Commissioned by Scot158
Contains raunch, watersports, scat, monster TF and castration. Grow some balls and enjoy it.
“…larazelius moralian trabio–no…tradionominus…”
Marcus paused and looked up from the book, feeling his cheeks heat up, and looked around to make sure no one was watching him, even though he knew he was alone in the apartment. This was silly, so fucking silly, reading from a goddamn book of spells in a language he could barely read–let alone pronounce–and he actually expected it to work? Hell, spells weren’t even real, but what was the problem with trying? He ran a hand along his bare cheek, wondering what it would be like to have hair there, and bent back over the book. There were only a couple of lines left, and then he could be disappointed, and never think about it again.
“…trandinominus dominita rowantine gran–grandicone folicius foralion.”
That was it, the incantation was finished, and he had butchered it, but it was done. Maybe he should try again, and try to get it tight this time. Hell, he would probably never actually get it right–what sort of language was this anyway? He ran his hand against his cheek again and froze. It was scratchy–he could feel stubble. In a flurry, he grabbed up the book he’d bought from the thrift shop and rushed into the bathroom down the hall, flicking on the light and staring at himself in the mirror.
It was stubble–actual stubble. Thick too, way thicker than the peach fuzz he was used to growing. He ran his hand across it again, marveling at the sensation. Twenty-six, and Marcus had never once managed to grow anything resembling facial hair–he’d always wondered what it might be like. When he’d seen that spell in the book, well, he’d never imagined that it would actually work, but he could see the hairs lengthening and thickening right before his eyes, and less than a minute later, he could barely see his cheeks or chin. He had a beard–a real beard like he’d always imagined, and he ran his fingers through it, and realized the growth wasn’t stopping. Frozen in awe, he watched as the beard went from short and trimmed to wild and bushy, before the force of gravity became too much and dragged it down to the top of his chest.
“Fuck…fuck fuck fuck,” Marcus said under his breath. What if it didn’t stop? What if…what if it just kept going forever? He must have messed up one of the words, he must have messed up the entire spell! His eyes glued to the mirror, he thought that maybe the beard was slowing, but he couldn’t be sure. He dug around in the drawers of the bathroom, looking for the scissors he kept there. constantly shoving the expanding beard out of his way so he could keep looking, and there they were. He bundled up the beard in one hand and with the other started hacking at it with the scissors, when he heard a scream of pain–both in his ears, and in his head.
“Hey, that fucking hurts, asshole! What the hell are you doing?” Marcus paused, and looked around for the source of his voice, but he was all alone…wasn’t he? He made to close the scissors on his beard again, but before he could the voice piped up again, “Don’t even fucking think about it, or I’ll make this beard grow so fast you’ll be lost in a pile of hair for the rest of your life.”
Marcus wasn’t listening, though. In the mirror, he’d finally figured out where the voice was coming from. It was the beard. His beard. It was talking. He could see a vague face outlined in the hair there, and when it spoke, the hair moved of its own accord. The beard was alive–how was that even possible? His hand shaking, Marcus dropped the scissors to the bathroom floor.
“That’s better,” the beard said, “Now, shall we introduce ourselves? You can just call me Hairy, if you’d like–it’s easier than my real name.”
“No, no this can’t be happening. I have to…I have to reverse this…” Marcus said, grabbed the book and started flinging through the pages, looking for a counter spell.
“Whoa now, calm down man, it’s alright…Look, you don’t have to do that, don’t send me back, come on…”
Marcus found the spell and he started reading it, enunciating the words as best he could, trying to ignore his still speaking beard.
“No, please. I haven’t been out in years! No, I’m not going back in yet–just stop. Stop the damn spell man, or…fine, we’ll do it the hard way.”
As Marcus kept trying to say the spell, he found the beard twisting his mouth, forcing new sounds out which hardly resembled the spell in the book, but he kept trying. This, whatever this thing was, it had to go, he had to get rid of it. He didn’t notice the tingle creeping all over him for about a minute, when he finally reached what should have been the end of the spell, but he knew it hadn’t worked. But then…what spell had this crazy beard made him say?
He was itchy–so god damn itchy, and looking down, he felt all the color drain from his face. His body–it was hairy. He’d never been hairy, his body had always been as smooth as his face. Hell, he’d never even had much in the way of pubes, but he could see a thick coating up and down his arms now, and it was only getting worse. “No–no this can’t be happening, this can’t be happening…”
“Oh damn that feels good,” the beard said, “Get ready to be one furry mouthfucker man–I can’t believe how long you kept that spell up.”
