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.”

He keeps staring at you…you think. It’s hard to tell with those strange lenses in his mask. He’s watched you since you arrived at the bar, and the mesmerizing attraction you feel towards him is easily countered by his strange, not-quite-human movements. You decide to leave–but he follows you, grabs you and drags you into an alley, stripping away your clothes with amazing strength.

His red cock spews a strange, black liquid onto your flesh, and when you try to wipe it off, you realize it is latex which had already adhered to your body. He pumps more and more, coating you, bringing you under his physical control, and when all that remains uncovered is your mouth, he shoves in his cock and begins pumping the latex into your body.

It is a strange sensation, feeling your stomach and lungs fill with fluid until they burst in your chest. No longer able to breathe, you sense, more than know, that you should be dead–but strangely you can still think. You feel the rubber flowing directly into you now, filling your chest cavity, coating your muscles–your heart pumping liquid rubber to every inch of your body for a minute before stopping all together.

You sense that you are full, and yet still it flows, and you begin growing. The rubber pulses and bubbles under your skin before layering on top of your muscles and bones, expanding them to inhuman proportions, your veins bulging from your black, shiny skin. Your cock grows as well, dropping down and growing to nearly two feet long, with massive balls suspended beneath. They feel surprisingly heavy, and a moment later a strange liquid begins to pump from your cock–the fleshy pump of your own body. Only one part of you now remains–your brain–but not for long, you realize. Your new body is nearly complete–and the rubber is already creeping up and over your fleshy mind.

You imagine that it will simply coat it, but when the headache starts, you discover that it has no intention of allowing you to continue thinking. It is crushing you. Destroying your brain, turning it into pump to be discarded and replacing it with a small, rubberized computer. It isn’t much, but it need only regulate a few simple tasks. You no longer need to think–only obey. The red man removes his cock and the last rubber seals your mouth shut. You stand, the last of your humanity dribbling from your now hollow balls. They can now be filled through your anus with any liquid one might desire pumped from your massive cock. The master’s will enjoy pumping you full of their cum, before having you serve it to their prisoners and human slaves in training. You do not care–you only serve, and you follow your compatriot to your master’s lair, where you will serve for eternity.

Dennis had always hated being a little guy, but that strange hat shop had given him the answer to his prayers. He’d picked up the “Bubba” hat as a joke more than anything else, and when he’d put it on, he’d suddenly been transformed into a massive daddy bear wearing work boots, dirty Levis and a grubby t-shirt instead of his skinny jeans and hipster wear. Taking the hat off and on, he found he could switch bodies at will. He’d rushed home, admiring his new, bearish self in the mirror while he jacked off, and then decided to hit some of the clubs too see if he could find a hot bear to test drive this body with.

Unfortunately, Dennis should have read the warning label, telling him that prolonged use could result in irreversible mental effects. When he returned home the next morning freshly fucked, he’d already lost thirty-five points off his IQ, his fine arts degree had been replaced with truck driving and repair know-how, and he spoke with a thick, southern drawl. Now, with the hat or without, he was a “Bubba” through and through.

Fairytale – Part 2

***WARNING***

This story contains heavy raunch and watersports. Don’t be a pussy–just fucking enjoy it.

*************

“There you are,” Jeff said, as Harry squeezed past him and back into his seat, “I was wondering if you fell in or…” His voice trailed off, as he got a better sense of the filthy man taking the seat next to him–and the stench rolling off him, and he had a strange sensation that this wasn’t the man he’d agreed to go out with…or was it? His momentary unease didn’t seem to have any basis in his memory–it was the same filthy, incredibly hairy, obese slob who he watched stuff himself silly at dinner…wasn’t it? Why in the hell had he agreed to this date in the first place? This guy was disgusting.

Harry could see the confusion in Jeff’s eyes in the dim light from the screen, and he grinned. Just like the Fairy Grungefather had written, Jeff had no idea that he’d changed so much in the last half hour. “Here boy,” he said handing Jeff a large soda, “I got you another drink, after I plowed through the last one.”

