his fall, but he still got the wind knocked out of him. Still, he was alive, and looking down at himself, relatively the same as he had been. He’d lost a bit of height, and looked like he’d put on some weight. What in the hell had the two of them tried to smoke him out with? He looked down at the cellophane wrapper he’d grabbed from the bed and saw it read Bear Boutique on the label, that store at the mall nearby he’d heard was some hot new store at the mall. Leon and Butch had heard him struggling out the window, and had run down the stairs and outside to where Matt was pushing himself up off the ground.

“What the hell man?” Leon said, “What was that all about?”

“The fucking smoke, you assholes!” Matt screamed, “What kind of fucking smoke was that?”

“I don’t know what in the hell you’re talking about, you’re talking crazy man, did you talk to Tom?”

“Tom’s not even in there. Did he put you up to this? Was this his fucking idea to try and get me back? That’s fucking messed up. What was it. What were those cigars you fucking burnt?”

Leon and Butch looked at each other a bit shiftily, but refused to give up the game. Matt turned around to stalk away and stopped in his tracks, as he saw Tom walking towards them, chuffing on his own cigar, and he stopped, genuinely surprised to see Matt there talking to Leon and Butch. “Was this your fucking idea, Tom?”

“What are you even talking about?”

“Look, we were just trying to do you a favor,” Butch said, “We just wanted to get you two back together.”

“What was in the goddamn smoke, Butch?” Matt asked.

“Shut up, man!” Lepon said, but Butch felt too guilty to lie now.

“Look, it was Leon’s idea. He thought that, well, if we made you a little more receptive to Tom’s attitude, then maybe the two of your could get back together like we all want.”

“What was in the smoke, just fucking tell me.”

“It was…well, a mix of things. Something to, you know, make you a little more submissive, and a little more cubby. We just wanted you to be happy man, and you were always happy with–”

Butch didn’t get out another word, before Matt’s fist slammed right into his mouth. He wheeled on Leon, and went to sock him, but Tom ran up and grabbed him, holding him back. “I’ll fucking kill you!” Matt said, flying off the handle, “God fucking damn it! Haven’t we all been fucking changed enough?”

“Calm down Matt, for fuck’s sake, you’re embarrassing yourself,” Tom said, and Matt wrenched himself out of his grasp.

“Did you know about this?” Matt said, turning to Tom, “Because for a second, I thought you were better than this.”

“Look, Matt, I’m sorry. I’m sorry these two are such idiots, and I’m sorry I was such a jerk, alright? Maybe…maybe we could all just go out for a drink, eh? Like old times? Maybe a round of strip poker?”

“Fuck you,” Matt said, and spit in Tom’s face. “Fuck all of you.”

Tom’s face, went from sweet to mean in the space of a second, but Matt was ready for him. He dodged the left hook he always opened with, and landed a sucker punch right in his gut. “We’re fucking over Tom. For real. I’m done, and see if you can get that through your friends’ heads too,” Matt said, and walked away.

“You’ll be back, you fucking pansy!” Tom shouted as best he could with no breath in him. “You fucking want me, and you always will. No cub can give you what I can, no cub can give you what you fucking need. You’re always gonna be my bitch, Matt, fucking always, just you fucking wait.”

Matt didn’t respond, and just kept walking, now crying, cursing himself for being stupid enough to walk into a trap like that.

Back in the room, Terry still wasn’t back from taking care of Ron, and so he took a moment to strip down and take a look at himself. He had changed a bit. He was shorter, and definitely a bit stockier and chubbier. He even looked a bit younger–the grey he’d by now become accustomed to in his beard gone, along with some of his wrinkles. He noticed with some disappointment that his cock had shrunk a bit–no more than an inch, but still, he was pissed. He hoped the changes would reverse eventually, but he doubted that would happen. The changes here didn’t seem too fond of going away with time.

It was hard not to cry again, as he took measure of himself. Just as he was getting used to one body, those fuckers were trying to give him a new one? He didn’t want to deal with it–with any of it. He just wanted his old body back, but he didn’t even think he could remember what it looked like anymore. He was too used to this bear in the mirror, and these big hands and feet, and his beard, and now…now he didn’t even know if he wanted to give it up. He was happy, here with Terry. he really was, and if he went back to how things were, this would have to go too. He’d be straight again, and he’d be the same tight ass Christian he’d been before, and he didn’t know if he wanted that either. Still, what he always came back to was choice. He wanted control, and it felt like everyone was doing their very best to rip in away from him. Still, no more. He wasn’t going to let anyone push him around or change him anymore.

Terry returned a few minutes later, finding Matt on the bed, staring at the ceiling. “Hye. Ron’s down, and out like a light. I hope he sleeps soundly for a bit,” Terry said, “You…you alright?”

