Arctos: Filters – Episode 4 (Part 6)

Jay pulled his cock free then, and walked around to Jay’s rear, giving the air a few sniffs, “Fuck yeah, you may be a hog, but you stink like a sow in heat. You like that, I bet–any boar who gets a sniff of you is going to want to fuck you, and I bet you’ll let ‘em, you fuckin’ slut.”

Jay slid his cock into Bruce’s hole, and it felt different than it had this morning. It had felt good before, sure, but not like this. Now, it felt like some puzzle piece had slid into him, fitting in perfectly, and that hole he felt disappeared for a moment, and everything was right. He was a hog, a stupid hog, and he was getting fucked. He was getting fucked like he ought to be, and that was all that mattered in the world. Jay started off slow, enjoying the sensation of his new cock in the hog’s ass, but soon ramped up his thrusts, slamming in deep, giving the hog a proper rutting, not noticing that as he did, the phone in his pocket was starting to jiggle loose. After a few minutes, it was thrown out onto the ground beside him, and when he went to change positions, Jay heard a loud crunch underneath his trotter, as Bruce’s phone was crushed underneath his weight.

He only had a moment to realize what had happened, before the energy from the app’s data stored in the phone rushed out, surrounding them both with it’s wild energy, Jay hauling his cock free of Jay’s ass and stumbling to the ground, trying to sort out what was happening to him. A few feet away, Bruce, too was caught up in the swirl of dark energy, feeling it pick him apart, remaking him again and again, trying to sort out filter from reality and back again, until at last, it dissipated, leaving both of them shaking on the floor of the barn, and Jay leaned over and gagged, trying to settle his stomach without losing his entire breakfast from earlier on the ground.

“Fuck, oh fuck!” Bruce said, turing around and seeing the phone crushed to pieces in the dirt, “You fucking–what the fuck did you do?” Bruce’s voice was…distorted, and didn’t sound particularly human. Deep and gutteral, the vowels twisted in a mouth that wasn’t designed for them, but understandable, mostly. Jay just stared at him, and then down at the phone, and then…smelled the air, smelled something…really fucking good on the air. Something he wanted.

He looked down, and saw that he had changed back, somewhat. He was closer in size to the man he’d been before, but still had the boar’s face, the bristle beard and back hair, his cock closer in size to his human one, but still pig in shape. He got up, trying to focus, but everything seemed so…hazy, like his brain was running a couple speed slower than it usually did. He just felt…stupid, really, and rather than the haze clearing, it only seemed to be coalescing around his mind, gaining further hold, making thinking harder and harder. He…needed to fuck, mostly. He was still so horny, and something smelled so good…

He stomped over to Bruce, grabbed hold of his hips and went to thrust, but the pig scrambled away as best his bulk would allow him. Still, Jay was stronger than him, and he caught him, and fucked him, Bruce yelling at him, begging him to stop, but Jay didn’t want to stop. Jay was horny, and Jay wanted to fuck, so that was what Jay wanted to do–and he could see the hog was enjoying it too, even though he didn’t want to admit it. That was ok–Jay…knew what they both needed well enough, and he would take care of them. He would make sure they both got what they needed. When he finished fucking, his mind cleared somewhat, but the haze was still thick. He tried to listen to what the pig was saying, about how they needed to change back, how they had to contact some company and fix this, how they needed help…but Jay didn’t really care. Everything was fine…but there was work he had to do on the farm. He told the pig this, and the pig got angry at him, screaming at him, and Jay didn’t like hearing that, so he dragged the pig over to a pen and locked him in, Bruce screaming and hollering at him to come back and let him out, but Jay didn’t see any reason why he would want to do that, and Jay did know best.

Jay felt better, doing his work, working up a good sweat, and when evening came, he went back to the barn, fed the pig, and fucked him again. The next morning, he did the same thing, and life fell into a certain rhythm. Jay…found himself loving the pig, somehow. Loving the way he smelled at least. Loving how it felt to fuck him. Loving how fat he was getting off his slop, but the pig never seemed to love him back. The pig was angry at first, and then desperate, and eventually, gave up. Maybe he had realized that he loved Jay too, as much as Jay loved him. Love didn’t need to be complicated after all. Love could, on occasion, be the simplest thing in the world.

Home for the Holidays – Episode 2 (Part 4)

WARNING: SCAT

Mark could feel himself…growing. He tugged at the belt he was wearing, getting it off from around his thin waist, as his gut began to expand, filling with fat just as his brother had a moment before. It was…the same sensation he’d felt with his father and uncle, that the curse was rebounding on him somehow, that he was tied to it, sympathetically. It didn’t hurt exactly, but it also wasn’t exactly comfortable–and when Buzz walked up and started rubbing his belly, delighting in Mark’s changes, it only made him feel even sicker somehow, seeing the old slob enjoying his change this much.

“Why *grunt* is this happening to me,” Mark managed to get out, hearing himself grunt just like his brother had, and with one hand, he tentatively felt his face, and sure enough, a short snout had sprouted there–not as pronounced as Luke’s, but enough to be unmistakable for what it was.

“Because you’re becoming a warlock, Mark–you’re embracing the darkness inside of you. It’s going to grow and grow, and pretty soon, you won’t be able to remember a time when your head wasn’t full of this perverse darkness, same as me, and same as that friend of ours, Magnus.”

“Magnus…he’s nothing like you.”

“Oh, the only difference between Magnus and I is that he cares more about…keeping up appearances. Just wait until you lay eyes on him, once you’re ready. You’re going to see him for who he really is, and then you’ll understand what I mean.”

Mark wanted to deny it, wanted to push that darkness away, but…he could feel it, inside him. It was a power he hadn’t felt before, but also a need, a hunger. He sniffed the air, and he…smelled something. Something he wanted. He rolled over on the bed and followed his snout over to where his brother was sitting in his filthy coveralls, jacking his pig cock, smelling the shit, and piss, and cum, and musk welling up around him, and…and it was turning him on. He wanted to deny it, but he couldn’t, and he tried to pull himself away, but Buzz was still inside his mind, still pulling his strings, dulling his intuitions, feeding that…hunger.

