Sorry for the missing post yesterday! This week has been a massive headache for various reasons. Because of that, I’m just going to post a triple sized post, and finish off this chunk of city of bears, because it kind of all needs to go together anyway. That means no post tomorrow!

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The RuffHat shattered with the force of all the energy stored with in it, and shards of heavy plastic spun off in every direction. Darren let out a shout and flung up his arm to try and deflect it, losing his balance and falling off the bed backwards onto the floor. Trey, on the bed, clutched his head, trying to get a handle on the splitting headache still ricocheting around his mind. “Fuck, you fucking idiot! What the fuck did you think was going to happen, Ruffs weren’t made for that kind of shit!” He took a couple of deep breaths, his heart rate slowing down, and he managed to roll over and open his eyes, feeling the chunks of plastic crunch beneath his head. He ran his hands over his scalp and through his greasy hair, but aside from a few scratches he was unharmed–but everything else was a blur. Usually he had a pretty clear memory of his time as a Ruff, but everything was as shattered as the hat. He had heard the thud at the foot of the bed, however, and he rolled over and crawled to the edge, where he saw Darren lying on the ground, with several shards of plastic embedded in his body.

He wanted to divert his eyes, but his eyes seemed to be frozen forward. What on earth had happened? His vision was focusing in further, on the piece embedded in Darren’s skull, lodged between eye and nose, driven deep into his skull by the explosion. It didn’t seem real to him, somehow. Perhaps it was because there didn’t appear to be any blood–or any edges to the wound at all. The plastic simply seemed to meld perfectly with his skin. Beyond that, Darren wasn’t moving at all–he didn’t even seem to be breathing.

It wasn’t something Trey had ever seen before in his life–after all, death wasn’t something anyone in the city grappled with–or at least, not death like this. Everyone was busy dying in other ways, all the time, and so while it did happen on occasion, it was something no one knew how to understand. To see a body without a mind in it, even just for a moment, filled Trey with a supreme dread so unknowable he could barely comprehend what it was he was feeling. It was a relief, somehow, when he saw the shards begin to slide into the wounds in Darren’s body, the bone and skin sealing up behind them. It was a relief to know that something was alive, even if Trey wasn’t certain what it might be. It turned his stomach, but at least something was happening–after all, Darren couldn’t just…stay like that, could he? Something inert and unchanging? Everyone had to change, right?

The plastic shards slid the rest of the way into Darren’s body, and in the places were they entered, Trey could, for a moment, see something strange bulging around the skin until it dispersed through his body, and something about the surface changed with a slow shudder. It took Trey a moment to realize why the changes seemed familiar, until he realized that the heavy brow, the thick jaw and beard, the muscles and hair–they were all the things that happened whenever he turned into a Ruff–but something else was wrong–it was his skin, and his hair, in the areas around the points where the plastic hat had pierced him. They weren’t…skin. Or at least, they didn’t look like skin. He reached over the edge of the bed to touch the side of Darren’s head where the plastic had slid into him, and felt the skin of his face–it was smooth, like plastic or rubber–but not…quite alive. The hair, too, seemed synthetic, more like the sort of hair you’d find on a doll. He pressed harder, but there wasn’t much give, he leaned closer, towards the eye that looked more glass, or plastic, when it shifted suddenly in its socket, and he flung back. Darren gasped, a great long inhale, and rolled over, coughing, clutching and scratching at himself, trying to dig at his skin where the plastic had seeped into him and corrupted him, stammering and stuttering, but not speaking anything that was making sense.

“Hey, hey, it’s…you just have to calm down, it’s alright, I’m…I’m here..” Trey said, but he didn’t know what to do. Darren just seemed panicked, and he pushed himself upright, shaking his head, and trying to clear it.

“I…I don’t…I was working, and…and then I was…I don’t know…” he stumbled and caught himself on the chair by the computer, hauling himself up into it. “I…I was fucking…fucking me, working, and then I…I was gone, and now, now I don’t know…”

Trey got off the bed, and felt the massive rubber cock slap against his thigh. He hefted it, and felt the jolt of pleasure from it, and was…confused. Why was he wearing this thing? The last thing he remembered clearly, he was at his computer, and he felt something land on…on his head…

In the wall next to him, he saw a shard of plastic sticking out of the drywall, and he tugged it free. It was bright yellow and rigid, and he…he knew it. It was part of the RuffHat. “You…you fucking piece of god damn shit!” he screamed at him, “You dumb fucking–what the fuck were you thinking, trying something like that? Do you know how fucking dangerous this shit can be?”