“No…No, I’m not alright,” Matt said, and told Terry about what had happened, how Leon and Butch had confronted him, about their idiotic trap, and about his confrontation with Tom. Terry stayed silent the entire time, just listening, occasionally stroking Matt’s thigh, watching his daddy cry as he recalled what had happened. “I’m just…just so tired of being changed, Terry. I’m so tired of people trying to make me into something I’m not. But the thing is…even I don’t know who I am anymore. I don’t…I just don’t know.”

Terry could sense that words wouldn’t do any good here, so he climbed on top of Matt and gave him a deep kiss, Matt eagerly returning the favor, wrapping Terry in his arms. “Well, I know one thing you are,” Terry said, “You’re my big daddy bear, even if you’re a bit younger than you were. So how about you give my cubby butt a good fuck? I bet that would make you feel better.” With Matt on his back, Terry moved to fuck himself on Matt’s cock…but found it only semi hard, which was strange. Usually Matt had no problem getting it up during their sessions, and Matt was obviously embarrassed. He was horny–that wasn’t the issue, it was just like his cock wasn’t getting the right signal from his head.

“It..It’s ok, we can just cuddle for a bit,” Matt said. Terry feeling bad himself, decided that would have to do for the moment, but after a few minutes in bed together, Matt got up, using the excuse that he had to go to the bathroom. Down the hall, he went into a stall and locked the door, and started jacking his cock. Lying with Terry had only made him hornier and hornier–he needed to get off, but his cock stayed soft. Still, in the back of his mind, he knew what might work. He licked a finger and slid it into his ass with an uncharacteristic shudder and moan, as his cock immediately stiffened to full mast. Apparently, one of the cigars in that medley had been designed to turn him into a complete anal whore, and he felt the anger build up in him again. Those fucking assholes had really fucked him over, and goddamn, if he wasn’t going to get them back for it somehow. Still, he knew how to work his cock now. He went back to his room, and he grabbed one of Terry’s buttplugs, and slid it into his hole without a word, Terry watching Matt’s cock leap to attention.

“Something in the smoke?” Terry asked.

“I think so.”

“Well, fuck it. Get over here and fuck me, daddy,” Terry said, and Matt was happy to oblige him, and god, if it wasn’t one of the most intense fucks Matt had ever had. The sensation of being filled while he fucked was nearly a sensory overload, and that only made him feel worse. Angry, humiliated, he started slamming his cock deep into Terry, not even hearing as Terry started to protest, eventually pulling himself off of Matt’s cock.

“Fuck Matt! I know you’re angry, but you don’t have to be rough with me.” Terry said.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Matt said, trying to get a handle on himself. He just felt so strange all of a sudden, and he couldn’t chalk all of it up to the smoke. “I just…God, I just don’t know.”

“Look, it’s alright if you can’t tonight, I understand.”

“No, that’s not it. It’s just…I’m going to get them back, they’re all going to regret it. Tristan, Tom, all of them.”

Terry didn’t know what to say, and Matt rolled him back over and fucked him again, as sweetly as he could, but the innocence in his sex had gone, and Terry missed it. Still, it was good enough to get them both off, and they both fell asleep in each other’s arms, but Terry fell asleep last, uncomfortable in Matt’s arms, though he wasn’t able to tell, exactly, why that was, and he slept roughly, running towards something he could never quite catch up with.

City of Bears Series 3: Rising Powers
Arc 2: Nature Abhors a Vacuum

Prologue

“He’s gone? Just gone? How did this happen? What happened?”

“It was Tristan, it has to be.”

“Tristan’s gone too, dumbass! How could it have been Tristan?”

“He took him somewhere, obviously.”

“But why would Tristan leave campus, that doesn’t make any sense. Fucking think, you dipshit–have you got a goddamn brain in there?”

“Does it matter who did it? There’s fucking no one leading the campus! How are we supposed to keep things going without Erikson or Tristan?”

“Don’ fergit, we’re the Masters here. We oughta be in charge anyway.”

“We can’t just–”

“We sure as hell can. Ain’t no way they can stop us. Marcus runs security, the whole staff is fuckin’ terrified a us–wha’ the problem?”

“There’s the resistance. We can’t let them find out.”

“Like the fuckin’ rabble matters.”

“Don’t discount them just because of how they look. They’re planning something. There’s no way they could still be around if they weren’t far better organized than he ever anticipated.”

“Look, the fact is that we don’t know.”

“Ah think we gotta act.”

“No shit we have to act, the problem is figuring out what to do.”

The six men at the table fell back into silence, their slaves behind their seats, tense, sensing their masters’ tension. It was already clear that three of them were dominating the conversation. Marcus, naturally, because we’d been appointed to head up Erikson’s security services, whose primary task was eradicating the resistance movements on campus. The other five were fairly convinced he was incompetent–but Marcus was right–they were good at hiding their tracks. The other two, dominating out of sheer personality, were Clark and Jack. The first dressed in his now trademark polo and khakis, a cub short of stature, but someone who everyone at the table had learned to respect, however grudgingly, due to his natural flare for command. Jack, stinking as usual, the others scooted away from him, his gut pushed up against the table, wearing nothing more than jeans held up by suspenders and his boots, the still cold weather apparently not fazing him in the least. The other three found themselves increasingly marginalized. Doug, the pipe smoking leather master, Len, the cowboy bondage expert, and Grant, the rigid drill sergeant, could all sense that a shift had occurred, and they’d missed their opportunity to ride it.

