The Kingsford County Line (Part 8)

Sorry again for all the missed posts, and the double posts after the fact! Things are settling down (a bit) so hopefully the consistency will be back soon.

As he crept through the park, he began to realize how foolish this had all been–he hadn’t even let Howard know what was happening. He pulled out his phone, but the screen was cracked, probably from his fall off the truck, and he hadn’t been able to get service all day anyway, so it would have been next to usless working. All he’d really done is get equally lost himself–it wasn’t like he could just whisk himself back to the gas station–no, what he needed to do, first, was find that damn truck, and then find the police, and put these sickos where they belong.

The trailer part was structured around a loop, and at the back end of the gravel road, he spotted it–they had come in here, and they were probably in that trailer right next to it. Part of him wanted to investigate further, and see if he could save his nephew himself, but getting help wwould probably be a better idea, as much as he might want to be the hero. Should he knock on a neighbor’s door, or might they be in on whatever was going on? Without a phone, his options would seem to be, either, to ask to use someone’s and risk it, or to try and find the police station in town, wherever it might be. The first would save time–and who knew what those two might be doing with Tyler–but the second was probably safer. Still, he needed to figure out what was going on as quickly as possible, so he chose a trailer a little ways back which had seemed to be fairly well maintained, with the lights on, walked up to the door, and knocked.

“Just a minute!” a voice cried, male, sounding aged, and after a few moments, the door swung open, and on the other side of the screen door, wearing his a pair of boxers, was a man slightly older than Logan himself. He had a prominent gut, but the rest of him looked rather feeble and unthreatening, with a thick, but neatly trimmed white beard, glasses, and a small pipe tucked in the corner of his mouth, putting off a sweet scent that immediately set Logan at ease. but he seemed rather surprised at the sight of Logan, “Oh! Do I…know you? Don’t see out of towners around here very often.”

This, he thought, is a man I can trust. “Look, I’m sorry to bother you, but this is an emergency. I’m on a road trip with my brother and my two nephews, and while we were gassing our van, the two rednecks who live a few trailers down from you–they kidnapped one of my nephews! I…I followed them by riding on the back of their tow truck, as crazy as that sounds, but I need to call the police right away–do you have a phone I can use?”

“Oh my goodness, that does sound serious–yeah, Skip and Pa can be such troublemakers, I know just who you’re talking about, and we’ll get everything sorted out. I’m sure they don’t mean the boy any harm, though. Now come in, the phone’s inside. My name’s Edgar.”

“Thanks, Edgar. I’m Logan,” he said as the older man opened the screen and pushed it open for him, and as he climbed the stairs into the trailer, Edgar blew a could of pipe smoke right in his face, making him cough.

“Oh goodness Logan, I’m sorry about that–I smoke so often I forget I have it in my mouth sometimes.”

“It’s…it’s fine,” Logan said, clearing his throat, “I don’t really mind it that much, actually. In fact, it smells really…kind of sweet.”

“Oh, I’m too old to smoke the rough stuff anymore–sweet and young and soft, that’s what I like these days, you know?”

“Y-Yeah…”

“Oh, now what did you do to your arm, boy?”

Now that he could get a better look in the dim light of the trailer, Logan figured that his earlier assessment that everything was fine might have been a bit hasty. There were no deep cuts, but his arm was covered in blood. “I…I don’t think it’s as bad as it looks.”

“Oh, and your face,” Edgar said, graabbing Logan’s chin in his hand and turning it towards him, Logan getting another face full of smoke in the process. “Did Skip do that to you?”

“No, it was…the older one.”

“I keep telling you to be careful around him, and you just don’t listen–well we’ll get you cleaned up, alright? Now get out of those clothes, they’re filthy, they have to be washed.”

“I-I think I really just need to use your phone…”

“The clothes, boy–you can use the phone later, but I won’t have those filthy rags getting my trailer filthy, and then you’re going to have a bath.”

Logan thought about protesting, but it was Edgar’s trailer, and he did want to be polite. He pulled off his shirt, doing his best to get catch the fabric on his bloody arm, his shoes and socks, and then dropped his pants, and without really thinking about it, he took off his underwear as well. Tsking, Edgar gathered up the pile of laundry and disappeared into the back of the trailer with them, leaving Logan naked, and feeling rather uncomfortable. He looked around, and saw the phone hanging on the wall in the kitchenette…but he really should ask permission first, shouldn’t he? He looked around the trailer a bit more, which was clean and rather spartan, though everything exuded softness, from the overstuffed armchair in front of the small TV, to the cushions on the chairs at the table, and he breathed a sigh of ease, the tension and terror that had been gripping him releasing slowly. His clothes were filthy, and a bath did sound wonderful, especially since all he’d had lately were low water pressure showers in grungy motel bathrooms. Tyler…he could wait a bit, right? Edgar hadn’t made it sound like he was in grave danger or anything.

He heard the sound of water running, and Edgar appeared again. “The tub’s filling up, now let’s take a look at that arm. Come here, over by the sink and we’ll see what that boy did to you.”

Logan followed him over, Edgar inspecting his arm under the light, before taking a fluffy washcloth and going to work, getting most of the dried and caked blood off. Like Logan had thought, it wasn’t as bad as it looked–but it was pretty bad all the same, with much of his forearm scraped away. Edgar didn’t say much, just smoked his pipe, pushing the smoke in Logan’s direction each time, watching his visitor inhale it now, a bit hungry for it, though Logan didn’t notice that the sweet smell was growing more and more appealing to him. When the worst of it was off his arm, Edgar turned his attention to Logan’s face, wiping the blood from where his lip had split, feeling the swelling there, watching him wince, though…his touch was still so gentle, just like the room around him, and Logan almost didn’t mind the fact that his touches brought a bit of pain–he…he just wanted Edgar to touch him, and…and be close to him. His cock had grown hard, but he hadn’t paid it any mind, but the old man saw it, and smiled. “Come on, boy–let’s get you in the bath.”

That was the second time Edgar had called him that. It was…strange, that he’d call him that, but he’d missed the chance to tell him to not call him that the first time, and now, his words felt so soft, he worried that if he asked him not to call him that, he might injure the old man. He was…so kind, and gentle. Logan didn’t want to do anything to upset him, of course. He followed him into the steamy bathroom, a large tub about half full of water. “Alright, get in and let’s get you all cleaned up.”

The water was hot, and bubbly–obviously Edgar had put something in to make it froth this much, and the room smelled sweet–kind of like his pipe smoke, but more bubblegum. It didn’t seem very appealing, but once Logan had settled down in the water, he gave a little gurgle of pleasure, He hadn’t taken a bath in ages–in his mind, baths were for kids, or something you did at spas, or something. Of course, his bachelor pad only had a shower, so it wasn’t like he could take a bath even if he wanted one. Still, this was…nice. In the back of his mind, he felt like he was getting off track. What about Tyler? He still needed to call the police, and tell them what had happened, or call the gas station, and try and get in touch with Howard, Jeremy or Dave. But all he really wanted to do was sink under the water for a bit. After all, it was just a bath. He knew where Tyler was, and he probably wasn’t going anywhere soon.

Edgar got down on his knees next to the bath, and picked up a big sponge and dipped it in the foamy water, before pushing Logan forward and starting on his back. “There we go, let’s get my boy nice and clean.”