Darren didn’t seem to be reacting to what he was saying, he was just…shaking, hands exploring his body, finding the places where the plastic had entered him, trying to understand what he was…feeling, and why his body, and his head, felt both crowded and empty at the same time. He could remember some things, things about being Darren, but there was someone else in him too, or fragments of someone else, and they were terrified, they didn’t know what had happened. They’d just been trying to work, they’d just wanted to do a good job.

Trey, however, could barely contain his rage, and he tore the cock off of him, and threw it to the ground. He gripped the plastic shard harder in his hand, and he felt it…quiver, and begin to push its way into the palm of his hand, and he dropped it to the ground. Things like this–the only people who really understood all of the craft involved in them were the people who had made them, and Abrahams was long gone at this point. When something like this broke, there was no telling what could happen. He needed help–there were trained professionals who could deal with situations like this, and they might–might–be able to do something for Darren too.

Darren had seen the shard of plastic drop to the ground, and part of him…needed it. He got off the chair and crawled to it, picked it up in his hand, and it…it felt like it belonged to him. Before Trey could stop him, he’d pushed it into his arm, muffling a cry of pain, and Trey watched, mouth agape, as a chunk of his arm turned to the same plastic as his face, and then he scratched at it with his nails, like he couldn’t understand what he’d just done. “I…That…it was part of me, but that’s not…what’s happening to me?” he muttered. “I I need all of them, I need…I can feel them…”

Trey heard an odd scritching sound, and saw the shards all over the floor, the bed–even in the ceiling, were rattling, and moving, drawn towards where Darren was on the floor. Trey backed away as they surrounded him, forcing their way into Darren’s body, more and more of him becoming plastic, spreading all over him until, as far as Trey could tell, his entire surface of his body was no longer flesh, but just the strange, rubbery substance. When the last shard had found its way to him, he gave a shudder, and relaxed, a strange, rattling sigh leaving his body, and no inhale followed. All Trey could do was wait in the quiet room, waiting for something to happen, but nothing came, and he too, exhaled the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “D-Darren?” he said, “Are…are you still there? Can you get up?”

Darren didn’t say anything, but he did try and push himself up, but didn’t seem to have enough strength to get up from his hands and knees. Trey helped him, and together they were able to get his standing. He was…lighter than he should have been, Trey noticed, but when he stepped away from him, he tipped over, forcing Trey to lunge and catch him before he crashed to the floor again. The closest thing was the bed, and Trey heaved Darren onto it, splayed about awkwardly, eyes not looking anywhere in particular. It was…disturbing, and Trey turned around, not really able to handle whatever he was looking at. He started scrounging around on the floor, looking for something other than the filthy underwear he wore constantly, but there didn’t seem to be anything fit for the outside anywhere. He remembered what Darren had asked him, about how long it had been since he’d left the apartment. He knew it couldn’t have been more than a few days since Darren had last come over, but he also couldn’t really remember…leaving. It felt like a dream, something imagined. He’d Changed so much in the last few days, sliding into this new person, this homebound pervert–but this was important. He had to do this…but first, he needed a cigarette, most of all, and he sat down at his computer and lit up, taking a deep inhale, the comfortable smoke sliding into him, relaxing him, clearing his mind.

“Ok…ok, I…we just need to get you some help, find someone who can figure out what…happened to the hat…” he muttered, looked around again, and saw Darren’s clothes on the floor where he’d stripped them off. They…wouldn’t exactly fit him, but it was something. He pulled them on, the shirt and pants chaffing him, making him feel uncomfortable in his own skin. The shoes were the worst, somehow, but he managed to get dressed, looking somewhat presentable, and turned to Darren, who hadn’t moved from the bed. “Ok–I can do this, I’ll…find someone who can help, I’ll be back soon.”

He stepped outside, still smoking, and all he really felt was…irritable. He didn’t want to be dealing with this, this wasn’t even his fault! It was all Darren’s doing. In the elevator, the annoyance escalated, and he tugged at the clothes, trying to figure out how to make them sit on him so they would be comfortable. Had…he really worn shit like this? It seemed ridiculous to even imagine it, that he’d ever really left his apartment, that he could even want to leave–because what was out there?