“Oh…uh, thanks,” Jeff said, and took a drink, still unable to figure out why in the world he was out with this disgusting man. Harry could sense his rising disgust, but he already had the first of the three spells from the fairy in his mind, and he mumbled the chant under his breath. The spell would make his chosen target irresistibly attracted to filth, and hopelessly subservient to any man dirtier than him, though, as a twist, as the subject becomes dirty himself he will, in turn, become more and more dominant. However, Jeff was so clean right now, Harry wasn’t too worried about that just yet. He felt the power in his words burn his lips slightly as the spell wrapped its way around Jeff, and to give it a test, he reached out and put his arm around Jeff’s shoulders and pulled him close, his face dangerously close to his disgustingly ripe pit.

Jeff felt the spell hit him, but had no idea of what to make of it. He was happy when the wave of nausea he’d felt in Harry’s presence dissipated, but when it was replaced by an equal, and very forceful attraction, he tried to resist, but the spell was too strong. Suddenly, his memories of this giant slob from the past few hours were ones of giddy excitement at the other man’s filthy body. How he’d sat, agape, watching the man stuff himself at dinner, Jeff’s cock rock hard the whole time. How he’d kept trying to catch whiffs of Harry’s musk on the way to the theater. The stench of his armpit played into his new, deep fantasies, and he leaned in closer, taking a deep sniff, getting close enough for the hairs to graze his nose.

When Harry’s hand contracted and shoved him into it, he struggled with him out of reflex more than anything else. “Shush boy,” Harry said, “I know you’ve been wanting this all night, so here’s your chance–now lick it good and clean, like I know you want to.” He did. He really did want to, so he buried his face in and started licking at the funk, inhaling deep and feeling Harry’s belly jiggle as he chuckled. “Yeah, that’s it.” Harry continued, “Doesn’t that taste like heaven? Go on boy, take out your cock–show me how turned on that nasty funk has gotten you. Here, I’ll take out mine too.” Harry dug around in his camo shorts, pulling out his five inch, thick cock with ample, cheesy foreskin, and without removing his face from Harry’s pit, Jeff did the same, pulling out his eight inch, rock hard cock, which he started milking.

Now Harry didn’t begrudge his date his big cock, but he couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous–and given how submissive Jeff would be for the moment–at least until Harry had him good and filthy–he figured this might be a good time to try out another spell of the Fairy Grungefather’s. Until dawn, the fairy had granted Harry the power to trade physical attributes with any man he was touching–and Jeff’s tongue and face against his pit certainly counted as touching. Harry concentrated, and watched as Jeff’s cock started shrinking in his hand, growing tinier and tinier until it was barely an inch long, and Harry was suddenly grasping a foot long monster cock thicker than a beer can. He decided to take what he could from Jeff’s balls as well, and soon he had an orange resting below his huge member, leaving Jeff with almost no manhood at all.

“Fuck boy, is that all you got to work with? Here, play with mine, and find out what a real cock feels like,” Harry said, and guided Jeff’s hand away from his miniscule cock onto his, both of them trying to suppress groans in the sparsely occupied theater. Jeff was in heaven–he hated his small cock, but given how much he loved bottoming for filthy men, he didn’t mind too much–especially when he was on a date with a monster like Harry. Jeff could barely contain himself, when he felt his tiny cock suddenly start leaking precum uncontrollably. He’d never been much of a leaker, what with his tiny balls, but now–he already could feel it running down the sides of his cock and onto his boxers.

