When had you noticed him there–where had you first seen him? Now, it seemed like he had been everywhere. In front of you, buying a drink at the bar, then turning around and buying yours as well, his hand sliding around, from your stomach to your side as he walked off. Or was it on the dance floor, as he ground himself up against you suddenly–fuck, his body was so hot, and you could got that scent of cigar smoke and sweat in your nose, or was that wrong? Was it all wrong? It felt like he’d been everywhere, all around you, all night long, and he wanted you, but not in the way you wanted him, you realized soon enough.

It was after that first dance with him, or near him, or with someone like him. You’d gone to the bathroom for a piss, and your body was…different. More muscular, your gut diminished, your jaw squarer, older, more mature. Each encounter, each touch, each breath, each glance, that shock that desire, it was molding you, and everywhere you turned, he was there, always there, those eyes, that dark skin, that bristly beard, that cigar.

You’ve stumbled out of the bar now. It is mid morning, somehow–how could the party have gone on for so long? You’re desperate to get away from him, but you can’t get away from him, can you? Everyone you see on the street reminds you of him now, could be him, but they aren’t. You can’t stop thinking about him, can’t stop wanting him, needing him–

“Looking for someone?” a voice says behind you, and you whirl around, unsteady with all of your bulk. Six foot three, two hundred and seventy pounds of nearly pure muscle, hairless, head shaved, a tattoo you can’t seem to remember getting covering your left shoulder and arm, and he’s there, behind you leaning against the wall, no shirt, smoking, and all you want to do is be close to him and…and worship him. What did he do to you? Why are you so happy?

You fall to your knees in front of him and lean your face into his bulging crotch, feeling the heavy chain and lock materialize around your neck. He rubs the top of your head with one rough palm. How good it is to worship, you realize. How happy you are to find yourself on your knees before a god.

Bob was always on the hunt for a good workout music mix, something that would keep him going, but nothing that would draw his focus away from his workout. He’d been working out for a few months now, and he liked the progress he’d made, dropping some weight off and gaining some energy, but the weekly routine was starting to wear on him. He tried a few playlists over the next week, but he didn’t really enjoy any of them until he found a link to a “Zone Out Mix” on a weightlifting website.

He gave it a try during his next workout, and zone out was definitely an accurate description. He accidentally ended up staying at the gym for an extra hour, and he hadn’t even noticed. He couldn’t actually recall what the music on the playlist had been, and the thing came as one long playlist, so he couldn’t break it apart. Still, it became his regular workout track, and before long his four days at the gym had become six, and his hour and a half routine had grown to three. In fact, the gym had started cutting into some of his friendships, and he ended up cutting off his girlfriend of two years. She’d been harping about him going to the gym all the time, but he needed to get bigger, right? That was all that was really important.

It was soon after he’d broken up with her that the insomnia started. He was getting maybe two or three hours of sleep a night, and it was getting hard to focus at work, and the zone out mix was the only thing that kept him going to the gym. Now, he could barely remember being at the gym anymore. He’d put the mix on as he left his apartment to jog to the gym, and would come to back in his apartment three or four hours later, exhausted, every muscle on fire.

On one sleepless night, on the internet, he found another file by the guy who’d made the Zone Out Mix, a track designed to help people sleep. Desperate for a good night’s rest at this point, he downloaded it and listened to it on his earbuds, and had the first restful night he’d had in weeks. Thankful, he also found a second Zone Out Mix, and downloaded that as well. Before too long, his periods of lucidity were growing fewer and farther between. He woke up in the bathroom staring at his muscular body, and saw that he’d shaven off all of his hair–all of it. His scalp, his beard, his body, his pubes. Still, it looked real damn good.

Another time, he came to on his bed, a thick, seven inch dildo rammed deep in his ass. He yanked it out, terrified of what he was doing, but zoned out again almost immediately, and came to hours later, coated in his own cum, and from that moment on, going without something in his ass was nearly impossible. He never met his master–eventually, he simply zoned out so deep that he never came back. He abandoned his apartment and moved in with his master across the country, just another muscle beast working out all day, and pimped out to wealthy men every night, eyes empty, mouth drooling around the parade of cocks that were rammed down his throat, happy as could be.

It wasn’t easy for Jed, being gay over fifty miles away from a major city. Out in the sticks, well, things still weren’t quite as a forward thinking as he might have liked, but he did his best to act straight country, and he did like the look, especially cowboy hats which he wore almost all of the time, and he definitely liked country boys.

