Tag: bear

Spitty Lives His Life (Part 2)

The next day Chuck was waiting for me, idling outside–and I didn’t want to go out there, but like before…I had to. I didn’t know how he was doing it, but he had some sort of fucking control over me, and I didn’t have the will to resist him. He’d arrived so early we had plenty of time to work, but he drove a couple blocks down, parked, and fed me more spit, making me shoot another load, and then ordered me to jack off on the way to work–that whenever I was in his truck, I was going to be jacking off, and shooting my cum on my clothes, where I’d rub it in and leave it. His spit…it got me so fucking horny, I shot another load on the way there, and when we got out, it was clear my shirt was…messy, but I just tried not to think about it, as we got to work.

But everyone on the crew had seen us arrive together. A few of the guys…they were looking at me almost…excitedly, while others couldn’t even meet my eyes. Chuck gave me my nickname at lunch–everyone was going to be calling me Spitoon from now on–Spitty for short–and no one objected, not even the foreman, who seemed…more scared of Chuck than anything else. Sure enough, more guys than I’d thought chewed tobacco on the crew, and starting that day…I got all of their spit. On me, in my mouth–it didn’t matter, but that’s what I was for–or at least, that’s what Chuck told me, and a small part of me…almost believed him. No one’s spit tasted like his though–his was…electric. Every time it hit me, every time I tasted it, it was like some strange wire sparked in my body. Still, I was getting out, right? That’s what I was still telling myself, at least. He could humiliate me for a few months, and then I’d be back at school, and I’d never have to see him again.

But on the third day…I noticed something strange about my body. I’m not a hairy guy by any means, but all of a sudden I had a beard filling in across my face. I’d tried to grow a beard a few times before, but had never managed anything like this, and it had been just two days since I’d last shaved. The rest of me was changing too–most noticeably my new gut. I wasn’t happy about losing my abs, but I also couldn’t explain the sudden weight gain. I hadn’t changed my diet, and my metabolism had always been so quick I could eat nearly anything and stay slender. Chuck teased me about it, of course–made me…rub it, while I jacked off on the way to and from work. He’d make me take off my shirt and spit on my belly, rubbing it in there until it was streaked with black and tingling–and a few days after he’d started doing that, I noticed that, like my new beard, hair was growing in all over my new belly–and my belly was still growing as well.

Still, it was a couple of weeks before I was certain–it was Chuck’s spit. I’d…known that, somehow, but that only seemed to confirm it for me somehow–it made it more real. Chuck was doing this to me, and when I got in with him the next day, I…I begged him to stop. That I was sorry, that I didn’t want this. I told him I had a future, that I didn’t want to be stuck in this shitty town for the rest of my life. That I was sorry his life had come to this, but that didn’t mean he had any right to ruin mine too. He just pressed his hefty frame into me as my pleads dissolved into whimpers, groped my cock with his huge hand, grinning at me, letting his slobber dribble into his beard…watching me watch it fall…and I couldn’t stop myself from leaning in and sucking it from the hair of his beard, shuddering a bit. “That’s a good boy–you’re a real good boy, Spitty. I think it’s time daddy introduced you to the real shit tonight–yer comin’ home with me for some real fun.”

All day long on the work site…all I could think about was what that meant. I tried to make myself run off, I even begged the foreman for help, when I had a moment of clarity, but he just shook his head, grabbed me by the chin, and fed me a load of spit. “I’m real sorry, Spitty,” he said, “But Chuck…he’s real keen on ya. He was keen on me once too–I know…what it’s like. But don’ worry, things’ll git easier, after tahnight.”

I pressed him for details, tried to get him to tell me what was going to happen, but he didn’t say anything else–just told me to get back to work and try not to worry about it, because there wasn’t anything I’d be able to do to stop it anyway. Chuck didn’t stop grinning all day, and grinning at me especially. It wasn’t even mean–he was really fucking happy, or excited, or who knew what. Our foreman let us both go an hour early, when Chuck asked–I hadn’t really noticed how often Chuck got whatever he asked for from anyone on the crew–and the two of us got in the truck. After a sloppy kiss, he ordered me to haul my cock out and start jacking off, and he raced off towards his place, a run down but nice little house on the edge of town. I asked him if I could at least call my parents, but he didn’t even hear me–just dragged me inside by the hand, my head trying to fight him, but my body was his willing subject, as always.

Too Clever For Your Own Good (Part 1)

If you’re smart enough, and focused enough, then Pigtown is pretty much the holy grail. Walk into those doors, keep your wits about you, and you can walk out as anyone you want to be, with anyone you want to fuck on your arm. At least, that’s the technique which had worked for Eddie, so far. Hell, two weeks ago, he hadn’t even been Eddie–he’d been Edward, a young, shy guy, new to the city and looking for love, or anything, really. Mostly, he just didn’t want to feel so alone. But what had happened in there–fuck, he still had a hard time believing he had any sort of relation to the young man he remembered, just because he was so…fucking different.

The next morning, he’d found himself in a whole new body. Mid fifties, muscled with a solid gut, a thick layer of hair all over him, nice full beard. He…definitely wasn’t the kind of guy that “Edward” would have ever wanted to be in his life, but who the hell cared what that old version of himself wanted? This new him, he was plenty happy with his new lot in life. He had so much confidence–he started work the next week, and discovered he’d leapt four or five rungs up the corporate ladder. By day, he was a high ranking company executive, wearing tailored suits and smoking expensive cigars over expensive fare during power lunches with his fellow. At night, he’d trade in the suits for leather gear, and prowl the streets for men to take his cock…but as much as he wanted to return to Pigtown, he also knew he wasn’t ready. He’d been lucky, before, to end up with such a good life, but he could remember other people in the bar who…hadn’t been so lucky. If he didn’t want to end up like them, he was going to need a plan, and the first part of that plan was going to require a wingman.