“Look, first things first, we need to give the staff someone to answer to. I’ll go to administration today, and make sure they know we’re going to be calling the shots for now.”

“Fine, but we still need a plan.”

“No fuckin’ shit we need a plan–the plan is tah find Erikson, ya dimwit!”

“Oh and how are we going to fucking do that?”

“How ‘bout the police? Ah got’s a few connections there. Leather ‘n Rubber can sniff out just ‘bout anythin’.”

“Fine. And we need complete silence on campus. No one can know. If the resistance finds out about this, things will only be harder to control.”

“Well maybe you should focus on finding them, Clark, since you’re so obsessed with them.”

“You know what? Fine, I will.”

“What about us? What are we going to do?”

“Just maintain order, keep an eye on things, make sure nothing goes wrong.”

“This is bullshit, you’re cutting us out.”

“Now ain’t the goddamn time for a fuckin’ hissyfit o’er who git’s a job tah do! We gotta be united ‘n this, or the whole thing is gonna come crashin’ down.”

“He’s right, we all have to be in this together.”

“Fine, fucking fine. Let’s just get a move on then.”

“Alright? Then let’s go and keep this whole mess from falling apart completely.”

The six, already divided, got up from the table, eyeing each other, sizing up the competition. Nature hates a vacuum, and the six of them were all racing to the center of it as quickly as they could, and they could all sense that there was only room for one at the top.

Chapter 1

“And no one has any idea where they went? There wasn’t a note or anything? What are we supposed to do?” One of the board members said, looking at the two empty seats at the table, where Tristan and Frank usually sat, directing the meeting.

“Unfortunately, and there was, well, something discovered outside the President’s Residence, but we’re currently having it investigated, to see if there’s anything we can learn abut what might have happened,” Ken said, a burly bear dressed in a leather suit. As Secretary of the Board, he had taken it upon himself to lead the meeting, but even he wasn’t sure what to do. Tristan was the ringleader–they all were obliged to simply agree with whatever he wanted. Without him here…they were adrift, and none of them knew what to do. They had allowed themselves to be driven for so long, that with the reins gone, they just stood there, gawking at each other, not knowing what to do. The meeting had been scheduled ahead of time, for the second day of term, but when they’d arrived, waiting for the two seats at the head of the table to fill, and when it became apparent that they weren’t going to be filled, they set about to find out why. What they’d found was…disturbing. The President’s Residence ransacked, the frozen corpse of some hideous dogbeast back behind the building, and when they heard that Professor Erikson hadn’t reported in to his classes for two days, they could only fear the worst. They all knew of the brewing animosity between the two of them–but none of them could figure out what might have happened.

“Well, we need to do something.”

“Oh course we need to do something, the question is what.”

“Isn’t this a good thing? Wasn’t…weren’t…”

“We have to tell campus, or contact the police.”

The meeting descended into a muddle of conversations, slowly growing in volume, Ken looking for something to say, but there were no words he could find to establish order. It was almost a relief when the doors to the boardroom burst open, and a short, stocky cub dressed in a polo and khakis stormed in, and said, “Hey you fucks! Pay attention.”

No one paid him any mind, however.

“All of you fucking listen to me, you goddamn fucks!” Clark shouted across the room, his voice slamming right into the faces of the board of trustees, and he climbed up on a chair so he could be seen better. God, how he hated being five foot two, every single day he woke up and still couldn’t put his feet on the ground while they hung off the bed added a bit more fuel to the spiteful flame which burnt in him. He did everything to compensate–he worked out every day, stretching his polo shirts and khakis to the limit. His clothing, in it’s conservative nature, helped draw attention to him as well, considering that it was far more fashionable these days to go bare, but every time, every goddamn time he had to climb onto something to get someone’s attention, God, one of these fucking trustees was going to get it, and they were going to get it bad.

The board meeting went silent for a moment, most surprised that their summary dismissal of the cub hadn’t been enough to deter him. Apparently, none of these fucks knew enough about the Masters Program to be afraid of him, but they’d learn. “Young man, we’re going to have to ask you to leave–this is a closed meeting,” Ken said.

“Yeah, well I’m not leaving, so you can suck it. I’m here to tell you that this fucking board isn’t going to be making any goddamn decisions unless I fucking allow it, got it?”

“Alright, I’ve had it,” a Ken said. This was a problem he could handle–he knew how to discipline a cub, and this would show everyone else that he was in charge of the situation. “Cub, it’s time for you to listen you your betters and leave.” He got up from his chair and walked over towards Clark.

