Caption: Bathhouse Music

*Thump* *Thump* *Thump* *Thump*

Did they have to have that music on all the time? It seemed like, no matter when Lance went to the gym these days, the bass from that damn place next door leaked through the walls. Even when he had his headphones in, it was like he could still feel it in his bones.

That place, was the bathhouse that had somehow managed to open up right next door. No one had expected it. It had been under construction for a few months, and no one had any idea what it was going to be, and then, when it opened, the guys at the gym were disgusted to discover that they were going to be sharing their parking lot with a bunch of fags going in to get their rocks off. They’d tried complaining, but there wasn’t anything they could do about it, so they settled into a bit of a truce. The only thing breaking that line between them was the music coming from the bathhouse.

It could be worse though, right? Lance pulled off his shirt, dropped his gym shorts, and admired himself in the mirror, pleased with his progress lately. He snapped a photo, and then put his phone back in his bag, and kept admiring himself.

The nipple piercings he’d gotten a few weeks ago were still a bit tender, but fuck, they were hot as hell. He’d never really thought about it before–if anything, he might have thought getting his tits pierced was a little…well, gay. It felt so good though, and it definitely made him look hotter in his opinion. Hell, just looking at himself, he was getting a bit hard already. 

He groped his cock and balls through his grungy jock, and noticed it was wet again. He kept leaking at the gym lately, usually enough to soak his jock and stain the front of his shorts. It…was embarrassing, but also kind of hot for some reason, but it was hard to explain why. He was about to stroke off, when he realized he wasn’t alone–an older, chubby fellow was on a bench not twenty feet away, dripping dry with a towel over his shoulder. He must have been in the shower while Lance was checking himself out.

The older man leered at Lance, pulled the towel away, and revealed his own cock, rock hard, and he started stroking it while Lance stared at it.

*Thump* *Thump* *Thump* *Thump*

Ten minutes later, Lance left the door, not even aware of the load of cum plastered across his bearded face. As he headed for his truck, he saw a familiar car pull up with some guys who worked out at the gym, but instead of going in there, they all went right into the bathhouse instead. Lance was a bit…unnerved by it, and wondered how he’d never realized any of them were fags this whole time. He certainly would never be going in there, of course. No…never. Sure, he had that one dream once, and…but no. Not even if he was curious. He wouldn’t cross that line.

Patreon Exclusive: Hog Musk Poppers

This story is based off a suggestion from a patron earlier this month. A young man purchased a curious brand of poppers, and doesn’t notice that the more he uses it, the more he seems to be changing. The one person who definitely notices, however, is the man running the shop where he purchases them. Here’s a little taste of it–but if you want to read the whole thing, you have to support me on Patreon at the $5 level or more!


The bell over the door rang, and Wade looked up from the porn magazine he was flipping through behind the counter, over at the man who had come through the door. He smiled behind the magazine, while the young man made a show of walking around the store, looking at some things. He’d ask about what he was really looking for soon enough. Eventually, he made his way up to the counter, reached into his pocket, pulled out a little bottle and set it on the counter. The side of the bottle had a picture of a cartoon pig on it, with the words “Hog Musk” next to it.

“Hey man, I was…in here a few weeks ago, and I bought some of this stuff,” the young man said, “I…how long does it usually…last?”

“What do you mean?” Wade said, “that’s a bottle of leather cleaner.”

“No, I…” the young man rubbed his face with one hand, and scrunched his eyes up, like he was trying to focus. “How…long are they good for? Like, fresh?”

“Depends on how often you open the bottle,” Wade said, “How…often have you opened it up.”

The young man looked a bit shifty, “I…I guess I might need another one.”

Wade nodded, got a bottle off the shelf behind him. The young man paid for it and left. Wade just smiled and went back to his magazine. He’d be back soon enough.

***

The bell over Wade’s door rang. He was in the middle of restocking the condoms, looked up, and it took him a moment to realize it was the same young man from a few weeks earlier. He was bigger for one thing–more muscular. The first time he’d come into the shop, he’d been in good shape–lean and slender, obviously a little vain. It looked like he’d switched up his workout a bit, because he was bigger. Thicker all over, with a layer of scruff across his face. 

“Hey, can I help you?” Wade asked, and went to the counter, the young man skipping the pretext and heading right for him. He got close, and Wade caught a whiff of the musk rolling off the young man as well–he smelled like a locker room that hadn’t been cleaned in a few days at this point, but the young fellow didn’t even seem to notice.

Interactive: New You Resolutions 2020 (Part 6)

“Well, what is it?” Alex asked.

Kevin gulped, and read the note aloud:

Here’s your next resolution:

— We resolve only have sex with dirty, unwashed, musky men. We will no longer be sexually interested in anyone cleaner than we are, and we resolve to become as dirty as possible.

Now don’t fret! We here at New You Resolutions know that resolutions only become possible with a bit of help. We’ve already taken to liberty of making a few modifications to your wardrobe and your apartment to make living with your new interests easier than ever. Why don’t you go into your bedroom and check things out?

Kevin dropped the note on the counter, his face white. “What the fuck is this shit?”

Alex pulled him into a hug, hoping to make him feel better, but Kevin…smelled something, and without really thinking about it, pushed his nose into his boyfriend’s armpit. It was a bit musky after their sex eariler, and Alex felt his cock twitch in excitement–not much, but enough that he pushed Alex away from him in surprise.

“What was that about?” Alex asked.

“Sorry, you…I…I don’t know, I…should we call the cops?”

“No, it’s just some dumb prank.”

“But what…what could be in the bedroom?”

“Probably nothing, come on, let’s just check together,” Alex said, and led the way into the bedroom.

