The Professor’s Club Part 2

Commissioned by Anonymous

Luis sauntered through the living room, taking a look at the well preserved and displayed antiques throughout, and wondered what sort of family the professor came from that he’d been left all of this stuff. He’d always seemed like a nice man but never particularly rich–it was a bit of a puzzle, in fact.

Luis liked puzzles–he was good at puzzles–and this one was just something new for him to figure out. He’d been initially perplexed by the professor’s invitation, and even more perplexed when he’d arrived at the same time as Derrick. Of course, Derrick and Luis had never spoken to one another, but with a glance, Luis had been able to deduce a bit about him–football jock, not particularly smart, business or maybe an economics major, and definitely gay–though he did a good job hiding it. Luis smiled–he kind of wondered what Derrick might smell like after a practice–he’d always had a thing for guys getting a bit musky before fucking.

Still, why in the world had the professor brought them together? It couldn’t be just the fact that they were gay, could it? That seemed unlikely, but not impossible. The professor had implied that there would be more people coming at some point, but who? He didn’t have enough information to deduce anything substantial, really, but that didn’t stop his mind from trying as hard as it could to find some sort of answer. The air felt stuffy all of a sudden–he wanted to get out of the house. He passed into the next room, saw a set of double doors open to the outside garden the professor had mentioned, and stepped through them out onto a large, expansive garden behind the manor.

Expansive was the word that came to mind–the garden was as large as some parks Luis had seen as a kid. It was bigger than the footprint of a few of the buildings on campus. Towards the back, he even saw a large hedge maze–he’d have started out that way, but he didn’t want to miss dinner if he got lost–though he doubted he would. Still, it felt nice outside–better than in the stuffy manor, and he decided to wander a bit down the gravel and stone paths between the beds of flowers, bushes and trees just beginning to turn color. It was the beginning of fall, but the beds were still dominated by flowers, and many of the beds he passed gave off a variety of heady scents, however, he reached one which he found to be less than pleasant–in fact, it was outright disgusting, when he first smelled it. Curious as to what it could be, he walked over to the scraggly plant of yellow blooms and saw a small plaque labelling it “Skunkweed.”

Now that he was this close to it though, it didn’t actually smell too bad. In fact, it was musky…the kind of musky he liked. He leaned over a bit further to smell one of the blossoms, and the scent was so strong that he got dizzy, and tumbled forward into the bed of flowers. The smell which had been enticing at first was suddenly overwhelming him, and he coughed and gagged on the ground, pushing himself back up and stumbling out of the bed, his eyes watering from the stench, but he couldn’t get a clear breath of air. He stumbled off a few yards, and he realized the smell was following him, it was on him, it was in him, it was everywhere. He knelt down, trying to breathe normally and get a hold of himself. Sure, it stank, it was one of the worst things he’d ever smelled, but it wasn’t that bad, he was getting used to it. Yeah, it wasn’t really that bad at all, really, in fact…in fact, it smelled kind of good, so good…he was getting kind of…horny?

Luis realized his cock was rock hard in his jeans, and lust was starting to course through him, but it was the dirty thoughts that started worming their way into his mind that terrified him the most. Sure, he’d had a few odd fetishes that he liked to indulge in on occasion, but it was like the room in his mind where he’d always hidden them had had the door ripped off it’s hinges letting them all free–they were all he could think about. He tried to calm down, but now his arms were starting to itch, and he realized he didn’t know the first thing about the plant he’d fallen into. No one would grow a poisonous plant in a garden, would they? That was crazy, but was he having some sort of allergic reaction to it then? The itch, while it started on his arms, didn’t end there though–it was actually working it’s way all over his body–even under his clothes, where there was no way the plant had touched him, so then what was going on?

He scratched a bit, but as he watched, he saw something strange was happening, that his perfectly smooth arms were getting bumpy, and then a massive number of small black hairs erupted out all over his arms. He could feel them under his shirt, on his chest too, and in a panic he ripped off his shirt and watched as his smooth, slim body grew furry all over. He ran his hands through it, feeling the dingy, greasy texture of the fur and shivered, letting out a soft moan. His hands hurt for a few moments, and he saw that they had changed as well, his fingers shortening, and a black claw topping each of them, replacing his nails.

What was happening to him? He remembered passing a still pond as he’d walked down the path and he hurried back the way he’d come, pausing once to rip away the remains of his shoes as his feet–now long, wide paws, burst through the converse he’d been wearing. He reached the edge of the pool and knelt over it, just in time to see the fur cover his entire face, his nose and mouth pushing out into a short snout tipped with a pink nose. A shock of pure white rippled through his hair, and he felt it shoot down his back in a stripe as a thickly furred tail erupted out above his ass, the white shooting down it all the way to the tip.

A skunk–he’d turned into a giant skunkman, and he stood up, looking down at himself. His slim figure had disappeared in the midst of the transformation, and he now had a pudgy gut and heavy moobs and he smelled so fucking good! He lifted one arm, shoved his new snout into the fur there and took a deep whiff of his own stink, feeling his cock throb as it pushed out of his sheath, the shaft hard and red. He was so dirty, so fucking dirty, it was so hot. But dirtier–he wanted to get even dirtier. How could he get dirtier?

Licking his lips with his tongue, feeling the sharp fangs in his mouth, he laid back on the dusty path, his hard cock jutting out over him, and he let loose with a torrent of piss, soaking down his grimy fur everywhere he could get it, spraying down his face and tail, licking it from his lips as he did. It felt so good to be dirty, to stink and reek and just enjoy himself. He’d bound himself up for too long, but there was so much he wanted to do, so much dirty stuff he’d only thought about, but that he’d never imagined doing. He was enjoying himself so much, rolling around in the dust, feeling it stick in his fur, that he didn’t see the man come down the path until he was only a few yards, away, and when he saw them, fear and embarrassment cut through him, and he stood up.

He knew him from school–his name was Kevin, he remembered, and he was cute. He’d seen him around campus, and had stalked him online to learn a bit more about him, and the two of them had developed a casual acquaintance, but he couldn’t see him like this, not like this. He turned and ran off deeper into the garden, and Kevin gave chase, shouting, “Luis! No, wait!”