Once you enter Pigtown, you lose touch with yourself–the only thing you can rely on is your memory and your will, but the place can fuck with that too. No, you needed someone with you, someone you can work with, who can confirm for you what you’re doing, and who you are. A partner–someone watching your back. But he never found anyone suitable in the various men he fucked over the next few weeks. It was risky…but he was just going to have to make himself a partner, and the only place he could do that, was Pigtown.

He had several friends at work, none of whom were gay, but who trusted Eddie enough to meet him at an unknown bar in the evening for drinks. The one he ended up choosing was Peter–smart, witty, and always grounded, never one to panic or lose focus–he was perfect for the role, provided Eddie could convert him to his side. They didn’t venture very deep into the bar–that was too risky, but Eddie quickly discovered that the very qualities he appreciated in Peter made him…resistant to the sort of persona Eddie wanted him to become, and so, he was forced to push a bit harder than he would have liked.

The next day, he wasn’t quite satisfied with the end result. His new husbear Pete might be one hot fucking daddy bear, like him, but he definitely hadn’t kept all of Peter’s intelligence and will. Hell, he didn’t even work at the company where Eddie was anymore–he was an electrician. He made good money, sure, but not because he could think. Still, to his…slight disgust, Eddie found himself loving him all the same. Not only because he was hot, but because he was willing to do anything Eddie told him to do, and living with him for a few days…Eddie started to fantasize about having a whole family of men at his disposal, all of them under his thumb.

He started talking with Pete about it, convincing him how hot it would be if they had a couple of cubs–sons even–to fuck around with. Of course, this was an easy sell for Pete, because he wanted whatever Eddie told him to want. And so, after a few days of discussion and planning, the two of them suited up in their leather gear, and made their way back to Pigtown.

“Alright Pete–remember, we have to stay focused at all times. I can’t lose you in there–we can’t lose each other. No matter what, remember this–we’re two daddies, and we’re making two cubs. Got it?”

Pete nodded.

“Good. And don’t get lost, and don’t get separated. Stick with me at all times, got it? Just follow my lead.”

“Anything you say Eddie, you know I’ll do anything for you,” Pete said, and they shared a smoky kiss, and slipped into the bar, to fill out their family.

Stinkers – Coach’s Senior Gifts (Part 8)

Erik…wasn’t sure he wanted to put on his old jock. He wasn’t sure he wanted to go back to being that old him. He liked this body–the fur, the stink, the power, the brutality–but he did as his coach told him to do, and pulled on the jock, being careful not to rip it on his claws. It was tight, and while it did fit–it felt weird, over his fur, like it didn’t belong on him at all. Then, he helped coach, both of them hauling the other, much tighter, jockstrap up Paul’s thick legs and thighs, getting it to settle under his gut and around his sheathed cock.

By that point, Erik had noticed that some of the changes his body had gone through were beginning to fade. His paws were becoming hands again, his claws returned to nails (though they seemed harder, and sharper, than before), and his snout was pulling back into his face. Still, not everything changed back. He kept quite a bit of the hair–in some places, it was still thick enough to completely obscure his skin–and he also didn’t lose any of his new height or mass. He didn’t have an exact measurement, but he had to guess he was close to six foot five at this point, and he probably weighed in at over 300 pounds of fat and muscle. In a locker room mirror, he looked at his face–which was mostly the same, aside from the much thicker beard, and the thick head of brown hair he had…but it didn’t feel like his face. It felt like a mask. Underneath…he was still the bear, still that monster. He hadn’t changed back, so much as covered his new self up with the skin of his old body. He peeked into the pouch of the jock, and sure enough, nothing in there had changed at all–his skin just as hairy, his cock still…inhuman. It made him feel at ease, seeing that.

Paul gave a groan, and rolled over. The orgasm had been so powerful, that he hadn’t really been able to focus on, or do, much of anything as long as it had lasted, and it had lasted close to twenty minutes. He’d been able to feel Coach and Erik moving him around, and even felt the two of them forcing some tight jock onto him in his stupor, but he hadn’t been able to do anything to help them, or stop them. Now, however, he was able to at least roll up, and see that whatever strange body he’d had had also faded away somewhat. Like Erik, the obvious animal traits–the snout, the ears, the trotters, the tusks–had all disappeared for the most part–though his incisors were still peeking out over his lip, he was still massively fat, and his skin still felt so rough and thick, like before. Paul peeked in the pouch of his own jock, and saw that his strange cock had slipped back into its sheath, his massive balls still churning below, and just the sight of it made him get a bit horny all over again.

Coach explained the rules of their new bodies to them both, while Sponge worked behind them, scouring the floor for any drop of moisture and filth it might have missed earlier. If they had their old jocks on, both of them would be…mostly human. But when the jocks came off, they’d be themselves again in a few minutes, proper sexy beasts. The jocks wouldn’t rip, and they wouldn’t age, so both of them wouldn’t have to worry about destroying them, but if they were ever washed, their old selves would be washed away too, and they’d be trapped in their real, bestial forms forever. Should that ever occur, the coach advised that their best bet, would be to go live in the woods somewhere.

Paul was only half listening at this point–the powerful musk coming from beneath erik’s pouch had drawn him back, and he was sucking at the bear’s cock while coach kept talking, groping his own piggy cock through the mesh. “I should also mention, that since you two…transitioned together, you’re going to have a fairly strong bond for quite a while, as you can see. I don’t think you’ll mind, however. And if you need to let loose with someone else, well, you always have me and Sponge, as well as a few other choice alumni I can put you both in contact with.”

