Spook Mart (Part 10)

When Ferris woke, he was in a cage. He was not the only thing in a cage near him–rather, he seemed to be in some massive room, filled with cages, and the cages, in turn, were all filled with a countless number of beasts. He couldn’t recognize any of them, they weren’t anything like what he had seen in his entire life, they all seemed massive, and hairy, full of teeth, glaring eyes, and sharp claws, and he couldn’t stop himself from shaking in terror.

He…could remember now, something he’d long forgotten from his youth, a dream he’d had as a child, a dream he had had over and over again. He’d be walking down a street–an alley really–lost and separated from his parents, calling out to them, and then it would sound behind him. A deep growl, so low it was more felt than heard, and when he turned around, it was there, the beast. A dog perhaps, but he had never seen it as a dog–dogs were friendly. No, this was something else, something feral and vicious, something that had sensed him cut off from the people who could protect him, something that wanted only to devour him, and nothing more.

He would wake, screaming, and his parents would console him, but the beast would always return the next night. Eventually, it faded, as these dreams do, he supposed, but it hadn’t faded from everywhere. In every cage, he could recognize them now, every beast from those dreams, caged up in his own mind, or caged up in the dream world, kept for him, for some terrible reason.

The nightmare in the cage next to his lunged at the steel bars, making it rattle, and he screamed, the beasts around him howling and snarling louder, drowning out his own voice, making it impossible to hear himself at all–and the fear, he had never felt fear like this. It was mindless. There was no controlling it, no tempering it or taming it, no rationalizing with it. He found himself reduced to an animal himself, shaking his own cage, but there was no door, and it seemed to be getting smaller, or tighter. He kept screaming, but all he could hear were the howls of the beasts, almost like they were all pouring from his own mouth, and then wall of the cage broke apart and he tumbled out of it and onto the floor outside, the cages surrounding him on all sides, but the fear was there, the fear would never leave him again, and he could…he could feel it changing him, warping him, somehow. He wasn’t right, he couldn’t stand up, he couldn’t speak, or scream or anything.

He could see it now, the nightmare. It had been feeding off him, draining his sanity and his soul, sucking away his rationality and his humanity, and when Ferris looked down at himself, in the midst of the cages, but he was no longer human–but he also was not a beast, not like them. He was nothing like them at all. He was soft and vulnerable. Fleshy and slow. No claws or teeth, no way to defend himself, because he was prey, he realized. He had always been prey, this whole time, but this was the first time he truly realized it.

“Stupid animal, coming to our realm in the night,” the thing said. It wasn’t human speech, but Ferris could understand it, somehow. “Still, such delicious fear–you’ve made me so very strong tonight–do you have more to feed me, little pet?”

A collar appeared around his neck then, choking him, and the nightmare approached him…and violated him. Ferris, perhaps, might have called it rape, but it was unlike any sex he had ever experienced–the thing wasn’t ruining his body, but choking out his mind, dimming it, ruining it, draining it–if he did nothing, then Ferris was certain he was doomed. It ended, and he felt for the tether, the last bit of himself connecting himself to his reality, to the waking world–but it was so weak. The nightmare dragged him back into the cage and sealed him back inside, and looked at him, at the fleshy, soft pig-like animal Ferris had become. “Not much longer now–soon you’ll be all dried up, just like all you mortals who make the mistake of coming here.”

The voice was clearer now, in his mind. He could…understand all of this, somehow, even the meanings in the snarls of the beasts surrounding him. The dream was corrupting him–and likely his tether as well. If he didn’t act soon, he’d be trapped here–and either be dead, or perhaps worse, doomed to wander as a nightmare himself, in this wasteland.

What fate befalls Ferris in the dream world?

He escapes the dream world, but the nightmare has warped reality around him.
He becomes trapped in the dream realm, a roaming nightmare to terrorize others.
He breaks free in the dream, and devours the dream spirit.
He is turned over to the beasts, and he is trapped in his own nightmare forever as their bitch.

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Arctos: Filters – Episode 2 (Part 3)

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

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

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

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

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

Arctos: Filters – Episode 2 (Part 2)

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

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

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

Spook Mart (Part 7) [Interactive]

Jules…was feeling odd. He’d been feeling odd for a while now–he thought about just saying he was drunk, but this wasn’t quite the same thing as being just, drunk. No–he didn’t feel drunk, not exactly. He felt dumb, and…and aggressive, and horny, and not at all like himself at the moment, not at all. There was something wrong with him, something he couldn’t quite pin down, and there was also something wrong with the beer he’d been drinking all night, but Jules didn’t know that.