Well, country men, at least.

Yeah, he had a thing for trailer trash, and his small town had plenty of it, and a big Walmart–perfect for cruising some of his favorite guys. Sammy McKline, in particular, was one of his favorites. In his late forties, his hair and beard years uncut with a big full gut, and lips full of chaw, he was straight out of one of Jed’s fantasies. He was easy to catch too, because he did all of his grocery shopping on Tuesday nights, letting Jed show up and nonchalantly follow him around the aisles, but Jed had noticed something recently. Ever since a couple of weeks ago, when he was certain he’d been spotted, Sammy had started dressing…kind of strangely, and this week was crazy, walking around in a camo jacket, open without a shirt, just letting his big gut hang out for Jed to ogle. It was like…he wanted him to look.

Maybe he did want him to look.

Hell, maybe he wanted Jed to do more than look.

The butterflies in Jed’s gut weren’t going to subside anytime soon, and Sammy chuckled, watching the kid sweat. He could remember some of his first fantasies too, but well, the kid wasn’t his type. Way too young for one thing, and from the lack of a bulge, way too small for Sammy’s tastes, but watching the kid sweat, biting his lower lip and openly lust for his big gut was kind of flattering.

Jed was still following Sammy around the aisles, not watching where he was going, when he bumped into some other guy hard enough to send them both to the ground.

“Oh geez mister, Sorry ‘bout that, I wasn’t watchin’ where I was goin’,”

“Heh, don’t worry about it,” the older man said, and plopped Jed’s cowboy hat back on his head, “Though I think you might have dropped this. Have a good night, Jed.”

“Wait, how did you know my name?” Jed asked, but the man was already hurrying off, and he felt a strange tingle from the hat work it’s way down into him, and he felt like he was going to be sick. He dashed into one of the changing rooms, and Sammy laughed. Boy couldn’t take it anymore, and probably had to have a wank. Maybe next week he’d come in one of his jocks and leave his fly open, see how he liked that. Sammy finished up his shopping and after a long wait in the checkout line, he paid for his food and wheeled his cart out to the car, where he stopped dead in his tracks.

Leaning up against the side of his truck was the hottest fucking cowboy he’d ever seen, shirt and pantless, wearing only a jockstrap packed full of what Sammy imagined might be one of the biggest cocks he’d ever seen. The cowboy took a drag off the cigar he was smoking and grinned at Sammy. “Been watching you all night, big boy–how about you and I take a ride back to your place? It’s chilly out here.”

The Tenth Day of Christmas

“You two are so close, and yet completely wrong for each other, how about we fix that, eh?”

Lars woke up, still groggy with sleep, trying to hold onto the dream he’d been having. He and Drew–his roommate and best friend–had been in it…but then Santa Claus? Dressed up like one of the leather guys the two of them were always making fun of at the club? Lars and Drew were both fairly young and fairly twinkish, and while they got along great–unfortunately neither one of them was the least bit sexually interested in the other. Lars was more into muscular, slightly older bearish guys, and Drew was, well, a bit of a chubby chaser. Still, they were friends, and good ones at that. Gay guys didn’t need to fuck to be friends.

Lars tried to roll over and get up out of bed, but found himself stuck–pinned down to the mattress by something. He opened his eyes and looked down, and saw that some sort of massive pink blanket had been thrown over him that was amazingly heavy. In fact, it was even hard for him to breathe. He tried to move again, and he watched the thing covering him ripple and waver, and he realized it wasn’t a blanket–it was him! He was so fucking fat, he couldn’t even get up out of his bed.

He lifted one huge arm and just stared at it, the flab hanging off his bones, buried deep inside somewhere, no wrist to be found just one pudgy hand with four bulbous fingers and a thumb. It was so massive, he was so massive, it was difficult to even piece together the sensations of himself, of all of him rubbing against himself, in every fold and crevice…

“How’s my sweet little piggy today?” a deep voice said outside the door to his room, and when it opened a moment later, Lars’ jaw dropped. There in the doorway was the hottest muscle bear he’d ever seen, wearing nothing but a jockstrap, beeming at him like he was the most important thing in the world. Unable to help himself, he gave a little snort of glee at the sight of Drew, his lover, as he came over and started massaging his flabby body. “Breakfast will be ready in a bit, but I just had to see my piggy for his Christmas kisses,” Drew said, and he made out with Lars’ fat face, neither one of them entirely sure that this was happening, but both of them too overwhelmed at the sight of their fantasies made real in the other that they couldn’t stop.