Erik and Paul were more than happy with one another, however, though no one else at the school could figure out why, one day, two straight football players had simply gone gay for one another…or why the two of them stank so much…or any of the other oddities of their new bodies. Their musk, even with their human skins on, was so powerful that few people could stand to sit anywhere near them, and when they were together…well, it wasn’t long before they were in the rest room, banging each other’s brains out. They each decided that they couldn’t do the college thing, not like this, and instead they got jobs out of school with a few of Coach’s contacts in the Stinker network. It was a few years until they were able to afford a cabin up in the mountains, but no one saw much of either of them from that point on, and anyone who coach sent to pay them a visit seemed to disappear as well.

Sponge, on the other hand, never left the locker room again. Coach introduced all of his teams to the dummy the next week, and soon, they were all happily using the thing as their cum dump and urinal. After a few months, the thing was utterly sodden, and was having a hard time keeping all of its moisture in. By the end of the school year, it had passed capacity, and constantly wept filth which it tried to wick back into itself. Coach let it dry out a bit over the summer, alone, and it served the teams well over the next decade, before it finally started to rot dissolve away. Coach salvaged the jersey for his personal collection, sold off the rubber head to a collector, and looked forward to the day he’d find another one like Anton. They were, after all, his favorites, and he knew just how to treat them right.

Stinkers – Coach’s Senior Gifts (Part 7)

Robinson was pleased to see that the two beasts had become so well acquainted with their new bodies, and with each other, while he’d been tending to Anton. Usually, when he did this to his players, it took a bit of coaxing from him before they sank as deep as this. The echos of the two were loud in the tiled room, and the stench of their filth was…heady and intoxicating. Despite the fact that Robinson had cum less than a minute prior, he was already excited again–but he could wait a moment longer. He dropped Sponge, his newest dummy, to the ground, where it bounced slightly, the helmet rattling against the floor. It tried to sit up, but it still wasn’t quite familiar enough with it’s new form to really understand that it no longer needed to try and move like a human. Still, it was close enough to the two rutting beasts that it could sense filth. It flipped over and started crawling over towards them, the mouthhose dragging on the ground. Erik saw it, and while his eyes were a bit puzzled, he didn’t stop fucking Paul’s hole deep. The boar, on the other hand, didn’t realize they’d been joined by something else until Sponge started forcing itself between his huge belly and the floor, Sponge feeling it’s body flatten under the weight of the animal above him, spreading wider, soaking up all of the cum and sweat that had dripped from the two of them over the last several minutes. The one part of Sponge that wasn’t at all flexible was it’s head, and that ended up in the larger gap between Paul’s thighs, the pig now driving it’s cock into the cushiony mesh of the Sponge’s jersey, and the dummy just stayed there–the puddle soaking up into its body, the pig rutting against it, leaking more cum on top of it. Here, it would be properly used, like it was supposed to be.

Robinson watched Sponge settle in, and then walked around in front of Paul, where Sponge’s feet were sticking out, and ran his hands over the boar’s face–feeling the rough skin, tugging at the floppy ears, examining the tusks and the nose. “What a nice boar you made, Paul, simply handsome–and stinking as–fuck, nothing smells quite a good as nice boar. Open up piggy, Coach wants to spit roast this hog.”

Paul was all too happy to have another cock inside him, and started slobbering all over his coach’s knob. It was hardly the first time he’d tasted it, but the smell and taste of the rank meat was so much more intense than before, and so much more pleasing. Paul had always hated the taste, but now, he couldn’t get enough of it, taking it to the hilt, grunting and snorting, bucking back to meet Erik’s thrusts, and an intense pressure built up in his groin. His nuts constricted, and he started pumping his load all over Sponge beneath him–soaking the jersey with even more of his seed, which the dummy was all too happy to store for him.

Coach could see Erik growing closer as well, and he left Paul to his massive orgasm, straddled the boar’s body, and pulled himself close to Erik. “Shame you weren’t born one of us–you should have been. You would’ve been an amazing Stinker. I can at least give you this though, you fucking monster. Now come on, cum in this fucking pig, I wanna see you breed his fucking hole, Bear.”

He grabbed Erik by the fur on his cheeks, and pulled him into a kiss, shoving his tongue between his sharp fangs, tasting one another’s rank breath, and with a muffled roar, he came, flooding the pig with his cum, his snout never leaving the coach’s mouth. Robinson pushed Erik away from Paul for a moment, his cock popping free, and he grabbed the end of Sponge’s tube, and pressed it over the pig’s asshole, as Erik’s cum was about to come spurting back out. Sponge tasted the vile filth pouring into him, and began shuddering and shivering beneath Paul–who was still in the throes of a massive orgasm, his entire weight pinning Sponge to the floor, where all it could do was wiggle.

“Fuck…oh fuck, what the fuck did you do to me?” Erik asked, looking down at himself, at his strange new body. He looked more bear than human at this point–but what in the world was he supposed to do? Go out and live in the forest? He stared at Coach, but the older man seemed to sense his worry.

“Look, hold this tube for me, and I’ll ease some of your worry, alright?”

Erik nodded, and walked over. It was hard to grip the tube with his strange hands, but he managed. Coach went back to a locker, and pulled out a jockstrap from a bag, sniffed it to double check he had the right one, and tossed it to the bear. Erik smelled it too, and knew the smell immediately. It was his–the jock he’d worn with Coach all these years. “Will this…change me back?” he asked.

“You’ll see–I’ll explain everything in a moment. But first, help me with this pig–he’s fucking heavy, and I’d like Sponge to not be a pancake.”

“Is…is that Anton in that gear?”

“It was Anton, yes. But Anton doesn’t exist anymore–that thing barely has a mind at all. It’s just a dummy now–all foam, through and through. It’s only desire is to be used for sex, and to store men’s filth inside it’s body. It takes a special kind of man to make one, and Anton, well, he was a rare bird. I’ll be enjoying him for a while–and you can always use it, whenever you visit. Too bad they don’t last longer–the will holding what remains of his spirit to the thing usually fades away after six or seven years, and it’s not too long after that that the thing will start to rot from the inside out–but the stench of that! Fuck, it’s crazy, I tell you.”