He stood at the door to the apartment building, watching men and cubs and bears walking down the sidewalk in the early evening through the glass–and it was so…comfortable, watching them. They were all so sexy, this far away, the glass giving them a certain sheen of virtuality, like the screen of his computer. He put his hand to the glass, but it felt as unreal to him as the false flesh of Darren’s strange body, something hard and impermeable driven between him and everyone else, rendering all of it at turns unknowable, terrifying, and worthless. How could you ever know anyone? Could you even know yourself in this city?

Fuck, he was horny, and…and hungry. Why had he come down here, anyway? No–he knew why he’d come down here–he needed to do something for Darren…but it wasn’t like he was going anywhere, right? He’d just been in the middle of a nice edging session, and maybe…maybe he’d feel better after eating, and having a couple of beers, and blowing a load. He couldn’t deal with this, with the world, not right now. He backed away and retreated to his room, where Darren was still lying on the bed, in the same position as before. Trey…felt like he owed him an explanation, for why he’d come back…but what could he say? He felt ashamed, but it was muted. Shame was for…other people, on the side of the glass. He stayed in here so he wouldn’t have to feel that. So he wouldn’t have to feel bad, or be responsible for anyone but himself. He called for a few pizzas, and then sat back down in front of the computer, picking up where he’d left off before Darren had so rudely interrupted him–and soon had completely forgotten that he was there at all, sliding back into his comfortable zone of smoking and stroking.

The pizzas came, and Trey ate them at the computer, when he heard a thump across the room. There was, apparently, something of Darren in there which had tried to move, and the plastic body sliding off the bed and onto the floor, or maybe his position on the bed had simply been less stable than Trey had thought, and gravity had done it all on its own. In any case, he didn’t feel right just leaving him there on the floor, and so he got up and hefted him back up, this time lying him back on the bed, and Trey just stared at him, thinking about the pictures he’d been looking at, thinking about the glass and his separation from the world and everyone in it–and thinking about how sexy Darren looked, somehow. He ran a hand over his plastic leg, feeling how smooth the false flesh was, the synthetic hair poking out from it. He kept it there a moment, noticing it was cooler than he expected–the same temperature as the room, but not the temperature of a person. He slid his hand up further, to the hairy crotch, checking for a cock or balls, but found nothing there at all in the hair, just like on a Ruff.

What was a Ruff, really, if not a doll? A living doll, sure, but just…nothing below the surface. A doll that worked, a doll you could pose, and look at, and smell, but a Ruff didn’t give anything back. A Ruff couldn’t feel anything. Is that what had caused it to shatter? The fact that, for the first time, it had felt something inside its own skin, something divorced from work and the outside world? From how it looked?

“Are you in there?” Trey asked, or muttered really. He was surprised at how little an answer would have really mattered to him, and Darren didn’t give him one. Trey dragged him up higher on the bed, and propped him up against the pillows and the wall at the head of the bed, posing his legs a bit more naturally (one with the knee up, the other extended down the bed) and then his arms (one relaxed at his side, the other thrown up behind his head, hairy pit exposed). Satisfied, he got off the bed and sat down in his chair, faced him, and started to stroke.

“Yeah, you’re a sexy fucker, aren’t you?” Trey said, taking a long drag off his cigarette, “Want me real bad, I bet, been waiting all day for me to get home, sitting there…fuck…”

He sat there for a moment, just enjoying the view, and then, a bit hesitant, he stood up and approached him, climbing up on him, straddling his hips and looking down at him, still stroking, a bit faster than before. He was gonna do it–it was worth it. He quickened his pace, and finally exploded, the load he’d been building up all day in his heavy, low hanging sack spewing out, all over Darren’s chest and face. He didn’t react. It didn’t react. Trey felt better forgetting it might be a person in there. It was safer as an object, as a doll. As…his doll.

He rubbed the cum into his doll hair and doll face. “You like that, don’t you fucker? You like having my nasty cum all over you, I bet. Well…well don’t you fucking worry, you’re going to get plenty more of that. My fucking cumdump doll, fuck…” He laid down with his doll, face next to his pit–and he didn’t smell anything at all. He licked it, enjoying the feel of the hair against his tongue, so much better than anything real, because…because his doll could be anything he wanted it to be, couldn’t it?”

