Trent, perhaps sated for the moment, managed to squeeze himself out from between the two coaches in the locker room and blundered his way out, cum dripping from his chin and his ass hole, the rest of the team just gaping at the two coaches left behind. With a roar, the second, beastly coach grabbed a couple of men and dragged them back onto the field, and most of the team was left in the locker room with the first coach–although he wasn’t much of a person anymore.

His genitals was now nearly larger than he was close to four feet long, his legs splayed wide to make room for his balls, each larger than a basketball, and the fierce sucking Trent had given him still didn’t seem to have him anywhere close to orgasm, but the smell of his precum was filling the room, and slowly drawing all of the team closer to him. The larger players were the first to realize what they were feeling–they were hungry. But not just any kind of hunger, they wanted something…something in particular.

In the end, they all figured it out, losing themselves in the puddles of precum all over the floor, fighting over the massive beads which rolled down the shaft, clambering all over one another to get the the top, where they could drink it directly from the fountain. The more they drink, the larger they all became, and by the time an hour passed, none of them were under 300 pounds any longer, and their own balls had expanded, pumping out precum of their own which dribbled down their fat thighs and coated the underside of their new, jiggly guts.

Their teamwork won out in the end though, and together they gathered around their coach, licking and slobbering at the shaft, nibbling at the massive glans, cleaning his huge sack, and finally the coach gave a shudder underneath his huge phallus and began unloading his cum proper, gallon after gallon pumping out hard enough to slam into the ceiling above, the team giving off squeals as they devoured everything they could find. The real stuff packed on weight even faster, and by the end of the night, with the coach’s phallus soft again and the the entire locker room licked clean, the smallest player was just under 700 pounds, and the largest tub of lard could barely move his 1200 pounds to the door of the locker room and squeeze himself through. They all needed more now, there was no doubting that, and they went off to search for more cum to sate their now unending cum-hunger on the rest of the campus.

~~~

Alright, that’s all folks! Thanks again to everyone who participated, and I hope there was something in there for everyone. Regardless, I think I’ll be cleaning it up over the next week or so, and then I might load it up onto CYOC. If there’s a chapter you really wanted to see, but which didn’t get the votes you wanted, never fear–you can always commission it if you’re desperate, once I get it up on CYOC.

Trent had jacked off two more times at his computer before the few remaining brain cells in his head managed to remember that he was supposed to have been at football practice almost half an hour ago. That, he realized, was what his phone must have been buzzing and jingling about, before it had annoyed him and he’d hurled it out the window. He stood up from the computer, not at all used to his new size, and started trying to figure out how to put his clothes on, but they were all too small for one thing, and the idea of clothing just confused him now. Wouldn’t it be better just to…go naked? Then more people would be able to see him, and he liked having people see him naked. He grinned, and left his room–luckily missing Art, who was still in Julian’s room, stroking his permanently firm cock, because if he’d seen that, there was no way he would have gotten out of the house without fucking himself on it.

Still, getting out of the house proved difficult enough. None of the doorways seemed big enough for him, and he kept having to duck under them and go through sideways so he could even fit at all. Outside though, he took a deep breath of the fall air, felt the breeze against his low hanging balls and decided he might as well run over to the stadium. Running was amazing–he had so much energy all of a sudden, and he felt like he could just bound across town without even needing to catch his breath, and the few people who saw him as he sprinted past were too shell shocked to even realize what they’d just seen. The joy of running kept him well enough occupied that his relentless need to fuck too a momentary back seat, and he managed to get to the stadium without molesting anyone.

Inside, however, was another story. Already sweating and stinking from the run, he wandered down the halls which still seemed a bit too narrow for him and ducked his way into the locker room, where two of the assistant coaches were, discussing where in the world Trent, one of their star players, could possibly be. When the huge, furry, naked hulk wandered into their midst, neither one of them really knew what to make of it, but for Trent, the run had made him even hornier, and before either one could do anything about it, he’d dropped to his knees, ripped open the crotch of the first coach’s pants, and engulfed his cock and balls in his maw before he could stop him.