“You see, being a warlock isn’t about just about forcing this darkness onto others, we revel in it as well. We share it. Everything you have forced onto these men, it’s inside you as well, it always was, just waiting to grow. Don’t fight it–you won’t win, and giving in is going to feel so good. Just…embrace it…Accept what you need…”

Mark didn’t…remember what happened next, exactly, how he dug into the back of Luke’s coveralls, devouring the mess there, unable to help himself, how it had driven him into a state of bliss, and delight, and he’d pinned him down on the bed and fucked him, both of them rutting like the pigs they were, while Buzz urged them on, eventually taking the other end of Luke, pumping a load of his own cum down Luke’s pig throat, and after Mark came in his ass, he could feel some of the darkness receding, and he was able to break away, run to the bathroom, and vomit up what he could into the toilet, horrified at what he’d done, horrified, and yet…so satisfied at the same time. So eager to try it again, so eager and hungry for more.

Buzz came up behind him, aimed his cock, and started pissing all over Mark’s head, and the hunger returned. He found himself laying back against the toilet, maw open, drinking down as much of Buzz’s piss as he could, still stroking his piggy cock, unable to help himself, while Buzz just laughed. “There’s no going back for you now, you realize that, right? Every step you take is just going to make this even worse–and I can feel how much you want it. Fuck, I fought too, when Magnus helped me down the path, but this was the best thing I could have ever become–you’ll see too, in the end, that this is what you were made for. This is what you have always needed to be.”

He finished pissing, and then left Mark there in the bathroom, covered in piss, jacking off wildly, desperate to control himself…but unable to find the will to resist. He came again, and when he did, the darkness ebbed away a bit further, and he was left on the floor of the bathroom, horrified at himself, but also…part of him was embracing it. Buzz was right, there was something inside him, something real, a twisted knot he’d always felt as long as he could recall, and now…now he didn’t think he’d be able to put it back, to shrink it, or anything…

He wanted to cry, but just felt numb. Eventually, he stood up, and stumbled out of the doorway and into the rest of the filthy house. Buzz was waiting for him, dressed, and told him it was time for them to pay someone else a visit, but who?

What should happen next?

Buzz wants to visit John, the oldest brother, with his new habits.
Buzz wants to visit Isaac, his cousin suffering under the imago curse.
Buzz wants to visit Magnus, to take Mark down the next step in his path together.
A mysterious stranger arrives, and helps Mark escape from Buzz, telling him he wants to help.

The public poll is here!

The patron only poll is here!

Voting ends in a few days!

Home For the Holidays – Christmas (Part 3)

Ever since Thanksgiving, Luke hadn’t been able to sort out what was wrong with him, but he knew that something had to be wrong with him. He’d…fallen asleep, or whatever, with Mark in that room, and when he’d woken up with a load of shit in the back of his jeans and the front wet with piss, instead of feeling horror at what had happened, he…he’d climbed into his truck and drove off, heading somewhere–heading to Buzz’s place. Luke couldn’t recall what Buzz looked like, or where he’d met him, or why he thought this stranger was his best friend…but he had to see him. See, Luke was sick of working in real estate–what he really wanted to do, more than anything else, was work as a trash collector.

The dissonance in his mind gave him a headache, as he tried to reconcile what his commandments were telling him with what he knew he was supposed to be feeling, but everything in his mind was just being…rewritten faster than he could even begin to understand it. By the time his shit cooled in the back of his jeans, he could come up with a hundred reasons why he hated real estate, and why he’d always wanted to be a trash collector. By the time he pulled up in front of the rundown house with the brown, overgrown yard half an hour later, the new rules were just…him.

As soon as he saw Buzz, memories created themselves in his head, of past times they’d hung out, of all the good times he’d had with Buzz, how safe he felt here, and he asked him–asked Buzz to help him out, that he finally wanted to make the jump–he wanted to be a trashman, he’d do…anything to get there, and he knew Buzz could help him…and the cruelty in his friend’s face was so obvious, it gave Luke pause for a moment, until his head could catch up and bring that back under control.

Buzz made him beg. Buzz made him humiliate himself, tell Buzz about how he couldn’t control himself, how he wanted to be dirty, how dirty men turned him on so much. Buzz asked Luke if he was dirty enough for him, making him smell his rank pits, his nasty feet, working Luke up into a lather, telling him in was no surprise that he wanted to be a trashman, because the only thing he really wanted to do was clean up other people’s filth. In the end, he told Luke that the only way he’d help him be a trashman was if he ate the shit right out of his ass, if he showed him just how filthy and nasty he wanted to be…and while Luke tried to resist it, tried to get out of there, tried to get control of himself…he knew the truth. He was in control of himself. He was here because he…wanted to be here. And so, he did what Buzz demanded, and ate the dirty old man’s shit for the first time. He ate it, and felt so…dirty, and perverse, that he couldn’t stop himself from jacking off while he did it, couldn’t resist reaching down the back of his pants, so he could taste his own, cold shit too, see…see how they compared.

The rest was a blur, really. It had only been a week, but Luke was so…different now, his mind twisted so far by those three new commandments, that he couldn’t possibly think of his life going in any other direction. He wore a diaper at work, usually, the same diaper, day after day, and he would empty it at lunch and after his shift was over before putting it back on. During his days off, he would stay with Buzz, and Buzz would help him become dirtier, help him with new obsessions, help him be the kind of man he was supposed to be–and then Mark arrived in his room…and he could almost remember what his brother had done to him, that he was here because of him…but then Luke and Buzz started chanting at him, and he began to change again.