Of course, Jeff didn’t know that his sudden leakage was the result of another one of the fairy’s spells. Harry had been given the ability to control the quantity of any kind of fluid excreted by any man he wanted–and there were all sorts of fluids Harry felt like toying with. He was going to make Jeff leak precum spontaneously for as long as he wanted him to–he hoped he would have a stinking wet spot on his crotch by the end of the film. Jeff’s attention didn’t stay on his cock for long, as he went back to admiring Jeff’s huge, nasty cock, and he felt Harry hand start guiding his face down into his crotch. “Go on boy, suck it–I want to feel that nasty shaft buried down your throat–and make sure you get all that cheese under my foreskin–I know that will drive you wild…”

Jeff struggled for a moment as he resisted the multitude of changes in the world around him, but the fairy’s magic shut him down at every turn. He knew this wasn’t what he wanted, that his cock wasn’t supposed to be an inch long straw leaking precum like a faucet, but for some reason he couldn’t do anything about it, and the more time passed, the more he just felt crazy. And he did want that cock, and that cheesy foreskin. When Harry’s hand pushed him down, he didn’t resist, and swallowed as much of the cock as he could, though he could take more than he’d expected, thanks to the small boost in jaw flexibility and throat size Harry gave him. In fact, he could take it all the way to the hilt without gagging once.

In the dim light, Harry watched the boy work, and decided that there needed to be a few more swaps here and there–just for some added fun. Never in his life had Harry ever had the chance to be muscular, and he’d always wondered what it would be like–so he gave Jeff a large percentage of his own body fat, while removing as much muscle as he could without endangering him. Jeff himself was already a bit chunky, but he had to keep adjusting his position as his gut grew out, his chins expanded, and his gunt swallowed his tiny cock whole. Harry was a bit worried, when he realized his planned change would make Jeff grow out of his clothes, but they seemed to expand with him–his button down shirt expanding to fit his massive gut, his khakis doubling in size to match Jeff’s wide ass and thighs.

Harry himself felt the fat melt off of him, as his body showed off muscles he’d never seen. Neither he nor Jeff had been particularly muscled, but between the two of them, Harry had managed to pick up enough to look like a decent hunk, with well defined pecs, ridged abs and thick arms, not to mention it showed off his cock really damn well, and gave him a great view of Jeff’s fat face chowing down on his filthy cock, but Harry still felt really old, with his greying hair. He decided that if Jeff was going to hold onto his fat for a while, he could hold onto some of Harry’s years as well. He decided to drop back to the age of twenty one, which would give Jeff close to thirty years, bringing him up to the ripe old age of fifty six.

He watched as his beard and hair suddenly lightened, and his new muscles suddenly filled with a new, remarkable vigor. He felt amazing, and his cock! He was so horny it took all of his effort to not cum the next time Jeff deep throated him. Looking down in the dim light, he could see that Jeff had grown up just as quickly–his hair receding back, face lined with wrinkles, and the blow job was starting to wind him. Harry decided to give Jeff a bit off his own beard, and also took Jeff’s hair, leaving him with an inch long beard and a perfectly smooth, bald head, Harry’s own hair growing a bit longer past his shoulders. To finish Jeff’s transformation into an old, chubby bear, Harry reluctantly sacrificed most of his thick pelt, watching it sprout all over Jeff’s new fatty rolls instead. Watching the bearded old man suck his cock was too much, and Harry unloaded down Jeff’s throat, cumming harder than he had in years–though that didn’t make sense. He was just twenty one after all, every cum shot felt like that.

He saw Jeff swallowing his cum eagerly, and when the flow stopped, Jeff started to come off the cock, but with one hand Harry pushed him back down and a second later, Jeff’s mouth was flooded with piss. He’d never tasted anything so rank, and he choked a bit at first, getting some on Harry’s clothes and on his new beard, but he caught onto the rhythm and was soon drinking that down just as eagerly, his new love of filth urging him on, not to mention his attraction to the hot, muscular redneck who he still couldn’t believe had agreed to go out on a date with a fat geezer like himself. After he finished pissing, Harry finally allowed Jeff up, but only after he’d sucked whatever piss he could get from the front of his shorts, and then let Harry lick the piss from his beard, and Harry decided it was time for Jeff to start getting dirtier.