“What the fuck is going on?” he managed to say, before the pleasure swept over him and he nearly collapsed from the sensation of Trent’s skilled mouth working him over–but it was more than that. He was getting hard, sure–but he was getting more than hard–he was growing. Before long, his cock and balls couldn’t both fit in Trent’s mouth, and he let the balls flop out, the sack already hanging between the older man’s thighs, and if you watched closely, you could actually see them pumping cum into Trent’s stomach. After a few moments, Trent couldn’t take the coach’s entire cock either, as it passed over a foot in length and a two liter bottle in girth, but that didn’t stop Trent from trying to swallow it, his gut bulging out from the gallons of pre-cum he was swallowing from the coach, to eventually be turned into even more muscle.

The second assistant coach watched this happen and backed away, uncertain as to what he should do, when he smelled it–the sweaty, musky pheromones seeping from Trent’s body, and the coach’s brain simply shut down, and he quickly dropped his pants, walked over and worked his cock into Trent’s muscular ass as quickly as he could. Already the coach’s body was packing on pound after pound of muscle as fur–not hair–began spreading all over his body. In a matter of minutes, the coach resembled something more along the lines of a gorilla than a human, covered with full, his dull eyes occupied only with the act of fucking and asserting dominance over others.

This was the state of the locker room which the team found at the end of practice, when they piled into the stinking locker room. The first coach’s body was relatively unchanged, but his balls were now the size of gallon jugs, and he’d been forced to fall to the floor because he couldn’t support their weight anymore, much the less his three foot long cock. The other coach, behind Trent, was now just a grunting beast, slathered with cum from his numerous ejaculations up the football slut’s ass. Trent was now even more massive than before–nearly eight feet tall, very hairy, and a dumb grin on his face from his feast, and he looked over, watched his teammates smell his sex for the first time, and dumbly make their way over to him for their own changes.

***

What happens next? There’s only one more chapter, so make it count!

1. The first coach takes a group of players, and they all drink his cum down, turning into obese, cum thirst piglets.

2. The second coach takes a group of players and turns them into his pack of submissive, beastly betas.

3. Back in the dorm we can follow the smoke into the RA’s room, where he becomes a leather bound, sadistic enforcer.

4. We can still see how Pa and Clyde’s trailer trash slothfulness is infecting the uptight suburban neighborhood.

5. Two neighbors run into Julian, and they turn a steroid laden tattoo and pierced monster of a punk and his fat pig toilet on a chain leash.

As Professor Yangley headed off towards his next class, his pipe puffing smoke, two freshmen heading back to their dorm room from their last class passed a little too close, and each of them got a strong whiff of the professor’s fumes, making them cough for a few moments.

“Was he…smoking in here?” one of them asked, scratching his chest absentmindedly. His name was Chaz, and was the nerdier of the duo. Tall and gangly, he couldn’t seem to keep weight on, even though he had quite the appetite.

“Whatever, that was weird…” his friend, Eddie, said. He was shorter than Chaz, but managed to exude more confidence. He was also a bit chubbier, the beginnings of the freshman 15 already setting in, but his jovial mood still made him plenty likable.

By the time they’d exited the building, however, the oddity of the event had left them, and once they were outside, each of them paused to light up. Chaz pulled out a large bowl, full bent bulldog and packed in some tobacco from the pouch he had around his hanging from his belt, while Eddie plucked a cigar from his shirt pocket, cut off the end, and lit it carefully, before holding his lighter for Chaz, and then the two of them set off for their dorm, puffing along themselves. However, as they walked, each one of them kept noticing that strange things seemed to be happening to them.

For Chaz, he found that he had to start quickening his pace for some reason, to keep up with his friend. Being tall all of his life, he’d always had to focus on pulling back, but suddenly he was hurrying to catch up, and the effort left him a bit out of breath. It was even stranger, since he was actually looking up at his friend, instead of down. Shouldn’t that be the other way around? He couldn’t quite be sure, but whatever the case, Eddie was now well over six feet tall, and his chubby frame was filling out with muscle, which was causing Chaz’s cock to rise against the leather of the kilt he was wearing. “Fuckin’ slow down, boy,” he said, and Eddie immediately bowed his head, and pulled back, allowing the shorter Chaz to take the lead, and he followed behind him at a respectful distance.