Buzz had been…frustrated by how skinny Luke was. He’d put him on a feeding regimen to help pack on some pounds, but it was taking too long. Now though, Luke felt his body suddenly expand with fat, and he let out a series of snorts and grunts as he felt himself, rubbed his grubby body, feeling a new, horrific, insatiable hunger welling up inside of him, even as he kept changing. His face…ached, mouth pushing out into a short snout, two tusks curling up from his lower jaw, his short beard turning rough and bristly, the same as the boar bristle running down his back, growing in thicker, even as his belly turned soft and hairless, three more sets of nipples appearing down the front. His cock changed too, growing a bit larger, twisting into a corkscrew as it did, wet from his sheath, and Luke…gripped it, stroked it, feeling the lusts inflamed inside him, feeling his mind shutting down little by little as violent, insatiable instinct crowding out his reason, and the half man, half pig, sat there in his own filth, masturbating, grunting and squealing, while Mark looked on in horror at what Buzz had just made him do.

“There we go, isn’t that better?” Buzz said to him, “He was such a skinny little thing–when he’s out in public, most people will just see him as a fatass glutton, but he’s going to be a fuck and food hungry pig from now on–how do you feel, Luke? Feeling…better?” Buzz leered at him, but all Luke was feeling was…lightheaded, and sick to his stomach. It didn’t feel like he had pushed the darkness out, it felt like it had grown inside him somehow, that even more of him was corrupted by some insidious force, and he stumbled, falling on the bed behind Luke, who barely noticed, Buzz looming over him, soothing him, telling him everything was going to be just fine, soon enough.

Luke picks up some of the pig qualities from the curse he just cast.
Luke’s reality shifts, and he’s a dirty trashman now too.
Luke finds himself compelled to fuck his pig brother, now just as turned on by filth as Buzz is.
Luke grows even older, and finds himself looking more and more like Buzz–and he’s attracted to him too.

Here’s the public poll!

Here’s the patron only poll!

Voting ends in a couple of days!

Arctos: Filters – Episode 3 (Parts 3 & 4)

Jay let go of his wrist, but just stared at him as Bruce backed a couple paces away. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“I can’t explain it right now, Jay, I just can’t.”

“You sure as fucking hell can–there’s someone else, ain’t there? What, you had to come back and compare, is that it? Am I just some joke to you, something you can dip in and out of whenever you like? I fucking love you, you fucking pig! I never fucking stopped loving you, and I know you love this too, I know you love me, you love what I can give you that no one else can, but don’t fucking stand there and try and sell me some pigshit line like that.”

“Jay, you just have to believe me.”

“Then ya gotta give me somethin’ to believe. Out with it–just fucking say it already.”

He owed him an explanation. He owed him much, much more than that, but at the very least, he owed him the full story. Whether he believed him or not…well, he couldn’t do anything about that, he supposed. “Fine. Fine, I’ll…try and tell you what happened, what I remember. But you have to believe me. I can…show you proof, but later, once I tell you what happened.”

So they sat down on the porch, and over the next half hour or so, Bruce told Jay what had happened since he’d downloaded the filters app on his phone–or at least, as much as he could recall, since after two resets to reality, things were a bit…muddied. He could recall the broad sweeps at least, how unhappy he had been, how being a pig had felt so much…easier, so much simpler, and how he’d wanted someone who understood that…and so, he’d created Jay. In fantasies at first, but then, the night before, he had…done something he couldn’t easily take back.

“Look…you aren’t supposed to exist, and neither should I. I made both of us, kind of, but it’s more complicated than that. I never asked you, and I’m so fucking sorry, it was so fucking twisted of me to do that, and I…I can fix it, I can contact the company, see if there’s something I can do–”

“Just…show me the program. I wanna see how this thing works.”

Bruce pulled up the program, found a basic filter to give himself an earring, used it, but Jay couldn’t see the difference, and just glowed at Bruce in annoyance. Puzzled, the pig poked around in the settings, and say that he could add others capable of seeing the changes–otherwise, everyone other than him never noticed a thing, even if it changed in front of them. He added Jay to the approved list, used the filter again on his other ear, and Jay just looked at him, amazed.

“Fuck–it’s just…there.”

“Fully healed too, like it’s always been there,” Bruce said, and removed both filters, the gold studs disappearing as easily as they had arrived, “and gone just as easily…usually. What I did to us…that’s more permanent. A lot more permanent, but I can fix it, I know I can, I just need some time, and some space, and…and do you understand?” he asked, pleaded almost, with Jay.

The farmer just looked at him, and at the phone in his lap, silent for a moment. “I don’t think there’s anything to fix.”

“Jay, you can’t…we can’t stay like this.”

Jay looked like he wanted to say something, but held back–not something he was used to doing, and then looked up at the sun in the sky. “I’ve wasted too much time on this shit, I have work I have to get done.”

“How the–it doesn’t fucking matter, Jay! None of this is even real.”

“It’s real to me. Besides, I need some time to think, but before you go off and do anything reckless, and make shit even worse, give me your phone, and your keys.”

“What?”

“I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you, not until we figure out what we’re gonna do about this. You can help if you want, with the work, or you can wait in the house. We’ll talk about it after dinner.”

“No, I’m not staying here another moment, I just want to go, I want to be normal again, I don’t want to deal with this shit!”

Jay just chuckled at that, and held out his dirty palm. “Give ‘em up, come on.”

That cocky tone always rubbed Bruce the wrong way, like Jay knew what Bruce was going to do before he’d even made up his mind. “How…do I know you won’t do anything to me with it?”

“Have I ever–ever–done something to you, without you saying yes first? I thought you knew me better than that.”

Jay was right about that…but he felt uneasy anyway, getting stuck out here with Jay…again. Still, he did it, passing him his keys and his phone. After all, he was right, in a way. All Bruce had done so far was make a mess of things–maybe with Jay’s help, maybe if he’d just talked to him about this to begin with, talked to whoever Jay had been, none of this would have happened at all.

“Good–now, you wanna help, or wait here? I’m running behind after that story of yours, and I think you owe me a bit of work, for breakfast.” That last bit was tacked on a bit later, implying that Bruce definitely owed him for more than that, and Bruce was happy to help. The thought of sitting around the house, just thinking about what was going to happen next, made him feel a bit sick. Better to be useful at least.

