Fairytale – Part 3

This story got put on hiatus a while back, but I went ahead and finished it up. Here are parts 1 and 2.

***WARNING*** This story contains watersports, scat, raunch and incontinence. Like, a ton of it. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

As they left the theater and emerged into the hallway, Jeff turned to Harry and asked, “So, what sort of plans did you have for after the movie?”

“Well, I was thinking we could head back to my place and have a little fun, if you don’t mind hanging around a filthy minded redneck like me,” Harry replied, coming a little closer and sensing Jeff still raging attraction to him.

“Sounds like one hell of a plan to me, but after that drink you brought me, this daddy needs to go take a piss before any of that.”

“You managed to drink that?” Harry asked, “When?”

“While you had your face buried in my gunt, boy,” Jeff said with a grin, but Harry hadn’t really been interested in an answer–he’d only asked it to keep Jeff around for a second, while the spell took effect, forcing Jeff’s bladder to empty itself in the hallway as they stood there. Jeff felt the warmth in his crotch and running down his pant leg a moment later, and his face turned bright red with horror, as Harry grinned wide and quickly pulled him through a couple of doors leading into an empty side hallway, leaving a wet trail of piss behind them.

“Smells like someone couldn’t hold it in,” Harry said.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe…I…oh fuck, are you really…oh fuck, you nasty pig…” Jeff said as Harry got down, buried his face up under his gut and started sucking the piss from the fabric of Jeff’s crotch. Jeff’s hand wrapped around the back of Harry’s head and forced him in deeper, and the sudden assertion of control startled Harry, but also turned him on. Apparently Jeff was already getting dirty enough to assert some dominance in their relationship, but Harry was eager for more of that from him. He worked his way out and back up to standing, and gave Jeff a kiss, before pulling him towards the door out of the movie theater, but Jeff pulled him back and shoved him up against the wall. “Oh no, I pissed myself–I want you to do the same boy…I think that’s only fair.”

“But I already took a piss earlier–”

“Shut up and let it loose–show daddy what you’ve got.” Harry grinned, and decided there was no reason the spell couldn’t work on him as well, and a second later, piss was streaming out of his cock and soaking the front of his shorts, running down his legs and pooling in his boots. Jeff shoved his own leg up against Harry’s, sharing the piss and the two of them made out for a moment longer, before breaking apart and heading for the door, both of them soaked.

They took a moment to get oriented in the parking lot, and before heading for his vehicle, Harry decided it was time to give another one of the fairy’s spells a try. This one could would change the date of the last time the subject changed their clothes and showered, making them either cleaner or dirtier depending on which direction one went–but Harry knew there was only one way for Jeff to head. He decided, for a bit of fun, to make it so Jeff’s “wash date” moved back a day for every pace he took as they walked to Harry’s car…or what had been a car when they arrived.

Suddenly Harry could only ever recall owning a rusted out pick up truck, it’s bed heaped with junk and the cab filthy with trash and who knew what else. Still, they set off in that direction, Harry kept track of their steps as they went–and it took them longer than he’d expected–ninety paces, making it now three months since Jeff had last changed his clothes or showered, and when they climbed into the cab–he definitely looked like it. His shirt and pants were absolutely filthy, the wet sweat marks from earlier now dried under his pits and colored a brownish yellow. The front of his shirt was marked with grease and food stains from his meals, and his navy pants, were stiff with precum and piss. His beard had grown rather unruly as well, and when Jeff closed the door to the passenger side, the suddenly enclosed space was filled with the two men’s combined musk, making them both let out a moan and lick their lips.

“Well daddy, what say we head home and have some fun?” Harry said, went to turn the keys but Jeff lashed out and caught his wrist, stopping him cold. Jeff let go long enough to shove the smaller, younger man up against the side of the pick up, his musk overwhelming Harry’s senses, and making him suddenly feel…like he needed to obey and service this man more than anything else in the world. How powerful was that first spell exactly?

“First boy, I think you and I need to get a few things straight–there’s something funny going on here, and we aren’t going anywhere until you tell me what the fuck is going on here. I don’t just accidentally piss myself in hallways very often, and I know I wasn’t think dirty when we left the theater. Now you’re going to fucking tell me, or we’re going to have some problems–got it?” Harry screwed up his lips, trying to keep the truth under wraps, but the sheer dominance Jeff was exuding was too powerful.

“Alright…alright, I’ll tell you everything…sir,” Harry said, “but it’s kind of a long story, so how about I tell you on the way back to my place?”

