Tag: bear

Curse Cards

by Beardsman and Wesley Bracken

***WARNING*** This has heavy slob TF, incontinence and dumbing down.

***

Three buddies that had just graduated from high school had little to do with their time. College didn’t start until the end of Summer for them, and they had occupied their time with video games, movies, and random events around their small town.

Jae, the oldest of the group (by only two months) was usually the instigator in whatever took place. He had the ideas, the funds, and the knowledge among the three. He looked like your typical jock; blonde spiked hair, hazel eyes, and a decent-enough frame with more of a swimmer’s build. He was rarely seen in anything fancy; just a tank and comfortable shorts.

The second of the group had been Eric. Brown hair that was just curly enough to dub him as the “jew-fro’d-dork” around the town. It didn’t help that his eyesight was impaired and he needed glasses. The only reason he wasn’t pummeled while in school was thanks to his childhood friendship with Jae and Allister.

Allister, the youngest, the most naive. Certainly the prettiest of the group without a doubt. After a long frightful rumor around his senior years that he was gay, he managed to come out strong with a delicate beauty at his arm. The rumors were founded through his impeccable hygiene and sense of fashion. Truly the hipster of the town. He even went through a phase where he grew out a moustache and curled it.

All three were friends since kindergarten, unable to avoid each other even when arguing with how close-knit the town had been. They each had plans to to stay together no matter how old they would become- but those plans went no further than college it seemed. Different career-paths in mind, they would find themselves elsewhere sooner-or-later. Jae was the first to realize this, and decided to make this Summer their greatest before ultimately being tied down with work and social-problems. On this current day, however, he was at a loss for things to do. Netflix didn’t give way for many options as their tastes all varied, and they had gone through the entire collection of B-Horror Films. With rain on the way, it made hiking or even riding their bikes more of a chore than a fun time out.

With all three settling in at Jae’s empty house–his parents being away on a cruise–Jae dug through a collection of older board games located in their family coat-closet. He ran across childhood favorites that gave a surreal effect with the boxes covered in dust and grime, forgotten in the back along with simpler times. He found a smaller stack of decks of cards. Poker decks, Uno, a matching game… but one in particular seemed to catch his fancy. He hadn’t remember a black box with silver trim containing any game before. And while pushed behind the pile, it was devoid of dust like the others.

Upon checking back to see the other two flipping through the satellite channels, he removed the contents of the box. Cards, as expected, with the same black and silver patterns adorning the backs. The fronts–mysteriously enough–were blank. His confusion held, until he saw a folded paper sticking from a slot in the side. It was the instructions.

“Guys, check this out,” Jae called. Their heads turned and looked over the couch to see him raising from his crouched stance, cards in hand, and reading the first part of the instructions.

“What’s that? Collectible poker cards or something?” Eric asked.

“It’s not Yu-Gi-Oh! is it? Kind of got tired of that when they changed all the rules up,” Allister remarked, last to join in.

“No, it’s some weird kind of Tarot thing. I mean, I dunno. It doesn’t say what they are. The instructions are kind of weird and cryptic.”

“‘Cryptic’? How so?” Eric asked, raising from the couch and grabbing the blank cards from the eldest.

“Look at the lines here:

For those who dare to play the devil’s hand

Let caution dwell before demand.

Your life, your choices, your body and soul

Your Mind, you world, no longer your own.”

They each read the top line together, slightly intrigued by the campy warning. Jumanji came to mind, but did nothing to deter them. Before long, they had vacated the living room and made their way to Jae’s room in the basement, setting up his game table for the cards. After the cryptic warning, the instructions stated that the deck must be placed in the middle after being thoroughly shuffled. Each person would take a turn pulling a card from the top, and the rest of the instructions would reveal themselves.

Jae had searched the box for some kind of manufacturer, or date, but came up with nothing. If this was some sort of “magical” deck of cards, it would be interesting at least to see things play out.

“Who should start? Jae?” Eric asked, watching Jae suddenly show some reluctance.

“Maybe Allister. I set the game up, and you look a little scared, Eric.”

“Do not!” Eric shouted back, just before Allister took a turn without questioning.

“Both of you are pansies… First card!” Allister placed the blank card onto the table, face-up, and watched the ink start to appear. Each boy was pleasantly surprised by how realistic it seemed, and wondered if the low-light of the room had anything to do with it.

~~Sexualities Askew~~

Main Effect: All players’ sexualities are inverted. The player who drew the card must then assign one of the following options to himself and every other player.

  • This player becomes more attracted to men the fatter they become.
  • This player becomes more attracted to men the older they become.
  • This person falls desperately in love with the person to their left.

“That’s insane,” Eric said, reading the card again, “I’m not gay!”

“Yeah, well I’m not either,” Allister said, and yet, as he said it, he knew he was lying. In fact, he remembered that the only reason he’d dated that girl in high school at all was as a beard, so people would stop calling him a faggot. She’d been ok with it–she found other guys to fuck, and he’d paid her off with with fashion advice. Looking at his two friends, he saw that similar revelations were working their way through their minds, and they all looked at each other, and then at the cards…

“No way, fuck this.,” Jae said, and tried to stand up from the table, but one of the cards flipped over on it’s own, the ink displaying a new message in a matter of seconds.

No player may leave the game early–quitting will result in a random number of curses from the deck.

“It knows what we’re saying?” Eric whispered.

“Just sit down, Jae. It’s just a trick. Of course people would stand up after reading shit like that,” Al bargained, watching Jae take his seat reluctantly, grumbling defiantly while doing so.

“Fuck- this is some fucked up shit!” Eric said, slightly terrified. He felt as if they had toyed with a sentient Ouja Board. Allister was ignoring him and rereading the curses, hurring, trying to make up his mind. Jae was to his left–he could handle being in love with him, couldn’t he?

“Alright!” Allister declared through the silence, causing them to jump. He continued, “I’ll take the last one,” he said, and then after a moment, added, “And Jae can have the first one. Eric, you’ll get the second.”

“Dude!” Jae said, “I hate fat people, you fucking know that!”

“And people twice my age? That’s like my dad! I mean…my dad…” Eric said, his eyes glazing over for a second. He had always kind of liked how his dad looked. He was about to turn 50, but looked a little bit older actually, because of how much he’d balded, and his tendency to wear a mustache. He’d always liked kissing him, and he’d snuck a few on his dad’s lips on occasion…

Eric shivered and shook his head, clearing it. No, he wasn’t going to be like that, he wasn’t. He concentrated hard, thinking about his girlfriends, but none of them were doing it for him. Well, aside from Jenny, that time Mr Washburn had caught them making out in the chem lab, what if he’d kicked her out, and then his teacher could have…

Jae, on the other hand, was sweating bullets. He hated fat people, he’d always hated them. He’d been big as a kid, and lost a bunch of weight after he’d been bullied for it, but he didn’t find it attractive at all! Even if…even if the sight of a big guy lumbering towards him down the hall was the only thing that seemed to get his cock hard anymore. Oh, he loved big boys, the bigger the better. He always felt bad, watching them get bullied, and more than once he’d stood up for them at school, befriending them, and usually, they’d let him please them too, after a while. Yeah, he’d massage their hot, flab, rub his face in it, suck them off, fuck them…anything to be closer to them.

Allister, however, only had eyes for Jae. He loved him–really, honestly, loved him. They’d both only had girlfriends to cover up the fact that they were gay, but Jae wasn’t the least bit interested in him. It didn’t matter what he did, how many times he professed his love, Jae would end up with some massive tub of lard, and it would make him so god damn jealous. He loved Jae–why couldn’t he see that, he loved him so much, he’d do anything to be with him–anything.

Shivering, they looked back at the table and saw the second card had changed it’s lettering, Next Turn–please draw a card.

His hand shaking, Jae reached out and flipped the top card over–the blank surface swirling to life, and the three of them read it nervously.

~~Unhealthy Obsessions~~

Each of you will pick up a rather unhealthy addiction. The person who drew this card will choose one of the options below for each player.

  • This player becomes a binge eater, immediately gaining 100 pounds.
  • This player becomes a heavy smoker, but only smokes cigars. They will age 10 years.
  • This player becomes a sex addict, and masturbates or has sex at least 10 times a day.

Jae sighed unhappily, looking between his nervous friends. He lingered for a moment on Allister, looking at the faggy twink hipster he always kept close. He always felt that burning desire Al held for him, and felt perpetually sorry that he couldn’t return it. This card, however…maybe..

“Alright.. I’m definitely not into smoking… You okay with it, Eric?” Jae asked, watching Eric shake his head, unsure, but that seemed like the easiest option for him. He was awkward with sex, and his parents were always over his shoulder. He’d hate them catching him in the middle of a wank. The binge-eating didn’t seem any better. What about his clothes? His lithe frame?

“Whatever, Jae. Just do it,” Eric replied, cringing as Jae selected him. Within moments, his brain flooded with information he hadn’t known existed. Cigar sizes, brands, tobacco blends. He let out a hearty cough, feeling his throat burn momentarily. He brought his hand to his mouth, originally to cover it and protect the others from saliva, but found a thick stogie planting itself between his lips. Upon his surprise, he took in a strong inhale. The burning returned, but felt natural; pleasant, even. The smoke he exhaled through his clenched teeth and flared nostrils engulfed his face. When dissipating, it left light stubble on his cheeks, and gone were his curls. His fro had either fallen away or shrunk, leaving patchy growth around the sides of his head and framing a shiny scalp. Smoking the way he did took years off his life, but it tasted so fucking good. “Yeah, made the right choice,” he stated, his voice rough and aged like his appearance, and took another draw on his cigar.

Jae, unsettled by the change, looked to Allister. So hipster and metro, as he remembered, but now just a needy twink. He’d be able to fix that. He selected him for the first option, watching Allister’s frightened eyes while his frame inflated, like a gelatin-filled balloon. His clothing wasn’t part of the change, as Al was afraid of as well, and made tearing noises in several spots. Being a hipster certainly didn’t help this conundrum, the too-tight clothing simply falling away after violently splitting. His jeans were the worst, holding up more than anything else. Al could only groan and pant heavily before the growing thighs burst through.

Jae watched his previously-skinny friend, sweating, grabbing the table for support. The only clothing left on him was his briefs, still somehow holding on, and looked more like a red thong disappearing clean into Al’s ass-cheeks. Well, not for long, as the elastic gave way and the remains of his underpants fell away. Al looked up momentarily to see Jae’s suddenly needy expression, licking his lips and examining the light rolls that were taking shape. Only 100 pounds for now, but maybe Jae could feed him later.

The last option on the card disappeared, the curse adhering to Jae. As if sitting next to the sexiest hipster chub he’d ever seen weren’t enough, his increased desires made things even worse. His hand was already pushed under the waist of his shorts, and he felt his growing bulge. It felt so hot, so hard in his palm. He was trying to remain in control, but he hadn’t cum yet today. It must have been a new record for him, and his balls churned and became enlarged with extra potent seed. They had to get bigger, being used to producing so much and draining so quickly. Jae fumbled with his shorts, his cock begging to be free of its cloth confines while Al drooled with anticipation. His love for Jae and growing hunger aligned, and he wanted to see the cock he lusted after for so long. Jae, however, wasn’t paying much attention to his surroundings anymore, losing his battle with his urge to play with himself.