Luis kept going for a few paces, and then stopped. Kevin knew who he was–but how? He didn’t look anything like how he’d looked, but that meant…

“You–what did you do to me? Did you know this was going to happen?” Luis said, turning around and facing his friend.

“No! No, it wasn’t me, look…let me explain, alright? It’s…a bit complicated. Here, let me show you.” Kevin closed his eyes and concentrated, and started to change right in front of Luis’ eyes, changing from his normal self into some strange creature, something between what looked like a dog and a dragon, and a few seconds later, when Luis was able to actually grapple with what he was seeing, he realized something else–Kevin was…really sexy like that. Sexy, but not…not dirty enough. Not dirty enough at all. Luis grinned and started walking towards Kevin, and a bit unnerved, Kevin backed up. He knew Luis a little, but damn did he stink now. It was hard to even get close to him. He was cute from a distance, but Kevin didn’t know if he’d be able to stomach sex with him.

“Kevin…did I ever tell you how fucking hot I thought you are? Stop…stop backing up, I’m so horny man, so fucking horny.”

“Luis, I’m sorry, but you–it’s just too much,” Kevin said, holding his nose, “What the hell happened to you?”

Luis, however, was in no mood to talk. He wanted to fuck–it was the only thing his mind could focus on, but Kevin was moving away from him, he needed to bring him in, bring him closer, get him to see how amazing it could be to be dirty, and then Luis knew what might work. Before Kevin could react, Luis spun around, bent over and sprayed him with his stink, and it coated him with an oily sheen, making him cough and wheeze as he fought against it.

Kevin couldn’t see, he could barely breathe, and he stumbled back a few paces, but already the smell wasn’t so bad, already it was…it was making him hornier, and he snorted out a few plumes of smoke. Horny, and…and dirty. The smell intensified, Luis coming close and pulling him into a kiss, it no longer disgusted or repulsed him, and he leaned in, dirtier and dirtier urges coming to him, and before he even really realized it, he was pissing all over Luis, and then shoved the skunk down, blasting him in the face with the stream while the skunk drank it down and then started sucking him off, but that wasn’t enough for Kevin, not right now, not in the thick of Luis’ stench.

He pushed Luis over onto all fours and then got down and rimmed the skunks crack for a few moments, the musk there intense and overwhelming, almost greasy and sweaty on the air, and then he was fucking Luis’ hole, grunting and belching smoke and flame as he did, Luis encouraging him, and pushing him onward. Kevin had only come out to tell Luis that dinner was ready, but all he could focus on at the moment was how good it felt to be balls deep in Luis’ stinking hole. Dinner could wait for bit–sometimes a nasty fuck was more important.

The Professor’s Club Part 1

Commissioned by Anonymous

It wasn’t until he’d already rung the doorbell that Kevin looked down at the invitation he’d received from Professor Sullivan, and then at his watch, and it dawned on him that he’d gotten the time wrong. The gathering wasn’t supposed to happen for another hour, and he thought about running and hiding, but before he could act, the door opened, and the Professor was staring down at him. “Oh! Mr. Connors–you’re rather early.” He was a very big man, filling the doorway with his belly. With some embarrassment, Kevin realized that he was wearing a robe–and he blushed. It didn’t help that he’d always liked the gentlemanly look of his teacher–he’d had a few fantasies about him, and finding him like this, well, Kevin did his best to not get hard on the doorstep.

“Yeah, I know, I just realized that. I’m gonna…I’ll go and come back, since you’re still probably getting ready–”

“Oh nonsense,” Professor Sullivan said, “I’m all ready for the party, I was just…getting ready myself, is all. Here,” he said, ushering Kevin into the foyer, “Go ahead and wait in the study for a few minutes while I go put on some clothes. It’s just down the hall there, the only door on the left.”

Kevin nodded, and while his professor hurried upstairs, Kevin looked around the high ceilinged foyer, admiring the age of the building, and then walked down the hall until he found the equally spacious study, the wood floor covered with a variety of plush rugs, several armchairs and sofas scattered about, with flames raging in the fireplace. He wandered the perimeter of the room, admiring the books stuffed into the bookshelf, the antique desk covered with papers, and the wide rack of pipes hung on the wall by the door.

“I see you found it alright,” the professor said, as he entered, shutting the door behind him, “would you like something to drink? I’m going to have a smoke, myself,” he walked to the rack of pipes, selected one for himself, and turned back to Kevin, “Would you like one as well?”

“Thanks, but I’m good. I tried a cigarette once when I was a kid, and that was enough for me.”

“Well Kevin, I don’t blame you for disliking cigarettes, but pipe tobacco is quite the step above that. Here, let me pack one for you, you can try it, and you’re welcome to refuse it if you’d like. But there’s no harm in giving it a try, right?”

“I suppose, though I’d hate to waste your tobacco, Professor.”

“Don’t worry about it, I have just the pipe and blend you you I think. Also, don’t call me professor–you can call me Mike, if you’d like. We’re just friends here.”

Kevin nodded, and accepted the pipe the professor handed, and felt something carved into the bowl. Being careful not to tip out the tobacco, he looked at the pipe the professor had handed him, and saw that the bowl was carved into an intricate design. On one side, he could see the head of a dragon breathing a stream of fire around the front of the bowl, which formed into a head of a wolf or some other canine, before moving back up the neck. The wood and briar of the pipe itself was so black that it looked burnt to ash, but it was plenty hard. “That’s a very nice design,” he said to Mike, “Where did you find it?”

“Oh, that one’s been passed down through my family–I think my great-grandfather carved it himself, actually. This house has been my family’s property since before that even, passed down from Sullivan to Sullivan. Now, hold the pipe in your mouth, and I’m going to light the tobacco. Just take in a few puffs, to keep the flame going.” Kevin did as the older man described, and after a couple of false lights, they managed to get the pipe going, and then the professor lit his own. “There. Well? What do you think? It’s a bit nicer than the cigarette you tried, I hope.”

“Yeah,” Kevin said, “it’s not bad, but I don’t really feel the need to make a habit of it.”