The food started then, and didn’t stop for hours. Lars had no idea where Drew was even getting it all, as the wave of breakfast slammed down into his gullet and ended with a smattering of snacks, Lars never not eating as Drew worshiped and pleasured himself in and on his immobile lover, leaving for more snacks before Lars could be empty handed, and then they were into lunch, and then dinner. At the end of the day, Lars hadn’t moved an inch, but he was exhausted, and he had a terribly wonderful feeling that there were going to be a lot more days like this one from here on out.

The Seventh Day of Christmas

“Ok, what the fuck? Who in the hell actually asks for socks and underwear for Christmas?” Santa said and he leaned over Edgar’s bed. Edgar was in his late 20’s and had always been sensible and pragmatic, and it had served him well so far. Waking up, he stared up at Santa for a moment, before reaching over and grabbing his glasses from his nightstand and turned on the light. When he could actually make out the figure looming over him, that’s when he really freaked out.

“Oh shit, what in the hell are you doing in my room!”

“I’m Santa Claus–I can go wherever the fuck I want, and you still didn’t answer my question–why in the hell did you actually ask for socks and underwear? What the hell is wrong with you?”

“But…but I do need socks and underwear…”

Santa rolled his eyes and looked around the room. The whole place was perfectly organized and tidy, and Edgar looked like he took good care of himself. He wasn’t muscular, but just healthfully slim, and aside from his eyesight there wasn’t anything wrong with him. Santa scowled–how fucking boring. “Well, I don’t know why you need new underwear…I was under the impression that you still loved your old underwear…”

With a wave that knocked away Edgar’s covers, he saw that a few bits of clothing had magically materialized on his body, and looking down at them, he shuddered. They were definitely underwear and socks alright, but not the kind he was used to wearing. It was a ribbed tank, a jockstrap, and two calf length athletic socks, and they were all filthy. The tank was nearly brown and felt kind of crispy, the jock felt like it was actually wet, and the soles of the socks were so filthy they were almost black with his big toes sticking out of the end of both. “What the fuck? These aren’t mine!”

“Sure they are,” Santa said, “You’ve been wearing them for about nine months straight–sleeping in them, working out in them–yeah, you’ve been working out a lot in them, haven’t you, Edge?”

Edgar felt his body start to heat up, his muscles tensing all over his body as they started to swell in size, he groaned in pain, and soon, the underwear that had all been quite loose on him was looking too tight, the tank stretched across his thick pecs and unable to hide the bottom of his abs, the jock elastic cutting into his waist, the pouch distended with a nearly ten inch cock, the socks stretched to the limit against his size fourteen feet. Something between a week and a half of stubble and a short beard spread across his face and neck, and his hair looked like it had been shaven off recently as well, but had partially grown back in. He reeked of sweat and cum, and it was so fucking fantastic…Edge pulled the tank up to his nose and took a deep sniff off the month’s old cum, piss and sweat, and let out a deep sigh of satisfaction.

The room around Santa had changed as well, reeking of stale air and the stench of men, and we went over and sat down on the weight bench, hauling off his boots, showing off his own filthy socks, and Edge leered at him, before getting down on his knees, shoving his nose into the sole, licking at the grimy fabric, massaging his hard cock through the pouch of his nasty jock. He was already leaking cum, like always, but he lived on the edge–his goal was to never cum more than once a week, just hover on the edge, filled with horny energy, and workout all day long, smearing his precum into his underwear, rehydrating with his piss, and occasionally he would blow a huge load all over himself and sleep, before doing it all again.

Santa had laid all the way back on the bench now, and Edge had his socked feet in the air, his tongue rammed as deep into the old man’s filthy shit chute as he could get it, grinding his cock against the bench. He was so close! He couldn’t stop himself, and he shot all over the bench with a loud groan, Santa stroking himself off to the sounds of Edge’s satisfaction, and then he tucked the nasty muscle ape back into bed, and slipped out of the room. He wouldn’t be needing new underwear for a good long while he figured, and maybe next year Edge would ask for something better.

