Winter Vacation [Interactive] (Part 11)

The sun rose, but neither Nate nor Brett stirred until it was quite high in the sky, shortly before noon. Still, that wasn’t uncommon–Brett had been up late in his room, watching reruns of Dukes of Hazard, dipping the whole while, and Brett–well, it Brett was a awake, he was usually watching porn and jacking off. Brett didn’t do much else, anymore. With a grunt, he rolled over in his bed, feeling the soggy mattress squish beneath him, reeking of piss and cum. Brett just took a long snort of the fumes, shoved his hand into his underwear and started milking his cock, already excited for the first cum of the day. It was always the best, somehow–he liked to let this one last a bit longer than the rest.

Brett hadn’t weighed himself once since arriving at the house, but if he did, he would have been amazed to discover that he was now cresting 500 pounds. Reaching his cock, however, was getting difficult–but the sensation of his fat shaking, slapping and sloshing around him was heavenly. However, the larger he got, the more he seemed to sweat. Some days, he actually dribbled a trail behind him as he walked, like he’d just emerged from the shower. Still, he never felt dehydrated–if anything, all of the liquid seemed to be coming from inside him, replenishing itself no matter how hot he got–and the same went for his bladder. He seemed to piss every hour, and no matter how large of a piss he let go, he could let off another one, just as large, within an hour. His mattress, which had already been wet when he’d arrived, was now sodden. Whenever he laid down on it, he could hear piss, cum and sweat dribble from it and onto the floor, where it soaked into the clothes piled around him. Still, as large as he was…he wasn’t big enough.

All week, it seemed, Nate had been just ahead of him, always the bigger brother. He hated it–mostly because that meant Nate could order him around, and make him do whatever he wanted. Nate would holler for him across the house, and Brett–so comfortable in his soggy bed, would have to get up, head downstairs into the garage, where Brett would bend him over a bike and fuck him, or dress him up in leather and make him be his slave pig for an hour, or two, or five. Once, however, he’d won. He’d been the big brother, and he dragged Nate upstairs, made him drink his piss and suck his cock all night long, dressing him up in filthy clothes, feed him his dip spit–fuck, that had been amazing. Just thinking about it–he was so close. He came, filling the front of his underwear with a massive load, and sighed. His gut rumbled–and he smelled breakfast on the air. He heaved himself up, shook off his night sweat, and headed downstairs, leaving a trail of wet footprints in his wake.

On the other side of the house, Nate was awake too. He was nearly 550 at this point, a massive, hairy apron sagging down to his thighs. He stepped into his grungy, greasy overalls and pulled them up, feeling his gut grumble. Still–first things first, he packed his bottom lip with chaw, the drool starting to flow into what had become a massive, black beard growing high up his cheeks. The rest of his body was caked with filth–grease, dip spit, cum, and who knew what else, not that he minded at all. A redneck like him ought to be good and filthy, after all. He stepped into some boots, put a stained hat on his head, and headed through the garage to the main house, just as Brett was coming down the stairs. “Mornin’ little bro,” Nate said with a grin.

Brett scowled at him, “Mornin’ big bro.”

“What’s say you ‘n I have some fun in the garage after breakfast? I’m feelin’…might filthy, ‘n I could use a nice tongue bath.”

“What…whatever you say, big bro.” In his head, however, Brett had other ideas. Other, much filthier ideas, if he could just be big enough.

They went into the kitchen together, and found themselves staring at the most massive spread either of them had seen–and a stranger waiting for them as well. Or was he a stranger? It was…their daddy, wasn’t it? But it wasn’t the same daddy they’d had–that daddy had been fat…and kind of stupid. More like a vegetable, really. This daddy had a sharp gleam in his eye, and he was…muscular. “There’s my boys–you two ready for breakfast?”

Brett and Nate nodded, still not quite sure what to make of this change of events.

“Now, I’ve been watching the two of you, you know,” Daddy continued, “your little competition to see who’s the big brother around here, but today–well, let’s just say that whoever the winner is after this meal, isn’t going to be losing the title from now on. If you want to be the big brother, well, you’re going to have to eat like you’ve never eaten before.”