Suddenly Erik was no longer jealous for not being chosen for the coach’s special treatment. Clearly, of the three of them, he had gotten the best gift he could have imagined. Coach waved the bear over, and together they rolled the grunting and moaning hog off of Sponge, who crawled back onto the pig’s leaking cock and kept rubbing the remaining cum onto its body, until Coach shoved it off and away.

“Now, put that jock on, and then help me get Paul’s on too.”

Stinkers – Coach’s Senior Gifts (Part 5)

Erik wasn’t sure if Paul was trying to push him off, or was merely pushing up against him. Either would have been fine with him–after all, whether his teammate was enjoying what was happening to him or not, it was happening to them both. He would either enjoy it or not–whichever it was, it was likely that Paul had no control over his own feelings, or his own body, or his own destiny, at this point. Erik had long since given up any sort of belief that he might become anything other than what his coach wanted–and indeed, had begun to relish everything Coach Robinson had chosen to do to him.

The hair which had sprouted from the jockstrap was slowly eating away the very mesh of the pouch, and after a few minutes, he felt his cock flop out, and his balls as well. Reaching down with a hand, he felt them, giving the musky shaft a good stroke–it was longer than it had been before, and shaped…slightly different. His balls were fuller as well, and coated in fur. His belly and the front of his legs were becoming covered now, and his previous flat stomach was beginning to round out, as a small, hard gut formed over his abs, but the rest of his muscles were heating up, and expanding. The heat was even penetrating his bones, making them lengthen as well–it was painful, but…worth it. Worth it, if he could become what his coach wanted, even if that meant he couldn’t be as special as Anton–it wasn’t up to him, though this thought did little to curb his disappointment.

Instead, he took that anger out on Paul, beneath him, pinning him to the concrete, grinding their crotches together, snarling and growling at him with his bearish muzzle, licking his lips over foul teeth, leering down at the boar beneath. He’d hoped that Paul would hate this, that this would be torture, or punishment, but after his initial hesitation, he was grinding back, rearing up to meet Erik’s face and mash their snouts together in strange, unfamiliar kisses.

Paul’s own jock was undergoing changes that were quite different from Erik’s. The pouch had dried out and hardened, but rather than become solid and brittle, it had become leather–or perhaps a better word would be hide. It had covered his cock and balls for now, making them disappear, but it was clear that something was happening beneath it. Paul could…feel his cock, working hard to push it’s way back out, and with a painful tear, the hide broke towards the top, and a strange, pink cock pushed it’s way out, like a drill emerging from the earth. Even the head was corkscrew shaped, and covered in a foul smelling slime. The base of the hide began to distend now, as his new balls descended. True to his new form, they were heavy and large, hanging low against his thighs. Done with his crotch, the rest of his skin began to change now as well, becoming the same leathery hide as the jock had become, though some areas turned quite a bit darker than others. What emerged was a piebald pattern–much of his skin was the same light pink as before, but large spots of deep brown had filled in as well. With a grumble in his gut, fat began to pile on his body–far more than Erik, though Paul got a fair share of muscle as well. His tits swelled in particular, which Erik began groping roughly in his hands, other nipples sprouting down the front of him, swelling to the size of thumbs.

Paul slid down, underneath Erik, searching for his new cock amidst the hair coating his body. It was rank and matted, dripping sweat on his face, which his tongue happily lapped up between grunts and squeals. Erik found the boar’s mouth first, driving in, filling his snout and touching the back of his throat. The changes had covered their torsos and most of their legs, and were now progressing down their arms, and up their necks to their new faces. Erik’s ears shifted up to the top of his head, as hair filled in all over his face–Paul’s ears also shifted to the top of his skull, but grew out and flattened, the edges cracked slightly, his eyes shrinking and setting back a bit deeper into his skull. The hair on the top of his head fell out, but long bristle sprouted all along his back and neck, but left his underbelly barren and rough. Erik’s hands gripped Paul’s head, his nails thickening and darkening into long claws. He dug in–enough to hurt and perhaps scratch, but not enough to truly make the boar bleed–and began slamming his cock in deeper, as deep as it could go, Paul hungry for cum, hungry for piss, desperate for anything wet.

The bear man finally rolled the boar over, tugging at the curly tail which had sprouted above Paul’s ass, and reached back to feel his own, stubby and furry one behind him. He ate out the pig’s hole for a bit, tasting the rank sweat and dirt, before sliding his cock into the hilt, Paul letting off a loud squeal–likely loud enough to be heard in the school proper, though at this time, the only people around were the janitors, who knew better than to disturb Coach Robinson’s time with his athletes. Paul groped around underneath his flabby body, looking for his cock–which he managed to grab hold of eventually. It wasn’t easy gripping it–his fingers had fused together into semi-worthless trotters, but the rough hoof against his slimy cock only made his squeal more, his balls pumping out a massive puddle of precum, which his belly slid around on. With a growl, Erik planted his hairy, wider and clawed feet on the tile, gripped the pig’s hips tight in his claws, and kept fucking. Their humanity seemed so distant now–more like a dream, some strange fancy their animal minds might have invented–but this…this is who they were now, and neither of them was sure they’d go back, even if they could.

Stinkers – Coach’s Senior Gifts (Part 3)

Out in the locker room, Erik and Paul had both spent the last ten minutes becoming acquainted with their gifts. Even though they were only a few feet away from one another, they had nearly forgotten about the other’s existence, and the locker room entirely. The jocks…the scent imbedded within them (or the scents they were made out of–it was difficult to know, exactly, what this gear was) was incredibly powerful and overwhelming, but not by force–it was the nuance and the detail which had absorbed the attention of the two jocks so intently.