Trey fell asleep that night, lying in the doll’s arms, and when he woke up, he decided that he didn’t care what might come of it–the doll was his. He spent the day posing it in all sorts of positions, ogling him, fantasizing about him, and around noon, he discovered the bag Darren had brought along with him and left in a chair by the table. Inside was an outfit of leather gear–a vest, muir cap, piercings and boots. Had it been a backup plan, or something he’d been hoping the Ruff would end up wearing? It didn’t matter really–in an hour, the doll was dressed up in the leather gear, the massive black strapon jutting up from it’s crotch, and Trey humiliated it, taunted it, wondered if it could see what it was now, some big leather master enslaved to a nasty, filthy slob like him. He pumped another couple of loads onto the doll’s face and chest, loving the dull sheen of dried cum adhered to it’s glassy eyes, wondering if he could see in there, if he could do anything at all–if there was even anything in there at all.

More outfits appeared in his closet after that–or in the doll’s closet, really. Trey wore the same filthy underwear day in and day out, growing fatter, grungier, and meaner by the day. He loved his doll, but not as some treasured object. No–his doll was a dumping ground for all of his frustration and anger, channeling his own self-loathing and pushing it onto the doll. He would beat it, on occasion, the fact that it gave no reaction at all giving him an excuse to hit it harder and harder still, and treat it rougher and rougher, like it deserved to be treated. Like it was made to be treated. It was its job, after all, or so Trey would say. The only thing it was good for. The only use it could possibly have in the world.

Eventually, Trey even believed what he was saying. Eventually, the doll believed him too.

The End

“Are…are you sure this is work? I…I don’t, I mean, that felt good and all, but this isn’t like any work I’ve done before,” the Ruff said.

“You’re doing great, don’t stress out about new things, you’re perfect for this.”

“I…I don’t think this…I don’t know about this, I feel weird.”

“It’s alright, you’re doing great.”

“I…feel so hot.”

“That’s normal,” Darren said, and took the Ruff’s hand and pulled him closer, one hand slowly stroking his rubber cock, and seeing the Ruff’s breathing quicken. “Now, how about I show you how to use this new tool of yours? It can be a bit strange to begin with, but I think you’ll be a natural.”

“Do…do I use it on…on nails, or…” The Ruff stammered, “Or like, metal, or…or would you stop that?” he pushed Darren’s hand away, “I…It feels really good, but I can’t think…”

“You don’t need to think for this job–you just need to feel good,” Darren said, and gripped the shaft again, stroking it a bit faster, “If you feel good, and I feel good, then you’re doing good work.” The Ruff didn’t object again, and Darren took the chance to enjoy his body a bit, smelling and tasting his divine pits, feeling the soft fur all over his body, always stroking, getting the Ruff accustomed to pleasure–probably for the first time in it’s occasional existence.

The Ruff pulled away with a shudder after a moment, a flustered look on his face. “This isn’t right, this isn’t the right work, I…I don’t feel right,” he reached up to take the hat off, but Darren lunged forward, dragging his arms back down.

“No, you aren’t done with the job yet,” Darren said, “I’m…I’m the boss right now, you know. I’m the foreman. That means you have to do what I say, and you aren’t done with the work until I say so.”

The Ruff didn’t know what to do, but it…felt good to have a foreman, someone to listen to, someone who could direct him. He nodded. “A-Alright, if you…say so, but it doesn’t feel right.”

“Just trust me, it’ll feel amazing once you get used to it,” Darren said, and went back to slowly stroking the rubber cock, but it was clear that the Ruff wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself. His hands kept moving, first handing on his hips, and then just hanging at his sides, and on occasion he would moan or whimper with a bit of pleasure, but also wince, like something had unexpectedly hurt. Still, Darren didn’t really care–he was getting what he’d wanted, what he’d always fantasized about, and he wasn’t about to stop now. “Alright, now why don’t I show you how to use your new tool?”

The Ruff nodded, and let out the breath it had been holding. It…didn’t like how it felt, when the foreman stroked his tool. It felt…good on one hand, but it made his head hurt in a way that really worried him too, in a way he couldn’t quite explain. “Yeah, I think I like work better than…this. Just show me what you need me to do.”