Nothing appeared to be out of sorts, but when they stepped into the room, next to their shared dresser, they both caught of whiff of some stench that made their noses twitch. It should have disgusted them–they knew that–but something in them had changed. The musky smell was making them hard, and horny. Alex pulled open the top drawer of the dresser, looked inside, and saw that all of their clean socks and underwear were gone–replaced with filthy, cum and piss stained briefs, boxers, undershirts, and socks. He slammed the drawer shut again, and looked at Kevin with his eyes wide, and then saw the envelope on top of the dresser. He tore into it and read it:

Doesn’t that smell better than all of that clean underwear you had in there before? You should check out your closet too, see what else we left you, once you’re done reading these other resolutions for you two:

— We resolve to no longer wash our clothing. Out of the apartment, we will always wear the dirtiest underwear and socks we can find under our suits. Whenever anyone notices how we smell, we will feel pride in our musk, and also incredibly horny.

— We resolve that, when at home, we must be wearing at least three pieces of fetish gear. Outside, we must always have at least one piece on our bodies somewhere, even if it’s under our clothes.

— We resolve to shoot at least two loads of cum a day onto either our dirty underwear, our fetish gear, or our bed, in addition to the two times we have sex each day.

Why don’t you go look in the closet, get geared up, and then meet us in the bathroom?

Kevin went to the closet door and threw it open. Usually, all that was in there were their suits for work, and there were, thankfully, a few of them still there. Most of the space inside was now taken up by a sizable collection of fetish gear: rubber, leather, spandex, gloves, boots, hats, more than either of them had ever seen in their life, and all of it smelled about as dirty as the nasty underwear in the drawer.

“I’m not…wearing that shit, I’m not!” Kevin said, but neither of them could stop themselves. Kevin pulled on a yellow rubber tanktop, some spandex compression shorts that reeked of the gym, and some rubber waders. Alex grabbed a leather jockstrap, a leather biker jacket that stank of beer and cigarettes, and some leather gloves. Then, they went to the bathroom, where sure enough, the shower had disappeared entirely, and one last envelope waited for them.

You’ve probably noticed the changes to the bathroom at this point. Here’s your last two resolutions:

— We resolve to no longer shower or bathe in any way. The dirtier we become, the hornier and cruder we resolve to become as well.

— We resolve to no longer waste our piss in the toilet–from now on, the only place we will piss is in each other’s mouths, in our bed, or in our pants. Each of us resolve to only cum with the smell of piss around us, or with the taste of piss in our mouths.

Enjoy you two! We’ll check back in with you in a few months. All the best from your friends at New You Resolutions!

Kevin balled up the letter and chucked it in the corner of the room where the shower had been. “This is fucking insane, I can’t believe–” he started to say, when Kevin shoved his face against the yellow rubber tanktop he was wearing and sniffed it.

“Fuck, it…smells like someone pissed all over this thing, I…I gotta fuckin’ smell it…”

Kevin tried to push Alex off him, but the smell was getting to him too, in the enclosed space, and it wasn’t long before the two of them were fucking again for the second time that day. When they were finished, they just sat in their bedroom in their gear, unable to pry it off themselves, wondering how in the world they were going to get through the next few months.


Kevin rolled over, and groaned. One of them had pissed the bed in the night, from the heady scent of piss in the air, and the wet spot he’d just found when he’d rolled over. Alex was still asleep, so he wrapped one rubber gloved hand around his cock and jacked off quickly, adding a load of cum to the puddle of piss in the middle of the mattress.

It had been four months at this point. They’d tried to keep things normal for as long as they could, but the dirtier they’d gotten, the harder it had become to resist pushing things…further. More and more often, their lack of hygiene was noticed at their workplaces, and as humiliating as it was, neither of them could help the feeling of pride that welled up inside them knowing how filthy they both were becoming, and how much they enjoyed it. Kevin was the first to be let go, towards the end of February. He pissed himself in the middle of a presentation, and that was that. Alex had managed to hang onto his job a little longer, only because he could work from home. But working at home meant he was constantly tempted by Kevin into more and more sex, he fell more and more behind, and it wasn’t long before he was let go as well. The last month had been hopeless, both of them sinking deeper and deeper into filth and depravity, no longer even caring about who they’d been at the beginning of the year. They just…wanted to be dirty, more than anything else.

Alex woke up a few minutes later, with Kevin’s face buried in his crack, eating out his stank ass. Kevin fucked him, and Alex shot his own load into the mattress under him, and then they got out of their filthy bed to start the day–only to spot the envelope on the dresser.

It was time for the two dirty men to find a couple of occupations more suitable to their hygiene standards–what sort of jobs are in store for them?


Here’s the next poll! Kevin and Alex are going to be getting two different jobs–one is going to be the top result from the public poll, and the other will be the top result from the patron only poll. You get two votes! Be sure to use them both. The bonus poll for patrons is over here!

Business as Usual

An open ended, multipart story following the various tales of a business that has been taken over by a new CEO. However, the men working there soon discover that with new leadership, it is going to be anything but business as usual for them.

Last updated: 10/21/2019 – Part 3 is now public!

Click the button below to see the table of contents, and read the story!

Continue reading “Business as Usual”

Sketch: Greg Meets The Orc

It had shown up on Greg’s doorstep one day. A package, no shipping label or address, with just his name written on it. Wondering if it was from one of his neighbors in the apartment building or something, he took it inside his place, opened it up, and just stared at the thing in the box, trying to figure out what, exactly, it was. It was big, for one thing. Big, and…green, mottled, or almost looking a bit like a camo pattern. He picked it up–it was made of rubber, or maybe silicone…and it felt…good in his hands, somehow. Almost warm, if that made sense, or like there was a little whisper of delight, the feeling after a parent pats you on the head and tells you that you did a great job. Then he realized what, exactly, he was holding, and he dropped it with a shudder.