The Third Day of Christmas

“Fuck yeah! You faggots are going down so fucking hard,” Vance shouted into the headset as he teabagged the virtual corpse he’d just shot on the screen. He’d lost track of time, then again, Vance was never really sure what time it was. Christmas break was a time for video games–he hadn’t had much time to play at college, and Christmas Eve or not, he was going to play until he couldn’t keep his eyes open.

“Goodness, doesn’t anybody sleep anymore?” a voice said behind him, and Vance looked over his shoulder, finding a very strangely dressed Santa Claus by the chimney in the living room. “Oh well, if you want to be up all night with your video games, I suppose you could at least spend your time playing something better…” He shot Vance’s console with a strange, sparkly light and disappeared back up the chimney, before Vance felt his headset start to squirm next to his ear, and begin to grow. In a matter of moments, it had become a full helmet, and while Vance tried to fight it off, wires and cords had snaked out of the console, entangling him, wiring their way into his very body, and then the screen on the inside of the helmet lit up, and Vance was staring at a title screen–something called, “A Night at the Bathhouse.”

The screen shifted almost immediately, telling him to wait a moment while it obtained his starting character, and then he was standing in some sort of locker room, completely naked, and the entire simulation felt so real, but he had to still be in his living room, right?

“Choose your class,” a booming voice said in the room.

“I’m not playing this fucking game! Let me out of here you freak,” he shouted.

“’Fucking freak’ class selected. Please wait.”

“No! no, that’s not what I meant–”

It was too late. Looking down at himself, he was already changing, tattoos covering his entire body, all of them having to do with filthy sexual acts, but by far the greatest change was to his cock and balls. He’d always had a relatively short cock, but that was changing rapidly, as it expanded and extended into a monstrous shaft over a foot long, permanently hard from the amount of silicone he’d implanted into it, his balls pumped to obsecene proportions as well.

Terrified, he watched the tattoos swarm up onto his face and head, his hair becoming a bright red mohawk, and he reached down and started stroking his new member, feeling the powerful sensation overwhelm his mind, sexual desire and need creeping in and consuming his mind until he was panting, jacking his cock has hard as he could with both hands, his muscles swelling to equally obscene proportions until he came buckets on the floor in front of him. Licking his lips, he stumbled out of the room to play the game, finding a bottom bitch in one of the first rooms, and fucking the daylights out of his ass, and he was awarded with his first achievement of the game, “First fuck,” and rewarded with a fat PA in the head of his cock. He grinned down at it, the bottom bitch groaning with satisfaction on the bench, and Vance thundered off. He had all night to play after all, and he was sure there would be many more achievements to gain by the morning, and he could already tell that the changes in the game were probably going to last even after the system was shut off, and that he would be a fucking freak for the rest of his life.

The Lizardman Plot (Part 2)

by Wesley Bracken

Commissioned by: Guderian

WARNING: This one is strange too. Scalies, F to M TF, raunch, incest, other stuff….

***

The machine kept each person separate from the people on either side of them on the conveyor belt, but that did nothing to soften the screams that surrounded Krista on all sides as she was swallowed deeper into the machine. Already mechanical arms had ripped away all of her clothing, sprayed her down with any number of chemicals and solutions–including one which had stripped all of the hair from her head and her body, flushing it away down a drain–leaving her naked and smooth in her small, moving room, besieged at each point by a massive number of probes and metal claws that examined every inch of her body, from the measurements of her face, to the size of her breasts, digging into her vagina and ass as she screamed along with the rest, humiliated and terrified, but she soon discovered that this was just the beginning.

When it seemed like there was nothing else that the the machine could do to her, the small room came to a stop, and what had been grey walls to both sides were suddenly made of what looked like, in the dim light of the machine, to be some sort of strange goo, and then the goo started closing in from both sides. There was nowhere for her to go, and in seconds the two membranes of goo had collided with her between them, sealed inside the rubber like film. She tired to breathe, and she felt the goo actually plunge into her open mouth, down into her lungs and her throat, as it also pressed its way up into her pussy and even into her ass, probing deep and violating her again. She was pinned in place, sealed inside a vacuum, and even though there was no way she could breathe, somehow, when she kept moving down the conveyor, she didn’t black out. The membrane, it seemed, was providing everything she needed to stay alive–but she certainly couldn’t scream. No wonder the back end of the machine had been so silent, she realized.