For Erik, the scent wasn’t only musk, though it was plenty heady. There was also loam, and tinges of evergreen. The chill of a cave, or perhaps a den. Smelling it made him feel both…sleepy, and yet also incredibly powerful, like a boulder at the top of a spruce covered mountain, waiting for a single tap, to send it careening down the slope, flattening anything in it’s path. There was the sweetness of fresh berries, and the pungent rot of raw fish in the sun, the taste of iron and blood in the back of his throat. He was gnashing at the jock now, filling it with spit, and then sucking it down his throat, tasting everything more intensely by the moment.

Paul had begun on the bench, but at some point, had fallen off and onto the concrete floor, where he was rolling about, the jock almost draped over his face, as he snorted at it, grunting, grinding his crotch against the rough concrete. His jock smelled of food–fat and sugar and grains, fermented slightly and beginning to foam. There was mud and dust as well; the jock was incredibly dry, and seemed to be sucking the moisture from him, almost pulling at his face, in some strange way he couldn’t quite explain, even to himself. He felt lazy. He felt like he never wanted to stand upright again, if he could help it. He felt hungry, and thirsty, and as horny as could be. But in his rutting on the ground, the jock came loose from around his head, and without it, he felt a bit of clarity and focus return to him, letting him sit up and stare around him, blinking.

It was a familiar confusion. Every meeting of his with the coach left him in a similar state–exhausted, confused, mortified at what he’d just done, and certain that–if he could–he’d just climb into bed and sleep for days, and days, and days…but he should keep…smelling it, right? Coach would want him to keep smelling it. He grabbed the jock in a hand, but kept it from his face–and took a moment to look over at Erik, where he was huffing his own jock on the bench.

Where Paul was an offensive lineman–wide and thick and designed to be a wall–Erik was a running back–all muscle, lean, and ready to charge into, and run over, anything or anyone in his path. His teammate had almost the entire jock stuffed in his mouth, where he was almost…chewing on it, rolling it over in his mouth, but this gave Paul a clear view of the fact that Erik’s mouth…it wasn’t quite human any longer. The more he gnashed at the wad in his mouth, the more his mouth and nose seemed to extend, pushing out into a thick, short snout. His beard was filling in thick, turning a dark brown, while his nose flattened and widened, turning black. The changes were spreading down his throat and over the rest of his face–especially the thick pelt of brown hair, and Paul–with his free hand–gingerly touched his own face, recalling the strange sensation of pulling he’d felt earlier.

It wasn’t right. It wasn’t human. He too, had a snout–perhaps slightly longer than Erik’s now was, but not nearly as hairy. His nose was flat, dry, and he could feel wrinkles along the side, with two open nostrils, making him snort slightly with each breath…and he had tusks jutting out from his lower jaw, out of his mouth by an inch or so on each side. He looked down at the jock in his hand, feeling it, wondering what in the world coach Robinson was doing to them both. Wondering what they were becoming.

Erik gagged, and with a hack, threw up the jock he’d nearly swallowed into his hand. It was soaked with spit, and Erik’s face looked more like a grizzly bear than human. He looked over at Paul, where he was sitting on the floor–trying to understand why Paul had put on a pig mask of some sort…only to realize that it wasn’t a mask at all.

“We…we have to stop,” Paul said, “I don’t want to do this anymore, I never wanted to do this.”

“Yeah, that’s because you’re a stupid pig,” Erik said, standing up, unwringing the jock, and pulling it on, “I can’t fucking believe I wasn’t the only one. I can’t believe–fucking Anton. But fuck, I feel fucking good, and I’m going to feel better, soon enough.”

“Erik, we have to get help, we have to tell someone.”

Erik just looked at him, and laughed a bit. “If you’re so scared, then why’s the jock around that bulge of yours?”

Paul looked at Erik, and then looked down. Without even realizing it, he’d pulled the jock on, where the pouch had settled around his crotch. It felt…warm. Comfortable. He was horny, but also…kind of sleepy. Lethargic. He tried to get up, using the bench beside him, but couldn’t quite manage to get his feet under him. He was just so…heavy, all of a sudden. He could see Erik’s jock was beginning to sprout hair, like his saliva had been enough to make it germinate. His own pouch seemed to be drying out, darkening, becoming almost skin colored, though slightly darker than Paul’s own flesh. Erik got down on his hands and knees, on top of Paul, and pushed his muzzle to Paul’s snout, each smelling the other’s breath, the strange animal musk they’d begun to produce, and the world began to fade away again for them both.

A Familiar Fantasy (Part 3)

Arthur woke up, groggy. He was sprawled out in a massive bed, and without really thinking about it, he swung his legs over the side, went to stand up, and instead fell about a foot to the floor on the side of the bed, where he tumbled over, and looked up at the room around him. It wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t his imagination. This was really happening to him. Derrick was really a wizard, and he was really shrinking, and he had no idea just how small he was going to become. He stood up, and found that the top of his head came just to the top of the mattress–if he were in better shape, he’d maybe have been able to climb back up to where Derrick was still snoring–but as old and out of shape as he was, there was no way he’d be able to make it back up there. Besides, he had to piss more than anything–but how in the world was he going to get up to the toilet, at two feet tall? He walked to the bathroom to inspect it, and sure enough, there was no way he’d be able to get up there…which meant he was going to have to get help, he supposed.

He went back into the bedroom and went around to Derrick’s side of the bed. He reached up, but couldn’t touch him, and so he was forced to yell up at him to get him to wake up. His voice was strange–the smaller his neck was becoming, the higher pitched his voice had become. He was almost sounding a bit…squeaky? He didn’t want that to turn him on a bit, and yet he was getting hard all the same. The humiliation of having to get someone up to help him piss was just as horrifying, and yet also…something he had fantasized about before, actually.