“You know, I’m perfectly capable of washing myself…you don’t have to…to help.”

“I know, you’re a big boy who thinks he can take care of himself,” Edgar said, but he didn’t stop, and Logan didn’t press the point, because…because he liked having the man touch him. That seemed…odd. Logan had never really liked being touched, but everytime his instincts told him to cringe, when the older man touched some other place, he instead felt…good. Soft, and good. “Alright, let’s shampoo that hair–close your eyes, you don’t want to get any in there.”

Logan obliged, squeezing his eyes shut tight while Logan massaged the soap into his scalp, telling him he was being such a good boy, and so patient, even thought Logan was squirming a bit, wanting to open his eyes, but he’d keep him shut, because…because he’d said so, because he didn’t want to disappoint him, right? Edgar took a small glass and used it to rinse the soap from Logan’s hair, and told him how good of a boy he was, keeping the soap out of his eyes, and…and Logan heard himself giggle.

He flung his hands over his mouth in embarrassment. What the hell was that? Edgar just laughed and rolled with it, soaping down his shoulders and front, running the sponge under the water over his belly and under his arms, which again, made Logan giggle. “That…that tickles!”

“Oh? Is someone a bit ticklish?” Edgar said, and pushed his hands into Logan’s armpits, wiggling his fingers, making the grown man lose himself in a spasm of giggles and sqirms, water splashing everywhere as they both laughed, the room full of smoke and steam, “No, Edgar! Stop!” he said.

“Call me grandpa, and I’ll stop!”

“No! That’s…that’s silly, you aren’t my…my grandpa!” Logan managed to stutter out in the midst of the man tickling him, but his chest and jaw hurt from laughing, “Alright! Alright, grandpa, stop! Grandpa!”

“Haha, that’s my good boy,” Edgar said, pulling his hands away, letting Logan catch his breath, still giggling a bit, smiling wide up at Edgar. “Alright, now get on your knees in there, let grandpa wash the rest of you up, boy.”

“Ok,” Logan said, and repositioned himself on his knees in the tub, and Edgar sponged him lower, around the outside of his thighs, his butt cheeks, and then the inside of his thighs, which made Logan shiver again.

“Ticklish?” Edgar asked., setting his pipe to the side with his free hand.

“N-No…no, just…funny, grandpa…”

“Funny good, or funny bad?”

“Funny…funny good.”

Yeah, that’s a good place, isn’t it? Your peepee?” Edgar asked, sponging Logan’s hard shaft under the water, then under to his balls, and between his thighs.

“Really good Grandpa, feels really…good…” Logan sighed, humping his cock into the sponge.

“Do you like how Grandpa makes you feel? How grandpa makes you feel good and soft and clean and happy?”

“Y-Yeah, grandpa, you make me feel really good, oh…oh grandpa…”

“That’s a good boy, my good, good boy,” Edgar said, letting the sponge float to the surface, wrapping one hand around Logan’s cock, stroking it slow, his other hand slipping under the water and around behind him, between his cheeks, lightly pressing against Logan’s ass, listening to his groan. “Do you want Grandpa to make you feel super extra good, boy?”

“Y-Yeah…” Logan moaned, a quiver of doubt in his voice, not quite sure what he was doing or why, but he didn’t want to stop. “Grandpa, why…I don’t…”

“Shush boy, everything’s fine, you’re happy and safe with Grandpa, I promise. Give Grandpa a kiss.”

“W-what?”

Give Grandpa a kiss.”

Edgar leaned over the tub, locking lips with his boy, and his doubts caved after a moment, Logan turning towards him as he humped into his grandpa’s hand, letting his grandpa shove his tongue deep in his mouth. It tasted of smoke, and was so soft, he didn’t notice that grandpa’s finger had slid into his ass until the pleasure surged through him like a bullet. “Oh…Oh Grandpa!” he cried into the older man’s mouth, but it was too late, he was shaking and cumming, spraying his cum into the bath water. They kept kissing a few minutes, until Logan had come down from his pleasure, Grandpa’s finger still probing his ass, and Edgar pulled his hands out, wiping them with a cloth, before picking his pipe up again. He took a deep inhale of smoke, and kissed him again, feeding him the smoke straight this time, and it was like Logan had never breathed fresh air before, the way he sucked it from his lungs. After a minute of sharing their air, they pulled away, both of them panting.

“I…love you, grandpa.”

“I love you too, boy…but we should get the rest of you cleaned up.”

“But….but I want…I want you to make me feel good again, like that.”

Edgar chuckled. “I’ll tell you what–let’s finish your bath, and then we can watch a movie that’ll make us both feel good.”

“Movies can make you feel good?”

“You’ll see. Now sit back down, and lift up a leg so I can wash it.”

The rest of the bath proceeded largely without incident, aside from another tickle attack on Logan’s feet, which again sent him into spasms of giggles and laughter, water flying everywhere as he kicked and splashed, but finally they finished, drained the bath, and Logan stood and climbed out, but froze when he saw his reflection.

“Grandpa? Why…I look…” he wasn’t quite sure what he wanted to say. What he saw was…how old he looked. With his grey hair, and wrinkled face. His sagging gut and tits covered with hair. His goatee and receding hairline. That…that was what he’d always seen in the mirror, sure, but…somehow, looking at himself, he saw just how many years he’d put on, without even noticing, and…and he hated it, but that wasn’t quite right. After all, he loved how grandpa looked, he looked…looking at him made Logan really happy, in that good way, in the way that made his peepee hard, but that wasn’t how he wanted to look! That…that wasn’t how grandpa wanted him to look either, he bet. “Why am I so ugly?”

“Oh, don’t worry about how you look right now, you’ve had a rough day–all you need is your beauty sleep,” Edgar said, as he started towelling Logan down from head to toe, paying special attention to his boy’s peepee, of course, his boy leaning against him, feeling how soft and comfortable his grandpa was, how much he loved being close to him, how much he loved touching, and being touched by him. “Now, we were going to watch a movie, right?”

“Yeah…but…”

“What?”

“There was…Wasn’t there something else I needed to do?”

“Like what?”

Logan searched his head, trying to remember, but couldn’t. “I don’t know.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it–just let grandpa take care of the hard stuff, alright?”

“Ok, sounds good, grandpa. But what movie are we watching?”

“Oh, it’s one of my favorites–I’ve watched it lots of times.”

“Really? What’s it about?” Logan asked, as they went back into the living room.

“It’s about a grandpa and a grandson who love each other very much, and who love making each other feel good and special.”

“Kind of like us!” Logan exclaimed, with a laugh.

“Exactly like us! That’s why I know you’re going to love it.”

Grandpa put the video in the player, and turned on the TV, then went over and sat in the armchair. “Now come on boy, come sit in grandpa’s lap, and let’s watch together.”

Logan sat down between his grandpa’s legs on the chair, and felt his grandpa’s peepee poking him in the butt, but he didn’t mind…thinking about his grandpa’s finger in his hole, and how good that had made him feel…maybe…maybe that’s what peepees were for…even? He felt like he should know that, and yet the idea felt so staggeringly revolutionary to him, that even if that wasn’t what peepees were for, he…he kind of wanted to try it anyway.