Brett and Nate looked at each other, and then they rushed the table, grabbing for anything they could reach, and shoving it in their face. Occasionally, they would glare at each other, try to shove each other out of the way–and the demon just stood back and watched his boy’s grow. But they weren’t just growing fatter–no. Brett and Nate were both now several inches taller at this point, looming a bit over the table, oblivious to what Daddy’s special meal was doing to them.

Still–there could only be one winner. Who is it going to be? Brett or Nate?

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The Book of Spirits

Commissioned by Scot158

***WARNING***

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.

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.

Matt pulled into the rest area needing two things–a cigarette and a piss. Unfortunately, he’d smoked his last one fifty miles back, and he was desperate for another one. Still, he could at least take a piss before worrying about that.

The only other guy in the restroom was a huge, imposing redneck at a urinal. He had to be close to seven feet tall, and thickly muscled. Matt felt rather inadequate standing next to him, especially when he caught a peek of his huge cock. He stared for a few seconds before the man asked, “Like what ya see?”

Matt blushed and shook his head no, the redneck chuckling as though he were used to that reaction, before leaving the bathroom. Completely embarrassed, Matt finished up and left as well, but soon found that the parking lot was completely empty, aside from the redneck’s truck. He couldn’t really ask him, not after that, but god he needed a cigarette.

“Hey, do…do you have a cigarette?”

“So ya are interested then. Ya can suck me off in the woods if ya want.”

“No…No, really. I’m sorry, I just need a cigarette.”

“Oh…suit yerself then. All I got is chaw.” He pulled a metal tin from his back pocket, opened it up and presented it to Matt, “Go on, it ain’t gonna bite ya, bro. You’ll like it.”

Mike gave the man a glance of suspicion, but took a wad of the tobacco. He felt a near immediate rush of nicotene when he stuffed it in his lip…but also something else. Looking down, he could see his small gut start to shrink back into his stomach, as hair grew in all over his body. Unsteady on his feet, he felt almost as if he were being stretched, and was overcome with vertigo as he passed six and a half feet and kept climbing. He tried to get away and spit out the tobacco, but it tasted so good he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

His clothes shifted into a western style denim vest and jeans, size eighteen cowboy boots, and his crotch began to bulge out obscenely. As the onrush of horniness overwhelmed his mind, he dropped to near idiot IQ. His last thought was a realization that he now looked identical to the redneck next to him. “Fuck man, that’s hell of a rush,” he said with a drawl thick enough to match his new friend’s voice.

“Nah bro, that’s nothin’ compared tah this,” the redneck said, leaned in and started kissing his twin, swapping tobacco spit as sexy memories flooded Matt’s head about his twin brother Jack.

“Damn Jake, ya sure know how tah get me goin’. How’s about we finish this in the woods?” Matt said, groping his ten inch cock.

“Sound’s good tah me bro, soun’ds damn good tah me. But yer suckin’, I’m horny as fuck.”

Jared had wanted to be bigger. At five foot seven, he’d been ignored and looked down on all his life, and when the gypsy woman had offered him one wish–he jumped at the opportunity. And now here he was, eight feet tall, and all he wanted to do was serve every short man he came across. And worse yet, Jared knew he was still growing–it wouldn’t be long before serving men of short stature was the only thought occupying his empty mind.

However, as far as Master Harris was concerned, he loved watching the giant slave lick his size seven boot clean. At only five foot two, he’d never been taken seriously as a master, but having a big man at his beck and call was something he could get used to, and he planned on doing everything he could to make Jared his permanent property tonight. He had already “humbled” the gentle giant, forcing him to remain on his knees less he stand and rip his balls off. The pain would weaken him, and when it came time to brand his giant, Jared would know he was born to serve.

Image Vignette: The Gainer’s Dilemma (Part 2)

Warning: This story contains situations of rape and non-consensual sex. Don’t like it, don’t read it.

“Look, we know something’s up. Just fucking spill it,” Jace said.

“Yeah,” Dave added, “this is way too weird. I mean, a new fatsuit without telling us? And how in the hell did you make that beard look so damn real?”

Tony stammered a bit, looking for some words that could get him out of this corner. Fucking Max and his bright ideas! When they’d heard their friends knock on the door, Max had told him to go put on his padding gear–the extra large clothes he wore with his fatsuits when the rest of the gang came over for their parties–and then told him to find some excuse to get them to leave so he and Max could split, but it was a pretty bad plan. When Tony finally answered the door, he was greeted by Jace and Dave who began the group with Max and Tony, as well as Trent and Phillip, two shy, bespectacled friends who had joined just recently and were still learning the ropes.