“Fffuck! Guys, just one right now, I have to!” Jae bargained, pulling his dick free of his shorts. The pulsing mass curved upwards and seemed a tad bigger than he remembered, but nowhere near proportionate to the growth in his nuts. He wasted no time in fisting the heavy rod, watching it leak profusely. “Oh shit, so good- so fucking good…” Eric felt only a little weirded out behind his cloud of tobacco, watching one of his best friends tug one out before him, but couldn’t help admire the well-toned frame of the young athlete. He was gay, after all.

Losing himself, thrusting into his hand before them without abandon, it didn’t take him long before he (noisily) sprayed all over himself, moaning like a total bitch. The sheer volume shotgunning from his dick was unreal, painting his abs white and even some on his chin. With heavy panting, he let his arms flop to his sides, and tried to regain composure. It didn’t go down, though. While a little winded from his efforts, his horny nature hadn’t bent in any way. It didn’t help that Al was fulfilling his own needs, either.

Jae cried out in ecstasy as Al engulfed the entire engorged cock into his hungry gullet, suckling it and milking it dry, swallowing leftover globs before pulling himself off and running his tongue over the toned pecs of the sex-crazed jock. The saliva left was sticky, warm, and exactly what got Jae’s motor running. He loved fat fucks drooling all over him, and welcomed Al’s advances this time by placing a firm grip over his head, pushing him down to eat more of his cum.

Eric rolled his eyes, a tad jealous and a little disgusted by what Jae considered sexy, and grabbed the top card of the deck. His turn…maybe they could change back, or maybe he’d get some action this time. He placed the card down:

~~Hygiene Roulette~~

Staying clean isn’t going to be as important to any of you. The player that drew this will choose a non-hygienic trait for each person.

  • The player will forget about shaving, waxing, or even combing. Let that wild body fuzz spread!
  • The player will forget about showering, and will quite enjoy his natural ‘cologne’. As will the others.
  • The player will forget about changing his clothes daily, possibly weekly!

“Aww, that’s gross. Is this game serious?” Jae said, looking over the options. Eric however, was kind of enjoying the idea of Jae not liking it. He was always the third wheel when Jae and Al were together–the two were almost always fucking, and he just didn’t understand what Jae saw in fat guys like Al. Still, maybe he could throw some roadblocks in their way…

“Well, I don’t know about you two yet, but I’m taking the hair for myself,” Eric said, and felt his body start itching almost immediately. However, he’d underestimated just how extreme the card was, and a thick pelt sprouted all over his body–but his face too. A beard he’d never seen the likes of covered his face and descended down to his chest–it looked like he hadn’t shaved once since the day he’d gotten his first fuzz–which he realized was actually the truth. His curly hair, however, was another story altogether. He felt it grow out even bigger, and then it started yanking itself and twisting into enormous, fat dreadlocks–it was disgusting…wasn’t it? But he’d had dreads for as long as he could remember, hadn’t he? Sure, it was kind of gross, but he was so hairy, and he did like how it made him look a bit older…still, he had to work out the other two options for his friends. “Alright Al, you’re going to stop showering, and Jae–forget about changing clothes.”

“Wait, seriously?” Al said, “that’s fucking disgusting!”

“Blame the cards man, do you think I’m happy smoking these cigars?” Eric said. Well, he was, actually. He’d picked up the habit to be more like his dad–his dad was so fucking hot…

Al, however, soon realized that his fate was sealed–he was turning rank. He suddenly couldn’t remember when he’d last bathed, and he didn’t care. He lifted his arm and took a whiff of his rank armpit and gave a sigh, feeling a tingle in his cock as he did. He…liked it. He really did. Other changes swept across him as well–his face breaking out from being unwashed, and grease from his rather large meals could be seen shining down his chest.

Jae was repulsed, but he wasn’t faring much better. His tank top was growing filthy from all of the cum he’d shot over the past week on it, and his shorts were crispy and dry. He smelled like a cum rag, and hell if it wasn’t turning him on as he sat there, smelling his stench and…and Al’s. He didn’t smell so bad now, actually, he smelled kind of…rank, but a good kind of rank. He was jacking off again, and then leaned in, shoving his nose into Al’s pit, licking the sweat and musk from it, and Eric tried to keep himself from retching as the two went at it again, Al jerking Jae’s cock with one hand and his own with the other until they both came. He’d wanted to drive them apart, but it looked like he’d only pushed them closer together.

“Fuck guys, that’s disgusting–can’t you wait until I’m gone to do shit like that? You’re making me gag!”

Al scowled at him, “Hey! You’re the one who did it to us, fucker! Do you think I like being a stinking blob of fat?”

“I like you as a stinking blob of fat,” Jae said, grinding his sticky, but still hard cock in between some of the folds of Al’s body, “I wanna fuck you, fatty, I wanna fuck that ripe ass off–”

Al shoved him away, and Jae snapped out of it, realizing what he’d said, but his cock was so needy, he didn’t know how he’d be able to live like this. Well, alone. If he lived with Al, well–no, he couldn’t think about that.

Al, angry at them both, grabbed the top card and flipped it over, waiting for the lettering.

~~Youth or Experience?~~

Each player must choose between youth or experience! They can either lose points off their IQ, or gain an equal amount in years of age. The person who drew the card will assign values to each player, but they have to divide the amount however they wish.

  • 25 points
  • 50 points
  • 75 points

Al grinned mischievously, but so did Eric. While Al could get his revenge, Eric couldn’t wait to see these fuckers gain some years.

“Alright, Jae? I going to go easy on you- for now. Let’s give you the 50 points,” Al stated, grinning at his love. He didn’t care if he was a little bit older, but certainly didn’t care if he was a bit dumber either. He always felt so uneducated around ‘the thinker’ as they used to call him.

Jae seemed a bit upset that he wasn’t given the lowest one, but was trying to decide how to divide the points while he tweaked one of his nipples through his grimy shirt.

“Um, well, let’s see…I don’t want to be too dumb.. College is soon…” the thought of having a dorm-mate flashed through his head, and how fed up he’d probably be finding crusted jocks and jerseys everywhere. At the same time of feeling worried, he felt a shiver of excitement run through him that he’d be marking his territory with old clothes. Shaking himself of the thought, he returned to his current predicament, “Oh! Uh…yeah..I’ll split it like this…” He took one last look at his younger body, and proclaimed his point usage: “35 points from my IQ, and 15 from my age!”

Jae’s wince was obvious as he felt the 15 years surge through his form. His body hair seemed a tad denser, but still kept short, and his skin was a bit less smooth. Probably the years he’d spent hanging around that smoking asshole Eric… A couple of wrinkled donned his forehead, and some silver hairs sprouted from his chest. In the same sweep, his head began to feel like it was stuffed with cotton. Memories were fuzzy, and the reality of the game was losing hold. He looked at his greasy blob of a boyfriend and felt the complexity of their relationship unravel. Reasons for their being together felt just a tad easier to accept. He was fat, fat is good.

Al was a bit stricken with guilt, watching the intelligence drain from Jae’s face. He didn’t think it would be so obvious, so literal, but the grin Jae was sporting said it all.

“Are you…are you alright, Jae?” He asked tentatively, and caught the horndog’s attention.

“Feeling fine, bro!” Jae exclaimed, quickening his efforts on his dick, close to spurting again in front of them. ‘Bro’ wasn’t a word Jae normally liked using. Even as a jock, it seemed too cliche. Now, he held no qualms about it. He was approaching middle-age, and kept the same vernacular he held in his younger days. Al rubbed Jae’s fuzzy pecs, helping him along with his next orgasm as he declared the next option.

“I’ll take the 75 points…”

“What? Why??” Eric asked, a bit surprised that he wasn’t stricken with such a terrible curse.

“I should have given him the smaller choice, but I acted too fast. It’s only fair. I’ll take 10 years to my age, and the rest in IQ.” Al felt the next warm spray of cum on the back of his hand, and smiled at his ill-clothed lover. Leaning down, taking a nice whiff of the grimy shirt and licking the fresh drips of seed. He felt the curse washing over him.

The aging happened so quick, the soft rolls of fat sagging just a bit further, his hair becoming a little thinner. Eric stroked his brown pelt of fur through his shirt, and lit another of his cigars, enjoying this bit a little too much. While he was particular to much older men, it was a thrill to see youth fading so quickly.

IQ was next, and Al sported the same dopey grin Jae had, only bigger. His eyes held the innocence of a child after that wave, and without his intelligence his inhibitions were drastically lowered. The obese imbecile lowered himself to suckle the drying drops of cum from the crusted cloth. Jae held him down, giggling at the hungry mass that worshipped him and his nasty attire.

Eric laughed triumphantly, gaining the last value, and chose to take off 5 from his IQ, and place 20 years to his age. The filthy dreads had swirls and streaks of silver rushing through them, already previously aged thanks to his intense smoking. He had to feel about 50 at this point, and he sucked happily at his stogie. The IQ loss wasn’t truly enough to destroy him, or impair his judgment in this game. The years taken away from him and gave his smoking quite the effect, darkening his teeth, his nails turning yellow, and his skin becoming a bit cragged.

“Hey, Jock-boy!” Eric called to Jae, “It’s your turn.”

Jae nodded like a cocky idiot, and drew from the deck, careful not to let the fat sack of shit raise himself off his dick.

~~One Big Happy Family~~

All the players are now related, and the youngest in the family has to obey his elders. In addition, as chosen by the drawer:

  • One player ages 50 years.
  • One player ages 20 years.
  • One player regresses 20 years.

“Aww…what?” Jae said, reading the card again, “Dang, that’s…kinda fucked up.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t want to be old do you?” Eric said, “I’ll take the big one, I don’t mind.” He really didn’t mind being that old, in fact, especially if that meant the other two would have to obey him. He was already a bit older, but if Jae did something different…

“No, hold on…” Jae said, “I don’t want to be that old, sure, but I don’t want to get younger. I kind of like where I am…I’ll give it to Al!”

“Wha?” Al said around Jae’s cock, but it was too late, as the fat dude, the youngest at 27, started to age rapidly. Eric could only watch, enthralled, as the binge eating took an even greater toll on his friend’s body, ballooning him up to over 500 pounds, where he plateaued, his fat sagging as his hair balded back, and a light, silver beard filled in over his face. He was…beautiful, and the fact that Eric couldn’t see him any other way now disturbed him, but fuck, if he didn’t want to fuck him now, so badly. Now he was just jealous of Jae more than anything. “Oh fuck, that’s so hot…” he groaned, moaning around his cigar and rubbing his crotch. Jae watched Eric, sizing him up. He didn’t want competition–what had he done? Maybe if he could make Eric like him too…

“Alright,” Jae said, “I’m going to age 20 years then.”

“Eric turned to him, “What? No!” but it was too late. Jae, at 32, quickly aged to 52, just past the threshold of Eric’s compulsive attraction, and suddenly here he was with two beautiful old men, and he was getting younger. Looking down, he lost ten of the twenty years he’d just gained, falling back to 27–a young adult, but half the age of his father and grandfather.