“Oh no worries about that–one bowl isn’t going to hurt anyone. Have a seat Kevin, and relax.”

Kevin did as the professor suggested, and sat down on a sofa across from the pot-bellied professor, and the smoke was nice–it was making him feel more at ease already. “So this whole house is yours, huh? Do you have any kids?”

The professor sighed, “No, I don’t. The Sullivan line ends with me, unfortunately. I’m still not certain what will become of the house after me, I admit. Though sometimes solutions to problems like these arrive without much effort on one’s own part, if you are patient. Sometimes earlier than you expect them even.”

They lapsed into silence for a moment, and Kevin took a deeper draw off the pipe than he’d meant too–it felt like the smoke had pushed its way deeper without him inhaling, and he let out a cough, his throat burning. It was then that he noticed something strange–the sides of the pipe, the eyes of the beasts carved into it–they were burning a deep red, all on their own. He looked closer at them, and was caught off guard when the smoke pouring out of the bowl suddenly twisted itself up and rammed its way into his mouth and nose. He dropped the pipe, coughing, hacking, and waving his hands in front of his face, but even from where the pipe lay on the floor, the smoke continued to twist up into him, and he started to feel hot.

“What…What the fuck is this? What’s happening?” he said, but the professor didn’t say anything, and Kevin couldn’t be sure through the smoke, but was the older man…changing? He looked hairier, all of a sudden, and when the older man grinned wide, his teeth were all pointed and sharp. That was all Kevin could notice before he doubled over, coughing, saw his own arms, and nearly screamed. The professor wasn’t the only one sprouting fur, both of his arms from the elbow down were covered in grey hairs, and above that, he saw brown hairs sprouting all the way up, disappearing under his shirt. He was itchy all over, and he yanked off his shirt, finding the hair was spreading everywhere on his body, except for an area covering his belly and chest, where the skin was drying out and flaking out into something almost resembling scales.

“I…I have to get out of here,” Kevin said, woozy, but when he tried to stand, he tumbled over almost immediately, hitting the ground with a thud. So much smoke was pouring into him now, it was all he could breathe, and then came the aches, great groaning pain all over his body. His face, hands and feet started to pulse and pound, his bones grinding against one another as they reformed themselves. His pinky disappeared entirely, leaving him with three thick fingers and a thumb, all of them covered with fur aside from a leathery pad, and a sharp claw where his nail had been. He reached up with his new hands and felt his face, the hair sprouting there too, but the structure was all askew, and he could feel his mouth and nose pushing out into a snout that he could soon see if he crossed his eyes, and running his now longer tongue over his teeth, he realized they were as sharp as the professors had appeared moments earlier. Moving his hands back, he felt his ears had changed as well–they had migrated up on his head and become much larger, sticking up straight in the air.

The next changes happened so fast that afterwards, the only thing he could remember clearly was the pain. First, he felt something bunch up behind his shoulder blades, and then with two painful spikes, leathery wings the same color as his scaled belly erupted out of his back and spread wide, and below that, his tailbone pushed out above his rear and grew out into a thick, scaled tail tufted with a brush of fur at the end. Finally, a splitting headache in his skull accompanied two horns, which sprouted out of the top of his skull. He opened his eyes long enough to see the pipe on the ground before him, burning almost white hot, dissolve into ash and a final ball of smoke which shoved it’s way into him and lodged in his throat, the heat of it unbearable for a few moments, and when he finally exhaled a gasp, a small gout of flame erupted from his throat and singed the fibers of the carpet in front of him.

“Alright, it’s finished–I’m sorry about all of that, it actually looked quite painful. Here, take my paw,” a deep voice said over him, but Kevin rolled over grunting as he accidentally tweaked one of his new wings awkwardly, and tried to push himself up, but nothing felt right. Between the tail, the wings, and the fact that he had seemed to have gained about fifty pounds of fat and nearly a foot of height, he nearly tumbled over, before two furry arms grabbed his and righted him. “Look, calm down,” the voice said, “I know it’s scary the first time, trust me, I remember–but there isn’t really a good way to warn people.”

Kevin managed to look at the beast holding him, and saw that the professor had changed as well, becoming an equally large werewolf, but he’d kept his rather stately manner, his glasses perched across his snout, and Kevin would have laughed if he hadn’t been so scared and angry. However, he quickly realized that something else was overwhelming those emotions as well–he was horny. Hornier than he’d ever felt before, his cock hardening in the crotch of his pants that were still stretched over his legs, though his massive feet had exploded out of his shoes. When the professor pulled him over and started licking at his snout, Kevin found himself licking back, the two of them kissing and groping each other’s bodies, stripping each other of their remaining clothing, the smoke of the professor’s pipe and Kevin’s throat intermingling.

“Come on boy,” the professor growled, “This big wolf has been lonely for far too long–how about you give me a nice fuck?”

Kevin had long fantasized about having sex with his professor, but this wasn’t quite how he’d imagined it happening–he was in no mood to refuse though. The chubby, white furred wolf bent over the side of an armchair, smoking his pipe, and Kevin got down, opening up his hole with a brief probing from his tongue, before lubing up his cock with some hot spit. He took a moment to look at it, the red shaft emerging from his new sheath, but he didn’t really care–he needed to fuck. Gently, he worked his way into the professor’s ass, smoke pouring out of his nostrils as he did, the professor urging him onward.

“Oh fuck–fuck–” Kevin said, “Did you know that I’ve wanted to fuck this ass of yours since my first day of class with you?”

“Of course I did boy–no one stares at me like you do anymore–now come on, I want you to fuck me, not tease me.”

Kevin wrapped his arms around his teacher’s thighs and started fucking him, but he went slow and steady, not wanting to waste it. Still, the urges in him worked against him, and soon enough he was right on the edge. With a fiery howl, he came, shooting his load up Mike’s ass.

“Oh fuck yeah, that’s what I’ve been needing,” the professor said, panting, “I haven’t been fucked like that in years!”

Kevin, pulled his cock out and backed away, still not quite used to his balance, and looked down at himself, clear headed for the first time since he’d started smoking the pipe, and he started panicking. The professor stood up and walked over to him, but Kevin backed away. “I…I don’t know what you did to me–what is this? Change me back!”