He told them about Max’s surprise visit, the magic salve, and about putting it on in the bathroom and how he had grown. When he finished, Jace just gaped at him, before saying a simple, “Bullshit.”

“No, It’s true! See?” Tony said, and took down his suspenders and pulled off his 4XL long sleeve shirt to reveal his massive, hairy gut, “It’s all real, I fucking swear. Max, get out here, and show them,” he called, and a bit angry at being found out, Max came around the corner, and all of their jaws dropped even lower.

“But…this can’t be true, can it? You’re just playing a prank or something. Is this some joke you play on new guys like us or something?” Trent said.

“No, it’s real,” Max said, strutting over, “and all of you need to leave. We don’t have time for this.”

The four looked at each other, and the twins turned to leave, but Dave and Jace grabbed them and pulled them back. “No, we want some too, all of us.”

“It’s all gone,” Max said.

“Now that is bullshit,” Jace said, “Cough it up, and let us have some, or we’ll bust your asses wide open,” Jace threatened, and Max and Tony looked at each other, knowing the jig was up.

“Alright, alright fine. But don’t use too much for christ’s sake,” Max said, “I can’t have the company relocate all of us.”

Dave and Jace high fived and hugged Max and Tony, while Trent and Phillip looked a bit incredulous. “Look, maybe…maybe your four have fun, but I’m not ready to make this permanent,” Phillip said, and stepped back to leave, and expected Trent to come with, but his friend didn’t budge. “Come on Trent, let’s go.”

Trent took a moment, and sighed, “No…No, I want this. I want some too.”

“You can’t be serious,” Phillip said.

“You can leave Phillip, but I want some,” Trent said, a bit louder than he’d meant to, and his face turned bright red.

“Look, take some or don’t I don’t care, but we don’t have all day,” Max said, “Who’s first?”

Jace went first, and stepped out of the bathroom a few minutes later a hundred and fifty pounds heavier, and wearing the full beard he’d never managed to grow before. Dave was next, growing a similar amount, but without the beard. Finally, Trent and Phillip went in together, and both emerged not quite as heavy as the others, but equally satisfied with their new look and weight. In the meantime, Tony had talked Max down from his anger, and when he saw how happy Jace and Dave were, exploring each other’s new bodies on the couch, he decided that they might as well just throw caution to the wind and make it a party. Tony ordered ten pizzas for them all to gorge on, turned up the music, and they partied all night long, pausing for a moment while Max took a group photo.

The evening eventually wore down however, and the friends broke off into couples, Phillip and Trent leaving for home together, while Jace and Dave were too drunk to drive and ended up sleeping on the floor of the living room, perfectly warm in their new layers of fat and wrapped in each other’s arms. Tony had gotten plenty drunk, and Max dragged him into the living room after watching him strut about in his huge jeans and suspenders all evening, and fucked his chubby ass again, before promptly falling asleep, but Tony didn’t join him–he was thinking about the salve, and his still too small cock.

What harm could it really do? It wasn’t like he needed to use much, just a bit on his cock and balls, make himself a little bigger than Max so he wouldn’t feel like so much less of a man. He snuck out from under Max’s heavy arm and lumbered into the bathroom as quietly as he could. There was still about a third of the bottle left, and he scooped out a good sized glob into his hand and started rubbing it around his cock and balls…but then he thought, why stop there? Why not get even bigger than he already was? His drunk mind ran away with his fantasy, and before he could stop himself, he was spreading it all over his body again, feeling himself swell and grow all over again. His cock was a good foot long before he realized he’d better shower himself off, but he felt strange this time. He wasn’t sure if it was the beer or what, but he was hornier than he’d ever been before, and his head felt kind of fuzzy, like it was hard to think about anything other than how much he wanted to fuck Max’s ass. So intense was the need, that he didn’t bother rinsing all of the salve off, lumbered into the bedroom and without even bothering with lube, rammed the head of his now thirteen inch cock into Max’s ass, the bear waking up with a scream.

“What the…what the fuck is that! Fuck it hurts!” Max shouted, but Tony just pushed in more.