No! No, that was wrong, he wasn’t related to these fat dirty fucks, he wasn’t! But he had been lusting after his dad forever, hadn’t he? Especially now that he was greying and balding more heavily, the two of them would spend afternoons just watching porn together, and Eric always ended up riding his dad’s cock. His dad wanted him bigger though, Jae liked his men big. His stomach gave a grumble, and started to expand, his hairy body blimping out until he was over three hundred as well. Fuck he was hungry, and his dad was massaging his cock like he wanted him.

“Boy, get over here,” Jae said, “Your grandpa’s leaking again–take care of it, would you?”

“Sure Pa,” Eric said, happy to help. He got down in front of his dumb, fat grandpa, dug around for his cock and started sucking, and then his dad got down behind him and shoved his fingers in his fat hole, making Eric squeal a bit.

“Yeah boy, that’s so hot, I love watching you two fat pigs go down on each other,” Jae said, “You want my cock son? You want me to fuck this dirty shit chute of yours?”

Jae didn’t wait for a response–he knew what his boy wanted, and he fucked him rough and quick–he was too horny to make it long, and he managed to cum twice before Al gave a dull moan and shot his load across his grandson’s bearded face. Eric got up, feeling a shadow of humiliation, though he didn’t know why exactly, and then returned to his seat.

“Well son? It’s your turn, draw a card.”

Eric gulped, and drew a card, placing it on the table, and then read it.

~~Key Holder~~

The person who drew the card is the key holder. Of the following options, the key holder gets none, one other player will receive two options, and the last player will receive one.

  • Chastity device – The player may only cum with the key holder’s permission.
  • Fist mitts and muzzle – player can be compelled to behave like a dog at the will of the keyholder.
  • Butt plug – Player can get hard if and only if they are being fucked. The buttplug can only be inserted or removed by the keyholder.

Eric looked at his daddy, a look of confusion at his luck to draw such a card. As soon as control was taken away from him, he had the option of getting it back. Daddy Jae looked his boy in the eyes, still filled with hungry abandon, but was ready for anything that might happen.

“Pa, I have to do what the card says, right?”

“Seems so. You better not fuck this up, boy.” Jae scowled at his good-for-nothing son, drawing such a terrible turn-around card. Allister had no regrets, taking in deep whiffs of his old daddy-pits and rubbing the leftover cum from his last orgasm into his rolls, awaiting the next terrible fate to befall him. “You got your ol’ grandpa worked up for more, so just choose already.”

“Uh, alright, I-…Pa, you like being a top dog, right? A real alpha…”

“You son of a bitch! Give me the Butt-Plug!”

“Son of a bitch, eh? Not helping your case here, Dad… Let’s give you the Mitts and Muzzle,” Eric stifled a grin, watching the black mitts encase his Daddy’s hands. Jae’s fingers pulled in tight and curled into fists inside, unable to move freely from the hand. The wrists wrapped securely with a thick leather strap, fastened with a shiny buckle. Around his balding head, Jae felt the muzzle materialize and cover his nose and mouth- even his ears. He caught his reflection in the mirror across the room, seeing the muzzle as somewhat of a hood, with floppy rubber ears atop his scalp. He shook, trying to break free of his muzzle, but only jostled his brain around a bit. He felt fuzzy, anger lingering and unable to stand. He was at least able to breathe, the muzzle broken in the middle with a fake dog-tongue and a nice opening for inserting a juicy cock.

“Aww, who’s a sexy fuck-puppy??” Eric teased, watching Jae’s anger slip away from his face. A rush of euphoria came in waves through his old body at being called a puppy. The humiliation, the shame, it all translated to pure sex. His mitted hands started toying with his never-ending-erection, trying to grip it as best as possible. In his state, he couldn’t form words. Only whimpers and the frustrated fussing of a horny puppy.

“Cute puppy!” Al stated dumbly, watching his son degrade himself and hump his mitts. He couldn’t resist reaching out to scratch the puppy’s head. Eric almost couldn’t stop himself from laughing out. He was still a sexy old fucker, but he made such a wonderful pet. He’d have to take care of his bad habit, though.

“Now now, Pa. We can’t have a horn-dog like you messing the house. I’m going to give you the Chastity Device, too.”

Jae would have struggled, or protested, but he had to obey the key holder. For the first time since his obsession with sex and masturbation had started, his cock softened, and shrunk into a too-tight chastity device. He whimpered louder, pawing at his dick, and watched the drips of pre leak from the opening in the clear shell. Al was intrigued, reaching down to jostle the sealed crotch, and watched the puppy squirm.

“That leaves you, Grandpa. You get the Butt Plug.” Eric pointed at Al, and watched the slob gain an expression of discomfort. A searing pain pierced his backside, a phantom length driving into his rectum. His greasy fat jiggled and he struggled to reach under himself, finding a hard material poking from between his cavernous cheeks. Eric looked over the table to see clear pink object peeking out, very thick and nearly splitting the old fart in two. “Yeah, old fucks like you need SOMETHING to keep them hard, right Gramps? Why not a rubber man hose to keep you satisfied?”

Al felt the pain starting to turn as he jiggled the foreign object in his ass. Each little vibration made his pudgy dick throb and squirt more fluids under his draping stomach. He never felt so hard in his 72 years of age. He pushed grimy hands under his sagging belly and gripped what he could find of himself, spreading his musky pre into his thighs and slightly bouncing on the artificial cock. Jae was frisky, and annoyed with the attention pulled away from him. He brought his “paws” to his chest, and made begging noises towards his son.

“Puppy feeling lonely? Come on boy, here’s a bone for ya!” Eric pulled his hairy cock from his pants, flaunting it under the table. Jae was quick to retreat underneath the game and crawl on his mitts and knees to his new Owner. Just as the muzzle was supposed to, it allowed Eric’s manhood to slip easily inside. The fake rubber tongue massaged the length, but it certainly didn’t feel as good as his Puppy-Pa’s actual tongue and mouth pleasuring him. Grasping the floppy ears, he skull-fucked the puppy and until he shot thick ropes down Jae’s throat.

The puppy cringed, tasting the tang of tobacco and nicotine on his Master. He couldn’t love it any less, wagging his bare ass and showing obvious joy in obeying. Eric ruffled his receding hair, feeling a sense of pride at owning such an obedient pup. “I think it’s your turn, Big Pa. Flip that card!” Eric had to control the urge to order him around too much, still lusting after the aging slob.

Al was only able to pull his hand away from his cock, still pulling the dildo in and out of his ass, and flipped the card:

~~Auction~~

Each player must put in a bid. This number represents the number of years they are willing to regress, and IQ points they are willing to lose. No one’s age may drop below 17.

  • The winner of the auction becomes the new key holder after paying their bid. If they were already the key holder, nothing happens. If a new key holder is chosen, they may reassign the gear according to their desires.
  • The second highest bid gains a number of pounds equal to their bid times five.
  • The lowest bid receives a previous change of which affected the winner. The winner is no longer affected by that change.

The card started counting down from a minute, the letters swirling as the seconds passed, and each player, to the best of their abilities, came up with a bid that they thought they could manage to pay, and when the card reached zero, it went blank for a moment. They weren’t sure if they were just supposed to say their bids out loud, but the card revealed the first result for them: The second highest bidder was Al, with 47 points. He will gain 235 pounds.

Al watched in horror as his already massive frame started to bloat even further. He had already crested 500 pounds after aging into his seventies, but as he watched, his bulbous gut pushed forward ever further, angry red stretch marks covering his body as it did. The gut pushed his thighs apart, so he was forced to splay them wide, but he didn’t even know if he had the energy to stand, much the less fuck himself. Still, he found that he was able to rock back and forth well enough on the dildo, and his mass of fat actually pressed in on his cock. It felt–surprisingly good, and he soon zoned out, focusing more on his ass than on the cards.

Of course, Eric and Jae knew their bids, and knew their fates before the card even revealed them next. Jae is the winner with a bid of 50. Pay your bid.

“I’ll pay 35 years of my age, and 15 points off my IQ,” Jae said in reply. He had a moment to regret the fact that he’d won–with his already low IQ he was going to be nearly as stupid as Al–who was, he realized, now his father as well as Eric’s. Still, he didn’t have much time to think about it, as his brain drained away. The only thing left, it seemed, was an endless repository of porn stars, sex acts, and the endless compulsion to fuck and masturbate. He drooled a little bit out of the muzzle, but it disappeared a moment later along with the chastity device, and he took the opportunity to jack his cock, cumming in a matter of seconds, relieved to be free again. His asshole older brother–he hated him for that, for making him his fucking pet. Well he’d show him.

“As the new, uh… key guy, I want Eric to have the puppy stuff, Pa to have the chastity device, and Eric can have the butt plug, too!”

Eric tried to object, but he didn’t get a word out before the muzzle wrapped his mouth, and his hands became encased in the mitts that he’d forced on his brother in the last round. He let out something that resembled more of a yip than a shout, when he felt the plug force it’s way into his ass. Looking over his shoulder, from where he was on his hands and knees now, he saw his tail there, and he gave it a wag, panting as he felt the thick, nine inch dildo it was attached to wiggle in his ass, his puppy cock leaking on the floor.

“‘N lastly, I want Eric to take that…that youth or experience point thing from me.”

Nothing happened for a moment, and the card swirled with ink. The game cannot regress you any younger. However, the game can still restore your IQ, and have both the age and IQ drop affect Eric. Is this fine with you?

“Yeah yeah, sure, whatever,” Jae said, “Just make him stupid would you? Whoa, hey, I can…kinda think again…” Jae felt the mental cloud hanging over him lift a bit. His head wasn’t working as well as it had at first, but it was certainly better than before, but his puppy, well, he was simply staring up at him dumbly, panting, wagging it’s dildo tail and whining at him. He had put on quite a few years as well, looking to be in his fifties now. He realized that he was now the son, and Eric his father, but he didn’t mind the change.

“What is it dad, do you need a fucking?”

From the look on Eric’s face, he did, but it was something else, too. He put a mitt up on the table and nudged his cigars, and kept whining.

“Oh, right. Well, how about I fuck you while you smoke, dad?”

Eric jumped up and down, barking, and presented his tail to Jae, who lit a cigar, shoved it in Eric’s muzzle, and then pulled out his tail and went to town. His dad’s hole was so loose, after being plugged up all the time, he loved it, and he creamed it three times in quick succession, before sliding the tail back in and returning to the table. Al, through it all, had just sat there dumbly, his cock now caged. He was starving, and the game had conjured a pile of junk food which he was slowly demolishing, his cock leaking the entire time into his gunt.

“Well, I suppose it’s my turn again, eh?” Jae said, flipping over the second to last card.

~~“What Are You Wearing?”~~

The drawer must choose one of the three options for each player.

  • The player now wears diapers 24/7. They generally act like a baby, even in public.
  • The player can only wear clothes made out of rubber or leather.
  • The player can only wear dirty laundry which has been worn by someone else.

Jae looked down at his puppy-father, still delightfully dumb and messing his legs and the floor with his doggy cum. He was already wearing some nice leather gear, so why let him have all the fun? “I’ll take the rubber and leather one. A pup has to match his owner, right?” The crusty tank he had been sporting nearly the entire game started to smooth out, the yellowing spots dissipating as it became a solid rubber tank. The white sheen glistened in the low light of the basement, and his erect nipples stuck straight through the material. He tweaked them, moaning as his shorts fell away, leaving a leather jock in its place. A solid silver zipper ran down the seam of the pouch, holding in his leaking cock. From there, his forearms became encased in leather bands with thick straps tying the ends closed. Atop his head, he felt a muir cap settle. The feeling was oh-so familiar, as if he’d worn it his entire life. His previous curse of never washing his clothes was still in-effect, and constant fuck sessions and perspiration from activity in his gear filled the room with stank.