Darren stripped, and the Ruff just looked at him, confused, and Darren climbed up onto the bed, his ass pointing towards the Ruff. “Alright, do you see the hole back there?”

The Ruff nodded.

“Alright–here’s your job. You’re going to put that tool in the hole, ok? Slow at first, just kind of ease it in there.”

The Ruff felt the nerves return, and he took a step back. “This…still doesn’t seem like work.”

“This is the job–I thought you Ruffs were supposed to be good with tools?”

“I am, but like, normal stuff. Hammers and nails, not…not this, I guess…”

“Well, I think you can do it–why don’t you at least give it a try?”

The Ruff supposed that just trying couldn’t really hurt. He stepped up, put the rubber tool against the hole, and pushed, gently, until the foreman told him to push a bit harder, and the dildo began to slide into his ass. The same pleasure was there, and the deeper the tool went, the better it felt, but the pain would come too–a few flinches at first, but when the dildo was about halfway in, something worse happened. To the Ruff, it was like someone had taken a mental mallet and slammed it against his skull. He cried out and pulled the tool free of the hole, stumbling around, trying to focus again, and Darren flipped over and looked at him, confused. Neither of them noticed the hairline crack that had appeared in back of the RuffHat, running from the back brim, all the way to the crown. “No,” the Ruff said, “No, that…I can’t do that, it hurts!”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Darren said, and got off the bed, “It feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, but…but then it hurts, I don’t like this job, can’t I do something easier?”

“Here, let’s try it a different way,” Darren said, walked over, and grabbed hold of the Ruff’s hand, pulling him over to the bed. “Go ahead and lay down here, alright?” The Ruff tried to protest, but Darren just shoved him down onto the bed, climbed up on him, and straddled him, his ass over the rubber cock, and he lowered himself down onto it. “Yeah, that’s it,” Darren said, “We’ll turn you into a fucker one way or another.”

The Ruff didn’t know what to do, and so he just froze, feeling wave after wave of pleasure washing over him as Darren slid down onto the rubber cock, taking the entire thing into his ass, and then sliding back up. The pain was there still, but not as forceful as it had been, but it wasn’t going away. All the Ruff could do was hope Darren’s job would be over quickly. Darren began fucking himself on the tool faster, and the pleasure kept getting stronger. The Ruff…felt like he was coming apart at the seams, like he didn’t know how to even begin processing what it was experiencing. There were other flashes of pain, not as harsh, but strong enough to make him wince. Then, without warning, there was a splitting ache in his mind, and the Ruff came apart.

It was a few days later, and Darren pounded on the door again, refusing to give up quite yet. He could hear Trey in there–or at least, he could hear someone in there, listening to porn, and given the general track of Trey’s change that he seemed to be progressing down, it was likely that his Change had progressed again–which had Darren worried. When people changed–it wasn’t just them that shifted, after all. Everything, and everyone, around them could be affected as well, especially their things. He pounded again, and he heard a voice inside give a curse and a grunt, and the door opened a crack. It was Trey’s face, mostly, that Darren could see through the crack, though it was looking quite a bit rounder, the eye bloodshot, the teeth crooked and yellow, and there was a cigarette in his fingers. “Fuck off, I’m fuckin’ busy in here,” Trey said, but Darren pushed on the door and stopped in from shutting.

“Trey, I…dude, you’re letting yourself go man, I thought you didn’t want this?”

Trey scowled at him, “Like you fucking give two fucks about me, ya just want a Ruff, or some trucker, or some cub, you don’t give two shits about me.”

“Look, you’re right. I’m sorry, I know it was shitty, but I can see you aren’t happy like this. I’m just trying to help.”

Trey took a drag off his cigarette, and then stepped back from the door, letting Darren push his way inside. The place was filthy, but even he had to breathe a small sigh when he saw that the RuffHat was still on the table, where Trey had set it down the last time it was there. “You haven’t been going to work?”

Trey whirled on him, “I fucking knew it! You and that fucking hat! You know what, if you want it so badly, fucking take it. At least then I won’t have you interrupting a hot session again.”