Jeff stared Harry down for a moment, but relaxed back into his seat, giving Harry a nod of agreement, and so he started up the truck, and drove off to wherever his new home was, and told Jeff everything. About who they’d been, about his trip to the restroom and his run in with the Fairy Grungefather, his own transformation and the dawn time limit, the spells the fairy had given him to use, and how he’d manipulated Jeff with them all night long. Throughout the story, Jeff was mostly quiet, occasionally asking for a point of clarification but little else, and Harry couldn’t tell whether he believed him or not. As he drove, he realized he was heading out of town proper, and after a half hour drive, they turned into a trailer park, and pulled up in front of a rickety and rusted single wide which Harry knew was his home. “That’s…that’s the whole story sir, like you asked for.”

“You realize that sounds utterly ridiculous, right? I mean, how in the hell am I supposed to believe any of that?”

“Well…uh…I could show you. I mean, I could use a spell on you, and you might notice it happening, now that you know about it.”

Jeff thought for a moment, then said, “Fine, give me your cock, boy. You’re not going to be needing it, the way this night is heading.”

“A–All of it? Can’t I–”

“Shut the fuck up, and give it to me,” Jeff said, and Jeff couldn’t resist the order, so he reached over, grabbed Jeff’s hand and swapped their cocks, leaving himself with a half inch nub, and Jeff with a huge cock a little over a foot long. Jeff rummaged around in his gunt in surprise, amazed not only that the spell had worked, but that he’d also noticed it happening. “Holy fuck, it actually worked…” Jeff said, then turned back to Harry, “Alright, now make me dirtier. Make it so I haven’t showered in a year.”

“I don’t…is that a good idea, sir? I mean–” Harry said, mostly worried that if that happened, there would be no way for him to resist Jeff’s sudden dominance.

“Just shut the fuck up, boy, and do as your daddy says, or you’re going to get it.”

So Harry did it, and he wanted to do it. He wanted to see what Jeff would look like if he were that filthy–he needed to see it. And so Jeff felt himself grow filthier, his clothes nearly turning to grungy rags hanging off his body, his pants torn, his shirt missing buttons. As the change progressed, Harry felt his will to resist simply withering away and eventually disappeared altogether. He needed to serve this man, to obey him. It was truly the most important thing for him to do. When it finished, Jeff looked over at the devoted eyes of Harry next to him, and knew he had his date right where he ought to be.

“Alright boy, now…you said that spell could transfer qualities, right? Was it only limited to physical ones?”

“I…I don’t know, sir. I only used it on physical ones, sir, so I’m not sure.”

“Alright, now here’s what I want you to do. I want you to try and transfer your ability to cast those spells from you to me, so that I can cast them all, and you can’t. After all, I think you’d agree that I’m the one who should have all the power in this relationship, isn’t that right?”

“Ye–Yes sir, of course sir!” Harry said, eager to agree, and so he he touched Jeff’s hand again and with all his might, willed the spells to transfer to Jeff, however, he had no idea whether it had worked or not, and neither did Jeff, apparently.

“Alright, how about we give this a try? I’m tired of these fucking business rags anyway–how about something a little more commanding?” Jeff concentrated and tried casting one of the spells Harry hadn’t used earlier, which allowed for the caster to change the subject’s clothes, and in turn, some of their behaviors, based on what they wore. As Harry watched, Jeff’s business casual started to twist and write, turning into a green and brown camouflage fatigues which were in relatively good shape, despite being well worn, with the name “Daddy Sarge” printed over one pocket. Even though his fat frame was stretching the fabric to its limits, Jeff laughed, amazed that it had actually worked, and Harry was next to him, awestruck. “Damn, I can’t believe that actually worked. How about you, cadet? You like the look of your new sergeant?”

“Sir, yes sir!” Harry shouted, not even noticing that his own clothes had suddenly shifted in a pair of similar fatigues and boots, though his name tag read “Cadet Pigboy.”

“Well why don’t you show off some of that enthusiasm and suck your sergeant’s massive cock,” Jeff ordered, and Harry immediately leapt to, and as soon as Jeff had his monstrous cock out, Harry did his best to choke it down, but with the extra gag reflex he’d taken earlier, he could barely get half of the shaft in his mouth, but he tried his hardest just the same. However, Jeff soon reversed that change, and Harry found himself able to deepthroat the cock with no resistance at all, as Jeff started swapping around their attributes once more.