The work went much faster between the two of them. Bruce had always enjoyed the farm work here, it felt so much more fulfilling than anything he’d had to do back in the city, when he could find someone willing to hire him at all. There weren’t many pigs like him around, and most of them…well, they survived, but thriving was harder. Here, everything had always seemed to come so easily to him–at least, when Jay wasn’t busy trying to force him to try some new, stranger idea of his that had occurred to him. After a couple of hours reminiscing to himself, he realized that none of these things had actually happened–all of these memories were lies. After that, he mostly felt uneasy. They finished on time, thankfully, and headed back to the house where Jay set to work making dinner for them both, and Bruce was left waiting. He tried to broach the topic of his phone and keys more than once, but Jay just told him to wait until after they’d eaten. So they ate–another massive meal, just like breakfast, but while Bruce was happy to stuff himself, there was none of the playful banter from that morning. Jay just ate his own portion, not speaking, obviously still thinking about everything.

When dinner finished, they cleared and cleaned up the kitchen, and then Bruce insisted that they talk–and that Jay give him back his phone and his keys. Jay nodded, and handed them back, before showing Bruce into the parlor, and there, he finally spoke about it.

“What were you going to do, when you left here? What was your bright idea exactly?” Jay asked him.

“I just wanted to fix this. I wanted to try and make us who we were before this, before I went and messed everything up like I did. It wasn’t fair, and it was fucking cruel to do this to someone, to just turn him into someone he…he never had a choice.”

“Yeah, that’s true–he didn’t get a choice. But he’s gone now, and I’m here, and so I get a say in this now, don’t I? And you know what I think? I don’t think there’s anything here to fucking fix. I like my life. I like who I am, and I’m not about to let you get rid of me just because you did something shitty to someone else.”

“That person was you though! I know you don’t remember it, but you’re the same.”

“Nah, we ain’t the same. I don’t know anything about him, I only know about myself. So, you wanna fix something? You can fix yourself, if you want, but you don’t get to change me, not unless I say so.”

Bruce didn’t really know how to reply to that, and so he just sat quietly, thinking about it, about what he did.

“But I do have one demand–not one I can enforce, exactly, but I think you fucking owe me, for all of this shit you did. If you really think we’re the same person, then he should get a chance, right? Well, here’s my wager. I want one day with that program, and you. Tomorrow, here. I get one day, and I get to do whatever the hell I want to do to you, I can show you exactly who you should be. Who you want to be, but are too afraid to face. I get one day, and then you get to decide if you want to stay. Hell, you know what? If you don’t want to stay, I’ll let you try and change me back. I’ll let you talk to that other fellow, see what he wants. You want a normal life? Then fine, you can take it. Cause in all honesty, I don’t…fuck, I love you, you fucking pig, and I…I get fuckin’ lonely around here, and nothing has been as good since you left. So give me one day. One day, and if it isn’t the best day of your life…then I don’t really want to be here anyway, I don’t think. How does that sound to you? We got a deal?”

There it was again, that cocky fucking voice, that little smile. The fucker knew he wouldn’t turn him down, because in all honesty, the thought had already occurred to him, thinking about what Jay might…do to him, if he had the filters, and whether he’d…want it to happen or not. It also would give him a chance to put everything right, or at least, close to right, if…if he decided he didn’t want it, in the end. “Alright, it’s a deal.”

“Then I suppose you need to give me that phone, and those keys, back then, don’t ya?”

Bruce got up, and handed the phone back over to Jay, feeling his heart beat quicker as he did, his cock springing up against the front of his pants, and while he hoped Jay hadn’t seen in, when the farmer brushed his hand against it, he knew he’d been found out.

“For someone so adamant that this isn’t what you want, why are you so hard all of a sudden, piggy?”

His mouth was too dry to answer, and part of him wanted Jay to fuck him right here, do whatever he wanted to with the program to him, just…just make him happy, in the end, but that didn’t happen. Jay opened up the app and started poking around in it, and Jay just sat back down, watching him. “So, what are you going to do with it tomorrow?”

“Still not sure yet. Gotta see what kind of options there are. Why don’t you go up to bed? You’ll see what I have in mind when you wake up in the morning.”

Bruce thought about pressing him, seeing if he would give him an idea of what he had in mind at least, but if he knew Jay…Jay had been thinking about this a whole lot longer that Bruce had, and he already knew exactly what he was going to do to him. Given how Bruce tended to react to Jay’s suggestions, it was probably for the best that he not tell him what he had in mind either. In any case…it was just for one day, right? There wasn’t anything he could do to him, really, that would last longer than that–well, now that he had the phone, he supposed he could…but consent was always something that mattered to Jay. He wanted Bruce to want this. He wanted him to believe that Jay knew best…and yeah, Bruce had always wondered if, maybe, Jay was right. If he was pig first, and man second, and not…the other way around. He tossed and turned in the bed upstairs, alone, but eventually the exhaustion from the farm work earlier got the better of him, and he drifted off. Not too long after that, around midnight, Jay let himself in, phone in hand. He would show Bruce what he needed–he’d show him more than that. He’d show Bruce who he was, really, on the inside, who he needed him to be. He just didn’t know that Jay knew better than he did–but after tomorrow, he’d understand. Bruce would understand perfectly.

Arctos: Filters – Episode 3 (Part 2)

Before he could object again, Jay had another cake pressed to his snout, and after that, he didn’t object again. He went to pick up his fork and knife again, but Jay knocked them out of his hands. Next, he went to grab a pancake with his hand, but Jay gave it a hard smack, and Bruce gave a general snort of annoyance.

“Ya know the rules–if pigs are at the table, gotta eat like a pig. Ya didn’t forget that one right?” he leaned in close, picking up one floppy ear with a couple of fingers, and whispered into his ear, “If I remember right, ya came up with that rule yerself, didn’t ya pig?”

He had, early on. Fuck, if it didn’t make him hard as hell thinking about it. He stood up at the table, bent over, and shoved his face into the remaining pile of pancakes, taking massive bites out of them with his snout, while Jay urged him on, tugging away the clothes Bruce had just put on his body upstairs earlier.

“That was another rule, wasn’t it pig? No clothes for pigs in the house. That one was yours too, wasn’t it?”