Finally, his toes wiggled happily in a flawless pair of pitch-black boots with enormous rubber soles. He looked at his blob of a Grandpa, snickering, remembering the first time he’d dug through the sick old man’s closet and found the gear. Must have been from his younger days when he could play with the big boys.

Yeah, the big boys… “Hey, Big Pa, I think you should sport a fancy diaper, right? Relive some of that lost youth.” Al heard the tell-tale crinkle of the giant diaper forming around his fat form. It was uncanny that such a size of diaper existed, but he felt no different about it than his chastity device. Of course he wore a diaper! It went so well with his binky. He pulled from the remains of junk-food trash a pink rubber pacifier, plopping it in his drooling maw and suckled happily, settling his fat back against the creaking chair. So relaxing, so endearing to just give in to the old days. The younger bears loved cradling him in a reinforced sling, feeding him, and even changing his diaper after he messed himself.

“Nnngg…” Al started to struggled, shifting in his seat, and suddenly remember how much cola he had chugged down. Without another thought (if any remained), he felt the flood-gates open and the delightful warmth spread through him. His thighs were dripping, his crack quickly filling with musky liquid gold. He had been a good boy, relieving himself like that in front of the others. He wasn’t ashamed, not even as he poked his diaper and sloshed the contents around.

Jae wanted to be disgusted, he wanted to retch, but seeing his Grandpa regress so much only made his cock explode inside the jock. He reached under the strap to spread the cum around, only pulling it out to feed to his obedient pup.

“I guess that leaves the recycled clothing for you, boy.”

Eric slurped his Master’s hand clean before tilting his head in confusion, suddenly weighed down by a new sensation. His naked body was covered in the filthy clothes Jae was wearing before turning into the perfect Gear-stud. On top of that, a grimy jean-jacket from an unknown place. All Eric knew was how rank it smelled. He raised an arm to sniff the denim through his muzzle, gagging, but still leaking and needy from the very thought of soaking in someone else’s leftover attire. His feet (or back paws as he began to think of them) nestled into a pair of stiff dress socks.

Jae caught the pup’s attention, shoving his heavy boot into his dad’s balls. The force was subtle at first, slowly increasing, and making the obedient bitch whimper louder and more high-pitched. After spurting once more, dirtying the spotless boots, Jae compelled the pup to clean them right away. The muzzle could open enough for his tongue to reach the delicious leather, cleaning away the dirty globs while he savored the tang of cow-hide. In the same motion, Jae reached over to his Big Pa and squeezed the disgusting adult baby’s chastity cage through the diaper, forcing more piss to leak from between his legs as the pressure was reallocated.

Al could only suck harder on his binky, moaning, writhing, and relishing in the feeling of being so wet and turned on. If only his pudgy dick wasn’t encased as it was, he’d fill his diaper with another surprise.

Jae looked down at his hungry, eager slut-pup, and smirked. “It’s your turn, isn’t it? You able to draw, fuck-puppy? Eric whined and pawed at Jae’s cock with his mitts, barking in excitement. “Yeah, I guess I can draw for you. Be a good boy and hump Big Pa’s leg while I take of your turn.

~~Life Goes On~~

All three players will vote on their new lives. The one with the most votes will be carried out, and the game will end.

  • Daddy’s Den – Jae is the daddy of a bear bar,  his father, Eric acting as his guard-dog and lover. Grandpa Al is a paid attraction for patrons of the bar to visit, babysit, and fuck as they please in a giant playroom in the back.
  • Hog Wild – The family become the heads of a travelling bike gang, with Jae as the leader. Eric will act as the gang’s fuck-toy, and Grandpa Al is the “trainer” for new recruits.

Like the auction prior, the three of them only had to think about their vote for the card to start writing again, giving each of their votes in turn. and the card started with Eric. Eric: Daddy’s Den. As much as Eric disliked Jae, he thought life would be a bit easier as a guard dog in a bar, than riding around all over the place. The card then added below that, Al: Hog Wild. As much as Al…enjoyed being a baby, he didn’t really find the idea of being a permanent attraction all that thrilling. That made it a tie, and the two of them turned to Jae, who smiled as the card added Jae: Daddy’s Den. He was happy to be 17 again–but to be honest, he’d liked how it had felt to be a bit older. He wasn’t sure how the cards would make him into a “Daddy” of course, but he was surprisingly eager to find out.

His question was answered soon enough–he felt his body start itching a bit as he furred up by an impressive margin–not as furry as his puppy Pa, of course–though Jae noticed that Eric’s hair was actually coming in thicker. In fact, by the time this was all finished, he wouldn’t have been surprised if his body ended up with as much hair as dog’s usually had. However, while Al and Eric remained massive fat–just how Jae liked them both–he was bulking up in a different way–muscles pushing out against his well worn leather gear. He realized he wasn’t actually aging a day over seventeen though, and he realized that ten years down the road, he was going to be an absolute beast, probably like his dad.

The room was vibrating now, at first just slow enough to make him seasick if he tried to keep an eye on it, but soon it was going by so fast it was just a blur, and then he was seated at a table in a moderately sized bar, and Al and Eric were nowhere to be found. Well, Eric was easy–his old dog was right where he’d left him, in the metal dog-house he’d built for his dad to live in. The bar was actually his, but Jae was taking over for him. He’d progressed far enough in his obedience classes that he was ready and eager to live as Jae’s dog full time now, and he couldn’t be more excited. Collared and wearing his master’s filthy cast off clothing, Eric padded out in his mitts, muzzle and collar, picked up a massive dildo in his mouth and crawled over to Jae, setting it down in front of him, whimpering.

“I know you want to play Eric, but I gotta get the bar ready for tonight.”

Eric barked, but Jae just stared him down, and a bit downtrodden and disappointed, he picked up his dildo and padded back over to his doghouse where he laid down in a bit of a huff.

Jae could still remember a bit of what had happened to all of them, but it was fading rather quick, becoming more like a dream than his actual life. He stood up from the table when he heard someone start crying, and he stepped into a back room which had been completely redecorated into a nursery, where in a massive playpen, Al was sitting on his fat ass, bawling his eyes out.

“I know you need your diaper changed Al, but you have to wait. I have you rented out to a biker gang tonight, and they want you dirty tonight–it’s in the agreement,” Jae said, and then he pulled a massive baby bottle over and handed it to his grandpa, “here, drink your gainer shake, it’ll make you feel better.”

He hefted up the bottle and shoved it in Al’s mouth, and the massive man started suckling on it, his eyes dulling and glazing over as he drank down the fattening shake from his grandson. Figuring that would probably keep him occupied, and that the laxatives he’d added would make sure the bikers would be having plenty of fun later, he went out and started setting up for happy hour, but Eric wouldn’t stop whining and looking at him in despair. He checked the clock and gave a sigh–he did need to play with his dog, he hadn’t fucked him all day, and he knew how Eric got when he hadn’t had a load of his master’s cum up his ass in a while. “Alright, alright boy, I’m coming!” Jae said, and Eric started jumping and woofing, before turning around and presenting his ass for his son. Sure, it wasn’t exactly easy owning two slaves and running a bar at 17, but Jae realized as he fucked his dad’s sloppy hole, listening to him yip and yowl, that there wasn’t anything else in the world he’d rather be doing.

Well, it’s important to remember that I didn’t lie to him–he’d come into my smoke shop, and he’d heard the rumors–guys like him always hear the rumors. That my smokes can…enhance people, make them more who they want to be. I get the wimpy, the small, the nerdy–and really all they want to be are men. Real men–and I am usually perfectly accommodating. 

Usually.

I mean, they always end up closer to what they want, it’s just that some of them, well, they come in with this attitude. They think they deserve to be men, that they were somehow slighted by the universe when it decided to give them this weak, hairless body they have now. I can always tell, when they come in, if they’re going to be grateful or not, and if not…well…

Heh, I have a little room all set up for them. You see, it takes a week of pretty constant smoke to reach the full change, and what sort of man you become depends a lot on what you do. If you work out that week? You’ll be a sweaty muscle bear. Hike in the outdoors? You might come back looking like Paul Bunyan. And the grateful ones, they get it–they craft themselves, but the ungrateful ones, well, I craft them myself.

Each one is a little bit different, but this one, well, he’s got the mask on so he can have way more smoke than normal–he’s going to be hairy as fuck by the time this week’s up. And keeping him bound up and unmoving? Pair that with the massive feeding sessions and he’s going to waddle out of here one fat fucking bear. But why the chastity device? Well, the cigars have a tendency to encourage…rapid growth down there, shall we say. Locking them up though–the sexual energy breaks down their minds–and keeps their cock small. No, the only satisfaction this dumbfuck will be getting is a good ass reaming every night. Yep, just my kind of fat ass bear slut–I can’t wait.

They all want a father figure–I mean, who can blame them, really? So many deadbeat dads out there, running out on their sons when they’re just tots, growing up with just a single mother, of course they’re going to be bullied pansies by the time they grow up. I just want to be the dad they never had, is all–so, it’s not really that bad of a lie.

I troll the websites, where guys look for the fathers who abandoned them, and I lurk, waiting for one that I can help. I learn about them, about their situation, pick up little details, and when we start chatting, and I already know everything about them…well, they just want to believe it so badly.

When they come to stay with me for the summers, they usually have a hard time believing I’m really their dad. I mean, usually we look so little alike, but I help them, little by little. I bond with them, I…help them find that manliness in them which they’d never had a chance to develop. So, they leave better men than they come, big bellied, hairy, bearded…all of them my hot adult sons. And of course, they always come back for more. With a nine inch dick and all the positive affirmation they want, I have all the means of filling them up that they could ever need.

The Audition

Commissioned by Seamus

“Patrick and Aaron? You’re up!” The voice called from inside the room, and the two friends got up, giving each other a nervous glance, and headed into the audition. The two college friends had a week earlier picked up a flyer on campus advertising open auditions for porn films, and later that evening, when the two of them were quite drunk, they had called the studio as a joke more than anything, but to their surprise they had been called in for an audition by someone named Mr. Thompson, and the next day, even though they were nervous as hell, they hopped in Aaron’s car and drove to the seedy LA address where they were now.

After a few minutes in a waiting room, manned only by a bored, and rather normal looking receptionist, with nothing to do but feel nervous, they were now auditioning, and neither of them knew what to expect–or why they were being called in together–but in they went, finding themselves on a small, undressed sound stage, except for a ratty looking couch and coffee table in the middle. Back by the cameras, there was a folding table set up and two older men seated there, flipping through forms. One of them looked up and said, “Go ahead and have a seat there,” he said, pointing to a couple of folding chairs off stage, and Patrick and Aaron took their places. “So, the two of you are interested in the porn business?” the man asked. Neither Patrick nor Aaron really knew what to say to that, and after a second, the man looked down at the paper in front of him and mumbled, “Both shy…gonna have to do something about that…”

“How about we start with some introductions?” the second man said, “This is Mr. Thompson–he says he spoke briefly to you both over the phone. He’s the director here at RockCock studios, I’m Mr. Lewis–I’m the producer. Now, which of you is Aaron and who is Patrick?”