“Now ya know how it feels, ya fucker. Now who’s the big man here? I’m the big man, and I’m gonna have your big ass whenever I want it.” Tony said, the salve clinging to his dick letting him slide in deeper, and he saw Max’s ass start growing larger, which only added more logs to Tony’s flame. Max continued to struggle, but was pinned under Tony’s new, and still growing, weight, though he was terrified that Tony’s cock was going to rip apart his ass if he kept ramming it deeper like that. Luckily, Jace and Dave had woken to Max’s screams and hurried into the bedroom, where together they managed to haul the very heavy Tony off of him, letting him scramble up, his new pear shaped ass jiggling as he fled the room. “Ya fuckers!” Tony shouted, “I’ll fucking show you, I’ll rape your asses too, just you wait,” he said, and tried to get up from the bed, but his still expanding gut had grown out and over his knees, pinning his legs and rendering him immobile on the bed.

It was then that he realized he might have made a mistake. The salve remaining on him wasn’t going to stop growing him, and if he didn’t get in the shower soon, he wouldn’t be able to fit through the door. He struggled a bit, but he couldn’t move, and he looked over and saw Jace and Dave looking at him fearfully. “Well don’t just stand there,” he said, “Fucking help me!” but the two turned and left to go look for Max, leaving Tony alone in the bedroom, expanding faster than ever. He struggled more and more, but soon he was bigger than the doorframe, and then the bed gave a shudder and collapsed underneath his weight. By the time Jace and Dave had returned, having helped give Max an enema to wash the salve from his well used hole, Tony could already touch both walls of the room with his hands, his head was brushing the ceiling, and even though his gut had extended past his feet, his cock had snaked it’s way out and was leaking precum all over the carpet, and was almost at the wall across from him.

“I…I think we need to get out of here,” Jace said to Dave, and they turned and left, Tony calling after them, now begging for help, but he knew it was too late. He was going to outgrow the room, the entire house. He was going to suffocate in here, and be crushed to death. Already it was becoming cramped, and he started to hyperventilate. No, he thought, I’m not going like this. With his huge hands, he started pounding the drywall, feeling the amazing amount of strength there, and he ripped holes in the sheets, breaking apart studs with his bare hands, tearing through the ceiling to make room for his head, desperate to keep up with the increasingly quick rate of his growth. Max stumbled in at some point, having quit his sobs of terror when he heard–and felt–the house begin to quake. Upon seeing the huge mass of flesh which was now Tony, he fled the house too, and not a moment too soon, as Tony had ripped out enough supports that the roof started caving in around him.

The first thing Tony felt when he broke through the debris was wet. Rain, sweet rain. Excited to clean himself off, he brushed away as much as he could, feeling his growth slow as the water washed the remnants of the salve off his body. Looking down, he saw Max gaping at him from the sidewalk, his ass nearly twice as wide as his gut, staring at his two story tall boyfriend, and realized that if he stood up–if he could stand up, he would probably be twice that tall. With the salve washing away, Tony felt his mind return, and he felt horribly guilty for what he had done. Gingerly, he picked up Max like he weighed nothing, and said, “Max…Max I’m sorry, I dodn’t mean to, I’m sorry…” he said, sobbing giant tears, and Max hugged his huge chest.

“No, I’m sorry for this. This is all my fault. I should have kept things under control, and I should have told you everything to begin with.”

The two shared a very uneven kiss, given that Tony’s tongue was about as large as Max’s torso, but they were interrupted by sirens, and the arrival of the FBI and representatives from the drug company, there to try and disarm the situation.

“You don’t think they brought any breakfast do you?’ Tony said with a smile, and Max laughed. Some dilemmas it seemed, had ways of solving themselves. He looked over and saw that he was at the same level as the tip of a pine tree in Tony’s backyard…where he’d been a good ten feet below it a few minutes prior. With a gulp, he added to that thought, that sometimes, they can create entirely new dilemmas too.

Image Vignette: The Gainer’s Dilemma (Part 1)

(As requested by scot185f)

Tony stood in front of the mirror, and held up his camera phone, getting what he hoped would be his before shot of what would be an astounding transformation. See, Tony was what would be called a gainer. He wanted to be bigger, and especially fatter–well, and hairier, and just…he was just tired of being him. Smooth and mostly hairless, paunchy but not really fat. He’d tried recipes designed to pack on weight, solutions designed to thicken beards, but nothing had worked well, but then he’d run into Max.