It took some effort, but Derrick finally roused himself and got up. He went with Arthur into the bathroom, lifted the little man up onto the toilet seat and helped him balance while he pissed, and then made him wait while Derrick emptied his own bladder, and then made Arthur jack him off into the toilet bowl as well. He wasn’t exactly enthused about the idea, but Derrick threatened to abandon him on a high shelf for a couple of hours, and so Arthur did as he was told, and jacking a cock which was so large compared to his own–he got hard as well, and ended up jacking himself off after Derrick had cum-and then he lifted Arthur back off the toilet, and offered to make breakfast.

The table was too big for him, so he sat on the floor, with a little box and a little dish of food. It seemed like so little, and yet he was full as soon as he’d finished it, and Derrick insisted he measure him. A foot and a half. Eighteen inches. He didn’t even reach Derrick’s knee. He felt puny, and helpless, and yet so…excited somehow, when Derrick picked him up and put him on his shoulder. The height was a bit dizzying for him, and he could barely believe that just one day before, he’d been standing at that height all the time.

“So what do you think? Is it everything you wanted it to be?”

“Actually…yeah.” Arthur hadn’t felt this happy in ages. He felt like himself, somehow. He spent the rest of the day with Derrick in his library, and while his master read, he sat in his lap and toyed with his massive cock, which a few hours later, had grown as large as he was, when erect. He was shrinking slower now, and yet every lost inch at this point only made the entire world around him expand exponentially. Everything looked new to his eyes–while Derrick cooked dinner, he explored the counter top with a strange glee, amazed at what he could fit inside, amazed at what he could see. He’d finally stopped shrinking it seemed–he was now three inches tall, and looked to be able the size of a large mouse. He ate the bit of dinner his master set aside for him, and then Derrick carried him in the crook of his arm down into his workshop.

“So, do you want me to change you back?” Derrick asked, setting him down on his desk, crouching down so he could look Arthur in his tiny eyes. “Don’t think about the rest of the world, about that life you had. You can have a home here with me as long as you like. It’s been a rather long time since I’ve had a familiar, and I think I would be the first person to have a human one, but you would be a help in certain tasks. So just think of what you want to be.”

Derrick sat down on the desk and looked around him. The lamp towered over him, and the room was so dark he could barely see into the corners, but he could see Derrick’s face–the creases and lines, the age he’d never noticed because he’d never known where to look, but it was amazing how being this small brought the little things to focus.

“I want to stay, I think. Maybe…maybe not forever. But for now, I do.”

“That sounds like a good plan to me too,” Derrick said, “Now, do you want to see some magic?”

Arthur nodded. Derrick put his hand on the desk, and Arthur climbed his way up his arm, sweating a bit when he reached the man’s shoulder, but he had a wonderful vantage point from which to see everything, clinging to his new master’s collar, and for the first time that he could remember, Arthur felt he was right where he belonged.

The Dark Mind (Part 3)

Jordan woke up slowly, like he swimming back to the surface of the ocean from some dark depth, but the water was molasses, trying to push him back down. His body ached, but he could move at least–he opened his eyes and found himself in bed–he must have slept then, so that was a relief. He certainly felt more rested than he’d been in ages, but damn, those had been some crazy dreams while he was out. He couldn’t remember them in much detail–he’d been…huge, and fucking guys, and he hadn’t had dreams like that in years, not since he was a teenager. He remembered how he’d found those websites about bears, until his Baptist father found him jacking off one day, and sent him to that camp…

He suppressed a shiver. He wasn’t religious anymore, but he also hadn’t thought of that in years–what had brought this on? The room was dark, but he could see dawn cracking outside–shouldn’t the window be on the other wall though? He found his lamp and switched it on–only to discover that this wasn’t his room, and someone was in the bed next to him. Some big, hairy, naked man, who rolled over, disturbed by the light, and looked over at thin, hairless Jordan–and did a double take.

“Fuck, what? That’s not…fuckin’ beer goggles…” He grumbled, “Go on, get out if you’re leavin’, or turn out the light,” he rolled back over, and Jordan heard him grumble a bit more, “Can’t believe I let that fuck me…seemed bigger at the bar.”

Jordan got up and looked for the clothes he’d been wearing the day before, but all he saw was a pile of leather and denim. He picked up a leather jacket, and some strange shimmer of pleasure shot through him, making him shudder again, some voice deep in him telling him these were his clothes–even though there was no possible way they could fit him. He put them on anyway, cinching the belt to keep the jeans up, and left the stranger’s apartment and headed for his own place in the dawn light, trying to piece together what, exactly, had happened to him.

The last thing he remembered clearly, he’d left the lab–utterly exhausted and desperate for sleep, but still in the grip of insomnia. He’d been stumbling home when…when his memory just sort of faded into that strange dream he’d had. At some point walking home, he’d bought some…cigars? Then he’d been different all of a sudden. Bigger, hairy, desperate for sex. Everything kind of blurred together then, images of walking through the streets. He’d…taken some clothes from a biker? He looked down at the leathers he was wearing, and realized the clothes from the dream were the one’s he had on now. And that guy, back in the bed…he could remember him too, in some bar or club or something. They’d been kissing, and the guy had been obsessed with him. So was it a dream? Which parts of it had actually happened?

It was getting hard to think–some voice in his head was pestering and nagging him, interrupting him, but it wasn’t really a voice so much as…this urge, telling him to do something. His hand was going for the inside pocket of his jacket before he realized it, and pulled out a cigar–and then a match–and he was smoking, the same shimmer of pleasure from before working it’s way through him like ripples, making his cock hard, and that tugging again. He ducked into an alley, whipped out his cock and started jacking it, sucking down even more smoke, huffing and grunting. He wasn’t in control, he didn’t want to be doing this, and yet here he was, stroking fast, his hand trying to stretch his cock uncomfortably, almost like it thought it should be bigger. He shot his load over the side of the dumpster he’d crouched behind, and the desires faded a bit–but not so much he could bring himself to put out the cigar.