The Fetish Gun is Loose! (Part 7) [Interactive]

Sorry for the slight hiatus! Life is getting a bit hectic at the moment.

Now that Rick had a pair of boots, like he should–he could even feel the two of them gently massaging his feet, hungry for his sweat and stink–he turned his attention back to the gun, and noticed that one part seemed to be emitting some sparks. A bit concerned, he tapped the side, where a panel had popped off slightly, tried to push it back into place, but when he did, there was a sudden surge of electricity that slammed into him, and he stumbled backwards into a booth and slumped down, unconscious for the moment.

The gun hit the ground, and when it did, the sparks seemed to be getting worse, the gun shaking and spinning on the ground, arcs of yellow electricity leaping in every direction, building up into one large spray of light that shot out of the gun, slamming right into a young man on the dance floor, and sending him stumbling several feet away. He’d arrived to the bar dressed in jeans and a western shirt, and had been an early target of the gun’s creator, making him a bit more…country flavored, with a lip full of chaw, cowboy hat on his head and cowboy boots on his feet. Now, where he was sitting on the floor, feeling rather out of sorts, he looked…quite a bit older than he had before. His face was weathered from years spent outside on various ranches and farms on the rural side of the state, though he liked to come over to the city regularly to let loose at the bars.

A younger man walked over to help the old cowboy daddy up, but as soon as he touched him, there was a static shot that leapt off of the daddy and sunk into the young man, and he began to change as well, his skimpy club clothes becoming well worn jeans and a long sleeve shirt like the man on the ground. More changes followed, a full goatee around his still young face, one lip full of chaw just like the man he helped up–just like his daddy. They embraced, the son glad his dad was alright, and then looked over to where the gun was still spraying sparks and light–just in time to see another blast launch off in a different direction, where it hit a glass on the bar, and it refracted into a wide swath of light, catching two bartenders and the whole wall of liquor in its path.

No one noticed any changes right away, until an older fellow grabbed their affected drink from the bar and took a sip, not noticing as years began to melt away from his face, his body shrinking lightly and becoming more toned, his hips and booty catching the beat on the dance floor as his clothes shifted to something much more revealing. Soon enough, the new twink had finished his drink and joined the throng on the dance floor, though the gun wasn’t finished yet. There was one more blast of light, this one was a wide swath cutting low along the ground, catching several tables and chairs in its path, the furniture beginning to shake and rattle–along with the people sitting on them–and the wood and cloth they had been made off began to warp and discolor, until they were all made from leather and rubber stretched over metal frames.

Before anyone sitting in them, or near them, could do anything, the leather and rubber had come alive, and was wrapping itself around the men sitting on them, or dragging nearby men into a sitting position. They all struggled at first, but as the leather and rubber dissolved their clothes and replaced them, they all began to moan and grind into the strange furniture. Some of them were absorbed entirely, becoming human-esque chairs and tables held in bondage, quaking with desire. Others were simply covered by the substances, their minds warped with new, kinky desires. One in particular, Now a rubber covered gimp wearing a gasmask and covered with leather straps, eyed the gun they had noticed send off the light, and then the rest of the room.

On the floor, the gun had stopped sending off sparks, finally, and the small screen on the side was flashing–Critical Error!–Reboot and Repair. The gun shutdown, and glowed for a moment, as the nanites buried inside went to work, repairing the damage from the fight, and after a few moments, the gun was back to normal–and back online–ready to be used by whoever picked it up next.

Who gets a hold of it next?

Davie sees the commotion and reclaims the gun.
The new twink from the dance floor gets it–he’s looking for a daddy play with–and decides to use Rick, still passed out in the booth.
The rednecks get hold of it, and want a few more guys for their family.
The gimp gets it, and makes himself a rubber master, and decides to use Davie.

Here’s the twitter poll

Here’s the Patron only poll

Voting ends Thursday!

Curse of the Homophobe (Part 11)

As soon as Evan thought about giving into this persona, however, the spirit welled up inside him–warning him. Telling him that it would get its satisfaction one way or another, whether he helped it along or not–and so, it would be best for him if he simply cooperated. He looked over at Harry, who was now naked, and felt that familiar squeamishness rise up in his throat at the sight of him, like looking at naked men always seemed to do to him, like he was some fucking queer–and he hated it. He hated Harry, most of all, in that moment, and he thought of all the vile things he could do to him…but he held back and restrained himself. He couldn’t lose himself again, like before. Stay in control of himself, and maybe he could keep his wits about him.

“You know, I just don’t think you have what it takes, Harry,” he said, the power twining out and around him–but not changing him yet, just…sliding a little bit of doubt and confusion into his mind.

“What are you talking about, Evan?” Harry asked him.

“I mean, as far as recruits go–you’re a pretty sorry looking fucker, you know that? I mean, what are you, five foot five? 240 pounds? Decided to tuck into those doughnuts even before you got through the academy. Can’t fucking imagine how you managed to pass the physical tests with that sort of frame, but maybe the standards just aren’t quite what they used to be, back when I went through. They’ll let any short fat dumbfuck become a cop these days.”

Harry tried to rebut him, but the spirit was too quick, warping him as Evan spoke, until the lean, muscled, veteran of the force had almost entirely disappeared. In his place was a short, stocky young cadet, fresh out of the academy, who had been given to Evan to train. The words…stung, but while Harry knew he should try and defend himself, and his honor…he couldn’t seem to make his brain work fast enough to come up with a retort.

Evan just continued, feeling more confident, feeling his cock hardening in anticipation, “I did have a chat with Grant, though, about you. I always check in with him when I get a new cadet to train–and you know what he told me? Grant and I go way back you know–he paired me up with you for good reason, boy–he told me all about those special skills of yours you used to get through the academy. That sweet mouth and tight ass. See, we let the occasional faggot through, you know. Not many–they never make good cops, but they sure can make great bootlickers. You a good bootlicker, boy?”

Evan put his booted foot up on the bench, and watched Harry’s eye go right to it. He knew what was expected of him–and he walked over, got down on his knees, and started shining his superior officer’s boot with his tongue–first one, and then the other, paying special attention to the bottom of the soles (where Evan reminded him he’d walked through dog shit earlier that day) and then shoved the young cub up against the lockers and fucked his tight ass, showing the boy what he could expect his proper place to be in this precinct–though he knew what he was signing up for, didn’t he? He’s fantasized about being a cop’s sex slave for as long as he could remember, which is why he signed up for Grant’s special recruitment program, after all.

He came deep, pulled free, and made the cadet clean off his cock, before ordering him to get changed and out of his sight. Harry did as he was ordered, his own cock rock hard the entire time, and Evan knew he would be jacking off as soon as possible–these little faggot cadets were all the fucking same, after all. Evan went back to changing, and noticed that he had changed as well. No longer just a beat cop anymore–he was the captain in charge of this entire precinct–which is exactly why Grant had sent this pig here–he was just Evan’s type after all, and his last pig had finally broken down and quit a month ago. He wasn’t worried about they talking–they all wanted it, after all, even if the reality was always too much for them. Still, this one was…particularly eager–he might last longer than most, but Evan would grind him down eventually. That was his favorite part, after all.