It was a cock. Not a real cock, of course. It was a dildo, a freakishly large dildo, slightly larger than a beer can at its thickest point. Easily a foot long, the shaft almost bulbous, the head thick and flared, with PA in the head, two balls below it–all of it in the same dingy green pattern. All he could think to do was go wash his hands, but it didn’t do anything to get rid of that…sensation, from when he’d touched it. Greg was straight after all. He’d had girlfriends with toys, though nothing like this, and he’d never touched them. This…wasn’t for women anyway. Somehow, he knew this was for…men. For gay men. It was also meant for him, but that couldn’t be right. He would never touch something like this again–in fact, he was going to throw it out, and forget this ever happened.

Except he couldn’t quite bring himself to throw it away. He looked on the internet, saw how pricey these sorts of things were, and thought he might as well resell it…but he found it hard to do even that, for some reason. It just sat in the box on his side table. He would look at it before and after work, and all he could think about was that it seemed…lonely. It was a thing–things didn’t feel loneliness, but he…maybe if he touched it more, it wouldn’t…feel that way.

It was irrational. He felt like he was going a bit insane, but he was certain. The toy was lonely. It wanted his company. It wanted him to…to touch it. Not even put it inside him (not that he would ever do that) just…for him to hold it. One day after work, when he couldn’t stand it anymore, he plucked it out of the box, took it with him to the couch, and sat with it touching him while he watched TV–and he was sure now. The toy…was happy, and he…he was happy too, wasn’t he? It felt good to touch it, good to spend time with it, made him feel horny, being with it…

Greg didn’t know how the idea came to him. It felt like his own, but he wasn’t sure. He went to his computer, sat down, toy between his legs, his own cock pressing against it, and he started watching porn. But the dildo didn’t want his straight porn–no, that was disgusting. It wanted…leather. Big, muscular leather men, tall muscular brutes dominating other men, sweaty smelly alpha men…Greg was lost in the videos, grinding his cock against the dildo between his legs, humping it until he came in a massive climax more powerful than anything he’d ever felt before. He took the dildo with him to bed, no longer feeling the least bit weird about this, licking and sucking at the head, and the dreams…he had such strange dreams.

It got harder and harder to be away from the toy. Or from the Orc, as he’d started calling it, or maybe that was just its actual name. Why wouldn’t it have a name? It had feelings. Desires. Thoughts. He could almost hear it now–its voice. Rough and deep and guttural. But The Orc didn’t need to speak for Greg to know what it wanted…even if what it wanted seemed…extreme.

It wanted Greg to quit his job. Wanted Greg to spend all of his time with him. Wanted him to focus on working out, wanted him to wear leather, wanted him to jack off all over himself all day long. Wanted him to stop showering and stop shaving. He resisted for a while, but more and more, his time away from The Orc was…painful. It was hard to focus at work. He was short tempered and angry. Finally–he’d had enough. He quit without notice, planning on living off his savings, and spending time with what really mattered–with the Orc.

That was a couple of years ago now. Greg hardly ever leaves his apartment for anything anymore–after all, he has everything he needs right here. He wakes up, cradling The Orc close to him, and spends an hour worshipping it, cleaning it with his tongue, before beginning his routine for the day. First, breakfast–high protein–then his workout. He sets The Orc on its seat, flexes for it, showing off his body for The Orc’s pleasure, and then works out–after two years, Greg hardly looks like the slender, lean fellow from before. He’s massive–nearly 280 pounds of almost pure muscle from head to toe. He works out naked usually, or if The Orc prefers, in one of his leather harnesses, all of then custom made for his size. After a workout, if The Orc is pleased, he gets to cum–grinding his cock against The Orc until he cums all over the dildo and licks it clean again, before lunch–and then he usually spends the rest of the day doing whatever the toy wants. Sometimes they watch porn and jack off. Sometimes he puts on leather and toys with himself for the dildo’s pleasure. Sometimes, there are special days too–days like today.

Today, someone is coming over, and that means…The Orc needs to be inside him. It took a lot of training to get to this point, and Greg is proud of how well he did, training his hole up, so he would be worthy of holding The Orc inside of him. He spends a moment lubing up the massive toy, and then squats over it–it takes close to half an hour before his ass closes around the base, feeling The Orc’s balls against his own…and then it happens–Greg opens up his mind just as wide as his ass, and he feels the dildo slide deeper inside him–and then, he isn’t Greg anymore.

Now, he is The Orc. He grunts, and strokes his cock for a moment, happy to have a body for a while, though he knows that it can’t last forever. There’s a knock at the door, and The Orc answers it–it’s a young man, quivering a bit in the doorway–and The Orc leers at him, grabs him by the collar, and drags him inside. Greg watches from inside his body, as The Orc ravages the boy, feeling his own cock sliding in and out of the young, tight hole, but feeling more pleasure at the pleasure of his Master. In the end, it turns out that he is little more than a vessel for The Orc’s desires. It…terrifies him, sometimes. The Orc…wants his body for real, but isn’t sure how to make it happen, but there are…stories. In any case, it doesn’t matter what Greg wants, does it? The Orc cums, filling the boy up with his seed, and holds him for a while, letting the boy worship his musky, stinking, muscular body, and then sends him on his way–the boy leaving a few thousand dollars on the nightstand. After that, The Orc leaves him again, sliding back out of his hole, and Greg is back. He cleans The Orc dutifully, and then it is time for dinner, and time for bed. Tomorrow is a new day, after all, and a vessel’s work is never done.

The House Made Me Gay (Part 9)

Marcus sobbed, in the circle, looking down at his fat body, covered in hair, stinking, unable to believe what had just happened to him. Mr. Woodrow, confident that the changes were finished, and that Marcus most likely posed no threat to him, broke the circle, stepped forward, wiped a bit of cum up on his finger and gave in a taste. Musky, yes, but most certainly entirely human. A pity really–a little bit of demon can go a long way, in his interests. Still, unless he wanted to call the demon back–a very risky endeavor, Marcus was just this now–a fat, hairy, stinking pig of a man. Not a terrible outcome, by any measure.

“Oh god, what the fuck happened to me? How…Can you change me back? Please tell me you can change me back!” Marcus said, sobbing up at Mr. Woodrow.