The serum–had it actually worked? This wasn’t what it should have done though–the point wasn’t for him to just black out and turn into some monster–what part of him had he awakened exactly? The cigars, the sex, that massive body, it was everything he’d ever wanted, everything that had always felt so good, that he’d always denied himself, everything he’d repressed for so long–it was like all of it had combined into some ravenous beast that was finally let loose from the cage of his mind to do whatever it wanted. No–no, it was doing everything he’d always wanted to do, everything he’d always been too terrified to try. Still, he was in control again, mostly, and he didn’t have any time to waste. He had to get to his lab, and try and figure out what had gone wrong, so he could reverse it.

At that thought, nausea and vertigo ripped it’s way through him, nearly toppling him over in the alley. Something in him wasn’t happy about that idea, apparently. It took all the will he could manage, but he got himself upright again, and staggered off towards his apartment, so he could get out of these clothes, get something to eat, and then get to work. He kept hoping the thing in him, that other self, would calm down, but all it did was get angrier, sending him to the bathroom to hurl more than once, his vision so blurry he couldn’t read. But touching leather helped. Smoking helped too. Jacking off helped the most, even though it was also somewhat unsatisfying. Better to have his cock in someone, in a hole, fucking and slamming and raping–

He snapped out of it sitting on his toilet that afternoon, looking down at his changing body, and forced the beast back down, and focused back himself–his true self. That had been a close one. He’d kept these desires in check for so long–how could he have known they were this powerful? If he didn’t figure out a solution quick, he might not have another chance. He lit up another cigar, threw on his new leather jacket, and headed for his lab, hoping he’d be able to find an answer before he changed again.

The Dark Mind (Part 2)

As soon as he crossed the threshold of the shop, he could…tell that the man wanted him. He was probably in his fifties or so, with a decent gut and a full beard. He seemed familiar somehow, but it was hard for him to remember anything at all. In fact, it felt like he’d just popped into existence just a moment earlier, or like he’d just been assembled out of…chunks of something left and forgotten. All of this felt so new to him, this body, and yet at the same time he…knew so much, even though it was hard to think about much beyond fucking.

The man behind the counter, Oliver, gulped, staring at the huge man walking into his shop. He had to be a few inches over six feet, broad shouldered, body bulging with muscle and a firm layer of fat, every inch of his skin coated with hair. He had some pants on–sort of–but no shirt or shoes, and…and Oliver hadn’t seen a man that sexy in a long time. He hadn’t seen a man that sexy look at him that…hungry ever. “Are…are you alright? Do you need some help?” Oliver asked, adjusting his growing cock. He could…smell him, and fuck he smelled so damn good. He’d never smelled anyone like that before, his eyes going a bit cross, cock hard and leaking in his slacks.

“Need a fuck,” the stranger said, and walked up to the man. The closer he got, the lower the man’s jaw dropped, and when he leaned down and locked lips with Oliver, shoving his smoke into the older man’s hungry mouth, Oliver felt his cock pulse and spasm a huge load right in the front of his pants.

Oliver didn’t have a very good memory of what happened next. He dimly recalled hauling himself up onto the counter, tongue pressed to the man’s sweaty body, licking across his chest and over to his musky pits, moaning and humping the air, unable to control himself, while the man tore at his clothes, ripping them away from the man’s body as quickly as he could. Neither of them spoke–the shop was just filled with moans, the air growing thick with the smoke from the man’s cigar.

“Turn ‘round,” he said, both his massive hands grabbing hold of Oliver and forcing him to face away from him. The counter turned out to be a surprisingly good height, once he forced Oliver hips lower, and he ripped away the crotch of his pants, and ground his massive cock up and down the older man’s crack.

“Not…here, anyone can see us…” Oliver moaned, but he couldn’t do anything to stop himself either from pushing back, the massive bear’s cock slipping into his hole, making him groan. The thing was huge–he’d never taken anything in his ass before, and the stranger didn’t have any patience, just grunting and humping himself in deeper, ignoring Oliver’s protesting and begging for him to go slower and take his time. But Oliver’s body wasn’t even obeying him at this point–as much as it hurt, all he could do was push his way back harder onto the huge cock, not caring how much it hurt, only needing as much of it inside him as was possible. He came again, without even really noticing–what mattered more was…was satisfying him. Was making this huge beast happy, was submitting to him, and begging him for his seed. The beast managed to slide his cock in up to the hilt, but didn’t last much longer than that, his cum spewing forth, filling Oliver’s ass and cascading out around his shaft, both of them grunting and moaning with need. Sated, he pulled his cock free, Oliver whimpering slightly and feeling…so empty all of a sudden, but the musk was fading now, and he felt more in control than before–all that remained was a powerful euphoria–people were walking by and could clearly see his leaking hole, and…and he didn’t really care.

Finally, he managed to climb down and get his clothes put back together as best he could, looked over and saw the man rummaging through his display case, grabbing a huge handful of cigars and shoving them in his pocket.

“You…you can’t just take those. You have to…to pay…”

The man looked at him, and walked over to him, “I’ll pay you back, don’t worry. I’m gonna need that hole again later. Does that sound like a deal? You keep me supplied, and I fill that aching hole of yours over and over again.”

Oliver nodded, without even really thinking about it, and the man stepped back, and headed for the door. His head clearer, Oliver realized why the man seemed a bit familiar–those pants, and that smoke! That tired looking guy who’d bought those cigars just before that beast had come in here… “W-Wait!” Oliver said, “Are…are you…ok? I mean…”

“I’m fine, just need another fuck is all.”