This also gave Eddie a wonderful view of his friend, who was now much, much shorter, and far fatter than he had been moments before. But the sight of his friend’s newly hairy shoulders, neck and arms sent a strange thrill through him, and he kind of wondered what his back was like underneath the vest he was wearing with his kilt–and whether he had any underwear on beneath it. He hoped not. As he watched, there was a ripple through Chaz’s hair, almost like a light breeze, as it grew down to his shoulders, and all of it turned to a deep, flame red with a few strands of silver. He tripped again, suddenly–not used to his long legs or his muscular physique. Looking down, he watched tattoos swirl up his arms and onto his chest, as his shirt tightened around him into a rubber tank, and his pants slimmed down into tight leather, which hugged his muscular body and showed off his seven inch cock bulging at the crotch. He wasn’t as hairy as Chaz was, but that was alright, and he felt a few pricks as rings and bars appeared in his nipples, ears and nose, and a thick horseshoe moustache framed his mouth.

They climbed the stairs in their dorm, Eddie licking his lips in excitement, and as soon as they were inside the older pipe bear’s room he fell to his knees in front of him and started grinding his face into the man’s red furred gut, as Chaz ran his hands over the smooth dome of Eddie’s shaved head. “You like that gut, boy? You wanna feel all this fat pressing down on you while I fuck that ass of yours?”

Oh yes sir, please sir…” Eddie moaned, and then Chaz shoved him into his hands and knees, flipped up his kilt and worked his nine inch cock into his friend’s hole, both of them pumping out smoke until they could barely see the room through the haze…and it seemed like the room was changing. Suddenly, the floor was concrete, the walls tile, and the door room became just one poorly lit room in the bathhouse the entire dorm would become, as their cloud of smoke drifted down the halls.

***

Alright, here are your options. There’s only two or three more entries left, so make them count.

1. Let’s follow the smoke to the left, into the floor’s bathroom, turning the guys there into urinals and cumdumps.

2. Let’s follow the smoke into the room on the right, where the floor’s RA becomes a leather bound, sadistic enforcer.

3. We can still see how Pa and Clyde’s trailer trash slothfulness is infecting the uptight suburban neighborhood.

4. Trent still can get to practice and bottom for the entire team and the coaches, turning them all into stupid, fuck-hungry tops.

5. Julian decides he would really like a fat, tattooed skin pig for an intense fisting session that evening.

What would you like to see?

Professor Adams was in his office, working on grading a series of tests which he wanted to have back to the students of the next class he taught in an hour. He was doing his best to hurry, and so, when the short chubby cub walked into his office, prodded by the massive, middle aged hulk behind him–a man so wide he could barely fit through the door, he’d initially thought it was a prospective student and his father who wanted to ask him questions about the department. “Oh, uh…hi,” he said, as the two men took a seat in the chairs opposite his desk, “I’m actually pretty busy at the moment. If you’d like to find a class to shadow or ask questions about the department, I’d suggest Professor Allister-Hale at the end of the hall–she’s the head of the department.”

“What are you talkin’ about?” the older man, Eric, rumbled, “We’re here to talk about my son Charley’s performance in your class. Apparently he’s been struggling, and being a bit of a general disappointment.”

Charley? The only Charley Professor Adams had in one of his classes was Charles Yangley, one of a set of twins on campus, but this chubby kid wasn’t Charles. Sure, he could see a bit of a resemblance, but there was no way this was him. “Look, I think you’re mistaken. He’s not a student from one of my classes. There’s another Professor Adams in the psychology department, maybe you meant to go to him?”

“Dad, quit fuckin’ around,” the Eric said, “He’s your grandson for Christ’s sake! Don’t play games.”