No longer needing the room or the belt to move her, the machine opened up into a large cavity, the gunk imprisoning her suspended from a set of hooks above her, and all around her were gators working in and amongst all of the other people trapped in the same way as her, screaming silently, their eyes moving in the transparent goo, but nothing else able to move an inch. One gator, however, wasn’t working–he was watching–and when he saw her he hit a large red button, bringing her line to a halt. He came over, uncoupled her from the hooks and carried her off, attaching her to an unmoving line next to a control panel, and he started working on some sort of program, and around his wrist, Krista could see the bracelet which Matt had seen in the first room–this was the same lizard he had been obsessed with. Her stomach sank–she’d been hoping that Matt had remained free, hoping that he could expose the whole thing, but not only had he most likely been captured, he must have betrayed her as well. What in the world would these beasts do to spies, when she had no idea what they were even doing to people?

The gator finished working on the program, and then he resumed waiting, watching the line Krista was on, and after half an hour or so, another person slid down the line and came to a halt next to Krista–Matt, also encased in goo and stripped of all of his hair. The gator walked up to Matt, grinning, and started running his claws along Matt’s full belly and his cock, their eyes locked together. The gator hissed in a way reminiscent of a laugh, and then released Krista’s rack to continue deeper into the machine.

It came to a stop in a dimly lit room, where a metal claw took a tube and shoved it deep into her pussy, where it adhered to the goo inside, and began pumping something warm inside her. She shivered at the sensation, feeling a near spontaneous orgasm rip through her, but it felt like the liquid was being drawn deep into her body, and changing her in some way she couldn’t even describe. Two more tubes were attached to her breasts, pumping at her chest as the tube in her pussy stopped filling her up, and began sucking as well. Both of tubes on her breast and inside of her were now painful, and she tried to shout and scream into the goo, feeling her body being reworked and contorted against her will. The tube slowly withdrew from her pussy, when it did, she saw that something was being drawn out with it–inside the tube…was a scrotum, and when it emerged, she saw that her vagina was gone, replaced by two full, low hanging balls beneath her clit, and then the tubes detatched from her chest, and she saw that her breasts had been replaced by muscle. She now had two pecs than any man would be proud to own, and she tried to look down at her now masculine body, but couldn’t–she could only feel the strange sensation of her new balls hanging from her groin yet suspended in the goo, the flatness of her chest, and then the rack started moving again down a short track, before arriving at another room.

This time, at least, there weren’t any tubes. However, it was pitch black when she entered, and when the rack came to a stop, lights clicked on all over the room, brilliant yellow, heating her up in moments, and she felt the goo encasing her come alive. It squirmed against her skin under the heat of the light, burrowing down into her pores, the goo in her throat, lungs and ass driving in deeper as well. She couldn’t even begin to describe what it felt like inside of her, the goo rearranging organs, bone and muscle, but her skin felt like it was growing dryer and cracking apart. The surface of her body was splitting apart into dark green scales, and she went rigid as the goo within her latched onto her spinal cord, and it started growing, pushing out her tailbone, the small of her back bulging out as a tail pushed its way out of her, growing several feet long in a matter of seconds, the goo stretching to accommodate and support it as muscle filled in to support the new weight.

Her hands and face felt like the goo was massaging itself into every nook and cranny, growing her teeth out into sharp fangs, reshaping the bones of her skull, flattening her nose and extending her mouth into a short, rounded snout. It even managed to worm it’s way around her eyes, her sight shifting as her pupils and iris changed, the light now even harsher to her more sensitive vision, her ears disappearing entirely, crushed to the side of her head and covered in scales. After what felt like ages, the lights finally shut off, Krista trying to grapple with the new sensations of her body in the darkness, the rack above her grinding to life and rolling down the track to the next room where she came to a halt.

She could see far better in the low light now, the claw taking the tube and shoving it down her throat, Krista no longer sure how to work her jaw, and again, the tube started pumping something into her, heat spreading from her stomach out to the rest of her body, her muscles convulsing painfully beyond her control, each contraction destroying and rebuilding muscle tissue faster than could have ever been possible. Her bones ached as well, and she felt her new skeletal structure start to bulge and expand, the goo lengthening as she grew two feet taller, topping out at over eight feet tall, her muscle bulging out past bodybuilder and growing even larger, almost comical in size, her new pecs bulging out from her chest in two shelves, her biceps and arms so thick she couldn’t drop them to her sides, thighs and calves thicker than any man she’d ever seen.