The Cave Aged IPA had sounded interesting, and certainly packed a punch, but now that the bottle was finished and he was trying to figure out why he felt so strange…and he wondered if he needed to puke. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d done so–hell, the frat had found him passed out a few times in there as a freshman, so this wouldn’t be a first at all, but usually he had better control of himself, but as soon as he got in there, he realized that control was something he didn’t have much of at all, as his cock released a blast of piss, wetting the front of his costume, running down his legs, and pooling at his feet.

He snorted up the smell, and it triggered something in his mind, and he grunted. It smelled…not good, but right. He…He was marking his territory, it was good that things smelled like him. He turned to look at the mirror, squinting at his face, trying to recall it. His brow…shouldn’t be that heavy, should it? Or his mouth that wide? There was definitely too much hair, and he gave the side of his head a scratch, trying to focus. Something…was wrong. He was wrong. Clothes…why was he wearing these clothes? They were so tight, and so constricting. He pawed at them, trying to figure out the snaps and buttons and zippers, but all they did was frustrate them, and so, with few grunts he just started tearing them off, at least, the ones he wasn’t growing out of. His shoes burst before he could figure out the laces, and he wiggled his massive toes and huge feet, heavily calloused and smelling…wonderful, snorting in his own scent that was filling the small bathroom, and his…cock was so hard, all of a sudden, but that wasn’t what mattered. What mattered, in his fading mind, was that something was wrong, that he needed help from someone.

He stumbled out of the bathroom, crouching now, and went to the next room where he head people talking, but when he opened it…what he found weren’t people at all, not really. Two pig men, frat bros as well, whose costumes and room had been laced with pork powder were rutting on the bed, their fat frames jiggling, oinking and squealing, and seeing them fuck was making Jules hard–and as he got hard, the worry and concern left with them, and he…he wanted to fuck too.

The two pigs were more than happy to let the caveman join in, though Jules was more interested in dominating than just fucking. The two pigmen didn’t mind in the least–they wanted nothing more to have their holes filled, preferably with food, but cock would do in a pinch. But as Jules fucked them, the powder on the two pigs, and on their bed and clothes, began to rub off on him as well–and a curious reaction took hold of him, as he changed again.

His skin became a rough hide. Two tusks erupted from his mouth as the rest of his teeth flattened slightly. His cock warped, but not as much as the two pigs’ cocks had. It no longer looked human though, and it was massive, easily a foot long, with a thick foreskin covering a tapered cock head. His fingers fused into three thick trotter like fingers, and the toes of his massive feet turned into hard trotters as well. With every thrust into the pigs’ holes, the more his human mind retreated, until he was nothing more than an animal–and after a few hours, the pigmen lost all sense of their human selves as well, happy to keep rutting with their filthy, massive caveman master. Shortly before dawn, the three of them left the house, two massive boars and their hulking pigman master, all of them eager to add a few more pigs, boars and hogs to their stable.

Part 3 – Halloween Alone

It had always been his favorite holiday, Halloween. Dressing up in costumes as a kid, the parties in college…but while it still had a certain charm, Ferris was a bit too old for any of that now, especially now that his kids were grown up and out of the house, and especially since Ellie had passed on a few years before. He still decorated the house of course, though not as much as some people did, but usually it was a quiet night in, passing out candy, reading by the fire. Still, he hadn’t seen this store before, and it piqued his curiosity–Spook Mart. It wasn’t the largest store, or the most high end, but it had a surprising amount of charm–and quite a few brands of products he’d never seen before. It was also the first Halloween store he’d been in that had a section of books to sell!

Some of them were obvious–pumpkin carving, house decorating, horror stories–but some of the others were much more fantastic, and hard to believe even existed. They all had to be joke books, there was no other real explanation, and yet…he was still delightfully intrigued, but when he tried to open one up to read it, the shopkeeper appeared behind him and smacked his hand, telling him reading was only allowed after he’d bought it. The old fellow had gusto, Ferris had to give him that. So he picked the one he found the most interesting, bought it, took and home and started to read.

Come Halloween night, however, Ferris’ home was dark, and there was no candy to be found. Ferris had…learned something. Something vital, and was occupied with something quite a bit more important. Something that was going to change his life forever.

This is the third story arc in the Spook Mart series, and probably the last of them. What sort of book did Ferris buy, and decide to try out before Halloween?

Demon Summoning for Dummies
Working With Portals: Your Ticket to the Outer Planes
Lucid Dreams: Control Your Mind, and Control Your Sleep!
The Magic of Time: Alternate Pasts, Alternate Futures

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Arctos: Filters – Episode 1 (Part 4)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Arctos: Filters – Episode 1 (Part 3)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Arctos: Filters – Episode 1 (Part 2)

“Are you alright?” Jean asked.