“I’m Patrick,” the first guy said.

“Alright, hmm…brown hair, green eyes, decent build. Could you take off your shirt for me?”

“What? I don’t…”

“Take off your shirt please,” Mr. Thompson said, and before Patrick could question it, he stripped it off.

“Well, not quite the build I had in mind, a bit too…lanky. Guess we might need to fix that. And you, you’re Aaron?”

“Yes.”

“Alright, I love the blonde hair, and very beautiful green eyes, but we have so many blondes already…hmm…Your shirt too please.”

Aaron, less intimidated now that Patrick had shed his own, pulled his off, giving the men a chance to look him over as well. “Nice, do you go to the gym?”

“Off and on, I guess.”

“How many times a week would you guess?”

“Maybe two? Sometimes none?”

“Hmmm, alright.”

While Mr. Lewis asked his questions, Mr. Thompson was looking over his shoulder towards a second entry way onto the set. “Do you know where Hank is? I explicitly told him to be here at one o’clock to help with an audition.”

“Maybe shooting is just taking a little longer than expected.”

Mr. Thompson turned back around and looked at the shirtless men, “Alright, let me explain how this will work. We’re going to have you both work with Hank Bruin–he’s going to star in “Dirty Dudes Volume Three”. We want to see how your on screen chemistry works with him, if he would get here already…”

“Wait, Hank?” Patrick asked, looking at Aaron, “Hold on guys, we’re both straight–we aren’t interested in guys.”

Neither Mr. Thompson nor Mr. Lewis said anything in reply, and both Patrick and Aaron tried to get up to leave, but for some reason, neither of them could get up from the chairs Mr. Thompson had directed them into. A moment later, a man they presumed to be Hank ran onto the set, and the sight of him didn’t make Patrick nor Aaron feel much better. He was quite tall, and muscular, though not overly so, and was wearing nothing beyond a jockstrap and wifebeater, giving both of them a view of his hairy body and his sizable package. “Oh God, I’m sorry Mr. Thompson, I got over here as fast as I could, but Mr. Willis wanted the shot from two angles, and so I had to hold it, and–”

“Hank, please–I don’t want to hear your excuses. I’ll speak to Mr. Willis and see if there is call for any disciplinary action. For now, we have Patrick and Aaron here–they’re auditioning for roles in “Dirty Dudes Volume Three” with you. Now be a good boy and take a seat on the couch while I give them their direction, alright?” Hank passed by the two shirtless students and shot them a look, something between regret and pity which made them both feel rather uneasy, and sat down on the couch. “Alright Mr. Lewis, have you decided on the roles for our two newcomers here?”

“Yes, I think I have. I’d like Patrick to take Dirty Dude Two, and Aaron to be Dirty Dude Three.”

“Alright, then that means Patrick, we’ll start with you. Stand up and try not to look so nervous. Now, here’s your motivation. Hank here has invited you over to his house, and you’ve always had a bit of a crush on him. He’s just such a handsome top, and the pig in you, it just wants to worship his sweaty, hairy body so badly. Now, go ahead and take a seat on the couch, and lets see where you take it.”

Aaron expected his friend to just bolt out of the studio–hell, he would have, but to his utter shock, he walked up onto the stage and plopped down on the couch next to Hank–right next to Hank, so close their thighs were touching. There was an unmistakable look of terror in his eyes, like a man who’d lost all control of himself, and he turned to Hank and said, “Hey man, I just wanted to thank you for inviting me over.”

“Hey, it’s no big deal,” Hank said back and looked over at Patrick, and fuck if their eyes weren’t smouldering for each other, and then, Patrick leaned in and started kissing Hank, his hands all over the porn actor’s sweaty body, and Aaron wanted to vomit.

“Yes Patrick, I love the energy, great job–keep going!” Mr. Thompson said.

“What the fuck–what the fuck are you doing to him? How are you doing this? Let us go!” Aaron said, again struggling in his seat.

Mr. Thompson looked over at him, angry, and snapped, “Quiet on the set Aaron, you’ll get to join in soon enough. Now go on Patrick, go on and start licking Hank clean, worship that body you’ve been lusting after for so long, it’s finally yours–go ahead and take it!”

Patrick moved down, licking and nibbling the sweat from Hank’s stubbly neck, before shoving his face into Hank’s armpit, licking with the entire surface of his tongue, making sure to turn enough for the cameras to catch his lust, even if his eyes were still confused and angry and…horny. Hank had one hand on his groin now and was massaging it, a cocky grin on his face as he watched him worship his pit. “Damn Pat, I had no idea you were such a fuckin’ slut–how long have you been after my sweaty body?”

“Oh fuck, so god damn long Hank,” Patrick moaned, “I…I even stole your underwear a couple of times, just to smell you, fuck, you’re a fuckin’ god Hank. Can…Can I smell your jock Hank? Please, can I?”

“Oh, great improv, keep going!”

“Sure thing bud, I can see how bad you need it,” Hank said, and like a hungry beast, Pat dove into Hank’s crotch, burying his nose in the crack between his cock and his thigh, lapping up all the sweat he could find, moaning and groaning, grinding his rock hard cock into the sofa cushions.

Off to the side, Aaron was trying to scream, to get away to do anything, but he was frozen, and his voice–his voice wouldn’t work. Even worse, he could tell he was next, that he would be as helpless as his friend in a matter of minutes.

Patrick was now sucking on the jock, taking as much of it in his mouth as he could, tasting the stale cum and sweat which had soaked into it, and even though the taste was rank he couldn’t help but act like he was enjoying it. However, this character, he could feel it beginning to overcome him–it was becoming more and more natural, he was starting to really think that Hank was a god worth worshipping, that he liked the taste of his sweaty body, that this was really what he wanted, and in a panic, he fought against the direction, but couldn’t escape the compulsion.

“Alright, that’s good Pat, but not really what we had in mind, see, you have a foot fetish. You fucking love feet, the sweatier and smellier the better. In fact, you’d rather suck toes than cock any day of the fuckin week, isn’t that right?”

“Oh fuck, can I Hank? Can I clean your filthy feet, man? Fuck, that’d make me so fuckin’ hot for you, please…”

“Get down there you fuckin’ pig, but I gotta warn you, they’re pretty rank, and they’d better be fucking spotless by the time you’re done with them.” Hank put his bare feet up on the coffee table, and it was all Patrick could do to keep from diving on them and taking as much of them as he could in his mouth, but he held off. He wanted to fucking savor them, he wanted to enjoy this, he wanted…he wanted to put on a show, yeah, he wanted the cameras to see how much of a pig he was for a guy’s filthy feet, it felt so hot having the cameras on him, so fucking exciting…he started by sucking on all of the toes, one by one, and then started licking the soles clean in long strokes of his tongue, Hank massaging his cock while Patrick worked.

“How damn, how about that? I think we have a natural,” Mr Thompson said.

“Hmm, yeah, he does have plenty of spirit, but I’m just not sold on his look quite yet,” Mr. Lewis said. “Do you mind if I work on him for a bit?”

“Certainly, Mr. Lewis. I can’t wait to see what you have in mind, as always.”

“Alright let’s see. I definitely like Pat better than Patrick, but still not a perfect name…oh of course, Pat the Pig, I love the alliteration. Yeah, that’s a great name for you–direct, the audience knows just what to expect from you. Still, you don’t quite look like a pig, do you? Let’s go ahead and fix that, I think. Let’s see, you’re going to have to put on some weight for the role, so how about…325 pounds? Yeah, enough to give you a nice, piggy gut, let’s see it.”

On his hands and knees, still savoring Hank’s sweaty feet, Pat felt his body changing, growing, his belly sagging down with fat as he fought against the director’s orders. He didn’t want to be a fucking pig! He just wanted to keep cleaning Hank’s sweaty fucking feet, fuck they were so hot. With one hand, he was able to feel his changing body, his gut sagging down, two fat piggy tits where his pecs had been, and he gave a little snort of pleasure as he grazed one of his nipples.

“Yeah, that’s good. And hair–you’re gonna be a hairy bear of a man I think, all over, front and back, a fuckin’ pelt. A pig like you doesn’t need that big of a cock either–after all, we aren’t going to have you topping anyone in this film, but maybe some big fucking balls, yeah, your loads are gonna be massive.” Mr. Lewis got down, and watched Pat’s cock shrink as his balls grew, “Ha, fuck, look at this tiny cock, you can barely see it through the fuckin’ pubes–now that’s a pig.”

Patrick couldn’t look around to see himself, but he could feel his skin crawling with hairs now, including across his face, as a scruffy beard filled in around his now chubby face. Now as he felt himself with his hand, it felt almost like he was touching an animal, yeah, just an animal, just a pig, a pig desperate for dirty feet and sweaty bodies. Pat was snorting even more now, and his little cock was so hard, but he knew better than to touch it without Mr. Thompson’s explicit permission.

“Yeah, that’s damn fine. Still, how about a little edge? I’m thinking…mohawk. And red, I love a good firetop, and with a name like Pat, why the hell not? Still, since we can’t see any tattoos through all that fur, how about some piercings?” The hair on Pat’s body turned a brilliant red, the sides of his heads shaved, leaving him with a short, spiky mohawk. The pain in his ears as the gauges grew in, and the horseshoe in his septum caused his eyes to water. Mr. Lewis ran has hand along Pat’s furred back, feeling Pat shiver at his touch. He knew he had to try and fight back against these feelings, that this was wrong, but it was so hard to think outside the direction Mr. Thompson had given him. “What do you think, Mr. Thompson? Isn’t that a much hotter pig?”

“Fuck, now that’s a pig! He’s going to be very popular I think. We’re going to have to include him in our next bear flick too, I think.”

“Oh yeah, he’s going to be very versatile I think, well, except for the fact that he’s a total bottom,” Mr. Lewis said with a chuckle, as he took his seat.

“Alright, that sounds like a nice plan. Alright, Aaron, why don’t you go ahead and join in? Here’s your direction–”

“Please!” Aaron sputtered, forcing his way past the director’s insistence on silence, “Please, no, don’t make me clean anyone’s feet, that’s so fucking disgusting! Don’t make me a pig like that!”

There was silence for a moment, and then the two men laughed, “Oh please Aaron, do you really think we’d do the same thing twice?” Mr Lewis said.

“Trust us, one foot fetishist is plenty for a single film, no, we’d rather have you go in a different direction. Now, you’re Hank’s roommate, and at the moment, you are drunk off your ass. Now, you’re going to walk in on these two and discover Pat worshipping Hank’s feet like a dirty whore, and while you’re going to be grossed out a first, when Pat begs you to give him your feet to clean too, you’ll give into curiosity, and find it very…relaxing.”

Aaron knew he wasn’t really drunk, but the performance he found himself giving, as he stumbled up onto the stage, slurring his words, would have been good enough to convince anyone watching, he imagined. “What the hell are you two doing?” he said, “Is that faggot seriously licking your feet Hank? That’s fucking sick!”

“Hey, the pig fucking loves it, don’t you Pat?”