The claw wasn’t finished however, and attached one last tube to her clit, and she felt it start sucking and pumping, pleasure wracking it’s way through her in orgasmic waves as it grew larger and thicker in the tube, and before long, she had a huge, thick cock over a foot long, semi erect over her churning balls, and she realized that she wasn’t even a woman anymore. She wasn’t even human anymore. She was some abomination, some terrible beast. This was even worse than the first part–before, at least she had suffered her humiliation as herself. Now, her very identity had been ripped away from her. She couldn’t even recognize this body as hers. Is this what had happened to everyone the lizards had captured? Is this what they were doing? Slowly replacing the human race with their own kind?

The tubes retracted at last, and her rack proceeded along the track, and she hoped this would be the end of it, but in her heart, she knew that there would be one more stop. After all, her mind hadn’t changed at all. She finally arrived at what she assumed would be the final stop, and there was a bright golden screen, similar to the glowing eyes the gator with Travis’ bracelet had possessed–or, she realized, the gator who most likely had been Travis a few weeks before. Unable to look away, she felt the rhythmic patterns drill down into her mind and her soul, breaking her down. She fought back, but what, in the end, was the point? She had already lost everything of herself–why shouldn’t she lose her mind to? It would be a relief, really. She didn’t want to be a lizard, she didn’t want to be a man, but being trapped between would be even worse. Letting go of her fear, she let herself fall into the golden shine, and felt herself dissolve away into the gold.

***

Matt struggled against the cocoon binding him, trying to break away as the gator ran its talons up and down his naked body. He could feel everything through the thin layer of goo, and as he fought, he mostly resisted the pull of his brother’s golden eyes, but he couldn’t avoid them for very long. They sucked him back in, and his body froze in place again, but rather than the compulsion from before, the voice was more clear in his mind, the anger and the rage that his brother felt towards him.

Matt tried to push back, he tried to apologize. He’d been afraid when he’d found Travis, his little brother, in bed with one of his best friends–one of his best…male friends. How could Matt have known that his parents would throw Travis out of the house? It wasn’t his fault–none of it. He’d tried to stop them, he tried to help him, but then he’d disappeared and he’d been looking for him ever since. What could he have done?

The gator threw those arguments aside. It was over–the past. Nothing could be done about it, about the deep, writhing pit of anger he’d felt, that he still felt after this whole year, even after he’d been kidnapped from the street and twisted into a lizardman, he still held onto it. It was a betrayal deeper than Matt could have even begun to imagine, because Travis had loved him–capital “L” love–and that rejection had crushed him in ways he hadn’t even been equipped to deal with. Still, he had Matt now, and he ran a claw up the length of Matt’s cock, making his brother shiver, knowing that soon enough everything would be perfect. Still, he wanted to see him do it, he forced the pleasure into Matt, amplified it as he stroked his imprisoned cock, and after a moment, Matt shook in the cocoon and the gator watched him pump a load of cum into the vacuum, and then he finally looked away. He started the program and watched Matt’s rack roll deeper into the machine, and then, almost as an afterthought, unhooked the bracelet he’d worn everyday to remind him of the betrayal which had led him here and let it fall to the grimy metal floor of the machine. He wouldn’t need it after this was finished, and he hurried off down a corridor towards the end of the machine.

As he went, he passed hundreds of other people in the midst of standard transformations, however, as a Golden, Travis had a certain amount of freedom to experiment. He was still, technically, subordinate to the raptors, but concerning the fact that none of them could resist his eyes if he felt like it, none of them were really willing to contest him either. As a gator, he actually knew the workings of the machine better than the raptors, so even if he wasn’t in charge, the entire system would crumble without him and the other golden gators like him. The machine was massive, but he was still able to reach the exit before both Matt and Krista. Here, the cocoons were deposited, at this point the goo brittle and hard, the newly born lizards ripping their way out into their new lives, being directed to their training sessions in the hot tunnels beneath the surface of the earth. He only had to wait for a few minutes, before Krista–or rather, the massive raptor who Krista had become–slid out of the machine and hit the floor, the huge beast inside already starting to rip it’s way out with it’s long claws.