“You go messing around in one of my workshops, boy, and this is getting off lightly, as far as I’m concerned,” Mr. Woodrow said, with a grin, “Besides, why should I change you back? Maybe I like the way you look now. Maybe it’s an improvement.”

Marcus froze, and looked at him. “Please, I just want to be normal again, that’s all.”

“Normal, eh? I think we can manage that at least,” Mr. Woodrow said, and before Marcus could ask what he meant by that exactly, a little beam of light shot out of his finger, pierced Marcus’ head, and he went a bit limp, eyes glazed over, in a hypnotic stupor.

“Come on then, let’s get you home.”

Marcus followed Mr. Woodrow out of the workshop, unlooking and unaware of everything going on around him, as they made their way into the house, upstairs to his room, where he was still in the process of unpacking, and Mr. Woodrow shut the door behind them. “Now, you’re going to forget all about the last two hours, Marcus,” he said, plucking the key from his head, “You no longer see the shed, and from now on, everything is going to seem normal–but here’s what normal is, from now on…”

And so, Mr. Woodrow filled Marcus in on his new normal. He’d been living with Mr. Woodrow for most of the summer now, in his memory, and he loved it here, naturally. He was no longer going to college–he was too stupid for school, and he’d dropped out, opting to get a job as a trucker and delivery driver instead–something that allowed him to pursue his more…piggy interests–and what piggy interests he had.

With a wave of his hand, most of Marcus’s things disappeared from his room, and were replaced by, well, a mess. The floor was littered with filthy clothing, most of it Marcus’s, but much of the gear was from other trucker buddies–as well as Taylor and Quinn. There was also an older computer in the room, and an old TV, a stack of old VHS tapes next to it. After all, so much porn these days seems sanitized to Marcus…but he’s an old hand at this sort of thing now.

The hair on his body is turning grey now, wrinkles lining his face. Before long, Marcus is no longer college aged at all, but in his mid-fifties, with decades of knowledge and experience packed in his piggy mind, crowding out all of his other concerns. Satisfied that Marcus would me more than satisfied with his new normal, Mr. Woodrow snapped his finger, the daze lifting from Marcus’s eyes with a little spark, and then, without warning, Mr. Woodrow shoved him over the side of the filthy bed and gave him a rough fuck.

Marcus didn’t mind–after all, Mr. Woodrow gave him a discount on the rent, on the condition he could use his piggy hole anytime he wanted. Marcus usually…topped, in his mind, but for the right fellow, he was more than happy to roll over. Mr. Woodrow filled him up, told his piggy to be good, and Marcus leered at him over his shoulder. After Mr. Woodrow left, Marcus was feeling frisky–it wasn’t long before he sniffed his way downstairs, to where Taylor was working out. When he saw the fat, hairy, stinking fellow come down the stairs, Taylor knew what to expect of course–Quinn had an arrangement with their other housemate, that he could use his boy’s hole whenever he wasn’t home, and Taylor wasn’t going to object one bit…he liked how rough Marcus was.

He pinned Taylor on the floor, drove his massive cock into him with a few thrusts, and rutted with him for half an hour, until he pumped one of his massive loads up Taylor’s well used hole, then slid down and ate the young man out as well, flipping him over and sucking him off. Just another happy member of the house–and another was due to arrive the next day, as well.

That fellow was Ethan. Like Marcus, he had a hard time believing that he had someone agreed to lease a place with these three disgusting, horny, perverse fellows, but Mr. Woodrow seemed so kind, that maybe…maybe he’d been mistaken, and he found his way to his room, and started unpacking. But what was waiting for him in his room, when he got there?


Alright, I think this will be the last fellow to join the house. After this, I’ll move onto a Halloween something for October! I have a few ideas, so we’ll see what happens. As always, my patrons have a bonus poll over here!

The Journal of Peter Bishop

This story was commissioned by Tauro2, who I also want to credit as a co-writer on the piece. After reading my commission, he added a few entries of his own, especially to the ending. Hope you all enjoy it! You can find more of his writing over here.


Report 4610-12 of the Special Investigations Bureau

Overview

What follows are excerpts from a journal found, found at a trail head in the Rocky Mountains in April 2018. The journal belonged to one Peter Bishop, who had gone missing on the trail in July of 2017. The journal has been determined to be authentic by one Tasha Holmes, who was Peter’s girlfriend at the time of his disappearance. He kept the journal as a record of their backpacking trip through the wilderness, and his encounter with two other men, still unidentified, known only in the journal as Saul and Jim. What follows are excerpts from that journal relevant to Peter’s encounter with Saul and Jim, their activities together, and material relevant to his disappearance. The journal itself is considered a class two contaminant–access to the journal itself is restricted to level three classification with full PPE protocol 7 required for access.

***

July 16th, 2017 

[…] As I’ve written earlier, you get a strange sense of loneliness out here on the trails. I think I have seen more animals out here any people, and given how Tasha can get when she’s bored, I sometimes wonder if they might be better company! We’re a few days out from the next trailhead, where we can go down to town and resupply, maybe spend a night in a bed even! 

It was a surprise then, and a welcome one, that when he rounded a corner of the trail we found a nice campsite, and it was already occupied! I couple of guys were there, named Jim and Saul, already settled in and cooking themselves dinner–a rather tasty looking roast hare that Jim had, apparently, snared himself earlier in the day. They were generous with the meat, and neither of us had had fresh anything in days–since our fishing skills leave much to be desired, as I have noted.

It was nice having some conversation for a change, and both Jim and Saul have a great sense of humor and quick wits. Tasha, though, was quiet all evening, and it was later that I found out why–she was understandably nervous about the two of us camping with two strange men out in the middle of nowhere–what if they killed me raped her, she wondered.

Sigh–she can be so extreme sometimes. I don’t think we have anything to worry about. […]

***

July 17th. 