While they made out, one of Harry’s hands snaked down under Jeff’s massive gut, and found the sticky mess of precum his earlier spell had generated, and he started feeding it to Jeff on his fingers, Jeff happily sucking the filth off them as well. Harry also wanted Jeff to start getting musky, so he used his spell to kick Harry’s sweat production into high gear. Beads started dotting Jeff’s suddenly red face, and sweat stains started formed under his armpits. Harry wanted to get in the middle of it, so he worked his head under Jeff’s sweaty gut and into his humid crotch, rubbing his face in the cum and sweat, listening to Jeff’s muffled groans as he licked away at his tiny cock. Harry must have lost track of time in there, because he was caught off guard by Jeff hauling him out by the back of his shirt, back into the fully lighted theater.

In the sudden light, Harry was struck by how much he had changed Jeff in the dark theater. Where a young cub had sat when the movie started, there was now an elderly, obese bear, dressed in a shirt and tie with a nicely trimmed grey beard and completely bald head–thought the shirt was nearly soaked through with ripe sweat. Harry couldn’t see himself, but he could sense from how Jeff was looking back at him that he was a fine piece of muscular redneck, though maybe it was just his funk making Jeff look at him like that–not that it mattered. They saw the ushers come into the theater, and Jeff said in a deep voice, “well young man, what say you and I zip up and skedaddle?”

“Oh, yeah, sure thing,” Harry said, tucked his cock back into his tight camo shorts and helped Jeff stand up, and together they made their way out of the theater, Harry flaunting his shorts damp with piss and the muscles stretching against his sleeveless tee, and enjoying the stench of cum and sweat rolling off Jeff next to him. Harry felt sexier, and hornier, than he’d ever felt before, and the night was still young. Jeff and him had plenty more to do before dawn, and he hadn’t even tried all of the fairy’s spells yet. Things were only going to get hotter, and filthier, from here on out.

Andy at the Roadhouse Part 2

Andy, oblivious to the near silence of the bar, kept drinking his beer and smoking his new cigar, completely ignorant of his slowly maturing body. However, this brew was really nothing more than a warm up, something to prepare and prime his system for Ed’s true talents. He had countless numbers of recipes, for both beer and liquor, and the men waited to see what he’d emerge with next for Andy to drink and move the transformation into its final stages.

The men sensed movement behind the bar, and they crowded over to see Ed come out of the kitchen with a large pilsner glass filled with a light ale, but with no foam on top. In fact, the brew looked completely flat, and a few men let out a whistle or a hoot, having already guessed which color had won the day. Ed ignored them and approached Andy, “Here man, consider this my apology for Danny Boy earlier–it’s a rare brew of mine I’d like you to sample–my version of a Norse honey mead.”

“Sample,” Andy slurred, eyeing the monstrously large glass, “This is a bit big to be a sample…” still, he took it in hand and sipped a bit off the top, wincing at the rank, bitter flavor. “Dang, that’s a bit…rank. Shouldn’t it be a bit sweeter?”

“Oh, keep at it, I’m sure the taste will grow on you,” Ed said, and Andy took another drink, and then another. Ed was right, the taste wasn’t as bad as he’d first thought, and before he could stop himself, he tipped it back and chugged the last three quarters of the glass, not even minding when some of it dribbled down around his fledgling beard and down onto his chest, leaving an odd trail of blonde hairs where the stream had run down. “Alright boys, I have a tub in the back set up for our friend here,” Ed announced to the room, “However, I think it’s going to need to be topped off–if any of you would like to contribute.”

Now everyone laughed and clapped and hollered, some heading towards the rooms in the back of the bar, but others crowded in closer around Ed and Andy, who glanced about, drunk and confused by the sudden attention. “What–what are you talking about, Ed?”

“Don’t you worry man, you just sit there for bit and let that last brew sink in a bit,” Ed said, “You feeling anything? Thirsty…maybe?”