Travis stood back a few paces and admired his handiwork. The behemoth of a cock was especially stunning–it was a shame she hadn’t become a Golden like him, she would have made a spectacular general. Still, when it came to time to wipe clean the surface world she would destroy and slaughter a great many apes, he was certain. Beneath the goo, Krista flexed her muscles in both of her arms, and the goo shattered apart, scattering in every direction, and she started ripping the rest away and stood up, not quite steady, her thick tail forcing her to lean forward as she looked at her clawed hands, and then felt her rigid, scaled cock, somehow certain that something else should be there instead…but what? Her brain felt like mush–it just couldn’t seem to process much of anything, and when the gator walked up and started stroking her cock, she let out a hiss and shot a huge load of cum from her balls almost instantly.

They shared a gaze for a few moments, the gator telling her what to do, and what to expect, and a few minutes later, a second cocoon of goo slid out of the machine, and Travis hurried over to his brother. He wanted to be the first to see him, to see what he had done to him. Matt wasn’t much taller than he had been–and was quite short by gator standards, but he was much fatter, nearly a blob, and eager to see, Travis started ripping away the goo, freeing him, but as soon as Matt’s face was free, he could smell something he needed, something he wanted, and he slid out his long tongue and ran it along Travis’ thick inner thigh and up to his ass crack, shivering, the taste of the musky crack nearly making his small, two inch cock explode with cum. However, before Travis could indulge, he was thrown to one side as Krista stormed over, and rammed her huge cock into Matt’s long snout, snorting and bucking roughly, pumping cum down Matt’s throat, the gator swallowing it all down, and Krista just kept fucking. It was her purpose–or at least that’s what Travis had told her. To fuck, and fuck roughly, to use and abuse Matt to her heart’s content.

Travis freed the rest of Matt’s body, and Krista rolled the huge gator over onto his huge belly and started fucking his ass, the massive cock sliding in easily, and Travis simply stared into his brother’s eyes for a few minutes, making sure he fully understood his new role. He was a cumdump, the lowest of the low, meant to serve and please every other lizard in any way they demanded. He was too stupid to work on the machine, he was too weak to fight or even mine beneath the earth, and so he would be a slave, a urinal, a tongue to clean their sweaty bodies and reeking assholes, and he would love it, he would relish it. It’s all he’d ever wanted to do–it’s all he’d ever wanted to be.

It took Krista over ten loads to feel sated, and even then, her cock was still rock hard. She probably would have kept fucking if another raptor hadn’t gotten her attention, and directed her to follow him to a combat lesson. Travis enjoyed his brother for a few more minutes, and then compelled him to get up and follow Travis deeper into the mines. There were many gators down there, mining metal and coal and oil for the machine who would love a cumdump to abuse in the depths, and then, Travis would always know just where to find his brother, when he wanted to use him.

You like the smell of my piss ‘n cum in that toilet, don’t you, boy? Yeah, you probably didn’t smell it right away, but look at how horny it’s got you already. Can’t stop, can you? Don’t worry, I don’t want you to stop, and you obviously don’t want to stop, so why don’t you just keep on jacking off for daddy?

Bet you didn’t even hear me come in here last night, eh? You were pretty damn drunk, I doubt you remember much of anything. Thought you were all alone, waking up, going in to have your morning piss, and now here you are, jacking off, one of your fingers probing that sweet little hole of yours. Yeah boy, you remember me at all? I was at that club last night, watching you, smokin’ my cigar. Here, why don’t you have a taste? Go on–take it easy though, you don’t have the lungs for a full draw yet. Fuck yeah, so fuckin’ hot, watching that smoke billow out that mouth of yours. Give it to me, gonna suck the smoke out of your lungs, boy.

Sweet, fuckin’ sweet. So, how’s that hole of yours? Gettin’ loose? I bet you need something better than all those fingers, eh? How about some daddy dick? The dick I’ve been savin’ for you all night long. Gonna fuck you right here on the toilet boy, over this nasty swill of our piss ‘n cum. Go on, smell it boy, take a deep breath of that funk, our smoke, or piss…just let it relax you back…that’s it.

See that wasn’t so bad. I’m all the way in ya boy, all the way up this hole of yours, and from that load of cum you just sprayed, I think you like it. I have a feeling we’re gonna be spending a lot of time together from now on–you’d like that, wouldn’t you? You can come over to my place, and we can work out together, father and son, getting all pumped and sweaty and musky, plenty of cigar and fuck breaks. Gonna have you stinkin’ and smokin’ like a good muscle jockboy soon enough. Now suck that cigar–daddy needs focus on fuckin’.

“What, just because I’m young and can’t grow a beard, I’m not allowed in the bar?” Louie said, when the bear grabbed his coat and told him he wasn’t welcome.