“Oh fuck yeah, nothing gets me harder than sucking on a sweaty, smelly foot.”

“Dudes, that’s fucking nasty.”

“Actually, it feels pretty good,” Hank said, “Why don’t you have a seat and let Pat the Pig work yours over?”

“Oh yeah, come on man, let me get a whiff of those feet of yours–I bet they’re so fuckin’ ripe!” Pat said, and Aaron just wanted to shout at him, tell him to cut the act, that the two of them had to get out of here, but he couldn’t break character either.

“Alright, I guess I could give it a shot,” Aaron said and sat down on the couch, allowing Pat to rip off his shoes and socks before slurping away at his feet, and like the director said, Aaron let out a groan, and felt himself sink into the couch, suddenly very relaxed, but Mr. Lewis wasn’t happy.

“Aaron’s feet are too small for this role, I just don’t think our pig here is going to enjoy it enough. What do you think, Pat? Do you think Aaron’s feet are too small?”

Pat nodded eagerly, but then again, he thought everyone’s feet were too small, and not nearly rank enough.”

“Yeah, I’m thinking, size seventeen, and a fine coat of hair on top, just for accent.”

On the couch, Aaron watched and felt his feet start to contort and twist as Pat lciked them clean, until they had nearly doubled in size, and his stomach turned. Apparently Pat wasn’t the only one with a few changes in store.

“Yeah, that’s good, I agree. Now Aaron, you’re drunk, and feeling Pat licking your feet is just making you feel so relaxed, and then you start pissing your fucking pants, right there on the couch. Hank, you’re going to notice after a few seconds, and tell him to stop, but Aaron, you’re just going to moan like you’re enjoying the hell out of pissing your jeans, and keep going, because you do love pissing yourself. You love the stench, the feel of sopping denim against your crotch, and you love the taste of it too, but Hank doesn’t know that until you confess it to him, and ask him to piss down your throat.”

Aaron fought–he fought hard. No way was he actually just going to sit there, and let his best friend worship his feet (even if it did feel really good) and start pissing himself right on the couch. “Damn Hank, it does feel good, and it’s kind of relaxing.”

“Ha, I know right? Better than you thought it was going to be, right?”

“Hell yeah, fuck I’m gonna, oh yeah, oh there–there it goes–shit…”

Too late. He felt the warmth envelop his crotch, and inside he was screaming, but outside it felt so good just to relax, and god he did love pissing his pants, hell, getting drunk was sometimes just an excuse for some piss play in front of his friends. He started rubbing the dark crotch of his jeans with one hand, feeling his cock start hardening against his inner will, when Hank looked over, “Holy fuck dude, did you just fucking piss your pants?”

“Oh fuck yeah I did, feels so fucking good too…”

“Wait, you fucking like it?”

Aaron paused, unable to believe he was about to tell his roommate about his secret fetish, but no, that wasn’t even true! What was that fucking director doing to him? “Fuck, I guess there’s no hiding it now,” Aaron said, “I fuckin’ love piss dude, I love pissin’ my pants, I love the fucking stench of it, fuck this…this one time, in the bathroom, you forgot to flush, and I blew a wad just from the stench of your piss dude, it was so fucking hot.”

“Oh fuck yeah,” Mr. Thompson said, “Nice detail Aaron, you’re such a dirty dude. Now bring it home, beg for it, beg for your roommate’s piss like the wannabe urinal you are.”

“Hank, I’m so fuckin’ thirsty man, be a pal and give me your piss, please? I’ll do anything for it, I just gotta taste it, fresh, just fuckin’ once.”

Hank shoved his jock into Aaron’s face and released his piss, and he felt it dribble down his face and onto his chest even though he drank down as much of it as he could. When Hank finished, Aaron pulled the jock to one side with his teeth, releasing Hank’s cock, swallowing it to the hilt, sucking down the last bit of piss from the head as he did, unable to believe he was actually sucking cock and loving it. “Yeah Aaron, that’s a good cocksucker, make Hank feel real good. Now hold on Hank, we don’t want you shooting just yet, so hold on, alright?”

“Hmm, while they’re going at it, I want to make a few more changes I think,” Mr. Lewis said, “As much as I love blondes, I just don’t think we need another one, do you, Mr. Thompson?”

“No, we don’t really–what did you have in mind?”

“I’m thinking…Angelo,” Mr. Lewis said, and as the two men watched, Aaron’s skin began to darken, taking on a deep olive complexion, his blonde hair darkening to a deep black, and where a white college kid had sat moments before, there was now a hunky, latin wolf, moaning as he sucked Hank’s hard cock.

“Oh, wonderful choice Mr. Lewis, we were just talking last week about how we could use a bit more exoticism in our casting.”

“I know, I figured this was the perfect opportunity. Still, I don’t want two chubby pigs at once, so how about we make our pissslut a muscleman, eh?” As Angelo sat there, he felt body heat up and expand, the muscles spasming as they exploded in size, giving him the look of an out of season bodybuilder. “Yeah, that’s much better, but you need some fur too, though not as much as the pig down there.” Angelo couldn’t see from where he was sucking Hank off, but he ran his hands over his hard, ridged body, and he felt…sexy. Yeah, he was soaked in piss, sucking cock, where else would a latin piss slut like him ever want to be?

As for your look, I’m thinking…thug. Shaved head, but with a few days growth. A chinstrap beard, and then tattoos–lots of tattoos. Nothing too violent or sexual, but I think it’ll play well with our demographics.”

“Mr. Thompson, I–” Hank said, but the director shot him a withering glance, and he shut up.

“Don’t interrupt Hank, you know better.”

“But–” Hank groaned.

“Silence, don’t speak again until I say you can. Sorry, Mr. Lewis, I love watching you work your magic,” Mr. Thompson said, “They’re fucking perfect.”

“Ha, well, I don’t know about perfect,” Mr. Lewis said as he returned to his seat, examining Angelo at a distance, watching his hair pull into his head, beard fill in, and a riot of colorful tattoos make their way all over his body, until he was about half covered. “They might still need a few tweaks later on before we shoot for real, but for now, it’s good enough.”

Hank was sweating and groaning, bucking his hips, pounding his cock down Angelo’s throat. He couldn’t stop, but he was so close to cumming, and Angelo was surprisingly skilled at giving head. He wanted to cum so bad, and he stopped fighting it, grabbing the back of the latin wolf’s head and giving him a proper skull fucking, which drew Mr. Thompson’s attention.

“Hank? Hank! You still with me man? Don’t you fucking shoot that load dude, don’t–” but Mr. Thompson knew it was too late. Hank gave a stuttering gasp and blew his wad down Angelo’s throat and he sucked that down too, rubbing the piss into his dark chest as he did, utterly disgusted with his display, and yet knowing that he was putting on a fantastic show for the cameras, and loving it.

“God fucking damn it, Hank!” Mr. Thompson shouted, storming onto the set and dragging Hank off, “I thought we sorted that fucking issue out?”

“Oh fuck, I’m sorry Mr. Thompson, I was just so horny, and–”

“Oh fucking save it, you sorry bitch. Mr. Lewis, I think we just found out next star for Chastity Pain Slave Nine.”

“Oh god, not that, please not that.”

“Oh yes, I think that’s a marvelous idea–Gareth has been needing a new bitch, and he’s gonna love shaving Hank down on camera, I bet.”

“I think so too,” Mr. Thompson said, then shoved Hank away, “Now get out of my fucking sight, and think about how you’re going to perform better next time, when we’re shooting for real.”

Mr. Thompson walked back to his seat, calming himself back down as Hank left the set, crying, and turned his attention back to Pat and Angelo, the first still cleaning his friend’s feet while the other was reveling over his piss soaked body. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to finish the scene off with you two. Pat, I want to see how that hole of yours works. Angelo, leave your foot there, I want to see Pat fuck himself on it.”

Pat got up, and finally could see his friend past his new, massive feet–or at least the man who had been his friend, and also looked down at himself, his thick, red furred body, and he knew it was too late for them to escape now. Now, all he could do was enjoy this, oh yeah, he was going to put on such a great show for Mr. Thompson and Mr. Lewis. He squatted down over Angelo’s spit lubed foot and started working it into his asshole, and it felt amazing, his puny cock rock hard, though only the head could be seen easily beyond his thick pubic bush.

“Oh yeah Pat, that’s real good, take that whole fucking foot up there–you love getting fucked by big feet, don’t you?”

“Oh yeah Mr. Thompson,” Pat said, “It feels so damn good having Angelo’s foot crammed up my hole.”

“Yeah, that’s good, now take that puny cock of yours, and I want you to arc your piss and soak Angelo down. How does that sound, you thug whore? You want that fat pig to drench you in his piss?”

“Oh fuck yeah dude,” Angelo said, “Fuckin’ give it to me.”

Pat did as he was told, pushing the piss out as hard as he could, and amazingly he made it over the intervening space and all the way up to Angelo’s face and hair, soaking him down, and when his bladder emptied, he focused on fucking himself on his costar’s massive foot, moaning and grunting like a complete whore, listening to Mr. Thompson and Mr. Lewis encourage them both nearer to orgasm. They came simultaneously, shooting the gap, Angelo’s cum splattering across Pat’s hairy gut, and Pat’s mixing into the piss coating Angelo’s ridged abs.

“Hot damn, you are two dirty dudes!” Mr. Lewis said, “We’re going to have to duplicate those cumshots when we shoot, don’t you think, Mr. Thompson?”

“I think we can manage that, and I certainly enjoyed the rest of their show as well. Plus, directing them’s a dream, especially compared to Hank. How about it you two? I think you’re going to enjoy being a couple of filthy, dirty fuckers on set, right? In fact, why don’t we go ahead and make you two the stars of the film? I think Hank lost that privilege today.”

“Oh hell yeah Mr. Thompson, especially if I get to clean a bunch of nasty feet before fucking myself on them,” Pat said, lifting himself off Angelo’s big foot.

“Fuck yeah, and as long as I’m soaked in a bunch of stinking piss I’ll be happy,” Angelo said.

“Well, then I have a couple of lifetime contracts for the two of you to sign over here, but first, you two got both of us all hot and bothered,” Mr. Thompson said, hauling out his cock, “Angelo, get over here and suck me off, and I know Mr. Lewis would love to fuck that wide open hole of yours Pat.”

The two friends, no longer even able to consider refusing their director’s demands, did as they were told, moaning like the couple of dirty porn stars they were, eager to start filming their debut, as well as all the rest they would be acting and fucking in for the rest of their lives.

Heading downstairs to make breakfast before work, you smell smoke coming from the kitchen. Panicking, you rush in to see if something is on fire, and stop dead in your tracks–there, sitting on the counter in nothing more than a jockstrap, is a hairy man smoking a cigar, belching massive amounts of smoke into the room. 

You try and ask him what he’s doing there, but the smoke is making you light headed, and you realize that his plumes are…seeking you out. Crossing the room and drilling themselves down into your lungs, and the smoke is so hot, it burns, and it’s only getting worse.

The stranger stands up and walks over to you, “Submit to the smoke dad, just give in, or it’ll kill you.”

Dad? This hairy, roughneck is your son? The heat is only getting worse, and you realize then that it’s because you’re refusing to exhale. If you keep it in, you know it’ll burn you alive, and so you breathe out, and too late realize that with the breath has gone your will, and maybe even your soul.