We woke up this morning, to discover that Jim and Saul were braking camp themselves, and were heading in the same direction as us–towards the next trailhead. I suggested that the three of us might as well hike together for the company at least, and both Jim and Saul were thrilled at the prospect of me coming along with them.

Tasha was pissed at me though. She wanted us to camp here one more night, and then leave, so we could be away from them. I pressed her for more details, about why she was so nervous about these two, but she wouldn’t give me much of anything. They smelled, she said (we all smell–none of us have been near an actual shower in weeks) she didn’t like how friendly they were with me, while neither one of them had said ten words to her this entire time. A few times, she caught Jim looking at her with a real…nasty sort of disdain or disgust. Maybe he was, and maybe he wasn’t. It made me think about how jealous she could get, if we were at the club and another girl was looking at me. 

Knowing it would probably just piss her off more, but kind of enjoying it, I told her that they were probably gay. Two guys with few boundaries sleeping in one tent in the backwoods? She got all huffy then, but she knew I was probably right–it explained why neither of them had shown her any interest at all, but that only made her angrier I think. She didn’t really like gay guys much–though lesbians are fine if they’re flirting with her, naturally.

I’ll have to make sure she doesn’t read this part–but I’m starting to have my doubts. A month in the outdoors, relying on someone…you get to know them more than you want to, in some ways.

[…]

After lunch, we get moving again. Jim, who is pretty obviously the strongest of all of us, moves to the head of the pack. Tasha is behind him, and ahead of me, still mad about that dig I gave her over lunch, and that left me and Saul in the back, a good ten yards back from them both. Saul is…well, built like a brick shit house, and a few inches shorter than Jim. He’s plenty strong, but more in the ‘lifting heavy shit kind of way’ and not in the ‘cover ten miles a day for two weeks kind of way’. I like his pace a bit better honestly, even if he sweats like a pig, and kind of smells like one too, let’s be honest. We chat, and I ask them where they’ll be finishing their hike, and they tell me they’re heading to a particular cave deeper in the mountains. It’s a few days out from the trailhead we’re heading to, so they’ll be going off from there. 

I ask them about it, and Saul talks wistfully about it. Right by a massive mountain lake, great views, lots of stuff to forage, good hunting for snares. He and Jim usually stay there for a week, living off the land, before coming back. He did such a good job selling me on it, I kind of want to see it myself, honestly.

[…]

I mention it to Tasha in our tent, the cave, and she…gets so angry at me for even mentioning it. She tells me that Jim was so cold to her earlier, and…she swears he bared her teeth at her and growled when she tried to make conversation. Jim was so nice over dinner though–I don’t get it. They’re two perfectly nice guys–why does she have to try and hate everything that seems threatening to her?

***

July 19th

The weirdest thing just happened. The call of nature woke me up and I went out to piss on a tree. I was just about to start when Jim scares the shit out of me. How can he be so quiet moving through the forest? Not just that, he was shirtless. He has to be the hairiest guy that I’ve met in my whole life. He said that he needed to piss too and asked to join me. I usually don’t like peeing next to other guys, even in a restroom with dividers, but when he sidled up next to me–way too close for comfort…it actually was kind of nice, somehow. So we’re standing there, pissing away at the same tree, and Jim asks me about Sasha–it’s pretty clear there’s no love lost between the two of them. I guess I should have defended her more, but yeah, she’s really been a wet blanket so far on this hike. I finished up, wished him a good night, and he turned to say goodbye. It wasn’t until I got back to the tent that I realized that he had peed on me a little at some point. I could…smell it, and it made me a bit horny, somehow. I thought about waking Sasha up for a little fun, but I just ended up jacking off quietly instead. It seemed…better.

***

July 20th

[…]

I didn’t think she’d actually just…leave like that. Fuck–well, it’s too late to chase her down now, and honestly…I’d rather hike with Jim and Saul, if I’m being honest.

We hit the trailhead around noon, just in time for lunch. Tasha and I hadn’t mentioned the cave since I first brought it up–but now the moment of truth is here, and I start asking the guys about it again, just to get some more details. It’s about 20 miles, but the trail is rough and hard going–it takes about three days in, and two out–once you know the land–and you’re going downhill. Tasha immediately notes we don’t have the supplies–and she’s right. But after hearing them talk about it for days now, I’m, well, I really want to see the thing!

Tasha refuses to even play the game, as I try and figure out how to make it work. She wants us away from them as fast as possible, and she blows up at me, and at them, yelling that they’re turning me against her, that she hates them, that if I don’t leave with her this second, we’re through. She gets up, grabs her pack, and heads for town a few miles out. I let her–and figure she’ll come back in a second when she realizes she doesn’t have my half of the gear anymore–but while we wait a couple of hours after lunch, just relaxing and chatting…she really did just fuck off and leave me here.

I tell the guys I need to find her…but they just laugh, and tell me to leave her. She obviously doesn’t have my sense of adventure–and they’re right. Saul tells me that they have enough food for the three of us, that Jim is the best hunter, and Saul is the best forager, and we’ll have plenty to eat.

So fuck it. I went with them. Why not? I’m tired of Tasha anyway–I don’t care if she waits or not. I’ll be down in a couple of weeks probably, and we’ll sort things out then. For now–I want to see this cave, and enjoy the forest. That’s what I came here to do anyway–not to play stupid games with her.

[…]

Fuck, I just realized she has the tent with her. I told the guys, and they laughed, and told me I could sleep with them–said they’ll keep me safe from the bears and wolves.

[…]

***

July 21st

Well that was an interesting night. I had been carrying the food for most of the trip, while Tasha had the tent–when she marched off yesterday, we didn’t exactly take the time to redivide the packs. I told Jim and Saul that I’d just sleep under the stars, but they insisted that there was enough room in the tent with them…and they were mostly right. I figured I’d end up on the outside, but they put my stuff in the middle between them, and after the day’s hike along the narrow, overgrown trail, I was too tired to argue. Then, both the guys strip down to just their underwear–Jim in a…really nasty looking jockstrap, let’s be honest, and Saul just has on some equally nasty briefs, and they climb in and just sandwich me in there.