“Look, it’s easy, it really is, but it’s going to take some practice,” the professor said, “Just calm down first, and I’ll talk you through it, alright? Just take a few deep breaths to start, and think. Focus on your old body, and relax…”

It was hard, but Kevin eventually managed to do as the professor said, and as he focused, he could feel his body changing again, shifting back to his human body, but he didn’t allow himself a moment of celebration until he was completely back to normal. “Oh thank fucking god,” he said, feeling his body with his hands, but it wasn’t quite his body. There were a few slight changes–he was a bit heavier than he had been, he could tell because his clothes were all a bit too tight, and he was hairy, but in all the wrong places. His belly, which had been scaled, was mostly smooth aside from a slight treasure trail, but the rest of him a solid, even coat of hair, even over his back. “Fuck…what…what was that professor? What did you do to me?”

The professor smiled, and changed back as well, his transformation happening almost immediately, “Well, I suppose I should welcome you into the family, eh?”

The professor put his arm around the young man’s shoulders and led him back to the sofas, where he told him the whole story. The Sullivans, it turned out, had been cursed generations ago to be were-creatures, capable of maintaining human form, but whenever their emotions overcame them they transformed into monstrous creatures–especially when they were sexually aroused. The professor, though, had been the first in his line, that he knew of, who had been gay, and since he’d never taken a wife and never fathered any children, he had assumed the curse would die with him, but it wasn’t that simple. He discovered that the curse demanded a successor, or the professor would age forever, older and older, and he’d had no interest in that, and so he’d decided to do his best to find a successor to take his place who might at least enjoy it.

In his research on the curse, he’d discovered that, on occasion, individuals who weren’t members of the family had been cursed by the manor, usually the wives and other children who had entered into the Sullivan line through marriage, when no other obvious heir had been available. While not necessarily Sullivan in blood, it was good enough for the curse, and Mike figured that he might as well not prolong it. That, he said, was what tonight’s meeting was about. He’d found four students in his classes, Kevin and three others, in the course of his teaching, who all seemed rather interested in his classes in mythology, and so he had decided that the four of them ought to be his successors. It helped, he added, that all four of them were gay like he was. The curse wasn’t easy, and he felt bad for putting the burden on the men without telling them, but he literally couldn’t talk about the curse to someone outside the family.

Kevin listened intently, and if he hadn’t been subjected to the transformation moments before, he would have assumed the professor was lying, but that wasn’t an option. Still, he had to admit, reluctantly, now that it was behind him–he had liked it. In fact, he secretly wanted to change back so he could try out his wings, and see if they actually worked. Finally, he’d decided that he’d had enough, and as the professor spoke, he leaned in and gave him a deep kiss. The professor was surprised, but didn’t resist, and as it grew deeper, both of them shifted back, the second time less painful than the first but no less disconcerting–but Kevin could tell he’d get used to it in time.

“I think we can talk about this all later,” he said, blowing a puff of smoke into the professor’s face, “Right now, I think something needs some attention,” he said, rubbing the professor’s own shaft.

“Well, make it quick,” the professor said, grinning, “The others will be here pretty soon.”

“I’ll do my best,” Kevin said, and swallowed the entire shaft, the heat in his throat making the professor groan in pleasure. The professor started bucking up and down, ramming his cock in and out of the young man’s snout. Kevin heated his throat up a bit more, watching the professor’s white furred gut shudder and shake as he fucked his mouth, and then the cum flooded his mouth, and with it’s awkward shape, he wasn’t quite ready for it, as it flooded out his jaws and down his scaly neck. They stayed changed for a few minutes together, smoking in their respective fashions, until they both heard the doorbell ring, and they sat up.

“Well fuck, time sure does fly when you’re having fun–has it been an hour already?” Mike said, standing up, shifting back in a few moments as he did, “Well I’d best go greet the guests, eh? You might want to change back yourself–but we’ll have to find you some new shoes, I think. Why don’t you just stay here for a few minutes, until I come back?”

“Alright,” Kevin said, standing up and looking over his shoulder at his new wings, “I’ve been wanting to give these a shot anyway.”

The professor sighed, “Well, just be careful, alright? Flyers tend to be a bit more clumsy than the rest of us after the first changes.”

“I’m not clumsy,” Kevin said, a huff of smoke curling from his nose.

The professor started to argue, but the doorbell rang again, and he raced off to the front door, pulling on and fixing his attire as he went, checking himself in the mirror for a moment, before pulling open the door, and finding two men on the doorstep–Luis Ortega and Derrick Jackson. “Mr. Ortega and Mr. Jackson–welcome! Come on in, you’re the first to arrive.”

The two men eyed each other awkwardly, each of them wondering why the other had been invited, and then stepped inside. Luis was a slender, boyish guy–and a borderline genius. He was already making waves in the math and computer science departments for his coding abilities, and Mike had been equally impressed by him in his own class. Still, he was less than enthusiastic about his personal hygiene. He had a habit of showing up to his classes in the same clothes for several days straight, often looking like he’d been sleeping in them–if he’d slept at all, and his medium length black hair could use a trim, but still, he was a nice, honest young man. Derrick on the other hand was nearly a head taller than Mr. Ortega, and massive. He was a senior on the football team–one of the linebackers–and he definitely looked the part. Still, while not the brightest, he was a very sweet guy with a heart of gold, which Mike enjoyed, and very curious and inquisitive.

“This is…a very big house, Professor,” Derrick said, looking around the foyer.

“Well, it’s the old family manor–not my own. I’m stuck with it, unfortunately.”

“It’s a nice thing to be stuck with,” Luis added, and he was going to ask something else, when they all heard a loud crash from a room down one of the halls on the first floor, and the professor grimaced.

“Well, I still have some things to see to in the study for a few minutes, but dinner should be ready soon–why don’t the two of you look around the grounds for a bit, since you’re so curious? You’re welcome to look around the rooms upstairs–there’s quite a good number of studies and suites my family have had decorated in various ways throughout the years. There’s also a large garden out back that’s beautiful this time of year.”