He was dressed in his street clothes, admiring his broad shoulders, silver hair and mustache, thinking about how nice it would be to get home for dinner…but something was nagging him. This wasn’t quite right, after all. He knew he should be remembering something…but he was so tired, and maybe it was easier to just finally forget. (will check 60%: success! The story goes on!) He did remember though–how could he forget? This wasn’t real, but his task was, at least, finished…and maybe he’d be able to avoid the same fate as before now, if he was careful when he changed back. If he changed back, that is.

He…was important, now, after all. He had ambitions, and…needs. He could becomes someone even more important–he was attending a gala with the mayor and the commissioner in a few days, after all. But is that what he wanted? Thinking about Harry’s young hole…there were some young men in the neighborhood who could use his If he changed back now…what if he did end up back with Robbie, or maybe even something worse? But what did he want, really?

Alright, Evan can either change back into something else at this point, or he has a couple of options if you’d like to see him continue in his cop persona. If he changes back, there’s two different options below–each has two possible outcomes (two cleaner, two grungier, depending on your tastes).

Changes back into either a campus security guard (50%), or burly ex jock coach (50%).
Changes back, into a grungy, chain smoking redneck sheriff (50%), or Robbie’s fat, slobby mall cop boyfriend (50%).
Pursues his ambition, and corrupts the commissioner and mayor of the city. (80% end)
Pursues his needs, and corrupts some young Mormon missionaries in his neighborhood. (80% end)

Here is the twitter poll

Here is the patron only poll

Polls close on Saturday!

City of Bears: Lovers and Strangers (Part 8)

“Well I gotta say fucker, for a cub, you make one hot fuckin’ daddy, you know?”

“Well don’t get used to it–that’s not…something I usually do…” Carter said, still feeling mortified. This was so unusual for him,

daddying out for an evening and waking up with a cub in his arms? That wasn’t usually his style at all. He’d been in for quite a shock, when he’d untangled himself from the young muscle cub in his bed, gotten up and seen himself in the mirror. The changes from the night before had reverted quite a bit, but that didn’t make it any less jarring to look at himself, covered in hair still matted with the cub’s dried cum, beard down to his chest with several streaks of white. The muscle cub, a young man named Wyatt, had been surprised as well, that the sexy daddy who’d picked him up while he was out of it on a Hot Shot had ended up being a chubby little cub like this. His tongue was thick still, and his cock was a bit less red, and a bit less hard, but he could go another round–not that the cub was likely up for it.

“Got any coffee? My head is pounding.”

I can make you some. Those Hot Shots at Cubster’s can be a doozy.”

“Fuck, I should know better. Those things always fuck me up,” he said, “Still, it’s worth it–how about that fuckin’ load, man? Ever seen one that big?”

Carter had seen a few larger, but not many. Mostly he was trying to connect the dots of the night, and the day, before, but nothing seemed to line up very well. Still, it had been a wild night–and now it was a new day. You just had to roll with it sometimes, and sort it out as you go.

“You, uh, wanna take a shower, while I brew a cup for you?” Carter offered.

Wyatt shook his head, raised one arm over his head and took a sniff, “Nah–Daddy loves when I come home smelling like fucking–drives him nuts! If I hurry, I can catch him before he heads off to work, and he’ll probably add his load to yours, if I can keep it in there–damn, you really stretched me out!”

Carter smiled, “I feel like I should at least get you breakfast or something.”

Wyatt just shook his head, and hauled on his rubber shirt. “Thanks man, just the coffee, and then I should get going.”

There was something welling up in Carter’s chest, some…longing he didn’t quite know how to explain, or put into words, but he swallowed it back down while he made a pot of coffee for them both. The cub took a mug and nearly chugged it, and then put on his sneakers and then bounded back up, a big grin plastered across his face, a grin that seemed…son familiar to him. Had Carter seen him before? Known him from somewhere? He didn’t really want him to leave, and yet he had no real reason for feeling that way, as far as he could know. Perhaps in another life, they’d known each other. The city felt like a parade of ghosts to him, at times. All of your lovers were just strangers in waiting; every stranger was a lover to be made. It could feel so lonely one moment, and then like the coziest family the next.

He walked Wyatt to the door, and gave him a hug and a kiss, smelling the cum on him, feeling a desire for another round rising in him, and in his crotch. He wasn’t really one for cubs, ever, but something about this one just made him…hungry.

“You know, I’m pretty much always free on Thursday nights–you wanna meet up again next week? I’d love to see you in some rubber, if you have any, maybe spend the night at Slick’s, see if we can’t bring that dirty daddy out again to play some more,” Wyatt said with a grin, “He was a lot of fun–not that you wouldn’t be too, of course.”

Carter said that he would like that, and they traded phone numbers to keep in touch, before Wyatt slipped out of the apartment and down to the street, joining the other throngs of men parading home after another night out in the city. The loss was there, but it was easing somewhat, and Carter made himself a nice breakfast to go with his coffee, since food usually made him feel much better, and by noon, he was feeling more like himself–and looking more like himself too, except for a few smile lines in his brow, and a couple flecks of grey in his goatee. Still, he had to admit that they looked good on him, in a way. He laughed at himself, imagining him changing into a bear. It was hard to imagine after being a cub for so long, but it wasn’t exactly out of the question, now was it? Hell, if Wyatt had his way, he’d probably be a full fledged daddy for real by this time next week. There was a buzz from his phone, and it was from Wyatt–a picture of his pert ass, cum dribbling down the inside of his thigh.

“Just like I thought–the smell of you on me got Daddy all excited. Thanks again, see you next week hot stuff.”

Carter grinned, feeling his cock throb, and jacked off to the picture, before sending Wyatt a pic of his load. Every stranger was a lover to be made–never had that felt more true to him in his lives.

-END-

City of Bears: Lovers and Strangers (Part 7)

“I’m not going to fuck you, Wyatt, not like this.”

“You want to fuck me though. You want that daddy dick in this cubhole so fucking bad, I can fucking tell,” Wyatt said, and he crawled over, rubbing his red goatee against Carter’s shorts, “You wanted me in the club–I saw you staring at me the whole time, and fuck, it was so fucking sexy. They told me if I drank it, I’d, fuck, I don’t even know anymore, it’s too fucking hot in here.” He hauled off the rubber shirt and chucked it on the floor, “I want you Carter–I want you to know that I still want you, and I…I know you want me, and I can’t leave without this, and you want it too, I can fucking tell. So fucking come on daddy, give me that fucking cock.”

Carter tried one more time to convince Wyatt that this was a bad idea, that in his state, he wasn’t really sure what he wanted, but Wyatt got up, pushed Carter against the wall and kissed him, and the musk rolling off him, the way his saliva stung his lips and numbed them slightly, the heat of his muscles pressed against his soft chub–Carter stopped fighting, at some point, and leaned into it. “Yeah, fuck, when I was watching you cub out on that dance floor–you’re right, I wanted you fuckin’ bad.”

“I know daddy, I know. I wanted you to.”

“You say that to every daddy, I bet.”

“So what if I do? That doesn’t make it less true every time, does it?”