Eyes empty, your son places a second cigar in your mouth, and it lights up immediately. You suck in the smoke, eager for anything to fill the void you’ve exhaled, your body slowly changing as you grind your face into your son’s crotch, one more slave to the demonic humidor your son discovered at a curio shop the day before.

Drew looked from the mirror down to the underwear box. The underwear definitely didn’t look as good on him as it did on the model–and he felt that same rush of jealousy he always felt looking at crap like this. He wished he could be the model on the package instead of that guy–and then, something strange happened. 

Looking down at the package, the image was suddenly different. The muscle god was gone and replaced with, well, him. Not a new him, the same gruff bear he’d always been, showing off his hairy belly, tattooed arms akimbo, and he didn’t understand what he was seeing, but memories filled in. He’d been thrilled to hear that Calvin Klein wanted him as their new underwear model, but he hadn’t been surprised. He was the top menswear model in the world–why wouldn’t they want him?

He glanced around his ritzy penthouse apartment, seeing himself on the billboard across the street showing off the newest Fall men’s collection from Versace, all flannel, denim and leather, and smiled. It may not have the result he’d imagined, but now every man wanted to look like him–and he could live with that.

Source: bearmythology

This had to have been the craziest morph program Jeremy had ever seen. Not only had it automatically scanned him into the program somehow, it seemed like there was no limit to what the program could change. He was looking at an image very different from what he was used to–the older, chubby daddy bear he’d always dreamed of being, and decided that he was finished, and hit the render button. 

The program locked down down for a moment, and then nothing. No change, no new image. He grumbled a bit, surprising himself with the deepness of his voice, and rushed over to the mirror, and gasped in shock. It was definitely a morph program, just not what he’d expected. In a panic, he rushed over to his computer, hitting some keys by accident, and saw a new message as the computer locked down again. 

“‘Clone brush activated’, what the hell?” he said.

“Well how about that,” an identical voice said behind him, and he turned around to see two duplicates of himself had materialized out of nowhere. He’d always been a bit curious what it would be like to fuck himself–and now he was about to find out.

Bait and Switch (Part 2)

He was back in the ether again, facing Bruce bare across the strange space, and this time, he had no hesitations about approaching him. He wanted him–badly. However, this time, their cocks didn’t connect. In fact, their cocks passed right through one another, as though they were ghosts. The contact they did make was at the belly–or their belly button to be exact, the two holes coming together in perfect alignment, despite the fact that Bruce was several inches taller than Charles was. The shock passed through him as before, but didn’t throw him back immediately. If anything, he felt even more drawn towards Bruce…and as he watched, his roommate was starting to change. His chubby frame started pulling in, deflating and shrinking a bit, though the muscle grew more defined as it did. His face uncreased, skin looking younger as his hair turned from grey to light brown. But if Bruce was getting younger, than that meant–

Sure enough, Charles looked down and saw that he was changing as well, though in reverse, packing on fat in a generous belly as his muscular frame sagged with age. He did grow taller, feeling his bones lengthen and stretch while Bruce’s contracted, but when the two of them finally were flung back and away, Charles was no longer the young, muscular cub he’d been the day before–he was now a full fledged daddy bear. In the back of his mind, he knew he should be terrified and angry. In this space, he had a clearer memory of the earlier dream as well. Someone–something was doing this to him and Bruce and he had no idea why, and yet, looking down at his new body, he found himself loving it. He loved bears after all, why shouldn’t he want to look like one too? It was already starting to feel more natural, like this is who he was supposed to be, and the grey ether slowly dissolved away around him. Before disappearing however, he caught sight of someone else in the middle distance watching him. It wasn’t Bruce–at least, not the new Bruce, but he knew that there was no way he could reach the man before the dream faded, and even if he’d had time, the ether’s physics would have thwarted him anyway. Instead, he focused hard, trying to commit the image to memory as he fell back into his own sleep, dreams of sex with bears, all bearing the same half-formed shadow visage.

The next morning, while Charles couldn’t find anything immediately wrong with his new, older body, the rest of reality didn’t seem so accommodating. He started the day with a cigar out on the balcony, watching the staff of the bear convention set up for a pool party scheduled for later that afternoon. He found himself wishing he’d known about the other event so he could have signed himself up for that convention too–still, maybe he’d have a chance to sneak in if he was careful. The first troubles of the morning came when he tried to put on his suits–none of them–absolutely none of them fit. They seemed to have been made for someone the size of Bruce–a twink–not for a big bear like himself. Still, he had to wear something nice to the convention, so he squeezed his way into something and headed downstairs, eating a very large breakfast before heading to the convention.

He didn’t stick around for long. Between his discomfort in the suit, his raging cock, and his constant need to break for a cigar back up in his room, he wasn’t all that present anyway. He cut out early to give himself at least an hour for a hearty, greasy lunch. He knew he should eat healthier–in fact, it seemed like just yesterday that he’d been on a strict diet, but he did need to keep this belly fed. He couldn’t have it shriveling up and disappearing on him after all, he liked having one far too much..didn’t he? He spent most of the hour eyeing the various bears eating there as well, and was pleased to see he got as many appreciative glances as he was giving–and again he regretted the fact that he was here for work and not play. Still…what harm was there in taking a break? That pool party was today, why not enjoy himself a bit?

He headed back to his room, wondering what to do. He didn’t even have a swimsuit with him…or did he? He looked at the two sets of luggage on the ground, suddenly unsure of which was his. He’d surely come with a bunch of suits…but then why didn’t any of them fit? Suddenly, the bag of denim, flannel and leather was looking much more comfortable, and digging through Bruce’s (or was it his?) things, he found a pair of XXXL swim trunks, and he was thrilled, stripping out of his itchy, ill-fitting suit and pulling on the trunks, along with a tank showing off his fur, and a pair of sunglasses. He saw on the table a convention badge for the bear convention with Bruce’s name on it…and he grabbed it. He could pretend to be someone else for a bit–what was the harm? From the balcony he saw that the party was already well underway, and with his borrowed badge in hand, no one questioned whether he was supposed to be there, and he lit up another cigar in celebration.

He mingled for a little while, happy to chat, fondle and be fondled for the moment, though he was mostly interested in finding someone to fuck around with in earnest. It was then that the bear caught his eye. He knew him from somewhere, but he didn’t quite know where. He had a sense that he’d been seeing him…everywhere. Was he the guy he’d seen watching him when he stepped on the elevator? Who’d watched him on the balcony last night? The shadow from his dream? His gut told him that it was, but he had no way of knowing for sure. Still, the man certainly seemed interested in him–as soon as Charles had caught his eye, he’d grinned and started over.

“Hey there…Bruce,” the man said, reading the name off the badge with a grin. “Funny, you don’t seem much like a ‘Bruce’ to me.”

“Hell daddy, you can call me anything you want, and I’ll be happy?”

“Oh? Can I call you Carl? I’d like that.”

Confused, Charles just stared at him, not sure what to make of that response.

“Oh never mind,” the bear said, flashing a smile nice enough to make him not worry about it too much. “Still, it’s nice to see you again. You were looking pretty hot last night, though you’re looking hotter right now. Having you down here saves me the trip up to your room.”

“So that was you watching me. You liked what you saw then? You wanna…get a closer look? We…uh, could head up to my room anyway, if you want.”

“Sorry Carl, but we have to wait until after dark–those are the rules.”

Again, Charles was confused. “Why do you keep calling me Carl? And I don’t see why we need to wait, we could just head–”

Charles was stopped by the bear shoving him up against the fence around the pool and giving him a deep, sensual kiss which he happily returned, though the bear broke it off far too soon for Charles’ liking. “There’s a bar close by–most of the bears are heading to an afterparty at a bigger place, but I think we might need something a bit more intimate. Come after sundown–I’ll be waiting.” the bear said, slipping a card into Charles’ hand, “Oh, and one more thing–don’t play with anyone else before then–I want you all to myself, and virgin.”

Charles had many more questions, but the man had left before he could even get his name. He looked around at the bears surrounding him, still horny, but something about what the man had said–or how he’d said it–made the mere thought of sexing any of them up a bit…repulsive. He had to save himself for later after all, just like the bear had told him to…though he wasn’t sure why he was doing what the strange man said. Still, hanging here wasn’t going to be any fun now if he couldn’t play around, so he skulked back to his room, but found that Bruce had returned at some point while he was at the party–and was trying on one of the suits, staring down at it as though it were the strangest thing for him to be wearing in the world, and looking at the young twink, Charles felt a strange possessiveness take over. “Hey! Get out of that, those…those are mine…” The words didn’t feel right. They felt like a lie, but the confusion on both their faces did more to demonstrate the possessive grey area than anything else. In fact, Charles felt like it wasn’t the suits he was being possessive over, but his roommate’s body…but that made even less sense.

“Look…I was…I was just trying one on. Nothing else in here fits me, so I mean–if they fit me this good, why wouldn’t…why wouldn’t they be mine?” Bruce said, hesitantly, and Charles couldn’t deny the fact that he was probably right.

“You’re…you’re right, I think. I’m just…I haven’t been sleeping well, and everything has just been so weird these last couple days.”

“No kidding,” Bruce said, I’ve been having these crazy dreams, and you’re in them of all people.”

Charles just stared at him for a second. “Dreams…do they…are you in this weird grey place, and we’re both naked?”

“Yeah, and then we always come closer, and touch somehow, and things…change…don’t tell me–”

“I’ve been having them too.”

“That’s nuts.”

They were silent for a few moments, trying to figure out what was going on. It had to mean something, but what?

“Hey…have you–have you noticed a guy following you at all?” Charles finally asked, “There’s this guy, this bear, he’s been watching me, or I think, us. I just ran into him at the pool, and it was so weird. He’s tall, older, full beard with a shaved head?”

“You mean like half of you bears here? Sorry, I don’t swing that way, so I don’t notice you when I don’t have to.”

“You don’t have to be mean.”

“I’m sorry, It’s just some men have no business strutting around half naked in the light of day.” Charles rolled his eyes, and yet…something about the sentiment seemed familiar. Like it was something he’d have said, or had said before. Regardless, Bruce could sense that he’d crossed a line, and he stepped closer. “Look, it’s not really any of my business, who you like. I’m sorry. And…now that I think about it, I might have had a run in with someone like you describe. It was pretty weird too.”

“When was it?”

“Two nights ago, the night the first dream happened. I went out for a drink with some…some friends, and this guy came up and started chatting with me at the bar. He wanted to know where I was staying, and he seemed really curious about…well, about you. It was strange.”

The two of them pondered that for a moment, feeling more unnerved by the minute. “Look,” Charles finally said, “I think something really strange is going on. The guy wants to meet me at this bar near here after dark…and maybe we should both go, and try to get some answers from him. I think he knows something about whatever’s been happening here, and we should try to see what he knows.”

Bruce was obviously nervous, but he agreed. Tonight they would have a date with the mysterious bear, and get to the bottom of whatever was going on here once and for all.

The Bear Ray

Commissioned by Scot158f

Taylor came through the door to his apartment, and immediately pulled off his already loosened tie, before undoing the buttons on his shirt. He wished that Fall would hurry up and arrive–he was sick of this summer heat. By the time he got home from the office where he was doing temp work, he was always soaked with sweat–he hated it, and it didn’t help that the air conditioner in his car had died either. Really though, he just hated his body, the short fat hairless blob that he was.