Finally, Clark thought, a fucking target. He waited until Ken came close and tried to grab him, ready to simply try and pick up Clark and throw him from the room, but Clark grabbed the man by the beard, yanked him down, gripped the back of his head, and slammed it down into the oak table loud enough to make every man in the room cringe.

“Don’t touch me,” Clark said, slamming his face into the wood again, “Don’t any of you think about fucking touching me unless you want to end up looking like this, got it?” he said, yanking up the bear’s bloodied face, nose broken, the man crying, but not even aware he was doing so. “Gonna make you a fucking example. You try to fuck with me? Any of you want to fuck with me, or anyone in the fucking Master’s program, you’re gonna fucking regret it,” Clark said pulling his cock out of his pants. Truly, it was the only thing on clark which wasn’t small. Measuring a foot long when soft, with big balls beneath, it looked even more massive attached to his short frame, reaching more than halfway down to his knee. “Fucking suck it. I said suck it!” he screamed at Ken, shoving the head into his mouth, the bear moaning in fear, with every man in the room silenced, and thankful that they hadn’t been the one to stand up and challenge the cub. “Any fucking questions about any of that? Anyone else want to say anything? Call me short? Try and treat me like a fucking child?”

The room was silent, aside from the bear choking on the cock Clark insisted on ramming down his throat, and it stayed silent as Clark continued thrusting and bucking, cumming all over the bear’s bloody face a few minutes later.

“Leave it there. Take your fucking seat, and be thankful I didn’t feel like taking your other hole today. Now what do you fucking say, bitch?”

“I’m…sorry.”

“I don’t want your goddamn apology,” Clark seethed, grabbing the bear by the collar and yanking him close to his own face, “I just gave you a gift. Now what do you say?”

“Thank you.”

Clark slapped him, “Thank you, what?”

“Thank you…sir.”

Clark released him, and the bear hurried his way back to his seat, none of his colleagues looking him in the face. “Now then, if there are no objections, here’s what all of you are going to do. You will let no one outside of this room know about the disappearance of the President or Professor Erikson. No one. If I find out that someone else knows…well, let’s just say a busted face will be the least of your problems. Your job, for now, is to keep the status quo going for as long as possible. If we need something else from you, we’ll let you know. Do you all understand me? I don’t want to come back here because there was some sort of confusion about what is going on here.”

None of the board members said anything to object, but that wasn’t enough for Clark.

“I like my fucking bitches to tell me when they fucking understand something,” he said, and a chorus of “Yes sir” and “We understand sir” was mumbled from every seat at the table.

“Good, don’t fuck with us, and definitely don’t fuck with me,” Clark said, and left the room.

The board dismissed itself a few minutes later, most of them relieved. The moment of potential freedom had been avoided–control passed from one tyrant to another. They would keep the status go going, because that’s what they’d been told to do.

Clark, however, was just getting started. Beating down that board member had only lit the flame of horniness. He hadn’t planned on making his move this early, but he needed to fuck someone’s hole, and he knew just who was going to be getting his cock tonight. First though, he needed to pick some things up from the lab, and then he was going to be paying Len a little visit.

***

The Masters Program meeting was now two days behind Len, but he still was feeling slighted. He could sense that Clark, Marcus and Jack all say themselves as being in control of the situation, Leaving Doug, Grant, and himself behind, but he wasn’t about to go down that road without a fight. he was a Master too–he’d passed the test–the six of them were equals, the ones who had come out on top, and if those three couldn’t see that, well, then they wouldn’t just have to shown that, by force, if necessary.

He returned his attentions to his slave, Max. They were doing some flexibility work tonight, to better enable him to hold the more extreme bondage positions for longer periods of time. That was Len’s skill, really–bondage. He could tie any knot, force a human body to control itself into positions of amazing pleasure, which, with a twist, could become excruciatingly painful. He styled himself as a bit of cowboy, mostly as a joke–because he did love lassoing weaklings and hog tying them. In his practice room, he had on his chaps, a worn leather vest, and his signature cowboy hat, watching Max suspended in the air try not to show his discomfort at having his legs stretched apart and back up over his head, held there with strong, cable like ropes. He thought about how gratifying it would be to tie down Clark, Marcus and Jack and force them into these positions, listening to their joints pop and dislocate in their sockets. They wouldn’t be able to sideline him then. Hell, they probably wouldn’t even be able to walk. “Flexibility position twelve, Max.” he said, keeping an eye on the clock, and watched as his slave expertly maneuvered himself in a new position, this one designed to stretch his back, Max nearly able to bend behind and touch his head to his heels in the air. The training was hard on him, but Max did enjoy it–the burn of the ropes, the pain in his joints. He didn’t remember his old self anymore anyway, none of their slaves did.