He decided he liked being older, so he kept their ages the same, but he had to do something about this fat–he didn’t feel like it suited him. He dumped off most of the poundage onto Harry, taking his muscle, but leaving himself with a firm gut over his hard abs. He decided that if Harry was going to be his pigboy, then he was going to be smooth, and so he took all of his body hair, expanding his already thick pelt, and also took away Harry’s thick beard and hair, leaving him with a clean shaven, chubby face and a high ‘n tight haircut. To further cement himself as the leader, he stole several inches off of Harry’s height, bringing him down to five foot six, and bringing himself up to six foot seven, and to make sure Harry wouldn’t find some clever way to regain control anytime soon, he stole forty points off his IQ score, raising Harry a bit past genius and making Harry a certifiable, drooling dunce.

Happy with their new looks, Jeff said, “Alright Cadet, that’s enough sucking. Get out of the truck and stand at attention,” but Harry ignored him–and Jeff felt a sudden anger. He shoved Harry off his cock with enough force to slam him back against the side of the truck, and yelled, “I gave you a fucking order, now get out and stand at fucking attention, you piece of shit!”

“Ye–Yes sir!” Harry stuttered out, popping open the door and tumbling out onto the gravel drive below him. He scrambled back up and managed to get into attention just as Jeff came around the front of the vehicle, shaking his head.

“You’re a piece of work, you know that? No discipline, no fucking brain–I mean, look at you, you fucking mouthbreather, you’re drooling on your goddamn uniform!” Jeff shouted, closing Harry’s gaping mouth with one hand, and wiping his slobber off on his shirt. “Hell, I bet you aren’t even potty-trained…”

Harry suddenly felt a pressure on his bowels, and a massive load of shit flooded the back of his fatigues, and his face went red with humiliation, even as his tiny cock tried to get hard from the sheer stench of it, and there was just…so much of it. He felt it pack the back of his pants and then start running down his legs, and then he was pissing himself again, the front of his new fatigues soaked, and he did his very best to hold himself at attention, but his body shook with humiliation and arousal. Sarge came close to him and the sheer stench rolling off him brought Harry to his knees, head bowed, face slammed into his musky crotch, and when he started pissing, Harry started sucking it out through the fabric, lamenting every drop he couldn’t get through the fabric. “Look at you, you fucking piece of work. I don’t think you even deserve the respect of that fuckin’ uniform you have on–how about we give you something a bit more fitting?

Harry shivered suddenly, the cold night air directly against most of his fat body. In fact, the only clothes he was wearing now was a thick, heavy metal collar around his neck, a tag on it reading “Pigboy Baby Slave” and a thick padded diaper, sagging down with the weight of his massive load of shit and piss. As a final tough, Jeff added a pacifier with a six inch cock for a nipple shoved down his throat, and he laughed at Harry’s new look, the idiot just grinning as he sucked the rubber cock in his mouth, his thick mind unable of comprehending what was happening to him. He just felt so happy, on his knees before his stinking Master, his diaper full of piss and shit, this was all he knew, all he wanted. “Come on piglet, we’re gonna go have some more fun,” Jeff said, and walked over to the trailer. Harry tried to get to his feet, but found that he couldn’t walk anymore, and was forced to crawl after his master, oinking and grunting uncontrollably as they went inside.

It was many hours later when Harry, exhausted, finally collapsed and fell asleep. Harry didn’t notice immediately–he was too busy pounding his slave’s filthy hole with his massive cock for the third time, the feel, sound and stench of his slave’s shit squelching around his cock taking up all of his attention. He’d cut open Pigboy’s diaper once they’d gotten inside and forced his nasty slave to slather himself with the contents, before begging his daddy to fuck and fist his loose, incontinent hole, and Jeff had only been too happy to oblige. He came once more with a forceful shudder and heard Harry’s snores, and decided his boy had earned a few hours rest, before Jeff woke him up to eat his master’s morning shit. Fuck–morning–was it coming already? Looking out one of the trailer’s filthy panes, he could see the sky had started lightening, and as the first rays of the sun crested the horizon, Jeff looked back over his shoulder and saw that he was no longer alone.

“Ah, so, Harry, I see you enjoyed yourself tonight,” the fairy said, giving Jeff a wink, “Dang, you sure did do a number on your date, didn’t you?”