The itch felt like he was burning now, and he stripped out of his clothes, scraping at his hairy body with his nails for any relief, but there was none. The hair just kept coming, so thick that he couldn’t even see his skin anymore, the beard creeping higher up his cheeks–almost to his eyes. He had a pelt, a fucking layer of fur all over him now. He looked like big foot, he looked like a fucking animal. “What in the hell did you do to me? Why…what is this?”
“Look, just calm down, alright, and let me explain,” the beard said, “Did you even bother reading the books introduction?”
Introduction? No, Marcus had just skipped right to the spell. It shouldn’t have even worked at all! Who in the hell believed in magic anyway? Those were the thoughts running through his head at least, but all he could manage to get out was a quiet “No…”
The beard sighed. “Look, it’s called the book of spirits for a reason, dumbass. The book is full of beings like us. We’re kept locked up until a spell releases us to change something about the caster, or whoever he’s targeting. I’m called Hairy, because–well, it should be pretty obvious what I do. There’s others in there as well. Look, I haven’t been out in a long time, alright? I’m sorry for giving you all this hair, but I…I can’t go back in between the pages yet, I just can’t.”
“This is crazy–I’m going crazy,” Marcus said. The itching had died away, and he was busy stroking the fur, trying to figure out what could cause him to hallucinate like this.
“Ha, crazy? Try living in a book for a few millennia, and then you’ll see what it’s like to be crazy,” Hairy said, “Look, just a couple of days, alright? That’s all I need, and then I’ll go back in the book, and you’ll be as hairy as you want to be–no more, no less…how does that sound?”
A beard. His beard was talking to him. The beard that was really a spirit, a spirit that had given him a massive beard and this disgustingly hairy body, and he was supposed to deal with this thing? “No, I can’t. Change me back, and then get the hell out of my body.”
“Come on man, please?”
“Fuck no–this is crazy–I just want my old self back, alright? Now change me back, and get the fuck out!”
“Well I’m not going, and you can’t make me.”
As much as Marcus didn’t want to admit it–it was true. He couldn’t make the spirit go back, but he also couldn’t walk around as this hairy monstrosity for a few days, with a talking beard. “Look…I’m…I’m sorry, alright?” Marcus said, deciding he might as well try to be friends, since he might be stuck with this guy for a while. “I just got, well, a bit scared.”
“No kidding,” Hairy said, the beard rustling in laughter, “Still, I gotta say it looks good on you. I love a furry beast, the furrier the better. Man, the last guy who let me out–what, ten years ago? He just wanted a little moustache–boring as fuck! This is way more interesting.”
“Ten years? I thought you said you were in there for millennia!”
“Ha, not me, thankfully–I get out fairly regularly. Still, some of the guys in there–dang, they haven’t seen the light of day in a long while.”
Marcus looked at the leather bound book and frowned, trying to imagine what it must be like. “I’d probably go crazy.”
“Yeah, well so do they–trust me. Now–how about we go out for a bit, get some fresh air? I want to see what’s changed since last time I was out. Is that Kennedy guy still president?”
“Kennedy? That was…like, sixty years ago. You aren’t very good with time, are you?”
“Eh, what’s a few years here or there?” Hairy said, “Come on, let’s go!”
“I can’t go out looking like this–besides, Colby will be home…oh crap,” Marcus said, realizing that Colby, his roommate, was due home any second. “Look, can you…can you make me look normal for a bit? Colby will be home any second, and…well, he’s easily surprised.”
“I can do that,” Hairy said, but then paused, “Hey…wait, this is just a trick to get me back in the book isn’t it?”
“What?” Marcus said, “No! I look like a freak, come on–quick!”
“No, I like you like this, so this is how you’re staying.”
Marcus scowled, but didn’t have time to work out a retort. Colby had come home sometime during the conversation, turned the corner and saw the hairy brute in the bathroom and screamed. “What in the fuck–oh my fucking Christ!”
Colby was frozen in place, and Marcus didn’t know how this could get worse, when his beard spoke, “Oh, is that Colby? He’d look good with a beard too. How about it?”
Colby went as white as a sheet.
“Shit,” Marcus said, “Colby–I can explain!”
His roommate, however, had already taken off into the kitchen, and when Marcus rounded the corner, Colby brandished a knife at him. “What the–what the fuck are you? What are you doing in my apartment?”