He stripped off the rest of his clothes, eager for a shower so he could feel clean again, and wondered where in the world Brett was. Brett was his roommate. They’d been friends since high school, going to the same local college and getting nearly worthless degrees so they could waste their time in the rat race. Still, they’d always been there to support each other–especially since they were both gay. However, that was really where the resemblance stopped. Where Taylor was short and chunky, Brett was tall and very slim, with a cock Taylor couldn’t help but envy a bit, but not as much as he envied his friend’s height. Taylor had always been the short one, and he hated it more than anything–especially since Brett was always teasing him about it.

However, one thing the two of them shared in common was they both loved bears–the gay kind, that us. The big burly men they’d see at all the leather clubs who had no interest in either one of them. Neither Brett nor Taylor had much body hair, nor could they grow much in the way of attractive facial hair either. It seemed that they were bound to be wallflowers to the men they wished they could be, night after night. Still, the hopeless self-loathing could wait, Taylor thought to himself as he headed for the bathroom–which was locked, oddly enough. He could hear the shower running, but neither of them ever locked the door. “Hey, Brett–you in there? Why’d you lock the door?”

“Oh shit–Is that you Taylor? Hold on…aren’t you home a bit early?” A voice said from behind the door. It didn’t really sound like Brett, or did it? Regardless, Taylor could tell that there was something strange going on.

“I’m not that early–but I could use a shower. It’s fucking hot out, and I’m sweaty as hell…Is–Is everything alright in there?” You sound, odd.”

“Oh…uh, yeah. Everything’s alright. Everything’s great, actually! Just wait until you see–Just a second.”

Now Taylor knew something was wrong–that didn’t really sound like Brett at all. The voice was too deep, and maybe even a bit, raspy, like someone quite a bit older than twenty-three. What if it wasn’t Brett at all? What if it was just someone…pretending to be him? What if it was a burglar or something, or what if Taylor was sick? Something about all of this just felt really off.

“Brett…If you really are Brett in there–”

“Of course I’m Brett, Taylor!”

“Well you don’t fucking sound much like Brett! I–I’m gonna call the police, whoever you are, I am!”

“Goddamn it Taylor, it’s me!”

“Well open the door and show me–what in the world are you hiding in there for? Why do you sound so different?”

“Look–it’s complicated alright? Just…Just give me a second, and I swear it’ll all make sense.”

“No, open the door now. Open the door or I’m gonna call the police!”

“You don’t need to–”

“Fuck this, I’m getting my phone!”

“Alright! Alright, here, I’m unlocking the door, alright? Calm down…Just, just try not to freak out alright? I…look a little different than usual,” Brett said, and Taylor heard the door unlock with a click. Taylor, nervous about what he might find, nevertheless crept up and opened the door wide enough to see the monstrous bear standing at the counter, his long hair and beard still damp from the shower. He certainly didn’t look anything like Brett–Brett had never had a gut like that in his whole life, much less any body hair. And how could Brett have grown a massive beard like that in a day? He looked more like some grungy biker from one of the bars than his lifelong friend.

“You…You aren’t–Fuck, who the fuck are you?” Taylor said, stepping back from the massive man who approached him slowly.

“Look, I know…I know I look different, but it really is me, Taylor.”

“I’m calling the police…you’re gonna go to jail. What the fuck did you do to Brett? Did…did you kill him? Oh fuck, you killed him didn’t you! Didn’t you–what the fuck do you want from us?” Taylor shouted, descending into a full on panic, grabbing a brass figurine from a table to wield like a club while he dug in his pant pockets for his phone.

“Taylor, look, just calm down, alright? I know this all seems really weird, but if you just let me explain–”

Taylor wasn’t listening. He’d found his phone, and with shaking hands was about to dial 911. Brett realized that if he let Taylor call he really was going to be in trouble, so he dashed back into the bathroom, grabbed a strange looking gun from the counter and leveled it at Taylor. “Put down the phone, Taylor. Put it down or I’ll shoot you, I swear I will.”

Taylor froze, phone in his hand, mouth sputtering. He had no idea what to even say, the sudden realization that he might actually get shot was too much for his brain to handle. He didn’t want to die, not like this, and his hand released the phone dropping it to the ground.

“”Look, I don’t want to hurt you, Taylor. I really am Brett. I’m the guy you came out to in Mr. Boulie’s chemistry class, in a note you passed. I’m the same guy who let you copy answers on Mr Fiddleman’s take home tests. I’m the guy who you refused to talk to for a month while we were both trying to get in Frank Neddle’s pants. It’s me, I’m Brett–I swear.”

“If…If you’re gonna shoot me…just, just do it, alright?” Taylor said, not even listening to what the strange man was saying, “I don’t fucking believe you, whoever you are. I don’t know what kind of sick game you’re playing, but Brett wouldn’t point a fucking gun at me. So if you’re gonna shoot me, just fucking do it!”

The silence was a bit deafening, as the two men stood in the living room. It gave Taylor a chance to look at the gun in Brett’s hand, or at least in the hand of the man claiming to be Brett. It didn’t look like any kind of gun Taylor had seen before–not that he’d seen very many–if anything it looked like some kid’s pretend ray gun from a science fiction movie. The tip didn’t look like it would be delivering a bullet, and he could see some strange dials on the side. He could see the gears turning in the biker’s head, when he shrugged. “Alright, suit yourself,” he said, and pulled the trigger, and before Taylor could even flinch, a strange yellow ray shot out of the device and enveloped his entire body, holding him perfectly still, and he felt a strange sensation creeping along his body, something between a wave of heat and an insatiable itch.

Through the yellow glow, he could see the man fiddling with the dials on the side of the gun, and the beam of light, along with the sensations, grew fiercer, and Taylor felt almost as though his body was changing and shifting–the light pushing and pulling at his form, worming its way underneath his skin and pushing its way down his throat into his core. While it wasn’t painful, there was a definite sense of vertigo, that the entire world was shifting on and off balance, and then, it was gone, the light dissipating around him, and Taylor, unsteady, tumbled backwards onto the carpet, suddenly ill at ease with himself as the room spun around him.

“The vertigo passes in a couple of moments–I nearly puked the first time. Just take it slow…I was hoping to break you in a little slower, but you were being such a dipshit you didn’t leave me much choice,” Brett said, setting the gun down on a table and hurrying over to where Taylor was rolling about on the floor, trying to get his bearings, however, as his senses returned, some of the strangeness lingered. He was strange–different than he’d been before.

“What–what happened? What did you shoot me with you freak?” he said, but the words rolled off his tongue oddly, his voice deeper that his high, undeveloped tenor from moments before.

“Look, let me just help you up and get you in front of a mirror–you won’t believe it until I show you,” Brett said, picked Taylor up off the floor and guided him into the bathroom, where he saw his image in the mirror…only it wasn’t his image at all.

He was a bear–there was no denying it. He had a furry chest, a massive beard…and tattoos. Fucking hot tattoos that made him look rough and ready for anything. While he was still big, some of his fat had been replaced by muscle, giving him more of a powerlifter look. It was everything he’d ever dreaming of being…almost. He was still short–maybe…maybe even shorter than he’d been before, and Brett was towering over him. He hated it, he hated being short more than anything else. “It…It really is you, isn’t it?” Taylor said, turning to Brett, who was leaning against the doorframe, grinning through his thick beard, “What in the world is that gun? What did it do to me–to us?”

“I told you it was. I mean, I understand why you didn’t believe me…I found the gun at the goodwill today, while I was shopping. It had the words ‘Bear Ray’ on it–how could I resist? I never thought it would be capable of this. Hell, I shot myself by accident the first time. And this is just the tip of what it can do. I designed this body for you myself–and I must say, you look adorable.”

“Adorable?”

“Like a teddy bear–all the guys at the club are going to go wild for a little fireplug like you, trust me. Now, I have a surprise for you–just give me a second in the bedroom, I want to surprise you for real this time,” Brett said, and then dashed off, leaving Taylor red faced and angry.

‘Adorable’…‘Little’…’Fireplug’…Brett knew how much Taylor hated being short and fat, and he thought he was going to be happy like this? Sure, he was a bear, but not the kind of bear he wanted to be. He could already sense it. Brett was taking control of the entire situation, like he always had a way of doing. He’d always had a thing for short, chubby bears and now he’d made Taylor into his perfect man. Hell, he was probably going to try and get Taylor to wear a collar so he strut him around the clubs tonight–well no fucking way was that going to happen. Taylor hurried out of the bathroom and found the gun lying where Brett had left it, and started messing with the controls, turning the size dials as high as they could go before turning the ray on himself and letting loose.

Immediately, he could feel the same sense of vertigo from before, but even more extreme, as the room began shrinking down around him. He was vaguely aware of the fact that other parts of him were changing too along with his size–hair growing in on his once bald head, his cock expanding at a massive pace, body hair growing in even thicker than the hairiest bears he’d ogled at the clubs. “So what do you think?” Brett said, returning from the bedroom in some new leather gear, “I even got you some new gear, and I found this kinky collar I know you won’t be able to resist…” but his words failed him as he came face to face with the rapidly growing Taylor.

He was quickly passing eight feet tall, his gut ballooning outward with solid fat as the rest of his body packed on pounds and pounds of muscle. His beard passed Brett’s own, growing bushier and bushier until he couldn’t even see his mouth, much less his chest buried beneath a thick black pelt. His head slammed into the ceiling, making Taylor wince in pain, but he refused to take his hand off the trigger, feeling his body hunch over, trying to find room in the rapidly shrinking apartment. The ray only stopped because his hand became too large to grip it and pull the trigger, the device slipping from his hand as the yellow glow subsided once more, leaving in its place a massively hairy, gigantic bear of a man. “What do you think, asshole?” he growled, “Am I still your ‘little adorable fireplug’?”

“You’re fucking nuts!” Brett shouted, and made a move towards the gun, but before he could reach it, Taylor snatched it in his massive palm and crushed it in his fist, sparks flying from between his fingers. “You idiot! What the fuck did you do that for? Now we’ll never be able to change back.”

Taylor laughed–that was fine with him–he was the new big bear in town. Looking down at his fretting roommate, his foot and a half long cock hardening up, Taylor decided it was time to show his ‘friend’ who was really going to be in charge from now on.

Dennis had always hated being a little guy, but that strange hat shop had given him the answer to his prayers. He’d picked up the “Bubba” hat as a joke more than anything else, and when he’d put it on, he’d suddenly been transformed into a massive daddy bear wearing work boots, dirty Levis and a grubby t-shirt instead of his skinny jeans and hipster wear. Taking the hat off and on, he found he could switch bodies at will. He’d rushed home, admiring his new, bearish self in the mirror while he jacked off, and then decided to hit some of the clubs too see if he could find a hot bear to test drive this body with.

Unfortunately, Dennis should have read the warning label, telling him that prolonged use could result in irreversible mental effects. When he returned home the next morning freshly fucked, he’d already lost thirty-five points off his IQ, his fine arts degree had been replaced with truck driving and repair know-how, and he spoke with a thick, southern drawl. Now, with the hat or without, he was a “Bubba” through and through.