He barely had time to register the sound of the practice room door opening, before the baseball bat swung at his knee, not hard enough to shatter it, but enough to collapse Len to the ground howling in pain, the perfect height for the second swing to connect with the side of his head,a perfect hit, enough to render him helpless, but not enough to knock him out. The only person who could land hits with that sort of finesse was was Clark, and sure enough, Len looked up and saw the cub standing over him, grinning, bat in hand. “Good evening Len, how are things?” Clark said, full of the sweetest malice.

“You little fuck, I’m gonna fucking kill you,” Len slurred, but his head was spinning, and his right leg wouldn’t do anything his head told it to do, leaving him to try and crawl away, but one of Clark’s dress shoes pressing down on his wounded knee sent a jolt of pain through him, and held him in place.

“Now now, I just wanted to have a little chat, is all. See, I’ve been thinking Len. I’ve been thinking that, well, six people at the table is just too many, Len. I think that in the coming months, well we Masters are going to have to make some quick decisions, and we just can’t afford to have any disagreements in the heat of the moment.”

“You little fuck.”

Clark brought the bat down again, this time, on Len’s shin, just hard enough to send a hairline fracture up the length of the bone, making the cowboy scream. “Quit calling me little! I fucking hate that, you goddamn cowboy fuck, you’re fucking lucky I can’t fucking kill you right here, because goddamn, I would spray those fucking brains of yours all over this filthy floor, but if you keep calling me little, or small, then I’m going to have to clean up a body, and that isn’t going to make my night. Don’t make me clean up your body, you fucking cunt!”

He watched Len sob for a second, calming himself back down, and then grabbed him by the hair, and sith surprising strength, dragged the cowboy out of the room.

“Where the fuck are you taking me?”

“I have a room all set up for you, bitch. Don’t you worry. See, I think you need something other than bondage to keep you occupied, since you aren’t going to be in the masters program, after tonight. See, we can’t tolerate having any bottoms at the table, right? And I think I have the perfect position for a cowboy like yourself.”

Len struggled, but Clarks grip on his hair was too tight, and he pulled him into a room down the hall, where he saw a large contraption set up in the middle of the room. “First things first,” Clark said, and applied one of Erikson’s mind patches to Len’s skull, the shock rippling through Len’s skull. “Stand up, and straddle the horse,” Clark said, and unable to resist the command, Len did as he was told. He could see what the machine was now–it was a fuck machine. He’d never used one on Max, but a few other masters had used it on their slaves if their holes were too tight to let in a fist.

Clark strapped him in, and Len laughed, “You think a bondage master can’t best a few fucking straps?”

“Oh, you aren’t going to want to escape–this is just to keep you in position. Initiate program, ‘Tijuana’,” Clark said, and light exploded in Len’s field of vision, as the program Clark had spent the afternoon loading into the patch began implanting itself into Len’s mind. The information was coming intoo fast for Len to process, but he felt a growing need. A need in his ass. He needed to be fucked, it was going to overwhelm him, he could already sense it. When he felt Clark press the head of his massive cock against his cherry, he eagerly pushed back. It hurt, but it was supposed to hurt. If it hurt, that meant it was big, and he wanted it big. The bigger the better. The best fuck was the fuck that ripped him apart. Clark, for his part, worked his cock in as fast as he could. He’d been fantasizing about this fuck all day now, after the meeting with the board, and he was so horny, it didn’t take long for him to cum, and pump the first load of many Len would gather in the rest of his life. With Len’s ass now primed, he moved the head of the machine into place, and the ten inch dildo started working itself in and out of Len’s hole, the cowboy not caring, so long as he was getting fucked. The program would take a few hours to be fully loaded, which was fine. Clark needed to do some work on Len’s slave after all. There was no avoiding it–all of their slaves would be attached to them for life, but there was no reason Clark couldn’t make him better able to help his master in his new role, and he abandoned Len there, moaning, the thoughts from the patch beginning to solidify in him, becoming as real to him as his own.

He soon discovered that it wasn’t just cock that he needed–he needed a very particular kind of cock, the biggest cocks that the animal kingdom had to offer. His cowboy persona, crafted more as an inside joke than anything,was quickly becoming a different kind of reality. Len loved spending time on the farm, with the animals, but only so he could cajole them into fucking him. Donkeys, bulls, horses, anything bigger than what a human could give him, that was his real fantasy. And the brutality! Men were too gentle–Len wanted it rough–brutish and animalistic, the only thought being lust and domination. For him, the next few hours passed in a blur, and while he enjoyed the perpetual fuck, it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t big enough for him, not by a long shot. The program finally wore down, leaving Len there, strapped to the horse, fucked but not enjoying it. He started squriming his way out of the straps, when the door opened, showing Clark in the doorway, with Max.

“There he is Max, go ahead and show your master your new tools,” Clark said, “So long Len–I already put your resignation in for you. Enjoy yourself, and all those pony shows you’re going to be staring in soon.”