In fact, Jay had mentioned it in passing, and made Bruce add it to the growing list himself. He’d…done that a lot, really, made these suggestions, wormed them into Bruce’s head until he’d gotten himself properly worked up, and he’d start following them on his own. Jay did a lot of shit like that. Bruce knew he should stop this, that he was blurring the lines of their relationship again…but his cock was so hard, and feeling Jay rub his heavy, full belly was…so damn satisfying. He was full, but Jay had always wanted him bigger, talked about him breaking 800 pounds, one fat fucking pig, a prize winning pig, even. Keeping him on all fours, forgetting how to speak, forgetting he was anything other than a pig, a real pig–fuck, what in the fuck had he done to him?

****

He hadn’t even asked him. He’d had no idea–whoever Jay had been before all of this. Bruce tried to remember as best he could, but the memory had already faded to nothing more than scraps. He could remember a clean apartment, a smaller, scrawnier guy, but no details about him beyond that. He was gone now–Bruce had erased him from existence in a fit of horniness, and in his place, he’d created Jay–a twisted, perverted, redneck…and fuck, if he wasn’t turned on, but feeling Jay’s hands on him, he could feel other hands too, hands in the past in other places, and he shuddered in dread at what he had done, Jay pulling his hands away when he did.

“What’s up pig–I can tell you’re enjoying this. Come on–get those pants off for me. No pants in the house for pigs.”

Bruce shook his head got up from the table, and pulled away from him. “No–no, this was such a fucking mistake, I’m sorry, I’ll…I can fix you–this–I think, but I can’t remember him around you.”

Bruce grabbed his shirt from Jay’s hand, and the redneck just stared at him, confused as to what that might mean by any of that. “What are ya talkin’ about?”

He shouldn’t have said anything, why had he said that? Bruce turned around and headed for the front door, already pulling his keys out so he could get out of here, get back in the city, get his head clear and figure out how to start putting all of this right, but he hadn’t made it off the porch before Jay caught up with him, grabbed him by the wrist, and pulled him back.

“What the hell did you mean by that, pig? What the fuck is there about me to fucking fix? And who else are you fucking talking about?”

Jay was angry, and he’d interpreted that about the only way he could, knowing what he knew, but Bruce couldn’t tell him this, couldn’t tell him what he’d done to him, that he’d sprung from some horny fever dream, caught between his old self, this pig, and a boyfriend he’d never wanted to be with, all of it rolled up together into a whole new mess even worse than before. “I can’t talk about it, alright? It won’t make sense. Just let me go.”

“You know what your problem is pig?” Jay said, leaning in close, “You’re don’t fucking know what you want. You’re broken, and you know it, and you look for people who want to fix you, who want to make something of you, something good, something hot–but you know what? I think you like being broken. I think that’s why you left, but I think you came back last night, and knocked on my door, because you know full fuckin’ well that it’s gonna take a sick, perverted fucked like me to fix what’s wrong with you, and make you into something good–those boys in the city, they don’t know what to do with you, do they?”

Bruce was trying to pull away, but Jay’s grip was only getting tighter, tight enough to hurt. “Fucking let go of me Jay, you’re hurting me.”

“Fucking answer me!”

“No, alright? You’re right! They’re all shit, is that what you want me to say? They all want to treat me like I’m normal, clean me up, make me presentable, show everyone that I’m just like every other fucker in society, but yeah, I’m fucking not. I’m a fat, horny, dirty-minded pig, and you’re the first guy who’s gotten that, really fuckin’ gotten that, but this isn’t you! This isn’t right, you…fuck, I don’t even know how to explain it, but I have to go, I have to figure this shit out, how to fix this.”

Arctos: Filters – Episode 3 (Part 1)

When Bruce woke the next morning, he found himself alone in the bed–but that wasn’t unusual. Jay always rose early to get started on work around the farm before dawn. Bruce had helped him out on a few occasions, but apparently Jay hadn’t needed, or perhaps wanted, Bruce’s help this morning. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that, and he wondered what it meant, if it meant anything at all. It was silly to try and parse it out, he supposed. Jay wasn’t exactly a subtle fellow–he would let Bruce know exactly what he was thinking soon enough. He got up and got dressed in the clothes he’d arrived in the night before–he hadn’t bothered to pack a bag. He hadn’t even really known why he’d even come back here.

Well, that was a lie. He’d come back here because he was lonely. Because even if Jay was a fucking sadistic psychopath (something Bruce had screamed at him when he’d last been in this house) he was also the one person in the world that Bruce felt understood him. All of him. Or at least most of him. He’d grown up in the city, but even living with Jay here on the weekends had changed him. It had been hard, figuring out what to do with himself…because he liked Jay. Hell, he might even love him. But he…also needed to feel safe, and sometimes, Jay could be scary as all hell. It was why he’d left, but it was also why he’d come back, he supposed.

Once he was dressed, he went out into the hallway, and sure enough, there was the scent of breakfast on the air. Jay loved cooking for Bruce–hell, Jay loved everything about Bruce, and maybe that’s why he could be so scary, because he loved Bruce more than Bruce could ever imagine loving himself. He loved parts of himself that Bruce could only ever imagine hating.

He trekked downstairs, listening to Jay whistling one of his old tunes off the country radio station as he cooked, and there was already quite a spread laid out on the table. Jay had heard the old stairwell creaking under Bruce’s weight, and looked over his shoulder at the hefty pig in the doorway, licking his chops as he stood there. “Well go on then, tuck in. I ain’t ‘bout tah fuck ya and not bother tah feed ya, ya know that.”

The voice was congenial, but cold. Distant maybe, or cautious. Jay wasn’t quite sure what to make of Bruce’s sudden appearance either, apparently. Bruce wasn’t about to turn down the offer, and if he rejected a meal from Jay…well, he’d never have a chance with him then. Jay was very proud about his cooking, and he had earned that pride in Bruce’s opinion. He sat down and started shoveling food into him, grunting a bit as he did, and Jay kept filling up the table as he did, softening a bit as he watched the pig eat up, but then, he’d always loved a man who could appreciate his cooking properly. They didn’t talk much though. The last argument they’d had in here was still thick, when Jay had suggested they take their relationship a bit…further, than Bruce had been comfortable with.