Carter spun them around and shoved Wyatt to the wall now, dove in, licking him from his pecs, up his neck, to the side of his face. His sweat was as spicy as his spit, numbing his face, numbing his feelings, everything other than his raging daddy dick. He dropped his shorts, and it jutted out, surrounded by a thicket of grey hair, a hefty foreskin hanging off the head. It wasn’t his cock–not the one Carter was used to seeing, but fuck it felt good and right, rubbing it against Wyatt’s ridged torso, listening to the cub groan in excitement. Yeah–he was a fucking hot shot alright, and Carter was more than happy to help him out. He reached down, and gently brushed his fingers across Wyatt’s cock, watching him shudder and nearly collapse in an indescribable mush of pleasure and intense feeling. “What’s wrong cub? You don’t like daddy’s hand on your hot cock?”

“Fuck, it hurts!”

Carter gripped it a bit harder now, giving it one slow stroke and then another, wrapping a hand around the small of Wyatt’s back as the cub arched into him, pulling them together, the heat of him infectious, Carter finding a delight in this sexy cub being entirely at the mercy of his hand, shuddering and gasping, begging him to stop, but craving it all the same, his mind lost in the heat of sensation until he was just drooling and moaning–right where Carter wanted him. He grabbed Wyatt by the hand and pulled him over to the bed, pushed him onto it onto his back, hauled up his legs, and then got down and started eating out his cubhole, Wyatt’s bright red cock jutting straight up from his crotch. “Oh god daddy, please! Please just fuck me already, I can’t take it anymore.”

Carter took his time–after all, a daddy needed to treat his cubs right, and make sure they were nice and open, especially with a cock of his size. He had big hands now, and even then he couldn’t quite touch finger and thumb around the girth of his much larger cock. Besides, he kind of liked feeling him squirm, wanted to make sure that even if Wyatt forgot everything else about their time together, he’d at the very least remember this night, and this fuck. Yeah–Carter was going to make sure this cub wouldn’t forget a moment. His tongue slipped into his hole, tasting him, precum drooling from his foreskin as he drove in deeper, and after a few minutes, slipped a spit wet finger into Wyatt’s hole–and then another. The cub was pleading at this point, hands inches from his cock, unable to even try and touch it. It was a deeper red now, his balls throbbing and swelling, signalling the cub was close.

“Tell me boy, you know why they call it a hot shot?” Carter said, as he ran the head of his cock up and down Wyatt’s crack. The cub didn’t reply–he might not even be listening, “Well, if you don’t, I have a feeling you’re about to find out.” He pushed the thick head into Wyatt’s hole, the cub groaning in fevered excitement, cock throbbing a bit faster, and when Carter drove all the way in, it was more than Wyatt could take. His cock erupted in a massive fountain of cum, shooting a couple of feet into the air before splattering back down all over his body and the bed sheets around him, the cum so hot it was steaming. “Yeah–that. That’s why they call it a hot shot. Feel good?”

Carter took the moans and groans for yes, since Wyatt could barely put a word together in his mouth–he just rode the aftershocks of the massive orgasm as Carter fucked him, his ass loose and eager. He ran his hands all over Wyatt’s body, smearing around the cub’s cum as it cooled and turned tacky on his skin, and he realized how close he was as well. He picked up the pace a bit, and with a few more deep drives of his cock he exploded inside Wyatt’s guts, and then collapsed on top of him, Wyatt wrapping his arms and legs around Carter’s massive frame, feeling the thick grey hair covering his back now as well, and kissed him for as long as Carter’s cock remained inside of him, which turned out to be quite a while, before it finally softened and slipped out, a small stream of cum following it.

By now, Wyatt was coming down off his drink, shaking and a bit confused, and so Carter crawled into bed with him and just held the cub for a while, keeping him close, soothing him and telling him that everything was going to be alright. At some point, the cub drifted off to sleep, snoring gently in his arms, and Carter could barely believe that just a week ago, he’d been…well, who he’d been before wasn’t really that important, he supposed. He was going to have a great time, being a cub for a while, and in the future? Who knew what was in store for either of them? The change you curse is the opportunity you need, as they say, and not too long after that, Carter had slipped off too, snoring a bit deeper than the cub, and they stayed that way until the morning.

City of Bears: Lovers and Strangers (Part 6)

“Wyatt, we can’t do this,” Carter said, pushing him back. “You have a daddy already, this is just supposed to be a fun night. I don’t want it to get complicated–any more complicated than it already is going to be.”

“Yeah, but you’re fuckin’ hot though,” Wyatt said, cub soda sparkling in his eyes–along with something else, a certain fire. “Or fuck, you could be, damn. I feel fucked up.”

“You kind of are fucked up–did one of those guys give you another drink?”

Wyatt nooded, smirked, and went in for another kiss, grinding up against Carter’s leg. “Think he called it a hot shot or something, tasted like sucking on a dick sized pepper.”

“Fuck, we gotta get you home.”

“Why, so you can fuckin’ ravage my cub hole daddy?” Wyatt groaned in his ear.

“No, so we can put you to fuckin’ bed boy,” Carter growled back at him, not noticing his voice slipping a bit lower than usual. “Because when you come down off one of those, you’re going to feel like your head is in a vice, and right now you’re too stupid and cocky to not do something you’ll regret.”

“Yeah? Got any ideas, daddy? I’m happy to hear them.”

“Come on, let’s go,” Carter said, frustrated that his night treating his changing daddy to his first night as a proper cub was quickly turning into a night he’d spent plenty of times with other cub friends of him, dragging them home after getting a little too wasted, and a little too beyond themselves, depositing them on their couch to sleep it off before heading back out to get back to the night’s fun. Wyatt was more than happy to hang off his arm, and it was clear the hot shot was shooting through his system, his muscles throbbing a bit larger, growing slightly taller, his goatee thickening slightly as his hair shrank down into a buzzcut, his auburn hair brightening to a strawberry blonde. His cock and balls were larger and throbbing red, looking like the pepper Wyatt had mentioned before. He wouldn’t go soft for a few hours at least, and trying to jack off while on a hot shot could be excruciating, but if you didn’t cum, well, that was excruciating all on its own. That was part of the fun, really–an ever escalating spiral of horniness, losing yourself to this red veil of lust for the evening, inhibitions dropping to nothing, used by anyone around you until you finally explode–Carter knew from personal experience, but it wasn’t a drink for a newbie by any means.

Wyatt grew more and more restless as they got closer to Carter’s place, lunging for another kiss, whispering horrifically naughty shit in Carter’s ear, groping his cock and sliding his hand down the front of his denim shorts. Carter resisted it all, and Wyatt was getting more and more frustrated, until he shoved Carter up against a business shuttered for the night, and in the doorway ground his rock hard cock against him, begging Carter, begging daddy, for a little taste, a little pleasure, he was just so hot! He was hot to the touch, sweat pouring off him in buckets, and he reeked of musk–the scent was intoxicating all on its own, and Carter found himself…wondering what it might be like to just shove him down and make the cub suck his daddy cock for a bit–

He got hold of himself again, slipped out of the doorway where Wyatt had pinned him down, grabbed him by the hand and dragged him off. The apartment was just another block, and he managed to get them both there without any further incident. Inside, Wyatt immediately tried to tear Carter’s clothes off of him, begging for his cock, begging to get fucked, but Carter just shoved him into the bedroom, told him to hang tight for just a second while he mixed him something to help him come down a bit, and he could sleep it off, shut the bedroom door between them, and heaved a sigh, proud of himself for holding it together as well as he did with that cub pawing all over him, even if it had made him feel pretty good to be the focus of the hot fucker’s attentions.