“Huh? I guess a little…actually, I kind of gotta go piss, where’s the restroom?” he asked, set the cigar down in an ashtray and tried to get off the stool, but Ed shoved him back down.

“Now hold your horses, don’t you think–” Ed started to say, but then leaned in closer, putting his hand on Andy’s cock through his shorts and massaging it gently, “don’t you think it would be so much hotter to piss yourself right here? In front of me and these hot guys? Wouldn’t that just feel so sexy?”

“Wha–Oh fuck, you freak! I gotta get…I gotta…oh god, I can’t–I can’t hold it…” Andy groaned, and suddenly couldn’t hold back his cock, releasing a blast of acrid, foul smelling piss into his shorts, which ran down his legs, onto the barstool and down to the floor, the men around him laughing and jeering at him, but while he knew he should be embarrassed–instead he felt really good, almost proud. His cock was rock hard, and his piss smelled so good, he could almost taste it and…and he was thirsty all of a sudden. Really, really thirsty. He licked his lips, and pushed himself off the stool, turned around and before he could stop himself, started licking up his pissbefore it could be sucked up by the dry sawdust below him, the men cheering him on as he lapped up as much as he could.

“Aww, don’t worry man, we have plenty of that for you,” Ed said, pulling out his cock and waving it in Andy’s face, “All you have to do is beg like a good little piss whore. Go on, beg for it, bitch.”

Andy, on his knees, looked around at the men surrounding him, their eyes hungry, and he knew he should run. He knew he should fight past them, get in his car and drive off as fast as he could, but fuck, the thirst! And that little bit of his own that he’d lapped up, it had tasted so good, he could only imagine what drinking Ed’s would be like. “Please…” he whispered, his voice dry and cracked. He took a moment, licked his lips, swallowed and tried to make some moisture so he could speak, “Please, please, Ed, can I…can I have your piss?”

The men jeered at him and Andy felt his face redden, or at least the bits which could be seen through his dark, full beard. “What did you say whore? You didn’t just call me Ed, did you? That name is reserved for the men and clientele of this establishment, not for its whores!” the men laughed, and Ed drank it in with a smile, “Now how about you try something with a bit more…respect.”

“Please…Oh god, I’m so thirsty, please…sir, please I need it, I’m so…” Andy groaned, but his voice dried out and he was afraid that if Ed didn’t relent he might never speak again.

“Alright, alright–I can see you’re suffering there. Here you piss whore, take a good, long drink,” Ed said, and started pissing, Andy latching his mouth around his cock as quickly as he could to avoid missing a drop, and the sheer ecstasy which rolled across his face sent the men into another bout of laughter and applause. Andy, however, heard none of it. The sheer satisfaction of a long drink of piss after his fear of starvation–it was overwhelming, and with with several full body jerks he shot a load of cum in his wet shorts, though he never released Ed’s cock for a second, nor stopped his relentless swallowing.

When he finished milking the last drops from Ed’s dick, he released it with a gasp. “Thank you, oh thank you sir, you saved me,” Andy said, feeling rejuvenated, but surprised at the deep, masculine voice which emerged from his throat suddenly.

“Ha, if you liked that, I’ve got a load of you, pig!”

“Me too, you can suck me dry anytime!”

Ed held up his hand, silencing the crowd, “Hold your horses, men, our new whore isn’t finished yet–now how about you all help me get him out of these soaking wet clothes?” Before Andy could even think of resisting, the patrons descended on him, ripping away his shirt and soaked shorts.

“Holy fuck, the pig shot a load already! Just from drinkin’ Ed’s piss!”

“What a fuckin’ hog–we might as well hook him up to the urinals full time!”

“That true pig?” Ed said, grabbing Andy’s constantly growing beard and yanking his face around inches away from his own, “Did you just shoot a load from drinking my piss, you fucking bitch?”