Professor Adams just stared at the two of them for a moment, shocked, and then the strangest thing happened. It started as a wave of nausea that swept through him suddenly, and his vision started warping and twisting, and a crushing headache flashed through, and then it was all done, and Professor Yangley looked down at his wrinkled hands, and let out a scream. He stood up from the desk, but the heavy gut he’d packed on nearly tipped him back over, and the sudden movement didn’t feel too good on his old joints. “What…what the fuck did you do to me, I’m…I’m fucking old!” he shouted, and looked down at himself. Even his clothes had shifted in a more stodgy variety, with suspenders and pants pulled up over his gut to his belly button. Looking down, he felt a thick beard brush against his neck and chest as well, and he started hyperventilating. He looked over at his son Eric and his grandson Charley sitting across from the desk, trying to understand both how he could be recognizing them now, and how he could have not recognized them moments before.

“Charley, get Grandpa his pipe. I think he needs a smoke.”

“Sure thing dad,” Charley said, and walked over to the rack of pipes that had appeared on the wall, quickly packed on and handed it to his grandpa, holding a lighter and helping him get it lit, and the smoke made him feel better, the episode already fading from his mind, and he settled back down in his chair, his brow furrowing in frustration at his grandson’s performance in his class. He was still passing, sure, but both he and Eric knew he could be doing better. “Well, I do know what worked for you dad when he wasn’t doing as well in school as I wanted,” the professor said between puffs, and then pulled out a drawer in his desk and pulled out a chastity device, “we probably just need to make sure you keep your focus where it needs to be.”

“Oh, come on grandpa, not that…” Charles said, but it was no use. He pulled down his pants and let his father and grandfather secure his cock, feeling it press uncomfortably against the plastic casing.

“You can let it out when you raise your grade to an A–or at the end of the semester, whichever comes first,” the professor said, and Charley sighed.

“Well, I guess I’d better go home and study,” Charley said.

“Not so fast,” Eric said, grinning, “I think your grandpa and I would like to discuss something else with you first,” he grabbed his crotch and leered at his son, and it was after a good half hour of family spit-roasting that they finally let him go home and get to work, and Eric left with him, to supervise.

Puffing on his pipe, Professor Yangley turned back to the tests he was grading, and figured he had just enough time to finish them up. He sighed, marking someone’s paper with an F–some students just didn’t understand what kind of impact their work today would have on their futures, and he chuckled, bundled up the papers and headed to his next class.

***

What happens next?

1. Professor Yangley hands out a test with an F–and the student quickly finds himself becoming a dumb construction worker.

2. Professor Yangley’s pipe smoke has a strange effect on two young men who pass him in the hall, and they turn into two smoking leather bears by the time they reach their dorm room.

3. We can still see how Pa and Clyde’s trailer trash slothfulness is infecting the uptight suburbian neighborhood.

4. Trent still can get to practice and bottom for the entire team and the coaches, turning them all into stupid, fuck-hungry tops.

5. Julian decides he would really like a fat, tattooed skin pig for an intense fisting session that evening.

What do you think?

“Hey Dad, I’m gonna go hang with the guys at the park!” Joey said, waving goodbye to his bearish father standing naked and flaccid in the living room. Joey could still feel his dad’s cum leaking out his ass and into the back of his pants, but it felt…good. He can’t believe he’d never had his father fuck him like that before. He itched his body, which still hadn’t finished putting on hair–he was only seventeen, and yet he already had as much hair as a man twice his age–with a full beard to boot–just like his dad. Joey got on his skateboard and went to the park a few blocks down from his dad’s house, where he met up with his two friends, Tim and Clyde, not knowing that the contagion would affect each of his friends, turning them into the perfect sons for their own fathers.

Tim–or Timothy Jr. as his father, and only his father, called him–begged off early, saying he had to get home for dinner. This struck the other two as odd–after all, Tim usually did everything he could to avoid going home to his strict, overbearing dad. From a young age, Timothy had been groomed by his father to follow him into the white collar business world, but as soon as he could, Tim had rebelled against him every step of the way–getting a mohawk, piercing his ears, learning to skateboard, flunking his classes on purpose and refusing to apply for colleges. Still, by the time he reached his father’s large mansion, he was looking rather different.