Jeff looked down at Harry, and realized the fairy hadn’t noticed the role switch that had happened halfway through the night. Hell, of course he’d think Jeff was Harry–he was the one with the spells as well. Did this mean that their time was already up? Jeff thought about it, and realized he didn’t want to go back to the prissy, uptight cub he’d been just a few hours ago–this sense of freedom, of power and dominance, it was too wonderful to cast aside now. “Is…Look, I don’t want to change back, I don’t want either of us to change back–can’t we stay like this?”

“That wasn’t the deal, Harry.”

“So then make it a deal, what do you want in exchange?”

The fairy cocked an eyebrow, “Well, I mean, since it seems like the two of you are enjoying yourselves, I suppose I could come up with an agreement of some sort. Here’s what I want. First, I want neither one of you to ever shower or clean yourselves in any way ever again. Second, I’ll leave you access to your spells, but only if, every day, you use them to make at least one man filthier and grungier than he was when he began the day. If you don’t follow through on either point, the contract is broken, and your magic will disappear, leaving you trapped in whatever form you might be in at the moment. Is that agreeable to you?”

“I’ll take it,” Jeff said, without a second of hesitation, and the fairy laughed.

“Very well, ‘Sarge’, enjoy yourself now–and I look forward to seeing your work,” with a flash, the fairy was gone, and Jeff grinned, looking over at his pig–this was going to be the start of a whole new life, even if it wasn’t the happily ever after he’d been expecting.

Bait and Switch (Part 3)

“I just don’t understand why you feel the need to dress like that,” Bruce said as they walked down the street to the bar under the streetlights, “I mean, don’t you feel a little bit of shame at making people look at that?”

Charles rolled his eyes. Ever since they’d left the hotel, Bruce hadn’t let up once about his chosen attire–or lack thereof. All he had on were some very short black shorts pulled over his gut and held up by leather suspenders, with black boots on his feet, and another cigar burning in his bearded jaws. “Not everyone is ashamed of their body you know. Trust me, in a few more years, chances are you’ll look like this too, so you’d better start thinking about how you’re gonna feel about that.”

“Ha, not if I can help it.” Bruce said, sporting one of the tailored suits from the room. He didn’t have any other clothes, and it wasn’t like he planned on picking anyone up at a bear bar anyway. They found the bar a few blocks away, and discovered that it was a bit sleazier than either of them were expecting. It made no beef about it being a leather bar, and even Charles didn’t feel like hitting on any of the crude bikers and leather men he saw hanging at the bar and the corners of the room. Still, he didn’t see the bear from earlier anywhere in the bar, and he’d even arrived a well after dark just to make sure he’d get there first. A bouncer came up to them however, and said to Charles, “Hey, you Carl?”

“Oh…uh, yeah…” he replied, recalling the name the bear had used earlier at the pool, “I think…yeah, where is he?”

“He rented one of the backrooms. Number three. It’s through the door there next to the bar,” the man said, then started off again.

“Hey, wait, did you happen to get his name?”

The bouncer looked back at them rolled his eyes and just kept going. Charles didn’t know if it was because he thought his question had been a joke, or just a stupid question. Maybe both. He shrugged at Bruce, and together they went through the door, down a dark, nearly unlit hall, and found the door with a crooked three hanging on it. It was unlocked, and after a moment of hesitation, Charles opened the door and stepped inside.

Sure enough, the bear was waiting for him, dressed in fairly typical leather gear, but it was immediately apparent that he hadn’t expected Bruce to join them. There was a flash of surprise across both of their faces, but it was Bruce who spoke, “I…I remember! I remember you in the bar, and we talked about…about–oh god, you–what have you done to us?”

With a flick of the wrist, the bear slammed the door shut behind both of them, trapping them inside. “So the two of you have been talking? Sharing notes?”

“I don’t…what’s going on?” Charles asked Bruce.

“I remember now. I was at the bar two nights ago, when this guy came up and bought me a drink. I thought he wanted sex, but he just wanted to talk, and he did want to talk about you. I don’t know why, but I remember…I remember telling him that I was envious of your life, your old life–and it has to be you doing this to us. What did you do?”

“My life? You wanted to be a bear?” Charles asked, still not understanding.

“Well he’s thicker than I expected,” the bear said, “How about you quiet down and let me talk to Bruce for a moment,” the bear said, and Charles felt a force throw him back against the wall, knocking his cigar from his mouth a set of manacles locking down all on their own, a gag floating off the wall and inserting itself into his now empty mouth. “Better. Now, you. You shouldn’t be here. I gave you what you wanted–a youthful body, freedom from smoking, a good mind. Now why don’t you just run along and enjoy yourself and leave me to my work?”