Carter went to the kitchen to fix a hangover fix he’d perfected for himself, and passed a mirror on the way there, pausing to take in the shift he’d suffered. He looked to be in his forties at this point, and while not quite a daddy, he was certainly no longer a cub by any stretch of the imagination. He heaved a sigh, thinking that if he was himself, he’d probably find this body hot as hell, but all he could think about right now was how Wyatt had looked on that dance floor, sweat dripping off him, running down his body, the way he’d looked over at him, the way he’d looked at him on that sidewalk, the way his breath had smelled, the way his pits had smelled, how hard that cock had felt against his gut. He was groping his own cock thoughtlessly, his other hand tweaking a nipple, hair turning a bit greyer as he stood there, remembering it–wanting it…but he stopped, and cursed the whole shitty situation. He…did want to fuck him, but on their own terms, not like this. Not with Wyatt strung out on a hot shot.

He mixed the drink he used to come down after a wild night, trying to keep his mind off of Wyatt as best he could, and went back to the bedroom, but when he got to the door–he swore he heard someone crying. He opened the door, and sure enough, there Wyatt was, sitting on the ground with his back against the bed, red hot cock jutting up from his lap, tears streaming down his face. He looked over at Carter, thought about hiding them, but how could he? Everything felt so close to the surface. “I’m such an idiot, fuck,” he muttered, “I should have known.”

Don’t beat yourself up over it,” Carter said, setting the drink on the dresser, “You should have seen me when I shot two of those one night, fuck. It was a…great night, but it took me days to feel like myself again.”

Do…I not remember that because I forgot?”

No, that was before we were together, and I never told you about it, I don’t think. If you thought I was wild when we were together, you should have seen me before. I was a hot mess–literally at times.”

Wyatt shuddered, went to touch his cock, and cringed, “Fuck, it feels like its on fuckin’ fire, but it feels so fuckin’ good!”

Carter got the drink from the dresser and handed it to him. “Here, drink this. You’ll feel better in a bit.”

Wyatt took the glass and looked at it, and then up at Carter–and before Carter could stop him, he dumped it on the floor next to him.

“What the fuck? Why the fuck did you do that?”

“Because I don’t want to drink it–I just want you to fuck me already, daddy.”

City of Bears: Lovers and Strangers (Part 5)

The conversation turned to lighter topics than fading love, and when they finished the meal, they left, and walked the few blocks to Cubster’s Dance Hall. It was one of the few places in the city where a cub could go to just, well, be a cub–or where anyone could go to be a cub, really, even for just a night. It had a very strict “no daddies allowed” policy–it was strictly for cub-on-cub fun, though daddies could always get a piece of uninhibited cubdom, so long as they imbibed a few of the club’s special drinks first in an antebar. The missing daddies made it a special oasis–after all, a cub around any daddy could find it…difficult to resist, not that they usually objected. It was a constant worry though, in some ways, and having a place to go where you felt a little less of that pressure could be nice for an evening. Wyatt had never been there himself–he’d never really wanted to be a cub for a night, he’d been very happy as a daddy. But now, he was actually rather intrigued, and kind of excited to be going to somewhere rather exclusive–although it wasn’t like Wyatt hadn’t been a feature at several daddy exclusive pipe bars around the city.

The bouncer checked them at the door–and seemed particularly happy about Wyatt joining the party. Inside, the hall inside was all shimmering lights and throbbing music, the scent of musk and sugar on the air. Wyatt would have found it overstimulating before, but now it just felt like pure excitement. Carter got them a couple of cub sodas, and by the time he got back, Wyatt was already out on the dance floor, swaying and gyrating. As his daddy, Wyatt hadn’t had a rhythmic bone in his body–but apparently this new cub was going to be quite the dancer. Carter joined him, after a few sips of the soda–the house drinks always helped him feel like he fit in a bit better, slimming him down slightly, the energy in the room infecting him just a little more. Before too long, he and Wyatt had lost track of time, and of themselves, dancing to song after song, grinding together, enjoying each other, and the longer he was with him there on the floor, the more Carter found himself looking at Wyatt–at his ridged, furry abs and thick chest, strong shoulders and perfect ass. Was it jealousy, or something more? Everything felt a bit slippery, when you were around someone changing. More than a few cubs were eyeing him as well–particularly the sort of cubs who tended to shun daddies entirely, and prefer the company of their own. When they finally exhausted themselves and returned to their sodas, several made passes at him, suggesting they slip away to the back rooms, offering him drinks, but Wyatt politely refused. Still, it was obvious he was enjoying himself, but Carter wanted a break–he suggested he at least take up someone on the offer to dance, and so Wyatt stepped back out onto the floor with a bevy of other men, while Carter sat back, relaxed, and watched the fledgling cub enjoy himself.

Watching with amusement became a certain rapt fascination, and that fascination slowly twisted into something Carter wasn’t particularly familiar with, which was a pounding desire for his friend. Realizing what he was feeling, he nervously took another sip from his soda, but the rush of sugar just tasted cloying and bitter–he gagged on it and spit it back in the glass, confused, until a couple moments later, when a bouncer walked up to him. “Hey, what’s the deal? You know the rules–you’re not usually one to slip away on us, Carter.”

Carter was confused, but the bartender directed him to the mirror behind the bar, and Carter blushed horribly, realizing what had happened. His early twenty-something face had grown a bit craggy–he was, arguably, still a cub, though one who had seen, perhaps, a few too many years to be convincing. “Sorry man, I don’t know what came over me.”

“Well tone it back down, or I’ll have to boot you for the evening. Need another drink?”

Carter shook his head, and took another drink of the one he had, but it tasted even more vile than it had before, and he couldn’t help but spit it out. “Sorry, I’m sorry.”

The bouncer had seen it plenty of times before, and he hauled Carter up from the table and dragged him to the door. It happened to everyone, sometimes, he told Carter a bit apologetically. “Why not try Dickhole for a bit? Plenty of cubs looking for that down there,” he said, and pushed him out onto the sidewalk, “But don’t pull this shit again, got it? I thought you were better than that.”

The bouncer went back inside, and Carter was left standing there on the sidewalk, feeling rather humiliated and horrified–and a bit worried too. Wyatt was still in there, and he might think he’d abandoned him without even saying goodbye. But a moment later, Wyatt, dripping with sweat, exited the building and bounded down the steps to where Carter was standing. “What happened? I saw that guy drag you out, are you–oh…” Wyatt paused. It was getting dark, but he could see the slight shift in Carter’s face, the tinge of silver in his goatee. “Are you…daddying out, man?”

Carter blushed, “Y-Yeah, I guess I did a bit.”

“I’ve never seen you do that before.”

“It doesn’t happen very often, trust me.”

“Was…was it me?”

Carter couldn’t bring himself to say it. It felt so awful, as things had been turning towards friendship, for this to suddenly erupt from him, unasked for. “Look, lets go to Dickhole, alright? I know a few regular daddies who will set me–well, set us–straight right away.”

“You didn’t answer my question Carter, was it me?”

He sighed, “Yeah. Yeah, it was you. You aren’t even my type, and I don’t know why–”

He was interrupted by Wyatt lunging into him, pressing his lips to Carter’s mouth, and the smell of him, sweaty from dancing, the tinge of rubber, Carter couldn’t help but moan into him. “It had better have been me–I was dancing for you, after all.”