Instead of patched jeans and a ratted vest and hardcore metal t-shirt, he was wearing a three piece suit and tie, and riding a sensible bike instead of a skateboard, his piercings and mohawk gone. He parked the bike in the garage in the space his father had provided for him, and then went inside, ten minutes early for dinner, as his father preferred. His dad, a rather portly man in his fifties was already in the dining room, and as they ate, discussing Timothy Jr.’s college applications and planned summer internships, he began to look even more like his father, even packing on a substantial gut and double chin, his hair mimicking his father’s slicked back cut. After dinner, they retired to the study where Timothy Sr. smoked his pipe and drank his whisky, while he pumped load after load of cum down his wonderfully obedient son’s throat and ass, before sending him off to bed early.

Clyde left the park last, and he also wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of going home to his dad, Barry. He lived with him in a trailer park on the edge of town, barely subsisting on his father’s disability checks, even though Barry was perfectly capable of working, as far as Clyde was concerned–he just was lazy as fuck. He spent his days lounging in front of the TV, unwashed and mostly undressed, jacking off to porn, and always with a beer in his hand. He was dumb as shit, too, and Clyde was doing his very best in school to make sure he could go off to college and never return to this his father’s shitty trailer.

By the time he’d gotten home though, Clyde already had a very different viewpoint on life. He’d traded in the goodwill preppy clothes for some of his fathers old workwear–he loved wearing his dad’s old clothes, just the scent of Pa around him got his cock so damn hard. He spit a wad of tobacco juice on the ground and grinned, the ambition and intellect draining out of him. He’d dropped out of school two years ago–who needed it? he could just live with his Pa, where he belonged. He went inside and gave his Pa a deep kiss, and then started licking his fat body clean, relishing the musk, and then drank down his dad’s beer flavored piss, before ordering a few pizzas. He fed most of them to his Pa–he had to keep his dad’s fat belly growing after all–and then took his place between his legs, massaging Pa’s huge gut, and sucking down his cum and piss into the wee hours of the morning.

***

What happens next?

1. Timothy Sr. goes to work the next day, and discovers that everyone below him on the corporate ladder is impossibly submissive to him, and everyone above him fiercely dominant.

2. Pa and Clyde’s sloth spreads through the trailer park in a matter of hours, and then worms it’s way into the gated, suburban neighborhood on the other side of the hill, where it is decidedly less welcome.

3. The twins still have time to go visit that young professor of theirs and turn him into their elderly, pipe-smoking grandpa.

4. Trent still can get to practice and bottom for the entire team and the coaches, turning them all into stupid, fuck-hungry tops.

5. Julian leaves Art at his house as his new dildo, and decides he needs to stock the house with a few more slaves. He decides to modify the next person he sees into a urinal for the bathroom.

What would you all like to see?

Art was still looking out the window, trying to figure out what was going on with his neighbors and first targets, when he heard a voice behind him, “Fuck, what are ya doin’ here, cunt?”

Art spun around and found himself face to face with Julian, who’d just stepped out of his room. This close to the kinky skinhead, Art could get a much better look at the piece of skintrash he’d made, and he was getting turned on again, when he yelped, feeling a sudden pain in his nose. He raised his hand to it and felt a thick horseshoe hanging from his septum, and just looked at Julian, confused.

“Looks fuckin’ good on ya, pig,” Julian said, and strutted over, “Think you need some more though.” Julian smashed his face into his, kissing him, and biting him? No, they weren’t bites, they were piercings, and he lost count of them by the time Art managed to shove Julian away and stumble back against the window. “Nice,” Julian said, smirking, “Fucking face full a metal, fuckin’ awesome.”

Art spun around and found his reflection in the mirror, and sure enough, his face was, almost literally full of metal…and more. mostly in was piercings, but stranger than that even. He had…holes in his cheeks, and…he could see his teeth through them. He opened his mouth to scream, and saw that his tongue was pierced as well and forked down the middle–split right in two. But the holes in his cheeks, they needed…something. He reached into the pocket of his pants and found two cigars there, and salivating already, he shoved one in each of his cheekholes, holding them in place with his teeth, and lit them. The cigars were big enough to plug the holes solid, letting him inhale smoke from both, and exhale the smoke in a plume out his nose.