“Dude, this is sick. Change us back! I didn’t want this, and this guy didn’t even do anything to either of us! This is fucked up.”

“Like you know anything about what’s going on here,” the bear said.

“Look, just change us back, alright? Why are you even doing this to us?”

The bear was just silent, Bruce staring at him. It suddenly occurred to Charles that, more likely than not, his roommate was in way over his head. This guy obviously had some sort of powers, magic or what not, but he couldn’t say anything to try and warm him. “What would it take to get you to leave? What else do you want?” the bear finally said, grinning a bit. “I mean, you don’t really miss your old body do you? And you told me how much you hated being old and a smoker. I know you don’t want that back. So what do you want?” Bruce didn’t know how to respond, but the bear was already walking towards him, and given Bruce was backed up against the locked door, he didn’t have anywhere to go. “It’s the life you want, isn’t it? You don’t want to be a businessman, you just want to be a dumb chaser, working a blue collar job and fucking every bear you see, don’t you? Hell, even if that’s not what you want, I’m sure that will be plenty to get rid of you.”

There was a glow in his hand, and in it Charles recognized the same strange light which infused the grey spaces of his dreams, and then he slammed the palm of his hand against Bruce’s forehead, yielding a flash of light bright enough to make Charles wince. When he could see again, he saw a very different Bruce standing by the door. Gone was the suit he’d had on, replaced by a pair of filthy, ripped denim shorts, his hair shorn to the scalp, and the trace of a thin goatee around his mouth. He grinned widely, looking from the bear in front of him towards Charles chained on the wall and grinned. “Well, I don’t know what’s going on in here, but any chance I could join in? Looks like a lot a fun to me. How about it daddy bear?” he said, grabbing the bear’s crotch lewdly.

Charles wanted to cry. He hadn’t even known Bruce that well, but to see his mind wiped out like that…it was terrible. It didn’t even look like he remembered either of them, or what was going on here. Who in the fuck was this bear? Why in the hell was he doing this?

“Maybe later–but for now, go sleep,” the bear said, and sent the newly remade Bruce crumpled to the ground, deep asleep. “Now, that’s better. How about we get down to our business?” With a flip of a finger, the gag popped out of Charles’ mouth, the cigar floating back into his mouth.

“You…you killed him. How could you do that? He didn’t do anything to you!”

“Don’t blame me–you’re the one who brought him here. Besides, he’ll be plenty happy like that, trust me. Bears love chasers like him. I’m sure he’ll love going from bear run to bear run, fucking all the way. It’s not like that isn’t what he was doing with his life anyway.”

“Why me? Why us? What is this all about?” Charles focused as hard as he could, trying to piece together everything he had seen, and he felt a burst of clarity. He hadn’t been this bear two days ago. He’d been a smart, healthy young businessman, and now…Now this bear had taken all of that from him and turned him into a filthy, cigar smoking bear. He looked down at what he was wearing and felt a wave of disgust roll through him. He looked just like all those bears he’d hated, and worst of all, he hadn’t even noticed what was going on! Bruce had been smarter than him, and look at him now. He looked at the bear, trying to break his hands out of the chains desperately, knowing he had to get away from here as fast as he could, or who knew what was going to happen to him.

“Don’t worry Carl. I’m only doing this because I love you. Just one more change, and then I promise everything will make perfect sense, and then we’ll be back together, just like I promised. Now, how about you go to sleep? There’s one more dream you need to have, and then we’ll be finished.”

The bear’s fingers were waving in front of his eyes now, and Charles did his best to look away, but they were…sparkling. It was hard to see, but the small glimmers were there, he was certain of it. If only he could focus closer, harder, if only…

The next thing he knew, he was back in the grey of the nether. In his mind, Charles knew he was dreaming, and he tried to fight it, to get away from the force holding him in place, now drawing him forward. However, it wasn’t Bruce he was facing this time, it was someone, or something else. A white spot in his vision, almost like a blind spot–like there was something there but he couldn’t see it, slipping through his vision. And the bear was there, making motions, drawing him closer to the spot, but it looked like he was struggling with…something. Where the going had been smooth in the past two dreams, this time he moved forward in jerks and sudden halts, but he didn’t think he was the one fighting the bear off. Still though, he could feel the bear drawing him and the spot closer together until he was mere inches away, and then he felt it enter him, like they had suddenly intersected in space.