Luis and Derrick gave a shrug, and then set off around the house, Luis slipping into the living room, heading towards the sunroom and conservatory, while Derrick climbed the stairs towards the bedrooms. When they were out of sight, the professor hurried back to the study where Kevin has stumbling up from the broken remains of the coffee table he’d crushed in his tumble. “Sorry Professor, I thought I had it under control…”

Mike just scowled at him, “That was centuries old, you know.” Kevin just looked kind of sheepish, and the professor rolled his eyes. “Oh well, you were bound to break something–at least it was something I didn’t like very much. Now, why don’t you change back before you do anymore damage?”

“Oh quit being such a stooge,” Kevin said, walking over and giving the professor a kiss, “I’m still hella horny–is that a side effect or something?”

“Ha, you could say that…” the professor said, his face and chest starting to grow furry, “I’m sure the two guys who just came can look after themselves…we’ll check up on them in a bit…” he growled, dragging Kevin to the ground, for another round, as Luis and Derrick wandered deeper into the house.

Gator Nights

Commissioned by Anonymous

Warning: Contains furry TF (gator), watersports, raunch and incest. Don’t like it? Don’t read it.

***

“Nonsense, I insist. Us swamp men git such a bad rap these days. Besides–it’s the middle a the night–the two a ya ain’t goin’ nowhere til mornin’ anyway,” Daryl said, as he turned the tow truck onto a winding dirt road which wove through the dark swamp, Kent and Howie watching the twisted trees engulf them. Kent and Howie shared a look, but didn’t object. The two frat brothers had been on their way to Spring Break in Miami when their car had broken down out here, somewhere in the swamps of Alabama or Mississippi. Luckily, there had been a gas station within a short walk, but the only tow truck who would come out to meet them was a local who’d come rumbling up after dusk, and he’d been everything Kent and Howie hadn’t wanted. Big beard, hefty gut, missing and rotten teeth, bad BO, grimy clothes–but they hadn’t had much of a choice, and so all three of them had climbed into the cab together and off they’d gone. Now, however, it looked like they were going to lose at least a day, if not more, depending on how long it might take to have their car fixed by a mechanic.

The drive down the road took around half an hour of uncomfortable silence, Daryl occasionally trying to make small talk–asking where the boys were from and where they were going, who they might be meeting, but neither Kent nor Howie felt like sharing more than the most basic information, until all that was left were the sounds of the swamp outside the truck windows. Even if it was early spring, the air was still hot and quite humid, neither of which helped with the stink rolling off Daryl. Howie was getting the worst of it, having taken the middle seat, but Kent, with his head nearly out the window, gave his friend as much space as he could.

It was a relief when they saw the lights through the trees. The building was something between a shack and a house–large, but still rather ramshackle, established but uncared for. On three sides, it was flanked by water–the road being the only way out. Daryl parked the truck and the three of them hopped out, Howie the most eager to get away from Daryl so he could breathe again.

“God damn, that guy smells like ass!” he said to Kent, quietly, but not quiet enough that Daryl couldn’t hear him on the other side, and Kent elbowed him in the side, reminding him to be at least a little polite. After all, Daryl was now their only ticket back to the road, unless they planned on hiking through the swamp all night long.

“Well, thanks for giving us a place to stay, sir,” Kent said, as they followed Daryl to the door.

“Yer welcome,” he said to Kent, “It isn’t much, and it might not be up tah the standards of a couple a city boys like you–” he shot Howie a glare, “But it’s our home.”

“Our home? Who else lives here?” Howie asked.

“Oh, my brother–he’s out at the moment–probably finding some dinner.”

“Where at? There isn’t a store for miles.”

“Oh, the swamp gives us most everything we need,” Daryl said with a grin. “Have a seat boys–I’ll git us some drink. Ya’ll could probably use somethin’ after yer long day.”

Howie and Kent took a seat on the treadbare couch by the banked fire, and Kent said, “You know, you don’t have to be such as asshole.”

“At least I don’t smell like one–I mean, you didn’t have to sit next to the guy dude–it was gross.”

“Still, he’s trying to be nice, and you’re throwing it in his face. Don’t forget we need his help.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Howie said, and leaned back, “What a fucking pain in the ass.”

“You’re the one who didn’t take your car in for an inspection.”

“Oh will you shut up about that? I said I was sorry, alright?”

Kent rolled his eyes, and Daryl came over carrying a ceramic jug in his hand. “Yer both in college, right? I bet ya’ll can drink. This here’s the moonshine mah bro ‘n I brew–I’d like tah know what ya think.”

“Oh, that’s nice, but uh…I’ll pass,” Kent said.

“Well, I’ll take some,” Howie said, and Daryl smirked at him as he handed over the jug. “Alright, well let me see if I can rustle up some grub fer ya. Neither a ya is a vegetarian ‘r anything, right? We only have meat eaters in this here house,” he said with a laugh.

“Dude,” Kent said, as Howie look a drink from the jug, “You know shit like that can kill you, right?”

“Oh? What happened to not throwing people’s generosity back in their face?” Howie said, stuck his tongue out at Kent and drank some more. “It actually isn’t bad–besides, it’s Spring Break! I thought we were going to party?”

“Yeah, with some chicks on Miami Beach, not with these hicks in Buttfuck, Swampland,” Kent said, shifting uncomfortably. “Damn it, I gotta shit.”

“Ha, have fun with that–I don’t think this place has indoor plumbing,” Howie said, then held out the jug, “You sure you don’t want any?”

“Nah, you go ahead–one of us should stay sober around this place I think.”

“Suit yourself.”

Kent got up and walked into the kitchen where Daryl was. “Hey, uh, Sir–where’s the bathroom?”

“I told ya, ain’t no need tah call me sir, boy,” Daryl said, “and we ain’t got no fancy bathroom–just an outhouse out back ya’ll have tah use, though I promise it won’t kill ya.”

Kent felt kind of bad then, realizing he’d been just as much a jerk as Howie had earlier, even if it might have been for a better reason. Still, what could he say? He left, found the back door and headed for the outhouse, leaving Howie inside with Daryl.