Jim is behind me, and spooning me, and my face is planted right next to Saul’s sweaty, stinking pit. I thought he smelled bad on the trail, but being that close to him–to them both, honestly–was something else entirely. They both fall asleep in moments, and I’m left trying to get comfortable–but I do drift off eventually…and that’s when it happens.

It must have been some dream. I can’t remember a single bit of it. All I know is that I’m woken up by Jim shaking me, and I’m shuddering, and realize a moment too late that I just had a wet dream between them. Saul is awake too, and the two of them just start laughing, and I feel humiliated, honestly, but then they’re hugging me tight, and…and I actually do feel better, you know?

I can’t remember the last time I’ve had two guys touch me as often as they do. They want to be around me. They want me here–I really believe that. And…more and more…I want to be here too.

[…]

Caught a whiff of Saul’s BO on the trail, and immediately popped a huge boner. Fuck–what the fuck is wrong with me?

[…]

As the day wore on, Saul and Jim kept taking off clothes, complaining about how hot it was. It was hot, but not…that hot, with this many trees and the brush we’re pushing through. But we hit a meadow just now, and I looked and saw Jim take off his pants too, and shove them in his pack. His ass…fuck, why the fuck am I looking at his ass? Jim wants to camp here for the night, and he runs off into the woods, mostly naked, to ‘set some snares’ while Saul lumbers off to go forage, leaving me alone to get camp set up.

These guys are so fucking weird, but why…fuck, I kind of miss them, and they haven’t been gone for half an hour. I heard a wolf howl in the twilight, and got a bit nervous. I hope they get back soon.

[…]

***

July 22nd

Another wet dream last night. Fuck, what the fuck is wrong with me? They’re the most intense orgasms I’ve ever had, and neither Saul nor Jim seem to care one bit. Once I wake up, they both just hold me close and…and they smell so good. Jim smells different than Saul, I’ve learned. There’s…this smell, like rust almost. It’s…thrilling in its own way too. I get hard again, while they’re cuddling me, and they suggest we all jerk off to relieve some pressure. I haven’t jacked off with guys since college in the frat, but I don’t object. I end up huffing Saul’s pit stink and stoking harder and harder while they both urge me on, and I cum again, another massive load–and then Jim is licking it off my belly, and his tongue feels too long in the dark, Saul snorting and huffing as he jacks his own cock, and the smells intensify suddenly, like something…changed, and I fall back asleep again not long after that, exhausted.

[…]

The guys have been teasing me relentlessly, and so I’m finally hiking naked with them, in just my boots. I thought it would be weird, but it’s actually…kind of nice. I can see a cliff face rising in the distance. The guys say we’ll reach the cave tomorrow morning or afternoon, depending on our pace. They’re…excited. I can smell it on them, and they’re quiet now. Quieter, I guess. I don’t know how I can tell really, it’s strange. I can smell…a lot of things better out here, somehow. Like the air is just clearer. I haven’t seen a jet trail all day, I just realized. The sky is so blue.

[…]

I feel like something must be happening to me, but I don’t even really know how to explain it. It started earlier today, as he hiked, we passed…something. A threshold. But the air got so much…brighter. Not light bright, but crisp somehow. I don’t know how to even write this. Saul and Jim seemed to sense it too, and…and they smelled different too, more pungent sure, but also…I don’t know, it’s so hard to describe what I’m feeling, and that’s not even the craziest thing honestly. I was going off to take a leak, and then Jim comes right beside me and grins. It was kind of like that night a few days ago. I don’t know how to make this sound…not crazy, or freaky, or whatever, but it wasn’t. It was…natural, somehow. He started pissing before me, and the smell from it hits me and then everything got foggy, like I can’t think, just observe. He pushed me down to my knees and started pissing all over me. And that smell covered me and I got rock hard. He circled around me and covered me and I just sat there and took it and loved it. I started jerking off and he kept going. He finished and shook the last few drops on me and I blew my load right there and I just fell over, not able to think, just experiencing it. Saul came over and they both lied down beside me, saying things that I didn’t fully understand. Something about being “marked”? I think. I just felt such affection for them. I know it’s gross and disgusting and wrong, but I loved every second of it. I think I love them. What’s wrong with me? Why is all of this happening?

***

July 23rd

We got to the lake–it’s beautiful. Fuck, they weren’t kidding, everything out here is damn pristine. I thought about Tasha this morning, and realized it was the first time I’d thought about her since two days ago, with the whole tent thing. I haven’t missed her, I don’t want to share this with her. But I’m so…fucking glad I met Jim and Saul. I feel…fuck, love feels like a stupid word for a couple of guys like them, but what else do I say? There’s something between them–something deep. I feel like they’re doing something to me. Drawing me in with them into the same bond. I feel closer to them than I have to anyone in my whole life, and…and now that I’m here, I don’t know if I want to leave, you know? I just…forgot to put on clothes this morning, just my boots, all three of us just walking around naked now, like a pack of idiots, or animals, or whatever. 

[…]

They have something planned for us at the cave this evening, I think. They keep whispering between each other, and looking back at me and smiling. It’s…kind of a hungry smile. But I trust them. Maybe I shouldn’t, but I don’t think I could help it now.

***

The following entries are undated. All of them were entered after the 23rd, The first several are likely from the following few weeks. Much of the handwriting is large, like Peter was writing with a hand not used to holding a pen.

[…]

Fuck it wasn’t a dream it wasn’t a fucking dream, I don’t fucking, how could any of that have fucking happened I don’t

[…]

I gotta write it down, I gotta write it. Just get it out, what I remember.