Len wasn’t listening–he was staring at Max. He had no idea what Clark had done to him, but he was a mess–or at least, his hands were. They were huge, each fist the size of a small mellon, as though they’d been grown to massive size, and from Max’s discomfort, it didn’t look like he could unclench them. His arms all the way up to the shoulders were equally thick, and so long they dragged almost to his knees, but that didn’t even take into account his cock. It was completely rigid–possibly permanently so–but was so thick and long that it hung down anyway, nearly two feet long, and as thick as a two liter soda bottle. Len needed it. He needed that cock, and both those fists in his, all at the same time. Still, he had a lot of training to do before he’d be able to manage that–but one day–one day he would get there, and he’d have the biggest hole the world had ever seen. “Get over here Max, and fuck me. Open up your master’s hole with that cock of yours.”

Max was confused. Fuck his master? That seemed wrong, but it was an order. Clark had been busy injecting his limbs with silicone–Max knew he would never be able to cum, or even go soft, ever again, but if that’s what his master wanted, that’s what he would do. Clark could hear the screams of Len echo up and down the hall, begging Max to go deeper even as his hole was ripped wider and wider, and Clark smiled. One down, and only four more before he proved to them all that the little guy always comes out on top.

We’re at a bit of a stopping point in the story thus far, so if you have any questions, or are confused about anything, or just want to tell me you love/hate it, drop me something in my ask box, or just reply here, and I’ll answer it. 

Also, for those of you who might have missed an entry–I know a few got posted late at night, here are links to the eight entries I’ve posted thus far.

One – We Meet James, and find out what happened in the chapel at the end of Big Bears on Campus.

Two – We catch up with Matt, and see how he’s dealt with the changes.

Three – Matt and Terry fall in love.

Four – Matt takes a risk, and Chapter Three takes a false start.

Five – Scuzz has a run-in with Erikson, and the wall gets cracked.

Six – We get a closer look at some of Erikson’s experiments.

Seven – Frank Longen meets an unfortunate fate.

Eight – An abduction, a mercy killing, and Tristan decides to fight.

***

He was close now, so close–he was no longer moving his feet, the world was moving around him, turning beneath him, driving him closer to his destiny. He was in the thicket, in the woods around the mansion, so quiet, and then, a howl and a bark–his pets had found a mark. Was Tristan awake? Making an escape? He moved quicker, but in the woods the sounds echoed and bounced in strange directions, Erikson moving with greater haste as the snarls of his pet’s rage turned to sudden pain, then terror, and then were silenced, replaced by a horrendous sounds, something like what might only be heard in the early morning hours of a butch shop, done before the customers arrived, so as not to terrify them. Erikson drove onward, and he smelled the fresh blood before he saw the red, before he saw the carcass. Alpha, his beautiful Alpha–dead. Something–someone–had taken a hold of it’s jaws and…and ripped it apart, right down the middle, flaying open its carcass in a spray of blood Erikson would have admired had it not been such a personal injury.

Anger and rage clouded through him, the adrenaline triggering a further stimulus from the stimpatch, forcing Erikson’s vision into a tight tunnel. He could see…footprints, but not just any footprints, massive feet, a giant’s feet. Could it be Scuzz? Could the true Alpha been set loose inside him? Fear coursed through Erikson next–whatever had down this, he did not–he had not counted on another variable, he hadn’t anticipated this. He had to go back, he had to analyze, he had to think and study and research and–

He had a strange moment of lucidity. The world around him was no longer making sense. The trees were walking, the snow melting, a flood washing the world away beneath his feet, leaving him in a void. Were his eyes closed? When had he closed them? Was he standing, sitting, kneeling, lying down with his head in the cold snow? Was any of this a dream? Any of it? And then he was gone, swept into the sleep he’d denied himself too long.

From behind the tree where he’d hid, Beta watched this, watched Master collapse to the ground, exhaustion, fear and anger finally overwhelming and shutting down his system. He and Alpha had found the Trespasser, and Alpha had attacked him. Beta had seen him ripped apart–the Trespasser was in the house now, Beta could smell him, that overwhelming musk, the stench of his Alpha’s blood, and he was afraid. And yet…

He was free. He could run, he could leave. He sniffed the air, and caught something else on the wind, an old scent, a scent he’d slept with long ago. It was not here…however, he could follow it. It was Prey–the Prey that Master had sent them after, but the trail would not be there for long, and yet this Prey…was it not also a Master? Had it not been a Master…before? It was torn, there, between loyalties and fear and the taste of freedom it had no idea to do with. Still, this Master would die of cold, if Beta did nothing for him. Still, this Master was cruel, why should Beta care? No, he would find the old Master, or Prey–Beta did not know what he would be when he found him, but that is where he would go, and he broke off into a run, off campus and into the city, chasing Tristan.