“So? What do ya think, boy?” Daryl asked Howie after Kent had left, “You enjoyin’ the drink?” He plopped down on the couch next to Howie, took the jug from his hand and had a swig himself.

“Yeah, it…it isn’t bad…” Howie said, slurring his words a bit, the room swirling awkwardly, “Though it…hits kinda hard…fuck, I think I’m gonna be sick…” He tried to lurch up and make his way outside to puke, but Dylan grabbed his hand and pulled him back down onto the couch. Howie turned to tell the man off, when he say his eyes. His gold irises, and the pupils…were they slits? “Your…eyes are all…weird…” Howie slurred.

“Really boy? Why don’t you keep on looking at them and make sure?”

Howie kept staring into Dylan’s eyes, and he realized, as the room spun around him, what they looked like–they were reptilian. The redneck grinned, showing a few too many pointed teeth, and Howie tried to bolt back, but those eyes–he couldn’t look away from them, and with the room spinning around him he wasn’t sure he could even stand up. “What…what are you? What are…what was that stuff…” Howie slurred, as the tension in his body released, causing him to slump back, though his eyes remained glued to Dylan’s.

“Like I said, it’s just a moonshine me and my brother brew for ourselves…and our family. Now son, you sure are lookin’ uncomfortable, in all of those clothes–how about we do something about that? It’s so hot in here, after all–wouldn’t you be more comfortable naked, with your daddy, just lounging on the couch?” Dylan took one of his hands, the skin cracking apart into scales and already tinged green, the nails now hard, long and black, and started ripping away Howie’s clothes, first his shirt, and then his pants and boxers, Dylan kicking off his shoes and socks, compelled by the redneck’s stare, the gator removing his own clothes as well. “There, isn’t that better?” Dylan asked, putting his arm around Howie’s shoulders, “Just you and yer daddy, hangin’ out?”

“Not…Not my…daddy…” Howie managed to eek out, but he was feeling so strange now. He could feel the liquor pulsing through him, heating him up from the inside, but his throat and mouth were tingling and aching. Dylan took one scaly hand and ran it along Howie’s jawline, smiling watching the young man’s skull start stretching into a snout, the skin growing dry and cracking apart like his own, the teeth multiplying and growing sharper.

“Ha, maybe not yet, son, but soon enough–here, have another drink,” Dylan put the jug to his lips and poured, Howie helpless in his gaze, the heat increasing in his gut, and then he realized that the liquor was doing more to him than making him sick. “Yeah, that’s it. Now, what did you say about yer Pa outside boy? Go ahead and refresh my memory, if ya would.”

“I…I said that you…you smell like ass,” Howie said, and started giggling, the drink slowly choking off his inhibitions and rational thought. Everything just seemed so…easy. He just needed to go with the flow, and have fun, and enjoy himself. “‘Cause you do kinda stink.”

“Ha, yeah, I suppose I do, don’t I?” Dylan said, taking a whiff of his own armpit, “Yeah, I sure do, but ya wanna know somethin’?” he said, then leaned in close to Howie, keeping his eye contact, “I kinda like it, ‘n ya know somethin’ else? I bet a son like you’ll love it too. Yeah, sittin’ next tah me in that truck, drivin’ over here–it was hard to resist just shovin’ that face a yers into my dirty, nasty pit, wasn’t it? I bet my funk had ya hard the whole ride over here, just like it has ya hard right now.”

Howie didn’t know if it was true or not, but in his drunk state he was in no condition to resist. His head just didn’t seem to work right, and he couldn’t quite remember what he’d been doing in the truck. Still, he was hard now, wasn’t he? And he could smell Dylan, and…and he did smell rank, but it was kind of…good? He kind of liked it? Dylan wrapped his scaly hand around Howie’s cock and started stroking it slowly, making the boy moan loudly, and watched his last bit of resistance crumble, as he lurched over and started licking out his armpit.

“Yeah, that’s good son–just let go ‘n trust yer Pa–I wouldn’t steer you wrong after all. You love my fuckin’ stink so much–just enjoy it.”

Howie felt his face ache as his bones stretched and grew, his snout crammed into Dylan’s pit, the rest of his body slowly catching up as the liquor flooded his system. His skin was the most noticeable, as his belly slowly dried out, the skin darkening, and his vision blurred slightly as his eyes changed to match Dylan’s…no his…Pa’s? What was wrong with him? He needed to get out of here, but he loved licking out Pa’s pits so much, and now Pa was running his claws along the base of the shaft of his cock and it felt so damn good, maybe he could just stick around for…a bit longer.

“Heh, so I smell like ass, eh? Well, I suppose it’s a good thing I have a boy who loves ass stink then, eh?” Dylan said, “You wanna clean yer Pa’s ass son? We ain’t got no toilet paper, so I sure could use a good cleanin’ back there. I know how much ya love cleanin’ up yer daddy’s rear end. Go on, lay down on the floor there.”

He had to help Howie up of the couch, and he didn’t have much choice but to lay down, since his head was spinning too wildly for him to stand for long. Looking up from the floor he saw that Dylan had fully transformed, a nearly seven foot tall, chubby gatorman standing over him, looking down at his son over his fat gut, long tail swinging behind him, and then he straddled Howie’s head and sat down on his face. The stench was horrendous, but no longer disgusting–Howie craved it, and he let out a loud moan as his long tongue started clicking the crack clean, probing his Pa’s hole as the big gator jacked his boy’s cock, giving him words of encouragement, watching Howie’s body continue to shift–growing larger, his fairly healthy gut filling out further, his long, thick tail shoving out of his lower back and down between his legs, his hands and feet thickening, the nails becoming claws, and he idly wondered what was taking the other boy so much time in the outhouse–and what was taking Al, his brother, so long in the swamp?