So we got to the cave. The place is huge, just…like a big worn out hole in the wall of the cliff, that also goes deep. We go down, and as we go, there’s these torches, and Jim and Saul know where everything is, like they’ve been here more than once. The cave is sloping down, and we come to a sizable underground lake where rainwater must have pooled for ages. But on the shore, all around us, are all of these…artifacts. 

I don’t really know what happened next exactly. There was something in my lunch–I thought it was just disagreeing with me, but I think…it was a drug. Something they gave me. I was floating, and everything swimming a bit. Saul had been supporting me down into the cave, and now he led me over to this stone slab and laid me down on it, and fuck, I thought they were going to kill me. I thought I was seeing shit then, when…Jim just fucking changed.

Fucking wolfman. He’s a fucking wolfman! I could hear his bones cracking, and all this grey fur sprouted all over him, a thick fluffy tail, and his fucking teeth, his eyes. I realized why he smelled like rust, why he was such a good snarer–and why he’d never let me see the rabbits before he cleaned them–because there would have been fucking fang marks on that shit. He was fucking hunting–as a wolf!

He’s looming over me, and Saul is too, except Saul is different also–though a bit…more human, I guess. His face–he looks like a boar. Short pig snout, these two long tusks thrusting out from his lower jaw, floppy ears. He has a short tuft of a tail behind him, his back covered with boar bristle. He’s just…huge, and thick–both of them are over six feet tall I think, and then they’re chanting, and…and Jim has this bear claw in his hand, a real fucking bear claw, and he drives it down into my chest.

It doesn’t hurt. I don’t even see blood–and the claw…it’s gone, like it just slid into my body and disappeared. I think I must be tripping, having some dream, but the more this is happening, the more I’m remembering my dreams from the last few nights, how…how I’d seen this happening. I knew what was coming next, could feel the power thrumming through me on the stone slab, Jim and Saul still chanting, the fires are so damn bright, and I start to change too.

I can feel it happening, but there’s no pain. If anything, it feels good, like the rush after you take a drug or something, this sudden euphoria as I watch my bones start to lengthen and shift, every part of me getting thicker, as a thick belt of black hair starts filling in across my body. My gut grows out into a solid mass, my shoulders so damn broad, and I open my jaw, almost like I’m yawning, but I can feel my face extending into a snout, tipped with a black nose, jaws full of fangs, my hands…are kind of human, but the nails are claws now. And I’m lying there, my cock harder than it has ever been, and still mostly human–though emerging from a sheath–and before I can do anything or even catch my breath, Saul is on it, sucking and licking at it, and I…roar? Moan? Something. I don’t know what these sounds are, but fuck it feels good.

Jim kisses me, and I can taste the blood now, and it’s making me hornier still. I…lose myself. Whatever they gave me, it’s only getting more intense, and I…I don’t remember much of what happened that night. I fucked them both, hard and rough, especially Jim. We…wrestled, and fought. Not serious, but I have a few bite marks, and I know I gave him a couple of scratches, before I topped him and…and I won, I guess.

Won is the wrong word. There’s nothing to win, but I showed…superiority. That’s the only way to explain it. I lumbered off into the woods in the early morning, terrified, unable to believe what I had become, what I was now, and…and I was starving. I stripped some berries off a bush and devoured them, I found a stream and…fuck, I just knew how to catch trout now, as they leapt out of the water and…I was so hungry. I caught more, I brought them back, and Saul and Jim had gotten some food for us as well, and we ate and…they told me everything.

[…] 

I belong here, with them. I see that now. They knew that as soon as they’d smelled me, back with Tasha. It took me so long to realize it. I’m an idiot. Such a fucking idiot. 

[…]

The second night, I decided to be better to them. Gentler, maybe. I…I lost control, I didn’t know what I was capable of, and…and honestly, I still don’t, but it was a test too–to see who was strongest. I’m…in charge, I guess. Jim was before, and he thought I would be under him, but he doesn’t resent me for it. It’s not…anything strict. It’s…complicated, and yet so obvious and simple at the same time. I wanted this night to be about them, and about…me gaining a bit of control back. 

Saul stood in front of me. His cock was short but thick and oozed precum. Fuck, his balls; they’re like two hairy oranges dangling between his legs. I used my coarse tongue on his nut sack and then started lapping the cockhead. Jim started to give me a rim job. Fuck, he knew exactly where to put that tongue of his. Saul snorted the whole time and tweaked his nipples. I gave the occasional satisfied growl. Between my ass getting eaten out, the taste of Saul’s pre, and his musky bush, I was leaking pretty heavily. Finally, his thrusts increased and he shot his load into my mouth. Where does it all come from? I mean, yeah, his nuts are huge, but even I couldn’t possibly swallow it all. I don’t think that I got half of it. I moved to start sucking Jim off, and I wanted Saul to rim me too, but he warned against it with his tusks. I later learned that he had once tried a rim job on Jim; Jim couldn’t sit down for a whole week. Instead, Saul licked my cock from below while I deep-throated Jim. His cock was longer than Saul’s and I had to work my tongue around it to get the whole shaft. I came at the same time that Jim did, covering Saul’s face. Jim happily went down and licked his face clean. And then we just laid back under the stars, snuggling each other. I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy.

[…]

They helped me change back to human. I look different. I’m me, but I’m not really who I was. I smell different. I’m hairier, bigger, maybe even older, but that’s harder to tell. Clothes feel awful–we all hate wearing them. Even being human is–it feels wrong now. It’s not who I am, it’s just a mask, but we don’t want to wear the masks. Jim and Saul left for the winter to avoid the cold, and it took them all Spring and Summer to get back here. This place isn’t…a place. It’s a feeling, and a smell. I don’t know if I really understand it, but we’re all afraid to leave again. If we don’t find our way back, we’ll be stuck, and we…I think about the human world, and I hate it. All of it. I always did, that’s why I loved hiking. But with the three of us, late in the season…we want to try. I don’t know if we’ll make it, but we have to at least try.

***

The entries become fewer in number. Most detail their life through the fall and into the early winter.