“Colby, it’s me, Marcus–just calm down for a second–”
“Get the fuck away from me!” Colby shouted, and fumbled his phone from his pocket, apparently to call the police, and Marcus knew he had to fix this somehow. He turned around and ran back into the bathroom and grabbed the book of spirits and then back to the kitchen, flipping through the pages for the immobilization spell he’d seen earlier. He opened it to the page and started reading the spell, and he heard, and felt, Hairy start to protest, the beard squirming back and forth, but he wasn’t going to be deterred this time by a bunch of sentient facial hair. He had to keep Colby from calling the police, or else he’d probably be stuck like this forever, and in a jail cell, looking like the hairiest freak on the planet. He finished the spell, directed it towards Colby, and saw him drop the phone suddenly and bend over, clutching his stomach.
“Oh god, what have you done?” Hairy said, and Marcus realized that he wasn’t sure what he’d done. The spell was supposed to immobilize him, right, so then why was Colby still moving? And…and growing? He was growing, and getting fatter, but that didn’t make any sense at all.
“I thought…I thought it was an immobilization spell–what’s happening to him?”
“You fucking idiot,” Hairy said, “It sure as hell will make him immobile–now quick, find the dismissal spell, or else you aren’t going to like who comes out.”
“I can’t…I don’t…” Marcus said, trying to take all of this in. His friend was still filling up the kitchen–already he had a massive gut. He kept trying to bend over and grab his phone, but his belly kept getting in his way, and he tumbled over onto his face, before rolling over onto his back and trying to stand again, but the fat seemed to be piling up on top of him and forcing him to stay down. Marcus was just captivated by the sight of his struggles, until he felt Hairy yank down on his beard, pulling his attention back.
“Did you fucking hear me? Find the spell!”
“No, you tell me what is going on here. What’s happening to him?”
“Look at the spell again, and maybe read past the title this time.”
Marcus found the book on the ground and read the spell, and saw what he’d missed. It was definitely an immobility spell, but not like he’d thought. It was designed to make the target so fat he’d never be able to move himself again. “Oh…fuck.”
“Yeah, fuck, but that’s not the real problem, the problem is who’s going to be coming out, now that you’ve cast the spell. He’s busy changing your friend at the moment, but that won’t last long at this rate–fuck he’s powerful. There was a time he’d need a week to pull something like this off.”
“Who? Who are you talking about?”
“Just shut up and listen for a moment, alright? Look, every spell has a spirit in the book who makes it happen, right? That’s why I came out when you cast the beard spell. Well, some spells aren’t cast nearly as often as others. I mean, some of us get out once a year or so, usually Muscles, and a few others. I usually come out a few times every century. However, some of us haven’t been out in a very, very long time. And the longer we stay in, the stronger we get, and well, the crazier we get too. And that spell, well, that spell happens to be controlled by someone I’d call Filthy, and I have a feeling he is both incredibly powerful, and incredibly insane–so hurry the fuck up and find the spell to dismiss him, or we’re gonna be really fucked.”
Marcus looked over and saw that where Colby was, there was little more than a giant heap of fat attached to a screaming head pushed up against the counter, the fat overflowing now and knocking over furniture. How heavy was he now? He must be well over five or six hundred–could he be a thousand already? Heavier? How heavy did someone have to be to be unable to move? Another yank on his beard, and Marcus grabbed up the book, thumbing through for the dismissal spell, but he was having a hard time finding it. He was close when he heard a new voice, a deep rumbling laugh, and looking over, he saw that in the folds of Colby’s massively fat body a face had manifested–and it didn’t look particularly friendly. “Well Hairy, what do you think? Sure is nice being out after all these years.”
“Ha, yeah…no kidding,” Hairy said, while Marcus kept looking, “How long has it been, Filthy? A millenium?”
“Ha, no…try four millennia. Four millennia, seven centuries, eight decades, three years, five months and twenty-six days, as the calendar goes at the moment.”
“Wow…that’s…that’s a long time.”
“No kidding,” Filthy said, the folds curling up into a wicked smile.
“Marcus? Marcus, are you there? What’s going on? Why…why did I get so fat, and what’s this…this voice in my head, Marcus…It’s so loud…so…so dirty…”
“Hold on Colby, I’m trying to fix this,” Marcus said, but Filthy laughed.
“Oh, the dismissal spell? But I’ve only just come out! Don’t you think we ought to play for a bit before I go away again?” Filthy said, and before Marcus could react, the folds of Colby’s fat that formed Filthy’s mouth parted, and a long, slimy tongue whipped out, wrapped itself around the Book of Spirits and Filthy swallowed it whole.