Erikson was already shivering in his sleep, his lips and eyes beginning to frost over when footsteps came close by again and stopped. James, covered in blood, had not found what he was looking for, what God had told him to seek, in his dream, but this man, this man shivering in the cold, there was a light of God about him, a shimmer of something, or perhaps it was his own curiosity. In any case, the man would die there if he did nothing, and he had caused enough death, to last his entire life. He trod over and hefted Erikson up, carrying him as he might a cub, out of the woods and down into sewers beneath the city, slumbering, soon though–soon to wake. James could hear them stirring, the same way he could hear the distant rumble of a cataclysm approaching. An armageddon, perhaps. He had souls to save–he told himself–for God’s judgement would be harsh, swift, and terrible–and none but those close to God would escape it.

Chapter 5

Tristan ran. He hated running, but he was still too tired, and the pendant too far strapped of power to risk teleportation. He could end up who knew where, or not even materialize at all, if something went wrong. He had hoped that the pendant would regain some of its power while he slept, and it had gained some, but considering the events currently roaring their way across campus and across the city, how could he sleep? He’d always known that Erikson, when given a chance, would use Frank against him. That was why he’d given Frank so little information to begin with about himself, especially once he’d started snooping and prying. Still, he hadn’t known for sure until Frank had got up and sleepwalked out of the residence soon after they’d begun hibernation, and it was then that Tristan realized that this would not be a restful winter. Erikson was awake–awake and working and planning and plotting, and Tristan had been so focused on expanding his power to the city, he’d neglected to gather much information of his own.

He had underestimated him. He had underestimated all of them. When he had scoped this dimension, these men, they had seemed like such easy targets. Easily suggestible, forms malleable, with no resistance to his clan’s magic at all. He had rushed into his invasion, expecting to have consolidated power within a large region by now, but these human’s malleability had a dimension he hadn’t anticipated, which thwarted him at every turn–a startling commitment to agency. It seemed, that if there was one thing a human didn’t want to do, it was anything that someone else told that human to do. They were fundamentally opposed to authority, and as easy as it was to warp their bodies, their minds twisted and changed of their own volition into something Tristan could neither anticipate, nor appreciate. And as he sat in the house, alone, he realized that his plan had crumbled to pieces. He didn’t have the power to reassert control. He didn’t have the information to beat these humans at their own games. It was so much simpler in the clan–control was established by one thing–power. But here, ever the weak could become powerful if they banded together, like that cursed resistance of students which he’d still been unable to fully eradicate, even with erikson’s assistance.

He’d been watching the doors of Erikson’s labs, waiting for the Professor to make his move for weeks now, dozing and sleeping as much as he could, but the light sleep wasn’t enough for him, or the pendant, to recharge, and when Erikson had stumbled forth, carrying an ungodly load of equipment, a massive gun in both hands, and two beasts by his side that he had never seen before, Tristan had known he had a single option–to flee. He didn’t know what that gun would do to him, but he could be certain that he didn’t want to find out. Bundling up as best he could, wishing this human form had more fur to keep him warm, he’d set out on foot. He’d never been able to figure out how to work those accursed cars these humans drove around on their streets. Besides, the snow was far too thick for a car, and while the going was slow, he was far enough away that the scream of a beast’s pain was nothing more than a whisper on the harsh wind roaring between the city buildings.

Tristan had nowhere to go, no. Nowhere he could hide. There was only one place left, really, and even that might be dangerous. Back to Maxwell–well, back to Scuzz. Maxwell was gone, locked away, and again, Tristan felt a horrible pain in his heart at what he had done. Still, it had been as necessary, as it was horrible. He’d done many, many horrible things now–and yet, this one was far worse than anything he’d done before, he could sense that. This wasn’t a crime committed against a foreign species–this was a crime against his own kind, against his own family. That, by clan law, was unjustifiable–even without stealing the pendant, if the clan knew of this, he would be sentenced to death if he ever went back. He laughed. Like he could ever have the strength to open that portal again. There was no going back, he could sense. Not now, not ever. He was marooned here, it this foreign land, by his own foolish design. He had run away from his problems there, just as he was running from them here. Would be ever stop running? Would he ever be anything more than a coward?

The mall, thankfully, was close by. It still took him a half an hour to reach it, when it should have only taken him ten minutes, but it could be worse. He broke open one of the locked doors, not even caring, and made his way to the boutique. Scuzz was probably asleep, and it would be better if he was. Tristan could see him for a moment, just look, gather his thoughts, and then be on his way–wherever he was going to go. He had no plan, he had no target, he had no path. He didn’t know what he was going to do.

The gate was down at Bear Boutique, but he had a key, and he rolled up the gate, and walked into the store, but he could immediately sense that he wasn’t alone. He could hear someone…sobbing in fear. He found the source of it in the backroom, where Scuzz was huddled, naked, in a small ball, rocking back and forth. Tristan felt his heart leap when he saw him. The magic–the magic he’d cast, locking Maxwell away–it was so weak. What had happened to it? Who could have done this?

Scuzz looked up when he heard Tristan come in, and his eyes were fevered and bloodshot. “You! You, it’s you, the one in the cave, the one I saw in the cave, you–you did this to him, why? Why did you do it? Why?” he shouted.