City of Bears: Lovers and Strangers (Part 4)

Carter woke up to empty arms, and had a slight panic, worried that Wyatt had slipped away while he was asleep, and made good on his threat to leave without spending their final night together. In all honesty, he wouldn’t have blamed him–changing was always hard, and it can be tempting to just throw yourself into the new as quickly as you can, in order to avoid the heartbreak of leaving behind whatever it was you were leaving. Still, Wyatt wasn’t like that–or rather, the old Wyatt wasn’t like that, and Carter hoped that there was still enough of that Wyatt around for them to have one last hurrah. He sat up and looked around at the room–at his room. The touches of Wyatt’s had begun to disappear–small things, like the pictures on the dresser, and the chair he liked to sit in while he put on his boots.

Then he heard the toilet flush, and a couple moments later a stranger pushed open the bedroom door, looking a bit sheepish and embarrassed. Wyatt was easily in his thirties at this point, and the grey in his hair was reduced to just a few flecks around his beard–now trimmed down to a goatee–and a light dusting in his chest hair, which was a bit thinner than Carter remembered it being. He had lost quite a bit more weight as well, and was probably a hundred pounds lighter than he had been. At the same time, he filled out in muscle, especially across his chest and shoulders. He wasn’t quite Carter’s type, but he couldn’t deny that he was becoming quite a hot cub. He checked the clock, and saw that they’d slept for quite a while–it was almost five. Time for a light meal, and then time to hit the town.

“So, I was thinking Cubsters,” Carter said, “I doubt you’ve even been there.”

Wyatt furrowed his brow. “Doesn’t that club have a no daddies policy? I…well, I woke up pretty horny, honestly. Hornier than I’ve been in a while,” Wyatt gave his semihard cock a few strokes–it was average, maybe a bit smaller than it had been. “Could really use a big daddy plowing my ass, you know?” he said, and flashed a very uncharacteristically cocky grin, caught himself, and nearly blushed to death. “Oh god, did I just say that?”

Carter just laughed. “Look, let’s start at Cubsters, dance a bit, have some drinks, and then lets go to Dickhole, and we can get you fixed up–get us both fixed up. You know I can always use some good daddy dick too.”

Wyatt liked that notion, and so the two of them negotiated on what to wear. Since Wyatt’s clothes had largely disappeared at this point–and what few things remained wouldn’t fit his new frame anyway–Carter helped him pick out an outfit he liked from his own clothes. They weren’t quite the same size, by any stretch, Carter had about seventy-five pounds on him, mostly chub, and a couple inches in height, but things worked out alright. In particular, some of Carter’s older rubber gear, from when he was a bit smaller, fit Wyatt like a glove. He looked at himself in the mirror, in the dark green tank and rubber shorts, with the crotch and ass missing, his cock erect and leaking already…and he was surprised by how excited he was. His old self would have never been caught dead in something like this, but the thought of everyone staring at him as he walked down the street, as he danced in the club with his friend–fuck, he wanted everyone to be looking at him. Shoes were easier–their size was almost the same, and he slipped into some green sneakers to match the outfit, and then Wyatt got dressed too, though he skipped the rubber, and went with a pair of denim booty shorts and a leather vest–a bit trashy, sure, but why steal Wyatt’s thunder? He looked fucking great in that gear, after all, and this was celebrating him, and his change.

They grabbed some food on the way, chatting a bit, losing some of the intimacy of before, and yet a closeness lingered which they both appreciated. The love was cooling, but both of them could feel something else filling out the space between them–something like friendship, but still a bit too muddled to really be seen clearly for anything at all. Wyatt, in particular, had relaxed after their emotional morning. He didn’t seem as concerned that he’d lose Carter entirely anymore, and he also was really enjoying himself. He felt so free like this, sitting there, ass and cock hanging out, all the other bears passing by sneaking glances at him–or just openly staring and groping themselves, hoping for a quick fuck or blowjob on the sidewalk. He would have taken a few of the older bears up on the offer, but resisted the urge–he wanted to spend time with Carter, before everything drifted away again. He wanted to hold onto this as long as he could–but he could already tell that when the time came, he’d be ready to let it go, and Carter would be ready too.

“So…now that you’re unattached, anyone you’re thinking about hitting up?” Wyatt asked, “I know you have plenty of fuckbuddies to choose from.”

Carter shrugged, “Nah, no one really. I…I always liked coming home to you. Did it bother you that I slept around so much?”

Wyatt shook his head, “Nah–I was a boring old fucker, and you were just having fun.”

“I think I’ll try the single thing for a bit. It never lasts of course–I know a few guys who would take me in tomorrow, if they found out about you changing. Hell, a few guys who would probably lock me up in a dungeon to keep me from going anywhere, and I wouldn’t mind a few of them doing it either.”

Wyatt just laughed, “I’m sure you’ll be happy.”

Carter nodded. “Don’t forget I was always happy with you though.”

City of Bears: Lovers and Strangers (Part 3)

It bothered Wyatt that Carter obviously had a longer memory of their relationship, before and during, than he did. To him, there had just always been Carter–his cub. Beyond that was just fuzz–it didn’t exist, not in the same way this did. It wasn’t true anymore, and so it wasn’t worth bothering to even remember. But now, their truth was fading already, and after feeling so solid, that fleeting realization was, if Wyatt was honest with himself, terrifying. It was always terrifying. He hated changing, he always had. That was why he threw himself into every new life as hard as he could, and tried his best to forget everything before. It was…easier, than trying to grapple with your own transitory nature–that your body would go on, but it would look entirely different, and everything else would simply evaporate into the void. Some bears, he knew, suffered from such anxiety that they almost never left their private spaces. Some couples, so deeply in love, they were walled in with each other, terrified to leave lest one of them disappear forever. But what kind of life was that? As unsettling as this was, it was still better to live–and you could live so much! Losing yourself was daunting, but then he thought of Levi, and his heart swelled again. There would always be love, at least, even if he was a stranger to him now.

“Let’s go out tonight,” Carter said into the silence, and Wyatt jerked from his thoughts.

“What?” Wyatt said, “Really? I don’t…know.”

“Come on, it’ll be fun! You and your daddy dive bars, let’s go somewhere fun! You never wanted to go to a club with me, but you won’t be able to help yourself.”

It did sound fun, actually, and he smiled.

“See? You’re thinking about it. No, ‘I’ll just stay home with a book and smoke my pipe,’ for you anymore. ” Carter said, mocking his daddy’s low baritone, “You’re a new man!”

Wyatt looked shocked at Carter’s words, which confused the cub, and Wyatt hauled himself up from the table and went to his study, threw open the door, but the wall where his pipe rack had been–it was gone. All of them, gone, overnight. He’d had fifty pipes in that collection, meticulously cared for, all of them with a history, all of them with a story, all of them important, and just like that–gone. “My…my pipes. I lost my pipes…”

A smoke in the morning after breakfast, a smoke in the afternoon, and a smoke (or sometimes two, or three) in the evening. That was his routine, he had done it for years–he’d felt like he’d done it for years. It had been such a comfort, and he hadn’t even noticed it waning away. He hadn’t had a chance to even say goodbye to them all. The worst part was that he didn’t even really miss them–he wasn’t craving a smoke, but a hole had opened up, and looking around him, how many other things would fall into it? He turned and he gripped Carter tight, sobbing, “I don’t want to lose you, Carter, I don’t want to lose all of this! I…I know I have to go, but I…I can’t stand the thought of not missing you.”