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

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

“No, it’s fine, I’m over it.”

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

“Seriously, I’m fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

Taming the Beast (Part 9)

The door behind him clicked and opened, and Mark stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. Jacob managed to pry himself away from the trough long enough to snarl and look at him, but then the beast forced him back down into the slop. “Now now, Jacob–don’t fret. You’ll be safe here, just like all of my other pets down here. You’ll meet them all eventually…well, maybe you will. It depends on how long you last, really, in there. After all, Beastie has met most of them already, haven’t you?”

He felt a grunt come out of his mouth, and sensed it was something affirmative. Mark stepped closer, and Jacob could…smell him. Had he smelt that…good before? He was wearing different clothes than he usually did, they were soaked with cum, with…so many different kinds, but mostly his own, and Jacob felt his…or rather, their cock hardening. Mark ran his hands over Jacob’s wide ass, feeling the crisp briefs he had on, and then tugged them down, giving him access to his crack, which he ran his own cock along, feeling Jacob’s body squirm in excitement.

“I must say, when I saw what you could do, back in the hospital, I knew I had to have you, but I never would have imagined you could be such a delight. Just my type–once you’re properly trained, I might even let you wander the house–just tell everyone you’re my pet hog, if anyone asks, not that anyone will, of course.”

“H-How?” Jacob managed to force out through a mouthful of food.

“How? How did I do it? It was easy–you know how. You’re weak. The beast was always the strongest part of you, you were just holding it back. I’ve set it free, and given it exactly what it has always wanted–the perfect life for a little beastie like him.”

Jacob tried to object, tried to talk to the beast in control of him, but Mark forced his cock into him then, and everything else…disappeared for a while. No–he disappeared for a while, like when he was hypnotized, and he didn’t resurface for…well, he didn’t know how long, exactly, but when he woke up later, the trough was empty, licked nearly clean, and his gut…ached. Ached, and it was so big–bigger than it had ever been before this, and from the smell of cum in the room, he’d just jacked off…but the cum smelled different than usual. It was hard to see, around the huge gut, but he managed to get a peek at it, and saw that it wasn’t…human anymore. So much of him wasn’t human anymore. He was a freak, an animal. He felt something chaffing his neck, and felt a steel collar there, padlocked on, and he wanted to break it, wanted to tear it to shreds, but the beast just…laughed at him. A hyena like laugh in his mind, and he started to recede again, falling back into the darkness of himself.

It was true, wasn’t it. He was weak. He’d always been the weakest. But this wasn’t freedom. He screamed at the beast, telling him he thought this was freedom, but he was nothing. Just a pet, a slave, some sexual freak. All he received back was a silence, and then a pressure, a force driving him back down into the dark, and he was gone again. The beast felt him recede, and laid back on the floor of his room.

The man was right, he supposed. He was nothing more than a pet, really. No better than he’d been with Bacanal, no better than he’d been when locked away by the man. He could get free…maybe, but he was so used to gluttony, sloth and lust now, that it was hard to imagine the fierce forms it had taken back in the hospital. What did it matter, in the end? He was a pet, but he was satisfied. He was a sex freak, but he’d never experienced pleasure like this before. It was slavery, but it you got everything you wanted, wasn’t that just as good as freedom, in a way? The door clicked, and swung open. Beastie crawled through it, and saw Cumrag there in the room, tied up, ass up, and he went over and shoved his snout into the man’s hole and licked. He liked the taste of this one. Liked how he moaned when Beastie fucked him, liked how eager he was for attention, and especially liked how rough he could be with him.

Months passed by. Jacob surfaced less and less, and every time he did, there was less of him that came back from the darkness. Without context, he couldn’t really distinguish between himself in the beast…and by the time he realized the beast’s mind was actually absorbing him, it was too late for him to even consider what it might mean to resist. Mark thought about intervening, but it would have been a substantial amount of work…and really, what good was he to anyone? Beastie was truly the better half–best to just do away with what wasn’t necessary. Beastie kept growing, helped by his constant, massive meals, and after six months he was nearly eight feet tall, and weighed close to a ton. Mark had been forced to renovate two of the other rooms into one sizable pigpen, with a mud hole which he and his pet enjoyed fucking in regularly. After a year, Beastie couldn’t even recall a time when he hadn’t lived with his master, as his pet. It was simply who he was–and he couldn’t imagine any life he could want more than this one.