Tristan said nothing. What could he say to him? To Scuzz, or to Maxwell? Whoever was in there at the moment?

“Please…I’m sorry, I just did it to make Master Erikson happy, so he’d, so he’d make me feel good again. I didn’t know what was on the other side, I didn’t know, but I wanted to know and I knew Erikson would want to know, and there was a crack, and He was there, and I shouldn’t have done it, I shouldn’t have done any of it…Please, put him back, put him back in, he’s eating me. He’s eating me inside my head!” Scuzz screamed, scratching at his skull, in some places hard enough to draw blood. “He’s hungry, and angry, and oh God…oh God the things…the things he says he’s going to do to you…I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I didn’t know…Please, put him back–save me, please save me.”

“I…I can’t,” Tristan said.

“What the fuck do you mean, you can’t!” Scuzz screamed at him, crawling over to where Tristan was standing, “Look at what you did to him. To me. To this whole damn city! And you’re telling me that you can’t? Please, I’m begging you, I’ll do anything. Just save me from him, please. If…If I sleep again, I’m not going to be able to escape, like I did. He’s in there, I can hear him laughing, I can smell the evergreen…I’m tired, I’m so tired, I can’t hold on for much longer.”

“I can’t, I can’t do anything, I’m sorry.”

“You can! You’re lying!”

“I fucking can’t!” Tristan shouted back, “You aren’t even real! I made you, and you can fucking die for all I care, I should have never even made you exist.”

“How…How can you say that? How can you–I’m real! I’m here, I have memories, I have friends, I have thoughts and wants, and everything else, how can you–I’m real, I’m a real as you are. Please, help me.”

Tristan looked down at him, at the filthy biker his magic had made, and he felt pity. This was cruel, this was the height of cruelty, what he had done. What he was going to do,–it would be an act of mercy. Tristan got down on his knees, and with a small breath of power from the pendant, he began to sing the lullaby he’d been sung as a cub, that he had sung that day in the cave.

“I know…I know that song–he, he knows it. He knows you’re here…please, don’t…don’t make me sleep. He’s waiting for me, he’s waiting, and he’ll…he’ll…”

“Shush, I know, and I’m sorry. But it’s the right thing to do,” Tristan said, and then continued the song. He had committed a grave wrong, against Maxwell–he deserved to come back, he deserved that much from Tristan. He’d been a fool to think he could control all of this. a fool. He watched as Scuzz’s struggles weakened, his eyes fluttering closed. It really was a mercy to him. He would lose the battle with sleep eventually–this was far kinder, but he would need to be gone when Maxwell woke up. He had no doubt that Maxwell would be seeking him out, for revenge, and goodness knows Tristan deserved it. He thought, for a moment, of staying. Of waiting. He could apologize, he could offer himself, he could let Maxwell enthrall him. The deep part of his mind, remembering that night, ached for it, ached for submission, but his cowardice…he would run. He would keep running, it was all he knew how to do anymore, and as soon as Scuzz’s head hit the carpet, Tristan left, running, not knowing how long it would take Maxwell to consume the rest of the spell, and then wake himself up to pursue him.

He beat a hasty path back towards the exit, but came to an abrupt halt, as a beast–one of the beasts he had seen leave the lab with Erikson–step through the broken door of the mall, growling and snarling at the sight of Tristan fifty yards away. He looked the beast in his eyes, and saw that, not only were they human–he knew them. They were Frank’s eyes. Erikson…what had he done? Frank snarled, the hair standing up on the back of his neck as he advanced slowly through the shards of broken glass. Tristan’s first thought, so strong it nearly overpowered him, was to run, but he knew that there would be no outrunning this beast. This was as far as running could take him. He could see hesitation in the beast’s eyes–did Frank remember him? It was possible, he figured, but Erikson had likely trained him well, and trained him to kill. He readied himself, and a moment later, the beast charged.

Tristan had forgotten what it meant to fight, until that moment. When the beast collided with him, when he felt the sheer power thrown at him, his body responded in ways he could barely remember, slipping away from the monster, but not before his claws had raked through the coat he wore, breaking through his skin. Tristan felt his reslove shake. He couldn’t win…and yet, he had to. He had created this mess, he had begun all of this, and he had to finish it. He had to bring it to whatever conclusion that might come. He had to fight. He was done running and hiding. With a snarl, he flung himself at the beast. He couldn’t recall, in the bloodhaze, what had happened. All he could remember was the thrill he’d felt, sinking his cock into the beast’s ass, hearing it howl in submission. He had beaten it, he had won. And when he finished, the beast knew it was bested. This was not Prey–this was Master, and when Tristan left, the beast followed.

Tristan was done running, he realized. He would fight. Still, he couldn’t return to campus, or to the boutique. He would have to go elsewhere, but he would win. Let these rising powers squabble amongst themselves–he would be back, and when he came, he would finally crush this human species beneath his rightful throne.

End Arc 1: While a City Sleeps