Carter stood there, holding Wyatt, awkward and uncertain. He was usually the one crumbling emotionally, stressing about a bear who turned him down, horrified by some strange kink he’d done, nervous about himself and who he was–he turned to Wyatt for everything. Holding him now, a smaller him, a younger him–it wasn’t how it was supposed to work, but who else did he have, at the moment? Who else could understand it? He let him cry, trying to find words that might fix it, but there was nothing to say. Eventually, Wyatt either exhausted himself, or managed to bottle most of it back up, and he pulled away from Carter and wiped his eyes. “I’m sorry. I…it just caught me off guard is all.”

Carter nodded.

“And I’m sorry about what I said, I don’t want this to be hard. I don’t…you don’t owe me anything, you know that, but I want you to know, while I’m still here, how much you meant to me, how happy you made me, even if I didn’t know how to say it sometimes. Just having you here made me feel so alive! And Levi, I…I barely know him, and it’s so terrifying. I want to be with him so badly, but I’m so scared of who I might become. I can’t…control myself around him, I can’t stop him. I don’t want to stop him.”

“You…don’t have to forget me, you know.”

Wyatt leaned into Carter’s chest. “No–that’s how it always is for me, I throw myself into it. I never look back. Hell, you remember who I was better than I do! This time next week…I might not even recognize you if we passed by on the street. Everything feels so real, and then it doesn’t. I hate this, I should just leave, I can’t do this to you, this is cruel.”

He tried to pull away, but Carter tugged him back in. “This isn’t cruel. I want you for one night. One night, and you can go tomorrow. But we’re going out tonight, and we’re going to have some fun, alright? I want to see what you’re like, as a cub. I have to admit I’m curious–that’s a side of you I honestly didn’t expect.”

“What if you don’t like me? What if I don’t like me?”

Carter laughed. “Let’s not worry too much about that, alright? Now come on–I can tell neither of us slept well last night. Now come on, let’s take a disco nap, get ready, and go out.”

He could tell Wyatt was still hesitant, but when he tugged on his hand, he followed him towards the bedroom–which thankfully still held their king sized mattress. Wyatt climbed in, but it didn’t…feel right, somehow. Like he was sleeping in a stranger’s bed, and he realized it was because the indent he’d worn in over the years was gone–there was just one divot in the center. Before he could feel terrible about it, Carter pulled him close to spoon, but found himself in the position of little spoon for the first time he could recall–still, there was a comfort in it, and Wyatt drifted off almost immediately, with Carter following soon after.

City of Bears: Lovers and Strangers (Part 2)

Carter took the whole thing gracefully. In fact, Wyatt could sense that in some ways he was relieved, though he doubted his cub would be able to simply come out and say that. It didn’t really help him feel much better, that Carter was taking it so well, and Wyatt found himself second guessing their entire relationship that night, sleeping on the couch while Carter slept in the bed. Maybe things had felt good because they were supposed to feel good, but not because they actually were good. Maybe he’d been too stodgy and controlling. Maybe Carter’s fickle nature–and tendency to run around town fucking around with any man he took a liking to–was a way to try and push back against his daddy’s stasis. Maybe he’d gotten too comfortable. He’d been able to lie to himself, and tell himself he’d been happy–but had he been? Could he even know now, with changes afoot?

It took him hours to fall asleep, and he woke up late, feeling better–feeling lighter. Literally lighter, in fact, because he’d shed close to fifty pounds in the course of the night. Even more white had disappeared from his hair, replaced by a deep auburn. Carter said he liked it–and he sounded sincere. It made Wyatt feel a bit better about the whole thing, though the self-consciousness was new. Before, he’d never cared much what anyone thought of him, but now, he just felt so…nervous. Carter made them breakfast, while they discussed what would need to happen. It was less a matter of dividing their material things and figuring how to move Wyatt’s stuff across town–no, things came and went, as one needed them. Wyatt was certain that when he arrived at Levi’s apartment again, he’d feel right at home–it would feel like home because his things would already be there–his new things. New clothes, new toys, new everything, or old, depending on their condition, but new to him, at least. No–this was about goodbyes, the last moments he could spend with an old self, and with a young man he found himself recognizing less and less, in the morning sunlight.

“So…what’s he like?” Carter asked, “Silver daddy? Gruff? Leather bear?”

Wyatt blushed, “He’s, well, he’s definitely a daddy.”

“Well no shit–I could tell that much just looking at you. I haven’t seen someone change cub that fast since an old fuck buddy told me about a switch daddy he saw in a club once, go from 60 to 20 in thirty seconds flat.”

“That…I don’t think that’s possible.”

Carter shrugged, “Who knows? I never saw it myself, but I’ve seen stranger stuff, as have you, I’m sure.”

Wyatt tried to imagine what that would feel like–going through what was happening to him in less than a minute, how that would make his stomach churn. Then again, in the bar that night–how long had it taken him? Wyatt hadn’t even known what to make of Levi, how to understand his attraction to him. Before he’d even realized it, he’d been on his knees, sucking in his musky cock, his gut gone, feeling abs for the first time he could even fucking remember in his life. It hadn’t been a minute, but hell, it had been quick. He realized, then, just how static he’d been, for so long. Carter was the one always shifting, while Wyatt was almost always the same. Sure, he enjoyed a wild night or two at the leather bar on occasion, with or without the cub, and when he was there he could get pretty…fierce, but nothing like this. Nothing like he’d been with Levi.

“What’s up? You got really quiet. If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s ok. It’s…personal.”

“No, I don’t mind talking about it, I just, it feels like forever since I went through this. I just thought…I thought I could be your daddy forever. I wanted to be your daddy forever.”

Carter looked like he wanted to laugh.

“What is it? Spit it out.”

“You don’t remember, do you? Who you were before us?” Carter asked, “I know everyone is different, and it’s always a bit strange to try and bring up. But I can remember you a bit from before–a bit better than I remember myself before you, actually, but I think…I think I changed less than you did. You were…” the pause grew longer, and Wyatt wasn’t sure if he was searching for words, or wondering if the words should be said at all. “Look, I’m actually really happy for you. You look good. You look happy, even though you are trying very hard to be serious right now.”

“But what are you going to do? I mean, I feel like I’m abandoning you. What about all of this?”

Carter did feel sad, but did his best to keep it away from his face. It wasn’t worth it, really, to be sad, or angry, or regretful. He did his best to live beyond that, because life in the city wasn’t kind to people who tended to get attached to anything–to people, to places. It was better to be fickle–but no one could deny having favorites…and Wyatt had been a favorite. Seeing him hurl himself into his life as a daddy with such force and confidence–it had terrified Carter, somewhat, the thought of being with someone so committed, but to his surprise, knowing he could come how to Wyatt, to a daddy who he knew would always be the same, it had given him more freedom, in some way. He could go out, be whatever he wanted, lose himself in the night, and by the time he got home, he’d be…safe. He would miss that. “Don’t worry about me. I was alright before you, and I’ll be alright after you.”