Taming the Beast (Part 8)

Jacob didn’t know what to make of it. He didn’t feel like he was getting better, certainly…but he did trust Mark, didn’t he? After all, he never would have gotten out of the hospital at all, if it hadn’t been for his help, and if Mark thought he was a danger to anyone at all, he knew that he would never let him hurt someone else again. He decided to do as he suggested, and trust that he would pull his way out of the slump soon, and things would become a bit more normal…but were things becoming normal, or was he just getting used to how filthy his life had become? Men kept coming around to see him, men he couldn’t even remember calling, and the sex he had with them was getting…stranger. He fucked them, always, but also took to soaking them down in his piss, and covering them in his cum, making sure that when they left, they smelled like him…like his property, like his mates.

Then, he went into another rage at work, and this time went too far–they fired him on the spot, and he was just…so frustrated, so angry, and he didn’t feel like he had anywhere to put it…so he ate. He ate, and he fucked, and he drank, and he didn’t rest for days. The next appointment with Mark blew past without him even thinking about it, he just didn’t want to care. He didn’t want to exist. It was two days after that, when Mark arrived at his door…and he was so relieved to see him, that he fell to his knees and sobbed. He didn’t know what he was doing anymore. He couldn’t trust himself, he’d given the beast too much control because…because he was weak. So weak. That’s what Mark told him, that he’d spent so long with the beast out, that he didn’t have the capacity to contain him anymore. Jacob didn’t want to believe it, it couldn’t be true…but when Mark hauled him up and dragged him into the bathroom to look at himself–really look at himself, he was terrified.

It wasn’t his face in the mirror. Or, it was kind of his face, but it was…twisted and bestial, with a snout pushing out around his mouth and nose, two tusks pushing out from his lower jaw, the hair on his head and beard looking more like boar bristle than human hair. He begged Mark to take him back to the hospital, to take him somewhere where he would be safe…but Mark told him he thought the hospital would be the worst possible thing for them both. The beast would panic. He would fight, and turn vicious, and most likely, Jacob in his weakened state wouldn’t be able to regain control, and in the end, he’d just be locked up in a cage for the rest of his life, in a ultramax prison with the rest of the villains of the world. But he wasn’t a villain, right? No–he just needed some time to get back on his feet…but he did need to be supervised. Mark graciously offered him a room down in the basement of his house, and Jacob was so thankful he didn’t think twice. So thankful in fact, that he sucked the doctor’s cock, right there in his apartment. It was just…the right thing to do. To show how much he respected him. To show him how important he was. Some time under the doctor’s direct care was just what he needed. He left with him, not wanting to wait in case the beast resisted, and they got to Mark’s home shortly before dark. They went downstairs and into a large, bare room with several doors on each wall. Mark ushered him into one of them, and while it wasn’t much larger than the room he’d had in the hospital, he should be appreciative, shouldn’t he?

Mark shut the door behind him, and told him he would be back soon with some food for him, and Jacob couldn’t shake the sense of unease he was feeling. The beast had hated being stuck in the hospital, and he’d been certain it would fight this too. But it hadn’t. If anything, he felt better now than he had in his apartment. Safer. Like everything was working out exactly like he thought it should…except it wasn’t. He had none of his things, not even a change of clothes or a toothbrush–not that he’d been using one lately. He hadn’t told anyone where he was going. He looked around, but there wasn’t a phone anywhere, or a TV…or really anything. There wasn’t even a bed, or a window, just some lights inset in the wall behind glass or plastic. It was a cell. He was in a cell.

He went to the door and tried to open it, but it was locked. He was locked in here–he’d let himself get trapped in here, like an idiot! Still, the door was nothing compared to what the beast was capable of, right? He focused, trying to reach for it, trying to harness it…but while it was there, it was calm. No–more than calm, it was relaxed, and watching him panic, and enjoying this. It wanted to be here.

There was a loud thunk from the long wall of the cell, and the bottom foot or so angled out, revealing a shallow trough running the entire length. A moment later, slop slid down into, steaming slightly, and Jacob felt his gut rumble, and the beast licked its chops. No–no, he licked his lips, right? Jacob was still trying to understand what was happening to him in his mind, as his body lowered itself down onto his hands and knees and crawled over to the trough, shoving his short snout into it and devouring as much of it as he could, as quickly as he could, while it was still warm and delicious.

Taming the Beast (Part 7)

The whole rest of the week, Jacob noticed that he was feeling a bit…strange. Well, strange wasn’t really the best way to describe it–what he was mostly feeling, was hungry. Hungrier than he could really ever remember being in the past, in fact. His meals doubled in size, much to his dismay, but whenever he tried to exert a bit of self-control, it would crumble by the time he ate next, and he’d end up gorging himself until he could barely move. It became a problem at work especially, being around food all the time. He would sneak snacks right off the grill or out of the fryer, and afterwards, started taking home anything that was leftover and would usually be thrown out, and stuffing himself with it before going to bed for the night.