“Fuck no–we don’t need any fuckin’ pussyboys like you around here, unless you want to wrap your mouth around my cock and suck me clean, bitch,” Bill said

Louie rolled his eyes. He could smell the booze on the guy, he’d obviously had one too many. Should he go light on him? Nah, probably not. “What, so rough, big guys like you can’t be raging bottoms, eh? Well, let’s see how good that works out for you tomorrow morning. Now get out of here, go home, and go to sleep.”

Unsure of what had just happened, and only barely able to detect the magic wrapping its way around him, the bear let go of Louie’s coat, turned around and left the bar, returning home and climbing into his bed, where he fell asleep almost instantly.

Bill woke up the next morning to quite a surprise–he was huge. He jumped out of his bed, discovering he’d grown to a few inches over six feet, and packed on pounds of muscle–his gut having disappeared overnight, and he flexed in the mirror, admiring his new, hot look. Funny, he couldn’t remember what had happened at all, and by the time he’d jacked off a couple of times, he’d managed to forget that things had ever been different, aside from a distant memory.

Still, he needed to get to work, so he threw on a suit and left his apartment, where he saw a young, chubby twerp coming towards him down the hall, and he fell to his knees in front of him, and said, “Please sir, please fuck my muscle butt sir, I need a cock in my hole so bad sir, I’m such a nasty bottom bitch, please!”

The chub, who was straight, was more than happy to switch teams for a few minutes, to force him back into his apartment and rape his ass, humiliating and degrading him the whole time, before filling his hole with cum, and leaving without ceremony. Bill never did get to work that day–he sucked off another chubby guy in the elevator, and then ended up getting gangbanged by a posse of nerds in the back of a comic book shop. Forced to turn into a submissive bottom for everyone who he saw as weaker than him, Bill was going to have a long life of service ahead of him.

Jack looked at the package he’d received in the mail, puzzled. He’d gotten hired on as a prison guard the week before, and his first shift was tonight, but he’d been expecting a uniform in the mail, but when he’d opened the box, the only thing that he’d found inside was a pair of leather boots with some black, uniform socks. Where was his shirt and pants? Figuring it was just a mistake, he tried to call the prison and ask, but his manager wasn’t on duty, and so he figured he might as well wear his normal clothes and the boots–they could probably find a spare for him when he went in to start his shift.

He pulled on the socks and boots, and realized that they were also massively oversized for his feet. He usually wore a ten and a half, but when he checked the tongue of the shoe, the boots were marked as seventeen. They were almost comical on him, when he stood up and tried to walk around, they threatened to slip off. However, after tromping around for a few seconds, he went to try and pull them off, and discovered something strange. His feet had started tingling, and by the time he’d sat down again, the boots fit him just fine.

It fact, they fit too well, and he couldn’t even get the boot off of his foot. Had they shrunk? No–when he looked at them again, he realized that, somehow, his feet had grown, and were still tingling–and the tingle was spreading up his legs and all over his body now, accompanied by a strange heat deep within his body, and a sudden sexual arousal greater than anything he’d ever experienced, so strong that he just slumped back against the couch, feeling his muscles start to pulse and expand as he pawed open the crotch of his jeans and hauled out his cock, the shaft expanding and throbbing along with the rest of him, and he stroked the nine inch shaft, shivering.

The fantasy came unbidden. He was in the jail, and the prisoner in front of him, naked aside from his boots, and Jack was facing him, his chest out, and he could smell the musk rolling off him in the hot prison, and the prisoner could smell it too, could sense his authority, and he reached out, feeling his massive pec in awe of him. He ran his baton down the prisoner’s body, using it to lift up his cock and inspect him, and the man shivered, and fell to his knees, licking his lips in front of Jack’s huge tool. “P–Please sir…” he said, his mouth dry.

“Go on then fucker, suck me dry,” Jack heard himself say, gruff and dismissive, and on the couch, as he imagined the prisoner giving him head, he felt his clothes stretch against his body, hardening into a leather uniform like the one from his fantasy, and as he thought about face fucking the prison bitch, he came, his orgasm sprouting hair all over his body, finishing with a full beard as the hair on his head disappeared, leaving a shiny dome. His old life behind him now, Jack stood up and shoved his huge cock down one leg of his pants, and left his apartment, never to return, a prison guard for life.