Marcus just stared at the grinning face, and he felt Hairy say, “Well fuck.”
“So what now?” Marcus said.
“Well, I’d suggest running, to be honest.”
“Marcus, no, you have to help me, help…” Colby said, and Filthy laughed.
“My goodness, so much knowledge in here, so many spells, so many spirits…You know Hairy, I think you need to go away for a bit,” Filthy said, and quickly rambled off a spell. Marcus felt the spirit being hauled out of his hair and drawn back into Filthy’s gullet, and into the book which now resided there, leaving Marcus all alone, and faced with a massive problem.
“Marcus? Marcus, where are you? What is this thing? What’s going on?” Colby was saying, wheezing a bit. His body was so massive, and he fallen at such an angle, that he couldn’t see much besides his fat chest and the floor. He was so tired all of a sudden–just lifting up his head was a massive effort, and the voices, all of the voices in his head. The loudest one, the nastiest one though, it kept…telling him to do things, to enjoy it, to revel in being this fat, to imagine himself filthy, to imagine himself shitting and pissing himself, to imagine himself unshowered for years. The voice was terrifying, and he couldn’t get away from it.
Marcus skirted around his friend’s massive frame towards his face, “Don’t worry Colby, I’ll figure out…something.”
Filthy laughed, “Ha, fat chance, unless you managed to memorize that dismissal spell, you’re stuck with me until I’m good and done with this world, which I don’t think will be for quite a while. Still though, you’re a bit of a bother–why don’t I find someone else to keep you company while Colby and I have some fun together?”
“Now hold on, isn’t there some way we can work this out? Look, I didn’t mean to summon you, I just didn’t want Colby to call the cops or something.”
“Well maybe I should have!” Colby shouted, “Look at what you fucking did to me.”
“Well I damn well didn’t mean to.”
“This is touching, really, but I don’t understand how reminding me of the fact that you were going to leave me trapped in that book for the rest of eternity can be a good way of starting a discussion,” Filthy said.
“Look, I just mean, that maybe we can work something out where we’re all happy, alright?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that. See, I know I can convince Colby here to see things my way, and that just leaves the question of what to do with you. Now, I think that with all that fur of yours, you’d make quite a lovely little pet, don’t you agree Colby?” Filthy said.
“What?” Colby said his voice weak, the voice growing louder in his head, “I don’t…I mean, sure–so…so loud…”
“Colby, come on man, you have to fight it,” Marcus said, but Colby didn’t answer. He was losing this fight, and should probably bail, but before he could turn and run, he heard Filthy spew another spell in his direction, but unlike before where he’d barely felt anything as Hairy entered him after the spell, this one hit him physically like a train, an invisible force plowing into him, hurling him to the floor and sending him flying across the room into the wall.
“Have fun Beast. Now Colby, why don’t we continue our little talk? I have so much to tell you.”
“Beast? What?” Marcus said, picking himself up off the ground slowly. He could feel something inside him, something rampaging around in his veins, the heat building in his body, and he was panting and huffing. He lumbered over into the bathroom, every step strange and looked at himself in the mirror. Difficult as it was to make it out through his hair, he was changing again, and it wasn’t going to be pretty, he could tell. His nose…it was flattening, looking almost ape like, and when he opened his mouth to gasp, he saw that his teeth had sharpened into carnivorous fangs. He looked down at his hands, seeing his fingers pull in, shortening as his nails grew dark, sharp and vicious, the palms becoming tough pads.
“No…No no no,” Marcus said, even that simplest of words mangled by his new mouth, but the rampage was only just starting, he could feel the heat growing fiercer, the flood racing to every inch of his body, burrowing into his marrow, and the pain, it started as an ache and erupted into flaming bones, Marcus letting out a roar as his frame grew, packing on pound after pound of brutal muscle, his shoulders hunching over as his arms lengthened, his hands settling down on the ground. Even with his new posture, he still managed to outgrow the bathroom, and he squeezed out, cracking open the door frame as he shoved his way through. If he could stand upright, he’d have been over twelve feet tall, but in his new position on all fours, he merely crested nine, and was so wide he’d never be able to navigate this apartment, but strength and power and fury and anger and so much more rushed through him at frantic paces.