“But…you came in here, and you were different…”

He turned around and looked at the man, who walked over to the cash register, and found the last receipt. “J-Jordan, right?”

Jordan…was a familiar name. The stranger felt something his head…struggling, when he thought of that name, but it wasn’t his name. “That’s not me.”

“R-Really? Then…then who are you?”

He stopped and thought for a moment–did he have a name? Something told him he…should have one, but he didn’t, not in his short run of memories. “Just…call me Harry.”

“Well Harry, do…I mean…I guess I’ll be here, for…for when you want to pay for those, then…” the older bear said, his hole already aching to be filled again. He’d always had a secret suspicion that he might like being with a man, even though he’d thought he was happily married. Still, after that, he might have to rethink some things. Harry laughed, and then walked out the door and back onto the sidewalk, smoke trailing behind him. Jordan, huh? That strange thing happened in his brain again, and he growled a bit. Whatever, more important, he needed another hole. He sniffed the air, lit another cigar for himself, and headed off, following his nose, eager to be on the prowl.

The Dark Mind (Part 1)

Who knows? Maybe tonight he’d be able to get to sleep. Jordan stumbled suddenly on the sidewalk, dragging his feet and catching them on a crack. The sidewalk seemed to pulse up and down as he struggled to figure out whether he was going to fall or not. Four days since he’d tested the serum on himself. Four days he hadn’t slept a wink. That part was working just fine, apparently, but he hadn’t quite anticipated feeling this exhausted.

Jordan was a medical researcher, a young hot shot in his field, fresh off his PhD researching the nature of sleep. He’d always found it funny that, even though no one knew why people needed to sleep, everyone did it anyway. Imagine the amount of productivity lost, just because people were doing something they might not even need! This serum would change humanity, if he could get it to work–if we only used ten percent of our brain, why not activate another ten percent to operate while the daytime half went dormant? It was so simple, or so he’d thought. With the right mix of stimulants, people wouldn’t have to sleep ever again. Sure, he shouldn’t have tested it on himself, but he hadn’t gotten to where he was in life by not taking risks. Jordan had always been consumed with his studies. He’d pretty much lived a celibate life (he’d always felt gay, but being raised in a conservative baptist family had led him to shove those feelings as deep within him as he could) and with his small frame he’d never been cut out for much beyond books. He’d just…never had enough time in the day to do everything in his head, to try everything he imagined, and he’d hit a wall in his research. Injecting himself had been a gamble–if it worked, he’d be able to redouble his focus, and maybe get new insight into the therapy. Unfortunately, things weren’t turning out quite like he’d planned.

Four days. He’d been good for two of them, but yesterday he’d started crashing. He’d never been this tired before in his life. He couldn’t focus, he couldn’t work. He’d just been staring at papers in his lab, trying to decipher things he’d written last week, but everything suddenly looked like gibberish. It was Friday, he just needed to relax and hope the serum would wear off so he could sleep, finally. That, and he needed to get home without killing himself.

It was only a few more blocks to his apartment, but as he passed a small smoke shop he’d walked by hundreds of times, his feet stopped, and he sniffed the air. Ever since yesterday, he’d had this…craving. He hadn’t been able to articulate it, but it was like his body was screaming at him for something he didn’t even know he needed. On the air outside the shop he caught whiffs of tobacco and smoke and…and without knowing why he was doing it, he went inside, picked a brand of cigar at random, bought half a dozen with a book of matches, and left. What was he doing? He wasn’t a smoker! Sure, for a couple of years towards the tail end of his undergraduate study he’d gotten into the habit, but he’d kicked it for years. Is this what he’d been craving this whole time? But why now, out of the blue?

The exhaustion had reached a new level now–no longer did Jordan feel like he was inhabiting his body, it was more like he was outside of himself. Not even really aware of what he was doing as his fingers unwrapped the first cigar, stuck it in his mouth, and lit it. The smoke in his lungs was like a jolt to his system–part of the reason he’d loved smoking so much was because it helped him stay awake while he worked on term papers and grant proposals. The nicotine hit him, and it was like a shock to his entire body–he didn’t feel more awake though, if anything it pushed him further away from himself. He…sensed he was in pain, but it was more of a dull throbbing ache, his body grunting and growling. He saw himself stumble into an alley, teeth clamped hard around the cigar, sucking in more and more smoke. Someone else was screaming though–was it even him? It…it didn’t sound like him. The voice was so deep and rough and…and he was floating. He could see everything, hear everything, but it wasn’t him anymore, he could…sense that. Better…better if he took a break, he thought to himself, and fell back.

With a roar, he woke up, heaving for breath, heaving for smoke, staring around at where he was with panic in his eyes, looking down at himself. Where was he? Who…was he? He ran his hands down over his body–he was…huge, holy fuck. Big gut, covered with fur. He had on a shirt much, much too small for him–the buttons had already shot off, and he tore the remnants away, running two big hands over his hairy pecs and down over his gut, down to his massive bulge, letting off a low growl around the cigar he had stuck in his maw.

“Fuck, I gotta…gotta fuck…” he muttered to himself. These shoes were too tight though, and he yanked them off, wiggling the fat toes at the end of his size seventeen feet with a sigh. He was in an alley or something, and he walked out of it–it was early evening, and the sidewalk wasn’t very crowded, but there was enough light that he could still see his reflection in the window of a smoke shop on one side of the alley…and hell, he was one sexy mother fucker for sure. He started groping his cock harder in the pants stretched tight over his hips and thighs, seeing a wet spot form from the precum leaking out the head. Through his reflection, he saw the older proprietor’s jaw drop at the sight of him–and he sneered a bit, all sorts of strange ideas pushing through his head suddenly, and he went inside.