“That’s not what–”

Trey grabbed the hat and shoved it into his arms, “I’m fucking done, I’m done with you, and Willis, and every bear is this fucking city. I’m done. None of you give two fucks about anyone other than yourselves and your fantasies, and your superficial fucks. At least this makes me feel good, you know? At least I know I’m a fucking disappointment.” Trey went and sat back down at his computer, dug around in the filthy underwear he had on and started groping himself hard again. “Now leave me the fuck alone.”

“Trey, fucking look at yourself! When’s the last time you even stepped outside? Look, forget the hat, let’s just go out, let’s go be someone! You don’t really want to be this, do you? I can’t believe you really want…this…”

“And what if I do want this?” Trey said, “I feel good here. I’m happy. I don’t have to do…worry about people, and disappointing them, or them disappointing me. Pictures are easy, and sexy, and that’s what I want to do. I do want this, alright? I’m…tired of trying to figure the rest of it out. Now get out, and don’t fucking come back here again.”

Darren looked at the hat in his hands, and the bag he’d brought along, full of the things he’d spent the last day collecting, since he’d had the idea. He could leave. He didn’t need Trey, now that he had the hat, he supposed, and it wasn’t like Trey–or whoever Trey was Changing into–wanted him to be here. Darren barely knew him, anyway, they’d just had a couple of flings, and not even as themselves…but he couldn’t help but feel something for the guy, all the same. It was pitiful, is what it was, seeing a guy in a city where you could be anyone, and have anyone, just give up like this. Still, if he knew what Darren had in mind, there was no way he’d oblige him his suggestion. So…why not just do it?

In one motion, he dropped the RuffHat on Trey’s head and then held it down. Trey cursed him out for a moment and tried to force the hat back off, but his resistance only lasted a couple of moments, until the comfortable numbness of the Ruff’s mind settled in over him. He stood up, swaying a bit, his shoulders broadening, hair filling in, and the musk bloomed, making Darren sigh with delight. Even if this didn’t work, at least he got to smell it one more time. The Ruff looked similar to how he had before, but with a few shifts, given Trey’s change–a bit fuller in the gut, a bit grubbier, with grease and dirt on his hands.

The Ruff scratched his head under the hat, and looked down at Darren. “Oh, you again? You…didn’t have any work for me last time, did you? You just did that thing where you pulled my pants down.” He scrunched up his eyes a moment, and then shook his head, “The guy–in my head, he’s real mad at you, I should let him back out–” he went to take off the hat, but Darren grabbed him by the wrist and pulled his hand back down.

“Wait! Wait, I do have work for you today, actually. It’s…well, it’s probably not like any work you’ve done before, but I bet a big guy like you would be great at it.”

“Oh! Uh…it ain’t…hard, right? I’m not too good with thinking and stuff, but I like carrying things! Can I carry some stuff?”

“Uh..it’s not really a carrying job, no…”

“Oh…” The Ruff looked rather dejected, “I haven’t gotten to carry anything in a while, so you can’t blame a guy for hoping, ya know?”

Darren just stared at him a moment, “Are you…serious?”

The Ruff just stared back. “Why wouldn’t I be serious about work?”

Darren didn’t quite know how to respond to that, so he just moved on. “Alright, so, this job needs a special uniform, so go ahead and get out of…that,” Darren said, pointing at the grungy undershirt and underwear of Trey’s that he was wearing. The Ruff did as he was told, and Darren dropped the bag he had with him on the table, and started pulling out the things he’d brought along. “First things first, you need a very special tool for the job,” he pulled out a thick, rubber dildo–or strap on really, and took it to the Ruff. “Here, step into this like it’s pants.”

Why don’t I just hold it in my hands?”

“Uh…you’ll be doing other things with those! If we put this on here,” he said, pulling the dildo up to the Ruff’s hairy groin.

“It’s a tool? What does it do?”

“It’s…a bit like a hammer, and a drill.”

I like hammers,” The Ruff said, and he swung his hips, the rubber dong whipping around and smacking Darren in the cheek, the Ruff gasping. “I…I felt it?”

Darren had worried it might not work right with a Ruff, so that was one problem he didn’t have to worry about. He had a feeling everything was going to be a bit easier now. “Yeah, that just means it turned on.” He reached out and stroked the rubber cock, and the Ruff groaned, and then stepped away from him, his cheeks flushed red.