“Ye–Yes sir, I’m sorry sir, I was just–just so thirsty, I–”

“You fucking whore!” Ed said, slapping Andy across the face, “You don’t cum unless someone tells you to, got it? You’re here for our pleasure, not your own–if you cum, it’s because we want you to, got it? Gonna have to do something about this one–apparently he’s a bit more eager than I anticipated. Alright whore, I have a little party all set up for you in the back, shall we go check it out?” Still clutching Andy’s now foot long beard, he pulled him up and dragged him into the dark back rooms of the bar, where Andy saw a group of men standing in a loose circle, and the scent of piss was heavy in the air, making his lips dry out once more. In the middle, he saw a washtub filled three quarters of the way with the same amber mead Ed had brought him, though this had now been augmented by over a dozen loads of beer piss from the patrons, with more coming every minute. Ed parted the circle with a shove and then pulled Andy to the edge, and with one whiff it took all of his nerve to keep from plunging his face in and drinking all that he could. “Well? Go on whore, we all know you want it…” Ed whispered in his ear, but when Andy still didn’t move, he grabbed the back of his head, twisted his fingers into Andy’s now shoulder length hair, and shoved him down into the yellow liquid.

In his terror, Andy choked and breathed in, but was soon taking in as much as he could, not caring whether it went to his lungs or his stomach as long as it was inside of him. Too soon, far too soon, Ed pulled him back up, letting Andy shake the liquid from his eyes and lick his lips, and notice that everyone was laughing. “Someone grab a mirror and show our urinal his new look,” Ed said, and one of the men ran off, returning a moment later with a mirror, showing Andy that his hair, beard, and even his eyebrows were now a bright, but dirty, blonde. With the long beard and hair, he almost looking like some piss sodden viking. Still, he couldn’t hold back anymore, and he wrenched himself out of Ed’s grasp and flung his face back into the tub, but a moment later, he felt hands grab his legs and fling him in, face first.

He drank–it was all he could do, all his brain could think about, how he needed it all inside of him. The cheers of the men felt so distant, and he could feel himself filling up, growing as his body was forced to expand and make room for the gallons of liquid in the tub. It shouldn’t be possible, he thought to himself more than once, he shouldn’t be able to hold all of this inside of him, but inch after inch he drained it, until there was a layer too difficult to lap up, and the men hauled him out of the tub and dumped the rest right down his throat, tipping the tub up and pouring it into their new whore’s mouth.

Finished, he gasped for breath and air, exhausted, amazed that he was alive, and when he could open his eyes and look around, his vision faint, he caught sight of the mirror being held up for him, but he couldn’t see–didn’t want to see himself, really. What he could make out was a massive, round figure, but that was just his tight, swollen gut, matted with hair the same blonde as his head and face. But behind the gut–he was huge and massively muscled, with bulging arms and solid pecs. It was so much, and the room was spinning faster and faster at odd angles. He slumped onto his side, the cold concrete soothing against his hot, flushed skin and taut gut. Even the men crowding in around him, trying to keep him awake wasn’t enough to keep his eyes open, and the last thing he saw was Ed pushing through and bending down over him, and Andy was out.

*****

There was something–something slapping him in his face. At first, he thought it was a cock, but it was a hand, and he opened his eyes, seeing the man in magenta he’d spotted in the bar earlier looking down at him. “Hey, Hey! You ok? Come on Eskel, let’s get you up and empty you out. Don’t make me shove these pits in your face and get you up that way,” he said, and grabbed the blonde beast’s muscular arm and helped him up with a deep groan. Musky couldn’t believe how big the new guy, Eskel, had gotten last night–Ed had really outdone himself with this one. The last yellow they’d had couldn’t hold anything like this guy, he must have tweaked his mead recipe from before.