As unnerving as it was, he hesitated bringing it up with Mark. He was just so happy being out of the hospital, and he knew that at the first sign of a setback, he could be readmitted immediately. So he did his best to pretend like nothing was going on at all, as he watched his weight steadily creep upward on the scale he kept in the bathroom, until in a fit of shame and panic he threw it out and went on a weekend long binge, cleaning out his cupboards and fridge, stopping only to masturbate every few hours–though he found it easy enough to do both things at the same time. That was the final straw. He had to talk to Mark about this, even if it meant going back to the hospital. This had to be something to do with the beast–there was no other explanation that he could think of for these sudden urges.

At their next session, before Mark hypnotized him, Jacob told him about what had been happening to him. About the binging, and the fact that he seemed to be masturbating more and more often. Mark was troubled by the new developments, and they talked about it for a while, trying, together, to determine whether what was happening posed a danger to him, or to anyone else. In the end, Mark left the decision up to Jacob, if he wanted to go back to the hospital or not–and Jacob told him this was something he’d rather deal with himself. It felt so good being back out in the world, and he wasn’t ready to go back to being locked up again, not until he felt like he couldn’t handle this himself. Mark told him that he would have a word with the beast, and see if he could understand what this sudden shift in behavior might mean. He seemed to be under for…a very long time. Several hours, at least, and when he came too again, Mark was sitting across from him, though his face was rather grave.

“Was…was everything alright?” Jacob asked him, sitting up from the couch where he’d been lying down.

“Yes, I mean, these compulsions of yours do seem to be related to the beast, but…well, I can’t know anything without further observation. I think the best thing you can do is try to resist them as best you can. Keep track if possible–how often you binge, how often you masturbate, anything else that sticks out to you as odd. We’ll try to get a baseline for the behavior, and see if it gets worse, alright?”

Jacob did his best for a few days, but he kept forgetting about keeping a journal, and the whole exercise just…didn’t interest him much at all. Work was the same. Over the next few weeks, he found himself getting aggravated at his boss and coworkers, and would on occasion break out into a sudden rage that would catch him off guard. He didn’t do any real harm, aside from a couple of broken dishes, but the fact that it kept happening…it terrified him. Was he really ready to be out here with people? He found himself wondering about every tic and every thought, and the constant self-awareness was exhausting. He started oscillating between days where he would try to constantly check himself, and days where he would give up and just indulge in…everything. He would stuff himself, drink excessively, masturbate over and over, miss work, and even fuck on occasion. Men–always men, something he had never done before in his life, but he loved it, and the rougher he got with them, the harder he came–and most of them came back for seconds.

It was Mark who brought up his hygiene one session, awkwardly, like he’d been hoping Jacob would mention it finally, without him having to bear the burden of broaching it. Without having to humiliate Jacob with the knowledge that he hadn’t even noticed how dirty he was becoming. He hadn’t trimmed his beard in weeks at that point, and it was coming in thick–much thicker than he could remember it looking the last time he’d tried growing one out. The same went for his hair, which was quite long, as well as the hair on the rest of his body, which was filling in thicker than he knew it should over his now substantial gut. Looking down at himself, and paying attention to it, he realized that he couldn’t clearly recall the last time he’d taken a shower, and he also couldn’t remember when he’d last changed his clothes. He’d been wearing the same outfit for work without washing it for over a week, which no one had complained about out of fear it might set one of his rages off, and he hadn’t changed the underwear beneath that in…a month? More? It was wet, at the moment, since he’d jacked off before coming over, but he could smell cum…so much cum. They were saturated, as was the undershirt he was wearing. He felt ashamed of himself, ashamed that he was losing so much control, so quickly, without even realizing it in the moment. He couldn’t trust himself, he couldn’t be trusted with himself, but he also couldn’t bear the thought of going back to that hospital either…though he knew Mark was going to call for it.

But to his surprise, Mark didn’t. In fact, he told Jacob that he thought he’d been improving, and after the session he seemed really pleased with how Jacob was progressing. These new behaviors were a surprise, sure, and might be difficult to adjust to, but he was going to have to deal with the fact that the beast inside him was, from now on, most likely going to be a more immediate presence in his life. The best thing he could do, in Mark’s opinion, was keep it satisfied, and likely, in a few more weeks, they’d manage to reach a new equilibrium. It might not be what Jacob wanted, necessarily, but this was most likely the course his power was going to develop. Fighting it would likely only make it worse.