We bagged a fucking elk! I can’t believe it. We’ve got this shit down. Saul spotted it yesterday and we made a plan. Saul and I chased it down a ravine to Jim’s hiding spot. He took it down like a fucking boss! I did feel a little sorry for it, but Papa Bear’s gotta eat. Saul carried it back to the den (and I got to watch his muscles work the whole time). This thing’s gonna keep us fed for a good week at least. Afterwards, we decided to have some fun, I was so ready. I stuck my nose right into Saul’s rank pit and came right there on the spot. I even let Jim fuck me, he deserved it. He was more than willing to eat me out right afterwards too. Fuck, that tongue of his. Saul blew his load down my throat and we all snuggled for a little while after in my den. Do we got this winter thing? Do we all shit in the woods?

[…]

Why did I read that last entry? So hungry. Did we catch that elk a month ago? I think? Things haven’t been good. The ground’s too frozen for Saul to dig out any tubers. I can still catch a few fish, but a lot of the streams have frozen over, and it gets old, nothing but fish. Even Jim can’t catch that much, just one or two rabbits every couple of days. It’s not enough. And those fucking squirrels! They know how to stay just out of reach. Even Jim can’t catch them. I got within a couple of inches of one and I swear the little fucker flipped me off,. I’m pretty sure he flipped me off. I’m gonna bite that squirrel’s fucking face off.

[…]

We finally bit the bullet. We left the cave and the lake, and came back, down the mountains, and into town. Jim managed to find a cruddy apartment in town where the landlord wouldn’t ask too many questions. It’s not much, but we’re together. And we don’t mind the cold, so we just keep the heat on enough to keep the pipes from freezing. It’s been rough though, getting used to…people again. Jim and I managed to get jobs at the general store, even in the slow winter months, and the work is a distraction at least. It’s been harder on Saul. It’s difficult for him to go out in public. He can shower, but he’ll start stinking again in about an hour. Of course, I don’t mind, but he gets nasty looks if he gets too close to people. He’s been shovelling sidewalks for cash, and other odd jobs like that, but I think he misses home more than both of us. Jim and I go to the bars, just the two of us; I feel guilty about it, but Saul insists. He doesn’t want us to stay in just because of him–though we stay in more often than not. Getting drunk…well, we’re so big it takes a whole fucking lot, and we also tend to, well, lose control. It’s best if we…stay inside, together.

[…]

I just feel like such a fucking failure. They don’t want me to take it too hard, winter is…rough, but I feel like I failed them. I’m…I’m the leader, somehow, and they trust me, and I did my best, and we all agreed to come back, to change back, but now here we are, back with the people, and we all hate it so much. I can already smell the lake slipping away, moving away, god, if we don’t find it again come Spring, fuck. We aren’t meant for this world. The only time we can transform is when we’re in bed together. Even then, we can’t do everything we want. We want to make all of the noises, all of the growls and roars and howls and oinks and squeals and grunts and fucks that we fucking want to. I start to think that we should have just stayed out there, even if we starved to death. I can’t do that to Saul and Jim though. I need to figure something out. If we can get more people, we can get more skills, more hunters, more foragers, more contributors. I don’t think I can do this again.

[…]

I almost forgot about this journal. It’s been spring about a month now, and compared to being trapped in town, it’s like heaven. We ripped each other’s clothes off the moment we got far enough into the woods. And then we went at each other. I may have been a little too rough with them. I’m hoping Saul doesn’t get scars from those claw marks. But what do you expect, we’d been cooped up for what seemed like forever. Now we just have to find that damn cave again, just have to get home again. I…can almost smell it, maybe. I sniff along, but it leads me…to people, other hikers. Jim says it was the same with him–that I smelled like home somehow. Maybe…I think I have an idea, on how to get home. We met an older fellow, loves hiking and the woods, he smells so…strongly of it, and I can smell it through him, somehow. He was easy really, and he wants to see the cave himself…and I know we can get there, all of us together. With him. He’s the key, just like I was the key.

***

The final entry is the only newer entry that is dated.

June 7th, 2018

We can’t go back. We don’t want to go back anymore, but we can’t avoid it for now. But you–if you find this, you know what happened. Maybe you even feel the pull of it. You could find us too, if you want. If this is something you want. We…don’t want to go back to the world you know, and if you’re out here, you probably don’t either. You could come here though, join us. Trust your nose. Follow the trail–just do what comes naturally. We’re waiting for you, all of us. Come play, come live.

***

Further Notes

The journal was found on June 10th by two hikers who returned it to authorities when they left the trail. Both of the hikers were women. During their interrogation, both of them described a sensation of repulsion at the journal and it’s contents, mostly due to the way it smelled. Both of them, however, had heard of Peter Bishop’s disappearance, and brought the journal to town for the sake of evidence. When asked to describe this smell, one of them said, “It smells like a bear pissed all over it or something, it’s disgusting.” Most women describe a similar reaction. Men, however, find the scent mild, and somewhat intoxicating. A smaller number of men have a more troubling reaction, especially when exposed to object 4610-12-B.

4610-12B is a scrap of cloth that was stuffed in the back of the journal, between the last page and the back cover. It has been determined to be from a set of soiled underwear. Samples taken indicate it is predominantly soiled with sweat, urine, and semen. The scrap of cloth is classified as a class one contaminant. Access to it for further study is limited to level 5 access, and then, only permitted for women, who seem to remain immune to the contamination, though access is still highly discouraged. 4610-12B has been associated with five other missing persons cases, including two researchers. PPE and psychological supervision required for access.

Attempts to locate the Peter, Jim, Saul, and cave itself in the mountains have been unsuccessful. Various reasons have been posited, and you can see supplemental findings from these expeditions in files 4610-13 through 16. For details surrounding the disappearances of those exposed to the journal or the cloth, see files 4610-6 through 10. A full transcript of the journal’s entries can be found in file 4610-3.