So Bruce filled the silence with food, and Jay started washing up the pots and pans in the sink. He could hear Bruce slowing down, getting full, and Jay decided it was time to air things out a bit. “So, you staying? Or are you just gonna come flying in here, without so much as a call, anytime you feel like it?”

Bruce swallowed his mouthful of food, and then sat back. He didn’t know what the answer was himself, really. “I…missed you, I…I’m sorry for the things I said, last time, it wasn’t…kind.”

Jay shrugged. Shrugging was his way of acknowledging something that hadn’t been needed to be said, or that should have been self-evident. When Bruce had called him a fucking sadistic psychopath, Jay had shrugged then, as his way of saying, “We both already know that–why’d you even bother saying it?” It drove Bruce a bit mad when he did that, when Jay just…dismissed him, and what he had to say, like it didn’t really matter, because Jay had already thought of it too.

“But you really…I’m not some animal, you know. I’m a person too. I might be a freak, I don’t…really know what I am to be honest. Being with you feels good, most of the time, but sometimes you really fucking scare me.”

“It only scares ya ’cause ya want it.”

“I do not want it.”

“Pig, ya gotta want it a little, or ya wouldn’t fuckin’ be back here again, now would ya?” Jay quit the dishes, and wiped his thick hands off in a towel, before turning to the table. “Now–are you staying? Or are we gonna keep playin’ this game a while longer, until I get bored with it? Cause I gotta be honest, it’s borin’ as fuckin’ hell on ice.”

“Are you not–can you just not listen to what I’m saying? Is that what’s wrong with you? What you said last time, that was fucking insane shit! I–who the fuck would agree to something like that? Did you honestly expect me to say yes?”

Jay shrugged again, and then walked over to the table. “Ya didn’t finish, pig.”

“I was saving some for you.”

“I already ate when I got up–this is all for you.”

“I…Jay, can we be serious for a fucking second?”

Jay just picked up a pancake, folded it in half, and pushed it against Bruce’s snout, waiting to see what he would do. Bruce opened up, and Jay slid the pancake in. “How about you finish eating pig? Then we can talk about it.”

Arctos: Filters – Episode 2 (Part 4)

He loaded up the package he’d made for Jean, and looked at him on the screen–and he realized it was the first time he’d ever seen him in real life, breathing in front of him. All the other times it had just been still shots, warped from their own past…but this was so much clearer. He was…huge, for one thing, and that was saying something, since Bruce was over six and a half feet tall at this point. Jean was bigger than him, meaner than him, hairier than him…is that really what he wanted in a man? Usually, when he’d been with men, he liked to be the dominant one, topping them with his thick pig cock, making them squeal along with him while he fucked them…but as hot as those scenarios were, they weren’t the ones he remembered. The ones he craved–and which terrified him–were with the men like this. The ones who could overwhelm him, the ones who knew that what Bruce really wanted was to be treated like a fucking animal. They beat him, they caged him, they fucked him, they mocked him–all of it made his pig cock harder than anything else. Now, right in front of him, was a man…bigger than anyone he’d ever had sex with, someone strong enough to take him in a straight fight. Did he even know what kind of person he was going to be? He could only guess, he supposed…but while it made him nervous…he had to do this. It was the only way he could know for sure.

He took the picture. The screen loaded for a couple of minutes–it always took a little extra time when there were so many filters…and Bruce couldn’t really recall how many he’d ended up loading into the package. It was quite a few, maybe even a few more than he’d ended up using on himself. The picture loaded, at last, and he put the phone down. There, lying in front of him, was Jean, the hulking farmer of his dreams, snoring away on his king size bed, naked, ten inch cock half erect. The room around them had changed too–after all, they weren’t in an apartment anymore–they were in Jean’s house, on his farm, out in the middle of nowhere. Bruce crouched down beside him, snout next to one of Jean’s armpits, and took a whiff–it was hay, and sweat, and mud, and hard work…and his cock was so damn hard. Jean had always gotten him harder than anyone else–but he also terrified him. Why in the hell had he come back here, was he crazy? Hell–maybe he was. That, or maybe Jean was right. Maybe…Maybe Jean did know what Bruce wanted better than Bruce did. But what would happen when he woke up? After all, he hadn’t reset his default form–he supposed that when he woke up, he would have full memory of both himself as this Jean, and as the Jean from before–but if he found out what Bruce had done to him…he would be furious, and Bruce didn’t want to see either Jean that angry.

So what choice did he have? It was…such a violation of trust, he knew that, but he was so deep already, what the hell did it matter, fucking this up a little further? The only way he’d know, is if he went the whole way, all the way. He went into the settings, choose reset default form, and the program warned him, as it had before, that any changes made would be irreversible. Part of him felt terrible, but…but this was the only way he’d be able to know, really know, what he wanted. Besides, it wasn’t like the old Jules would be around to complain about it anyway–if anything, this man should be thanking him for letting him exist at all. He accepted the warning, and waited while the program began the process of resetting defaults.

He’d been drunk the last time this had happened. Well, he’d been drunker than he was now at least. Before, all he’d really felt was an odd, sweeping shift around him, and a bit of a knot in his gut, but this time, it seemed more…forceful–and he wasn’t even the one it was focused on. He supposed it was good that Jay was asleep for it, because it seemed…painful. He curled up tight, moaning and groaning, and as he writhed on the bed, his body kept shifting, looking too small or too large, out of proportion, once he even looked like his old self–just for a moment, but enough to give Bruce a bit of a heart attack when it happened–and then things settled back down, he rolled back over and fell back into his usual deep sleep, snoring logs, just like how Bruce remembered him when they’d been together…before Bruce had called it quits, and run off back to the city, a few weeks before.