Marcus did his best to steel himself for the spirit’s assault, but it was not the kind of assault he’d expected. Beastly did not have a mind, or a voice. It had instinct, it had rage, it had greed. It appealed to every one of Marcus’ own worst instincts. Lust–he shifted his balance to three paws, one hand crudely gripping his shaft as it emerged from the sheath running up his belly and began stroking, a call somewhere between an ape and a cur coming from his mouth. Wrath–the claws raking their way across his tender shaft, the sensation new and thrilling and pleasing in ways he could have never imagined. Pride–he saw himself in the mirror, his narrow eyes, teeth bared, the power he held now, he was strong, he was alpha, he was a dominator, he would rule those beneath him. He snarled as he came, his foul, rich seed soaking the carpet in a swath before him, his musk, his territory, his right, his rule.
Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Colby was still trying to process what had happened to him. The events of the last few minutes had happened so rapidly that he still had a hard time believing that all of this was real. In fact, there was no way this could be real–just no way. He was probably just asleep somewhere, and he’d wake up, and he wouldn’t be this massive blob of fat, and Marcus would be normal, and none of this would have ever happened.
“You can keep telling yourself that, but it’s never going to be true,” Filthy said, and Colby whimpered, still not used to the fact that the spirit inside him could read his thoughts. “You know Colby, there’s really no reason for you to fight me here, if you simply cooperated, we could have so much fun together. Frankly, the way you keep fighting me, it’s starting to annoy me.”
“No, this is crazy. Get out of my body–get out of my head, just get out!”
“Aww, but I like it in here so much! Still, I must say that we need to make a few more changes here, now so I can feel a bit more at home–how does that sound?”
A stench–something stank, like a locker room, or a toilet, or an outhouse, or something equally ripe and horrid, and after a moment of gasping for breath, Colby realized it was him. He managed to shift himself up a bit, using all of his little remaining strength, and he could see that his entire body was coated in filth, a thick layer of sweat, mud, grime and who knew what else. He wanted to vomit, and yet…something about it…Was his cock hard?
“Yes…yes it is,” Filthy said, “I think you like being dirtier than you let on.”
“No, no you’re messing with my head.”
“Aww, just a little, but come on, admit it–you like it. It’s getting you so horny, that stench of yours, that filth.”
Colby let out a groan, and with a great effort, he found he could rock his body back and forth, the folds of nasty fat rubbing his cock and making him shiver with lust. Filthy was helping too, tightening the folds to make it even more pleasurable, and Colby took in a deep sniff of his own stench, thrilled by it.
“Think about it, Colby–between you and me, we could rule this world. You could be a king of kings, imagine all the world coming to worship you, serve you and your filthy, fat body–doesn’t that just thrill you? Doesn’t that make you happier than anything?”
Colby knew he should say no, but it was tempting–oh, so tempting. And it felt so good, thrusting his cock into his fat, the precum leaking all over his gunt, the copious amounts actually puddling under his fat ass. It was this scene that Marcus found when he came around the corner, snarling. An intruder, Marcus thought, imagining all the cruelties he could inflict upon him, all of the depravities. The beast in him hadn’t robbed away his intellect, it had honed it on the whetstone of instinct. Everything was so clear, so simple. Dominate, or be dominated, and he would rule, he would, he could feel it pulsing in his heart now, resting there, the beast at his core. How could he have been scared of this? He had been set free, he could see the world for what it was now. His senses were heightened, he could smell…just smell. Humans couldn’t smell, they had no idea what it was truly like, and my, what he could smell in the kitchen. The closer he came, the ranker it became, filthier than he could have imagined. Still, he would win, he would rule.
He sat back, ready to pounce, but Filthy was ready for him. Before Marcus could even begin his pounce, before he could open up that massive belly with his claws, he felt words draw the beast from him, and the confidence of instinct was suddenly replaced by horror crashing in upon him. He was a freak, a monster. He tried to speak, to plead for his life and sanity and freedom, but the noise he made were hardly recognizable as speech, though its pitiful tone communicated plenty. And now, now Marcus could see what Filthy had wrought while he was otherwise occupied. It was the stench rolling off Colby that he couldn’t get past, it assaulted his sensitive nose and refused to let up, and from the sighs and groans coming from Colby, it sounded like he was…enjoying it.