Max had been like him, only worse. Scrawny and short, he’d always wanted to be bigger too. They’d met in a forum a few years ago, and once they’d learned that they lived in the same city, they had struck up a bit of a friendship, but both of them had miserably failed at encouraging the other to gain much more than fifty pounds. However, they found some solace in their own failures, and gathered a small group of others like them whose genetics and metabolisms thwarted them at every turn. Tony had even begun to suspect that something like a relationship was growing between them, when all of a sudden, Max was gone. He disappeared for more than a month, and just about the time Tony had gotten tired of leaving him voicemails, Max had shown up on his doorstep–only it was a very different Max who stepped through the door.

He was…big. Not just with a big gut, but tall too, a good foot taller to be exact. And damn if that gut didn’t look fine on his as well, and the hair! It was everywhere! Max had never been able to grow more than an ugly patchy beard, but the bear who strutted into Tony’s apartment had no such problem. Of course, Tony didn’t believe it could be Max, not at first. It was only after the bear had described some of their time together, and some of their secrets, that Tony began to believe, but that of course left a different question–how? How did this happen?

Tony could tell Max was reluctant to divulge his secret, but it finally came out after a few beers. He’d undergone a medical test for low testosterone, and the medication had worked better than he’d ever imagined. Hell, it had worked so well, he wasn’t going to be able to return to his old life–no one would recognize him. He was being relocated by the drug company, and he wasn’t even supposed to be discussing this with anyone from his past life. Still, he wanted to show someone, and Tony was the first person he’d thought of.

Tony was at first incredulous, and then, he felt a wave of jealousy wash over him. It wasn’t fair. Max had gotten more than he’d ever dreamed of, and he’d gotten nothing. Sensing the shift in his friend’s mood, Max pulled out a strange jar and handed it to Tony. “Now listen carefully. Apply this cream wherever you want to accelerate the growth. It takes a couple of minutes to start, but when it does–you have to be quick, and take a shower a few minutes before you reach your target look, alright? The water neutralizes the salve and washes it away, stopping the growth. You didn’t really think I was going to leave you all sad, did you?” Max said, and gleefully, Tony hugged him, loving the feel of his friend’s new gut against his own small belly.

“Should…should I do it now?” Tony asked.

“Of fucking course you should do it now! But I don’t want to watch. I want to be surprised,” Max said. “So get in there and let’s see it.”

And so here was. Taking a picture of himself, just to remember himself by, and hoping that this wasn’t just some scam. Maybe it wasn’t Max. Maybe it was just some guy who was tricking him into the bathroom so he could steal his stuff while he wasn’t watching–but that was ridiculous. Almost as ridiculous as a salve that could make you grow like Max had grown. But what did he have to lose? He stripped down and started applying the cold cream, focusing on his belly and chest, but then slathering some on his face where he wanted a beard, getting some of it in his hair by accident. He stood there for a few moments, feeling silly more than anything else, when he felt the cream start heating up on his skin, the warmth sinking into him, and a moment later, he saw his gut begin swelling visibly.

He shouted with glee as he watched himself grow, grabbed more globs of the cream and started slathering it on his arms, thighs and ass, before fondling his burgeoning belly, feeling it fill with fat and start sinking down, into an apron hanging down over his groin. Hairs sprouted all over his smooth belly, at first just a thin treasure trail, but then filling in all over. His chest filled in as well, moobs growing full and fat, his nipples growing into thick sausages. His thighs and ass expanded as well, though were a bit slower since he applied it later, and he watched his chin darken with a beard and several chins filled in under his neck, his hair even growing longer from the accidental application. However, as he was playing with his new body, he realized that the growth was only speeding up–and he hurried to the shower, almost tripping over his feet at his new height–he was getting taller even–taller! He thought about just letting it continue, but decided against it, and turned on the faucet, dousing himself with cold water, and he grabbed the soap and started scrubbing down his now expansive form.

With some regret, he realized he’d forgotten to apply anywhere where it might really count. His cock and balls had remained the same size–a measly four inches, and with his new bulk they felt even smaller, but he could always apply it again, right? Just as Max had said, the growth stopped abruptly as the cream washed off his body, and he cleaned it from his face last, letting his beard grow a bit thicker. Satisfied, he stepped out of the shower, and realized he had nothing that would even remotely fit his new frame, and somewhat bashfully, he lumbered back into the living room where Max was waiting.