That…didn’t sound quite right to him, somehow. Part of him was trying to say that it was Jay who had called quits on the relationship, that he’d gotten tired of Bruce never wanting to open up and change for him, but the more he thought about it, the harder his head hurt, and the more wrong it all seemed. He was tired–he’d be able to remember everything a bit better in the morning, he was sure. He climbed back into Jay’s bed and slid closer to him, smelling his musk–not quite as strong as his own…but more authentic, somehow, and wondered if this had been a good idea, coming back. Jay had seemed…happy to see him though, and hadn’t mentioned anything like what he’d wanted to talk about before, when Bruce had left. Maybe they’d be able to work it out after all.

Arctos: Filters – Episode 2 (Part 3)

Jean, on the other hand, felt like things were finally going good for him. No more hanging on crazy guys, or pigs, like Bruce. No more stern silent types, no more wasting time on guys who would never be able to open up to him. He was done. Done trying to fix men who couldn’t even see that they were broken. Done with people who took his goodwill and patience and caring and just threw it back in his face. He was so done–and yet, when a very, very drunk Bruce showed up at his apartment building, squealing for him through the intercom, what in the hell was he supposed to do? The dumb animal was going to wake up all his neighbors, if he kept up that racket–and Jean knew that Bruce could keep up a racket like that for a lot longer than anyone would expect, especially when he was drunk. He had no interest in hearing him out, but if listening to him plead got him to go away faster, then all the better for everyone.

So he let Bruce in, and while he tried to keep the stony heart he’d promised he’d keep for his own sanity, he also couldn’t quite help but listen as the pig begged him for forgiveness. It sounded good, on the surface. It sounded like Bruce had finally come to realize just how much of a mess he was, and that Jean had always only been trying to help him. Or at least, that’s what he wanted to hear, so badly. He wanted someone to take care of, he wanted someone to want him to take care of them. He did know best, really. He knew how to take care of men like Bruce–if only they would just let him help them. Could he really trust him though? This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened, this wasn’t the first time someone had opened up, only to shut back down the next day, when the beer wore off, and then the whole thing would begin again. How likely was it, really, that Bruce wanted what Jean was offering? Maybe he was just here because he hated being alone more.

Jean tried to keep his guard up, but he couldn’t. He pulled Bruce into him, and he could…smell the sex and food on him–he could imagine what the big pig had been getting up to in the last few days since they’d broken things off. It was almost enough to push him away again, but Bruce was so…tender, and sweet, and so many other things he’d never allowed himself to be, all of the things Jean was looking for in a man. It was a terrible idea, he knew that. He should have never let him in the building, he should have never even answered the intercom. It was too late for that though, and so, he pulled Bruce into his bedroom, both of them shucking their clothes as they went, and then fucked like they did the first time they hooked up. Through it all, they both wanted to believe that they could be right for one another. They wanted to believe that this was better than being alone, and they thought that if they both believed the lie hard enough, that it might, just maybe, come true.

Bruce thought about it, lying there in Jean’s bed beside him, looking at him, thinking about what he’d have to give up to make this work. Jean would never be willing to accept him–the real him, after all. He knew that. He’d have to change. Clean up. Figure his shit out. Deal with his anger, his binging, his promiscuity. He’d have to learn how to be normal enough for Jean to love, learn to grow into the person Jean wanted him to become…but as hard as he tried to convince himself that he could, that he wanted to at least try, he knew it was a lie. He knew that it a couple of days, it would break him, and they would fight, and everything would fall apart all over again–unless he did it. Unless he made Jean into someone who wanted Bruce to be everything Bruce wanted.

He pulled the covers off him, slowly, making sure to not wake him up. He went out and turned on the hall light, just enough so the camera could take a decent picture of Jean, and then he booted up the app. This was…a terrible idea. He knew it was, and yet, he just couldn’t get it out of his head, no matter how hard he tried to discount it. It was the only way they could be together, be happy together, and stay together. It was the only way that Bruce could get what he really wanted…and maybe…maybe Jean would want it too, in one way or another.

Arctos: Filters – Episode 2 (Part 2)

When he did wake up again, he felt…so much better, aside from the hangover. Everything about his old self, that old Bruce, was just a distant memory now, and in its place, all he could remember was being this massive, sex obsessed pig. It was like everything that had felt so empty before was full now–full of gluttony, and lust, and other base desires, but at least full. So what if Jean didn’t get it? He didn’t need Jean–he could find plenty of other guys around town eager to use him like the sexy hog he was. He got on the various apps he used for hookups, and less than an hour later he had a guy over to his apartment, begging Bruce for his piggy cock, and already it was better than most of the sex he’d ever had with Jean. Once he was finished with the first, he kept inviting men over, and when he couldn’t find anyone, he’d just sit around and masturbate, thinking about how he wouldn’t have to clean up for him, thinking about how he wouldn’t have to deal with Jean wanting to talk about complicated shit, like feelings, or what Bruce wanted in a relationship. He wanted to fuck, right? But then why, as the days wore on, and he continued his constant sexual conquests with men obsessed with his freakish body…did he keep thinking about him, the entire time? Why was he still so damn angry at him? Why did he…still want him, so damn badly?

After a few days, the sex got old, as it always had before. Everyone wanted to see him as this animal, wanted to either treat him like some mindless beast, or be ravaged by him, but none of them really seemed to give two fucks what Bruce wanted. Sure, maybe he did enjoy ravaging, but was this all he was for people? Just some fucking animal? He knew he was more than that, but no one else saw it–Jean was the first person, he realized, who had seen anything about him beyond the surface, and that…that had terrified him, more than anything else in his whole life, more than the bullying he’d suffered at school, more than the looks of disgust he got on the way to work–the notion that someone might actually care had been too much for him to handle in so many different ways, he’d just lashed out and pushed him away, rather than deal with what he was feeling. Everything felt like a jumble, suddenly. As all of his old problems with his life, and with Jean, as a human had begun to fade away, all of his new past life as a pigman was coming into relief–and he was beginning to wonder if he’d made the right decision after all. Jean…might not have been the sexiest guy, but he’d cared about him, and he’d cooked real good food for him, and…and what if he’d just made the biggest mistake of his whole life, without even realizing it at the time?