Regret–anger. A flurry of emotions surged through him, overwhelming him. It was a person, the spot was a person, but not just anyone. Carlton Cassidy, born on May 6th, 1961, the lover of Samuel Davis until he was killed in a car crash two months ago. It was a ghost, he was being possessed by a ghost, he could feel himself drifting away, obliterated bit by bit as Sam, the bear, forced them together, and the ghost–Carl–he was angry. Furious. He didn’t want to live again, he didn’t want to take a life as his had been taken, not through violence or through rage. The surge of spirit inside him ripped him away from Sam’s spell, and he heard a voice speak through his lips, “Sam, don’t this isn’t right. This isn’t what I want.”

“Quit fighting me Carl!” the bear shouted back, focusing harder, trying to keep the spell together, “This is the only way! I’m not going to lose you, I can’t lose you.”

Pity, Love. Too many emotions, burning and ripping through his mind and body, every pass obliterating something else of his mind. Charles couldn’t hold on much longer, he tried to fight it, to keep himself together but he had no defenses. He could sense that Carl was shielding him from as much as he could, and now…now he was floating closer to Sam, his arms out, ready to embrace him. It wasn’t the only way they could be together, there was another. The light from his body, from Carl’s spirit burned him and when he circled his arms around Sam, the flames were so strong he couldn’t even grasp them, caught in the inferno of love and lust and vengeance of these two lovers ripped apart from each other, the ether ripped apart around him, and he fell out of their embrace, down into darkness.

He fell, unable to think or feel, his body mangled and torn apart, charred in places. He hit the ground, some kind of ground suddenly. He was certain he was dead, but he wasn’t. The dream…the dream was still there, but he couldn’t remember anything, his mind a muddle of Charles and Carl, of love and fear and anger and disgust and then he saw he wasn’t alone. Bruce–floating, asleep–coming closer, his eyes opening. They saw each other–into each other, and something…he couldn’t remember. It was hot once more, but no longer ripping him apart, instead pulling him back together, dragging him out of the depths, ripping him down and into Bruce’s arms and onto the floor of the dingy bar’s backroom–awake, and alive.

He didn’t have much recollection of what happened next. They were alone when they’d woken up, aside from a curious pile of ash on the ground between them. The first thing either of them remembered clearly was Bruce pulling Charl down from the wall, the manacles opening all on their own suddenly, the big bear crashing down on top of the slim chaser. They’d helped each other up, looked in each other’s eyes…and as they often told their friends, the rest was history.

Neither one of them could ever say why, they just felt right together, and when they both discovered that they had a key to the same hotel room, well they just considered it luck and destiny. Charl never did manage to recall what had happened in that room, or much else about himself. There were fragments but nothing substantial. Seeing a psychiatrist, and then a neurologist, both were puzzled–it looked like his brain’s synapses had been burned clean. There was no evidence of damage, and yet–it looked like something had jumbled all of them up into patterns which made no sense. Charl decided it was best to not worry about it. He had love, at least.

His dreams though, did trouble him. Dreams of fire and love which he could never remember but left him caught between sorrow and lust when he awoke which were so fierce that he’d nearly always roughly fuck Bruce immediately after, sobbing his eyes out the entire time. Bruce would hold him in bed afterwards, pulling him close, not knowing what to say, but somehow understanding perfectly what was going on in his partner’s mind. He loved his bear–loved him with a force, a heat he couldn’t explain, and Charl felt the same–he could feel it. Even if there were no answers for either of them–they had each other, there in the dark every night, and that was enough. Just barely, but enough all the same.

Continued from here:

Of course, not every convergence is beneficial, or so extreme. Others are more like seeping pools of corruption which leave a bit of slime on everything which passes through them. There is, for example, a public toilet in London, which never seems to get cleaned–the seats of the toilets crusty, the urinals reeking and brimming with cold piss. Every man who enters leaves a bit raunchier than they were. Sometimes it’s just a piercing, or a new fondness for dirty underwear. Others emerge from the toilet unsure of how much time has passed, and almost unable to recognize themselves in the cracked and splattered mirror.

Some men, however, grow addicted to the place–to the filth it spews. After their first visits, they find themselves longing to return, over and over again. They are the only ones who clean it–lapping the urine from it’s bowls and chipping away at the filthy floor with their teeth. Before too long, they begin to melt into the walls, giving the place more power–becoming tiles, sinks–even new toilets and urinals for the growing morass which might one day consume London, if it grows unhindered.