“Glad you could join us Marcus, you’re looking…well,” Filthy said. Marcus let out a whimper of fear, and backed away, doing his best to make his massive frame look as small and non-threatening as possible, but Filthy just laughed. “That’s the spirit, but still, I think a little time with my friend Submission will help clarify how things will be working from now on.” Filthy worked another spell, and for a moment, Marcus thought nothing had happened…and yet…
Doubt. It started as doubt, questioning his resolve from earlier. Who was he to have been so presumptuous? How could he have thought it was his right–his privilege, to rule? How could he have imagined himself as an alpha? No…No, that wasn’t his place, that wasn’t his place at all, he was lower than that. He was…a…a pet…
Marcus shook his head, trying to sort out the spirit’s work from his own thoughts, but it was working through his mind too quickly. He could smell that horrific musk, but rather than disgust him, it…it was a sign that the massive blob in there was stronger than him. He was weak, he was so weak and powerless, he lived…no, he existed to serve his better…his…his master, his Master. He came forward, head bowed, honored to be in the presence of so magnificent a being as his Master, and Filthy let out a booming laugh. “Well Colby? What do you say we help your new pet understand it’s new place?”
Colby let out a groan and shudder of joy, and a new scent flooded the air. Urine–Master was marking it’s place–it’s property. Marcus was it’s property, so it would only be right…Marcus took a step forward, to where he could see a puddle growing on the tile floor. But no, not just piss, there was shit too, he could see it piling out from between Colby’s massive legs– how could Colby have so much inside him? It looked like enough to overflow several toilets, and yet it kept coming, and from Colby’s shudders he was enjoying it far more than Marcus would have thought, but that wasn’t important. The animal got down and rolled in the muck, taking on it’s Master’s scent, submitting to his rule, and as he rolled, and before he could help himself he was feasting on it, drinking and licking and eating it down, a shudder coursing through him and he came once more, but not the torrent from earlier. The cum leaked from the sheath and Marcus felt so ashamed. How could he have done that? How could he have allowed that pleasure for himself, when he had not pleased his master first?
“Oh what a naughty little beast,” Filthy said, “What do you think Colby, wasn’t your pet naughty for cumming without permission?”
“Yeah…Yeah, that was a bad thing! Bad beast!” Colby said, and Marcus wanted to just curl up and die. How could he have disappointed his Master like that?
“I think we’ll have to punish him, don’t you? I don’t think such a naughty beast should have the privilege of cumming ever again, do you Colby? What do we do to naughty pets who can’t control their urges, Colby?”
“We…we cut their balls off,” Colby wheezed, and laughed, “We cut their fuckin’ balls off, is what we do.”
“That’s right, Colby, we cut their fuckin’ balls off. Have at them Subby.”
Marcus pleaded, he begged, but he could already feel Subby working away at his sack, feel it shrinking, and…and he didn’t deserve them, anyway. He had been a bad beast, a very bad beast indeed, and he should know better. The crushing pain as his balls were shrunk away further and further collapsed Marcus to the ground, wallowing in Colby’s filth, but soon it was overtaken by a sense of calm. He felt so…empty, and with one paw he explored his sack and found nothing…but that emptiness–he could fill it with something else. With adoration, with love for his Master. He crawled over and started licking his Master’s folds, thanking him without words for the honor of serving him, apologizing for his indiscretion, and admitting that his Master had made the right choice. Marcus felt so much better neutered, now he could focus on what was really important–serving his Master.
“That’s a good beast,” Colby said, one fat hand stroking Marcus’ shoulder and joy like he’d never felt erupted inside the animal, “Now, I went and made a big mess–and it made me damn hard. Get in there and suck me off like a good bitch.”
“Without a moment of hesitation, Marcus dug in under his Master’s folds of fat, careful of his claws, and began licking, lapping and sucking at the ripe shaft, Filthy urging both of them on, dragging them deeper into the sick and twisted fantasy of a long trapped spirit, and Filthy wondered what other sorts of terror he could wreak upon the world which had denied him freedom for so long. Colby could see in their mind’s eye what he had planned. He could see himself, so huge now, as massive as a house, his musk carried on the winds for miles, the sign of his reign. The world below him, the men caught in orgies of filth, his hordes of pets among them. Yes, Marcus was only the first, but there would be more, so many more abominations, each stranger and more hideous than the last. So many spirits had been trapped in that book for far too long–they deserved a chance to be free, a chance to shape the world–provided it fit in with Filthy’s vision–of course. With a powerful shudder and moan, he came, feeling Marcus’ raspy tongue lapping up his dirty seed, and he was no longer fighting Filthy’s vision–now, he was a part of it–a willing part, and as he felt his body begin growing once more, the apartment building cracking and crumbling around him as he filled the rooms to capacity, he couldn’t wait to see it come to fruition.