The depression hit hard, and fast. The sex dropped off, and instead of finding random men to fuck online, Bruce stayed in his apartment, ordering a different takeout every hour, never once stopping until he was certain he was going to burst. He would look at pictures Jean and him had taken together–sometimes as the real Jean, and other times using the filter profiles Bruce had made for him, his fantasy Jean, a Jean…he hoped might be able to understand all of him–the sexy, wild hog, and the person behind the gruff, abrasive act he’d put on for as long as he could recall. He wondered if he’d be willing to give it a try, just once, to see…how it felt for them both. Maybe he’d understand how much Bruce needed this, even if he didn’t like it. Maybe Bruce could finally manage to show him what Jean wanted to see, to explain everything he’d never had any words for at all…but how could he ever even show his face there again, after making such a mess of things? In the end, he got drunk enough that the terrible idea of going back to Jean and begging him to forgive him sounded better than the idea of going on alone. He had to at least try, after all. He’d try, and Jean would shoot him down, and then…and then, maybe, he’d be able to get on with his own life, and put this awful episode behind him once and for all.

Arctos: Filters – Episode 2 (Part 1)

For the next few weeks, he managed to keep the desires better under control, only pigging out on rare occasions, usually after having a bit too much to drink. Each time, he would begin with the package from the last time he changed…but each time he did, it never quite felt like enough, and so he started adding more and more filters to the package he’d been curating for himself. He gave into the snout next, but discovered that it did more than just affect him cosmetically. It was much harder to talk–his mouth just didn’t seem to be designed for human words, and it was so much easier (and so much sexier) to just lay around the house grunting, oinking and squealing his way to orgasm after orgasm. One night, in a drunken haze, he went and added a thick brass ring in his pig nose as well, and the sensation of it tugging down on the end of his snout was so hot, he went and added rings in both of his ears, and in his nipples as well. Out of curiosity one night, he decided to swap out the fat filter he’d been using for one that was even larger–and also decided to make himself a bit taller. The result was him growing to almost seven feet tall, weighing close to 600 pounds, listening to the floor creak underneath him as he lumbered to and fro, snorting, groping for his now slightly too small cock–but he fixed that too, his piggy member growing to almost ten inches long. He found a barnyard musk filter, and soon he was smelling like he’d been rolling around in muddy manure all day long–and the stink turned him on even more, made him long to be in a real puddle–longing for….someone. No matter how much he changed, though, no matter how extreme he pushed himself, something was always missing. He would turn the filters he’d used on Jean’s photo back on, and just scroll through, fantasizing about having a big, butch farmer to fuck his piggy hole, roll him around in the mud, collar him, chain him on all fours, treat him like the animal he deserved to be.

And then, in the morning, he would usually wake up with a hangover, still in his piggy form, take all the filters off, hating how…ashamed he was of this human body now, and he would go to work, and go see Jean, and just feel…miserable. He was so focused on himself, and his own strange obsession with the pig he’d begun to identify with, that he didn’t notice Jean losing patience with him. For a month or so, Jean took a softer tack. He could tell something was wrong, that as much as his boyfriend tried to tell him there wasn’t anything going on with him–he was clearly lying. Bruce was distracted and morose. He would be non-responsive, and then something minor would set off an inexplicable tirade of anger. He couldn’t read him–and he was no longer sure that he even wanted to know. Why was he putting all of this effort into a man who clearly had no real interest in being honest with him?

As Bruce found himself falling back into his obsession, he began to cling tighter to Jean as a reference point to himself, but Jean was already pulling away. Where Bruce had seemed mysterious and thoughtful, all he saw now was someone with no self-awareness, and no capacity for a mature relationship. Just as Bruce was beginning to think he could make this relationship work with Jean for the long run–Jean pulled the rug out from under him and broke up the next time they got together. He was so stunned, he didn’t know what to do about it, or what to say, or even what to feel, as Jean ran down the list of reasons why he didn’t think Bruce was ready for a relationship, and why Jean didn’t want to bother helping him learn. Bruce could only sit there, listening to Jean describe someone else. Someone he’d come to hate as well, someone he’d never understood. He just wished that he could just get away, back to his apartment where he could get drunk, turn on his filters, and be who he really wanted to be. Be the pig he was coming to think he really was, on the inside. Jean was surprised by how little push back he got from Bruce, as he explained his reasoning. He didn’t seem to care–and to Jean, that only served to cement for him that leaving him was the right decision.

Bruce left as soon as he could find an opportunity, and on the way home, everything Jean had told him just…didn’t seem to matter to him in the slightest. Maybe everything he’d said was true, maybe it wasn’t. It didn’t really matter, in the end, because all of Jean’s complaints weren’t about him, not really. They were about a man, about the man he’d been, but this had clarified something for him–Bruce didn’t want to be that man anymore. Nothing about the way he’d been made any sense to him anymore–the only time he felt complete was when he had those filters on, when he was a pig. A real pig. He knew it was impossible though. He knew he could never really be that pig, and he knew that being that pig couldn’t possibly solve all of his problems overnight. He got home, and started drinking. A few beers in, he turned on his filters and sat down on the couch, listening to it creak under his heft, groping his slimy cock and scrolling through pictures of him and Jean–and then he started digging into the app a bit further.

Underneath the settings, he found what he was looking for–reset default form. He clicked it, and a warning window popped up, telling him that if he reset his defaults, the filters he currently applied would become more detailed and fleshed out as they were fully incorporated into reality–but that once the choice was made, there was no going back. While he might be able to use other filters to get back to something close to who he’d been–it would be gone forever. His memories, too, would disappear or become faint. More like a half-remembered dream. This would be him, forever. He would finally get to be the pig he knew he wanted to be…but what if he didn’t really want this? Did it matter? He wanted it more than who he’d been, he knew that. He could always be something else, later, after all. All he really knew, was that he was done being this particular human, forever. Still, he wavered for a couple hours, and didn’t work up the courage to do it until after a few more beers. He didn’t remember much about the process–just a splitting headache, the sensation of the world twisting around him…and when it was finished, he didn’t feel…particularly different. Or at least, no different than he usually felt. Then, he passed out, snorting and snoring on the couch, and he didn’t get up until the early afternoon the next day.