***

Kent wasn’t going to have that–no way, no how. The outhouse was filthy–little more than a hole in the ground, and on closer inspection, he saw that there wasn’t even anything for him to wipe with. Instead, he hiked over to the road, deciding he might as well drop his pants and do his business over there, and just use some leaves to wipe out in the dark. Unfortunately, he hadn’t expected the land to drop off into the water quite as fast as it did, and Kent tumbled down the slope and right into the murky water below, where he came up sputtering and grasping for earth. He scrambled up onto a sandbar, sopping wet, and looked around for the light of the shack, but there was nothing–just darkness. He couldn’t even tell where he’d fallen in, or where the road was. He shivered, and but there was nothing he could use to warm up, and he hunkered down for a moment to figure out what to do.

As he crouched, he realized just how loud the swamp around him was–but rather than being much of a comfort, he found it was only fueling his imagination. He pulled his phone from his pocket and was relieved when it lit up, allowing him to illuminate a small area around him. He swung it around to the side, looking for the slope up the road, but froze when the blue light illuminated something which quickly slithered out of sight and back into the darkness.

He froze, and after a few moments, his phone light went out, plunging him back into darkness, but now he was listening even more intently than before, for any sign that what he’d seen might be approaching him, swimming towards him. Had he even seen anything? Had he just imagined it? Maybe it was just a shadow, or a branch, or–

“What’s wrong little boy–what’re ya doin’ down here?” a voice said behind him, sounding so close that he was certain something’s claws were about to rip into him. The voice–it wasn’t human. It had an almost serpentine quality to it, and Kent nearly bolted back out into the water, but held himself perfectly still instead. It had to be his imagination. There weren’t really swamp monsters or anything like that, those were just tall tales.

“It’s just my imagination, he whispered to himself, “there aren’t really monsters, I’m just hearing things.”

“Oh trust me, I’m as real as you are, boy,” the voice said again, “Here, let me show ya…”

This time, he did feel the claws on him, grabbing the cloth of his shirt and ripping it off his body. Kent screamed then, and flung himself into the water, but the beast was on him before he could even start paddling, fat scaly arms wrapping their way around him, and he thought it was going to drag him under water. “Oh, don’t worry boy–I’m not ready tah kill ya yet, I like tah play with mah food first…” the voice said, and a hot, slimy tongue scraped its way across Kent’s face, and he felt something firm pressing against his asshole.

“Howie! Dylan! Help!” Kent called out, hoping his friend and the redneck would hear him, and to his surprise, a moment later the beast released his grip, allowing Kent to wriggle away and swim forward, scrambling up the slope which he crested and saw the shack right in front of him. Safe–he was safe. He ran for the door and burst inside, still sopping wet, but stopped short when he saw the scene in the living room.

“Gonna fart boy–ya wanna smell yer daddy’s ass gas?”

“Oh fuck yeah, daddy–give it to me! Give it to me!”

Howie–it was Howie’s voice–almost. That same hiss, and Kent went around the couch just as Dylan ripped off a wet fart right in Howie’s face, the younger gator sighing and shooting his second load of the night all over his new gut, Dylan rubbing his son’s gator cum into his scales, and using it to lubricate his cock as he jacked off, and he looked over at Kent, those gold irises, and he wanted to run, he really did, but he couldn’t move. Paralyzed with fear, he felt an odd warmth in his crotch, and he realized that the piss he’d been holding in had released, forming a small puddle around his feet on the floor.

“Heh, Dylan, what did I tell ya ‘bout bringin’ more guys intah the family?” the voice from the swamp said behind Kent, and if he could have turned around, he would have found himself face to face with Al, Dylan’s older brother, his beard and scales gleaming with swamp water.

“I’m sorry bro–but I was horny, ‘n this boy a mine said I smell like ass.”

“Ya do smell like ass, Dylan.”

“Well I know that! But it was the way he said it, Al–I just thought I’d teach ‘em a lesson is all, ‘n he’s doin’ real good now, ain’t ya son?”

“Oh yeah daddy, give me another fart daddy–they smell so good…”

“See he’s fine,” Dylan said, patting Howie’s belly, “This one though–I figured we’d just eat ‘em. He didn’t want any moonshine–he was afraid it’d make ‘em sick,” Dylan said.

“Ha, well he was right, wasn’t he?” Al said, “putting his clawed hand on Kent’s shoulder. He was still caught up in Dylan’s gaze, but Al turned him around and caught him up in his own, “Still, this one’s smarter than that one–smart enough to be scared,” Al said, sniffing the air, “though doesn’t smell like you could hold it in, eh?”

“Please…please don’t eat me,” Kent managed to stutter out.

“Aww, but you’d be so delicious,” Al said, grinning, “Yer gonna have tah give me some good reason not tah–show ya can be useful…” The hand on Kent’s shoulder pushed him down, and his knees buckled, bringing him face to face with Al’s thick, scaly cock and full balls. He didn’t want to, but what choice did he have? He tentatively took the head of the gatorman’s cock in his mouth, and was caught off guard when Al wrapped a hand around the back of his head and drove it down his throat. Kent tried to pry himself off, but he was no match for the gator’s raw power, and a moment later, he caught the bitter taste of piss as Al released. “Aw yeah, how about we have one son for the front, and one for the back?” Al said to Dylan, and the two gators laughed, as Kent struggled, trying to gag the piss back up. However, from the burn in his gut, he could tell that the piss he was taking in had a good amount of alcohol in it, and the only place that might have come from was…

“Here, this might help him along too,” Dylan said, getting up off Howie’s face, grabbing the jug and sticking his cock in the neck, filling the half empty container back up with his piss. Al pulled his cock out of Kent’s throat, and he doubled over, sick to his stomach.

“Hey boy,” Al said, and Kent looked up at the big gator looming over him, but for some reason, the big gator wasn’t staying still, as his vision kept spinning. “Here, I bet you’re real thirsty, aren’t you? Yeah, this’ll help ya become a big man like me and yer Uncle Dylan, drink up.”

He felt so weak. He knew he shouldn’t drink it, that he should fight back, but when Al helped him up and Dylan put the jug up to his lips, he started drinking anyway, both of the gators giving him plenty of encouragement, telling him how much he loved drinking piss, how much he loved pleasing his family and didn’t want to disappoint them. Soon Kent had drained the jug, his face already starting to reshape, and he licked his lips, before Al shoved his cock back down Kent’s throat, face fucking him while Howie crawled over and resumed licking Dylan’s ass.