There really wasn’t much the slender Musky could do to help the nearly seven foot tall and over three hundred pound muscle man Eskel had grown into up out of bed. It didn’t help that his swollen gut stuck out nearly three feet in front of him, and was as rock solid, so while Eskel pulled himself out, Musky took out a cigar from the humidor on the bedside table, lit it, and gave it to Eskel when he sat up. The cigar brought some new life to him, and with some coaching, he managed to haul him into the bathroom, sit him down on the toilet, and Musky pressed down on Eskel’s swollen gut, hearing the piss suddenly shoot out of Eskel’s thick, short cock and into the bowl, the scent of urine making the norseman lick his lips in thirst, as he shook his head and became truly aware of his surroundings. “Where…where am I? Who are you?” the man growled, but Musky shushed him and focused on milking his gut down to a reasonable size. “I…remember you, from the bar–I saw you…what happened? Where–where’s Ed? I don’t…”

“Look, Eskel, maybe….” Musky said, stopping his pressure, leaving Eskel with a beachball sticking out under his pecs, “Here, that’s good enough, let’s flush and then get you in front of a mirror, it’ll be easier to show you.” He tried to get Eskel to stand up, but he started struggling against him, and rather than be slammed into the wall by the muscle man’s huge, hairy fists, he backed up and let him stand on his own.

“My name…My name isn’t Eskel, why you keep calling me that? My name….my name is…” he started to say, but he caught sight of himself in the mirror over the sink and his jaw dropped. “No…No, no, no…” he said. He was huge, he couldn’t even see his whole self in the mirror, but the sheer mass–it was incredible. He was hulking, he was a blond, muscular piss freak, he could smell it on himself and he was so thirsty. “No, fucking no!” he shouted and slammed his fist into the mirror, sending down a shower of glass before collapsing back against the opposite wall and descending into sobs, clutching his bloodied knuckles and sucking on his cigar for deer life, the smoke being the only thing keeping his rage in check.

“Eskel…” Musky said, stepping closer, “I know…trust me, I know what its like, but just trust me, alright? I’m here to help you, we all have to help each other, or we don’t have anyone. Or else it’s just Ed, and…” but he stopped not even sure if Eskel was listening to him or not, and deciding to just take a chance, he got down and pulled the huge man into a hug. Eskel flinched at first, but pawed his way around Musky and pulled him closer, not even minding the man’s stench.

“Why…Why can’t I remember my name? I wasn’t Eskel, before…I don’t…”

“Ed took it,” Musky said, “He took all of ours–I don’t know your real name or I’d use it, I swear. He just called you Eskel, and so, that’s all I have. Now, I’m sorry, but we need to get you dressed, because we have a meeting to go to, and trust me when I say you don’t want to be late, or try and resist, alright? It isn’t worth it.”

Eskel thought about it, thought about how angry he was, but…the small man was probably right. “What’s your name?” Eskel asked.

“I don’t know, but you can call me Musky. Now lets get you ready, Ed told me how he wants you to look, so…well, just hold on.” Musky said, lit a cigarette for himself and left and brought in a pair of bright yellow hip waders held up by suspenders which he helped Eskel into, and then pulled out two yellow handkerchiefs, braiding both of them into Eskel’s permanently wet beard. The big man was happy he’d shattered the mirror, because he didn’t want to see himself like this, but Musky looked like he approved, though he could sense the big man’s apprehension. “Look, just trust me on this. It isn’t forever–Ed let’s us all go eventually. And…and I know this isn’t much solace, but if you let go, and if you try not to fight it? You might even like it eventually.” Eskel snorted in doubt, and Musky smirked, “I know, I know–but, well, let’s just say I know from experience. You ready to face the world now? We don’t want to be late.”

Eskel nodded reluctantly and started to follow Musky out of the room, but stopped, “Wait,” he said, licking his lips, “I’m…” he said, but couldn’t get the words out, but Musky understood well enough and pulled out his cock. Eskel grinned, got down on his knees and drank down Musky’s rank piss, and already feeling a bit better, followed his newest friend and fellow whore to the bar, to face the new day.