“It…It worked. I can’t believe it actually worked!” Tony said, but was silenced as Max plowed into him, kissing him roughly and fondling his love handles.

“Fuck, you’re so goddamn sexy like that. This is how I always imagined you should be,” Max said, “I love you Tony. I love you so much!”

The sudden pronouncement caught Tony off guard, and a bit nervous, he broke away from Max and took a couple of steps back. “You…you love me? Is that why you did all of this?”

“Yes Tony, I wanted you to…to come with me. We can be big together man! It’ll be a whole new life!”

Tony gaped for a moment, and tears came to his eyes. He rushed forward and slammed into Max, his sheer weight enough to knock them both over and send them crashing to the carpet with a thunderous clud. “I love you too Max, thank you, thank you,” Tony said as he started stripping the bear out of his tank top and jeans, and found that Max had one more surprise he had buried for him. While Tony might have forgotten to apply the salve in all the right places–Max had not. His cock was a good ten inches long, and quite thick, his balls hanging low, with each the size of a tennis ball. Tony had been so distracted by Max’s new gut that he hadn’t even noticed his new package.

“You like that big cock, Tony? I made it especially for you, and that big, fat ass you always told me you wanted,” Max said, them roughly rolled them both over so he was on top of Tony, who was starting to notice that something was off. Max had never been this aggressive before. Whenever they had played, Tony had been the one on top–and he suddenly didn’t like where this was going. Then he was on his belly, and Max was running the huge cock up and down his crack, and then it was in his hole, and no amount of begging or pleading could make the big bear on him go any slower or gentler.

Certainly the salve had had an effect on Max’s stamina. He fucked Tony for a good half hour, who managed to enjoy most of it, once he’d gotten over the initial pain. In fact, the feeling of Max’s rough thrusts reverberating through his body was so sensual, it easily made up for the rest of it, but the personality change had startled him. Was this even the same Max he had known? The one he had started to develop feelings for? Max reached under and started fiddling with Tony’s cock, making him lose track of his concerns and lose himself in the sex. Max was close, and when he felt the bear’s huge cock begin spasming, he released as well, feeling his jizz shoot over his gut and drip down onto the floor. They remained coupled for a moment, and then Max eased himself off with a grunt and rolled over, where they laid together for a while in the afterglow, until Tony worked up the nerve to ask the question nagging him.

“So…Max. What are the side effects of this stuff? I mean, you said it was still being tested, right?”

“Uh…well, about ten percent of us experienced some personality change–usually increased aggression and libido. I…I fell in that category, but you probably noticed that,” he said, blushing a bit and realizing he might have been a little rough, “A small few had allergic reactions on their skin, some weren’t responsive to the treatment at all, and others, well…they just kept growing. Water didn’t stop it–it only slowed it down, and the risk of that one increases with every application, which is why we can only apply it once.”

“Once? But I wanted…well, I wanted to improve my own equipment a bit, if you know what I mean…” Tony said, “It isn’t fair that you have this huge tool and I don’t.”

“It’s not my fault you didn’t think of it. Besides, I was always the bottom for you. I think having the rolls flipped might be kind of nice,” Max said, rolling on top of Tony and pinning him to the ground, “You certainly didn’t seem to object much, after all.”

“Come on, one little bit can’t hurt. Let me get a couple inches out of it at least.”

“No,” Max said, the domineering tone slipping in without him even noticing, “It’s too dangerous, and that’s that,” he said.

Tony glared at him, but said nothing. He was starting to think he wasn’t liking this personality shift at all. However, their argument was halted by a knock at the door. “Oh…Oh fuck…” Tony said. He had completely forgotten.

“What? Who is it?” Max asked.

“It’s…well, the rest of the guys, they were going to come over for a padding session…I wasn’t expecting you–I forgot!”

“God fucking damn it!” Max shouted. He had counted on being able to spirit Tony away before anyone could know the wiser, but now the rest of the gaining group had arrived, and they certainly wouldn’t let Max and Tony get away without wanting to know their secret. Max scowled, and he realized that what he had imagined as a simple visit to help his lover was becoming quite the gainer’s dilemma.

End Part 1
To be concluded next Tuesday.