“Nah son,” Dylan said, pulling Howie back, “I got somethin’ else fer ya to do. All that hole lickin’ has got me all excited–how about ya fuck daddy’s hole like a real man?” Dylan sat on the couch, his legs up and tail down, giving Howie permission to ram his rock hard cock up his new daddy’s ass. “Aw yeah, that’s it son, how’s it feel tah have yer cock up yer daddy’s hole?”

“Feels…feels great daddy, oh fuck…” Howie moaned, driving his cock in deeper.

“Ha, look at those two go, son–” Al said, but Kent couldn’t see anything beyond the underside of his own daddy’s gut. “Aw yeah, just lookin’ at those two fuck–can’t fuckin’ hold it–” He pulled his cock out of his son’s maw and with a couple of strokes shot his load all over Kent’s face, before getting down and licking it off with his slimy tongue, Kent groaning as his bones shifted and grew, his skin turning scaly and a deep green just like his daddy’s.

“Yeah, that’s it son!” Dylan growled, “Shoot yer fuckin’ load deep in yer daddy’s hole!”

Howie , snorting and grunting, slammed his cock in deeper and deeper, before unleashing his own load up Dylan’s ass. Kent looked at Howie and couldn’t really recognize him anymore–his goofy demeanor was replaced by–this hunger, and licking his lips, Howie got down on his knees and started licking Dylan’s ass, felching his own cum from the loose hole.

“Yeah son, you like watching your big cousin go to town on your uncle like that, don’t you?” Al said, and Kent looked up at his Pa, finding himself enraptured with those gold iris once more.

“No, please…please don’t do this.”

“Oh, don’t be such a fucking weakling–be more like your cousin! In fact, since he’s a few years older than you, I suppose you probably do everything he says. Yeah, you’re gonna be the baby of the family I think–hell, you can’t even control your own piss.” With a groan, Kent felt something shoot out of his cock, and it was so pleasurable he thought it was an orgasm at first, but the stench of urine hit his nostrils a second later, and he realized he’d pissed uncontrollably for the second time that evening. “Oh, what a naughty fuckin’ gator–get down there and clean up your mess, son.”

Humiliated, Kent got down and started lapping up his own piss, but it tasted so good he didn’t really complain. Besides, his Pa was right, he was the baby of the family, not that he minded. It meant he got fucked more than anyone else, and he did love getting fucked…right? Some other voice was telling him to resist, but it was slowly being devoured alive by his new instincts. Family came first, and he needed to obey his family if he wanted to grow up big and strong like Pa, Unc and Howie.

Howie finished cleaning his own Pa’s hole out, and stood up, strutting over to where Kent was on his hands and knees, and started pissing on him, Dylan joining his son a moment later, the two sharing a kiss while the soaked him down. It was too much for Kent, who felt his cock unload again–this time a wad of gator cum into the puddle of piss growing underneath him, which he happily lapped up as well, his head dimming as thinking became more and more difficult. When he sat back a few minutes later, the floor clean, he was just another gator–a bit smaller than chubbier than the rest of his family, and let out a loud, satisfied belch.

“Well boys, that was damn hot, but it’s a bit too late for boy’s like you to be up. Besides, I think you’re daddies need some alone time,” Al said, groping his brother’s ass. “Why don’t the two of you bunk up together in the bedroom tonight? We’re gonna have to expand the house again, dang it.”

Kent and Howie headed into the large bedroom, and before Kent knew what was happening, Howie had him bent over the side of the bed and was shoving his tongue deep into his asshole. He shivered, and couldn’t resist pushing back, eager for his big cousin to fuck him with his big cock. Still, doubts lingered, but he could already tell they would be gone by morning. Besides, he was so happy here, with his family. The swamp was his home–and he never wanted to leave.

July 11th 2012

The hormone supplements have produced stunning results in farmhand A in a single month, the most noticeable being the rapid muscle growth all over his body, and the bony protrusions on his temples, which I believe to be the beginning of horns. Unfortunately, there have been a number of personality changes as well, particularly increased aggression and libido. While his penis size has remained constant, his testicles have grown both in size and production, and he appears to have taken a liking to mating with the cows. Any attempts to stop the copulation are met with fierce resistance–this leads me to conclude that, regardless of the amazing physical results this test has yielded, the personality shift has rendered this particular blend unworkable. For the next month, I plan on using a slightly different formula, introducing some female hormones to promote docility and submissiveness without diminishing the physical growth.

***

August 13th 2012

I must conclude that this new mixture has been a success, even if some of the side effects are extreme and potentially untenable. The aggression previously exhibited has been greatly reduced, and is replaced by a obedience and submission which exceeded my expectations. However, the farmhand’s libido has not reduced, though he now appears to emit a pheromone attractive to bulls, leading the stud to mate him regularly in the field.

As strange as this might be, it is the new physical changes brought on by extended exposure which are more troubling. The farmhand has grown a fine pelt of fur, and the bony protrusions on his temples have extended into short horns. The addition of the feminine hormones have caused some fatty weight gain, though the farmhand’s musculature appears unaffected. Strangest of all are the farmhand’s genitals. He appears to have been rendered impotent–however, his testicles have grown even larger, each to the size of grapefruits, and they produce copious amounts of fluid, his penis functioning like a udder. Without a daily milking the farmhand appears to suffer great distress and pain. The fluid appears to be a mixture of milk and semen–and though hardly scientific, I tasted it, and found it to be quite delicious, high in protein, and naturally low in fat.

Regardless, I feel that further experimentation with farmhand A will yield little progress–it is, I believe, time to put him out to pasture. Since he has long since lost most of his human cognitive capacity, euthanasia would be simplest, but I’m ashamed to admit that I have grown fond of my daily protein shake, so I think I will keep him alive for now. In fact, I think I’ll go indulge right from the source right now. I always feel so pumped up after a good, long drink…though my temples are starting to itch. I’m sure it’s nothing though. Still, I’ll have to acquire a new farmhand for further testing when I go into town tomorrow. A breakthrough is close at hand, I can almost taste it.

Source: Flickr / phaenon