One Change #1 – Introduction

There is a curious thing happening to some men–it appears as though something has started messing with the space-time continuum. The effect appears to be rather small–one change, sometimes big, sometimes small–which happens in a man’s past, but which can radically alter the future. No one knows who is chosen or why–but the changes do seem to have a love for karma.

John was an early target, an older contractor who was a stickler for order. This was generally a positive trait, but John liked to force everyone else to live as he did. He was the tyrant of his neighborhood association, and was the first to make a formal complaint should someone try and decorate their lawn, or put their Christmas lights up even a day early. As a contractor he was a stickler for building codes, and he inspected every renovation to any house whether the owner asked him to or not. Apparently, someone decided to go back and with a little tweak, make John a messy child.

John was in the midst of cleaning his living room when he noticed the changes cascading over him. Whenever he picked up a piece of clutter, three pieces would suddenly appear behind his back. He had no idea where all of this stuff was coming from, but he recognized it all as his…didn’t he? Before long, he was pushed out of the living room by the piles, and he caught a glimpse of himself in a tarnished mirror hung askew in the hallway. When did he get so fat? And why was his hair and beard so long?

Hell, why wouldn’t it be that long? He hadn’t cut his hair or shaved his face in years, why in the hell would he start now? He gave his belly a scratch and let out a loud belch. He should probably take a shower, but why bother? He clambered over the piles of junk still filling his house from floor to ceiling and made his way outside, not caring that he was suddenly naked. No memories of his old life remained–the slobby kid had grown into a adult hoarder.

Of course, the culprit of these changes also tried to reward individuals who had done well in their lives, but who had never been able to get as far as they should have. Be in a small boost in confidence, or a little twist of luck, a few people found their lives put on a better track than before. Howie was a good example.

Howie was a good man, or at least he tried his best. He’d grown up poor, but rather than turning to crime and drugs like a lot of his childhood friends, he worked to pay his way through truck driving school, and was finally doing well for a change, however, he wasn’t happy. The years of work had been murder on his body, and the driving didn’t leave much time for exercise. He hated his gut, his balding head hidden by his hat, and his cigar habit, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. His slow metabolism and high testosterone level caused most of his ills, but apparently whoever was behind these changes felt a bit sorry for him. So, Howie went to bed that night with a slight tweak body’s molecular makeup.

When he woke the next morning and looked in the mirror, he didn’t recognize himself for a second. He ran his hands across his firm stomach and pecs, the sensation of his smooth skin something new, and not unwelcome, along with his new tan. Sure, the sudden lack of testosterone had shrunk his cock and balls quite a bit, but with his increased metabolism and tendency to pack on muscle, he had never really minded, nor did the men who lined up to worship his massive body. He lit a cigar for himself as last night’s catch woke up, and quickly got down to suck Howie’s cock, running his hands up and down the bodybuilder’s front. Exhaling a thick plume of smoke, he knew he should try and quit this nasty habit, but hey, some changes still had to be made the old fashioned way. –

It was working–the collar was really working! In the mirror, Gregory could see years melting off his body, fat and gray hair falling away. He watched muscle fill in, and he grabbed and tugged at his nips, his smooth cock hardening, and he suddenly wanted to dance.

Oh god, was it happening already? He had hoped to have his mind for a while longer, but it was becoming harder and harder to think about anything other than grinding up on a pole, desperate to feel men’s lustful eyes upon him. That was the deal though–eternal youth, but he would spend it as an empty headed stripper in one of the Organization’s many lucrative night clubs. It had seemed like the chance of a lifetime when Gregory had been 82 and suffering through cancer–but now, well, now Gregory was gone.

“Come on GiGi, get your G-string on,” the handler said, hooking a lead to “We have some clients who have already reserved you for a private showing.”

“GiGi dance! GiGi dance good!” the muscle slave said, as he pulled on the skimpy garment and sashayed out of the room, his hips forever grinding to an invisible, pounding beat.