“Fuck that’s hot,” Julian said, and grabbed Art’s hand, “Get it here, I wanna fuck.”

Art was dragged along, his head clouding with smoke, and it felt like he was just growing stupider. Still a fuck sounded good, yeah, he could use a good fuck, especially with a hot skin freak like Julian. He was so fuckin’ hot, a hot fuckin’ piece of meat. From where Julian gripped his hand, tattoos were spiraling quickly up Julian’s arm and across his entire body. The motif, appeared to be smoke, tribal swirls all over his body originating from two massive cigars crossed on his chest and belly, with an identical image on his back. Julian ripped Art’s clothes off and stripped him down, but looked down at the man’s cock, obviously dissatisfied.

“No fuckin’ good, gonna have to do some shit to this, gonna freak you the fuck up,” Julian said, and started sucking on Art’s ball sack, and he felt it just start–growing. In less than a minute, Julian couldn’t even keep it in his mouth, and he just started licking the sack as the silicone Art had injected into it over years accumulated until it was about as large as a watermelon. Apparently satisfied, Julian moved onto his cock, and like his sack, it grew as well, but rather than the soft, cushy silicone of his sack, his cock was stretched and extended with hard, rigid silicone until it was little more than a fourteen inch, permanently rigid dildo covered with his own tattooed skin, with countless pearls inserted under his skin as well.

“Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about,” Julian said, “That’s a fucking cock that I want to ride!”

“Then climb on fucker!” Art said, exhaling a thick stream of smoke out his mouth, his words distorted and twisted by his new tongue, “Split yourself on it like the skintrash you are.”

Julian didn’t need permission though, he was already dropping his jeans and unzipping the back of his rubber body suit, lowering his well stretched hole onto Art’s massive shaft, fucking himself roughly on the new skinpig’s permanently rigid cock, Art enjoying the feeling of smoke coursing through his body as Julian pleasured himself on his shaft. Out in the hallway, the glasses sat on the carpet for a moment and then faded away, their task complete. While Art and Julian enjoyed themselves, however, the other strains of the contagion all spread out of their houses, looking for other people to infect. What happens next?

***

Alright, so here’s the plan. I’ll probably write 5-7 more entries in this story before going back to captions and vignettes. What I’d like to do is see how these four “strains” infect the people in the neighborhood/city/college campus/etc. These strains, however, mutate. So, considering Julian and Art, Art, having been infected, can also spread his infection, but it’s not the same as Julian’s–rather, he makes men that crave anal stimulation. Hope this all makes sense, I’m sure you’ll all figure it out. Now, the choices. Who should we follow?

1. Walt’s son, newly changed into a hot bearcub by his father, leaves the house to go play with his teenage friends, infecting them so that:

   a. all of his friends rapidly age into their fifties, new daddies who gang rape their cub friend.

   b. all of his friends become cubs too, but with a variety of different fetishes.

2. Eric and Charley leave and head for college. Do they:

   a. meet with a younger professor, aging him into a pipe smoking grandfather?

   b. meet a couple of friends from a fraternity, who become their brothers in real life?

3. Trent realizes he’s late for football practice, and:

   a. he reaches the locker room while the team is still there, and he bottoms for the orgy that follows?

   b. he has a meeting with coach about his attendance, which results in some “discipline”.

Feel free to float your own variations and ideas as well, along with your vote. What do you think?

Julian was sitting at his desk, his notebook for his next class–macroeconomics–open in front of him. Ever since he was in high school, he’d made a habit of taking meticulous notes, and studied them several times between class sessions. It added a lot to his reputation as a know-it-all, he knew, but there was nothing wrong with wanting to be intelligent, even if it did make him a bit of a bore. He was 22 and still hadn’t tried anything alcoholic, aside from a glass of wine when his father took him out to dinner on occasion, and he’d certainly never been to a party–they disgusted him.

There was a sharp pain in his ear, suddenly, which made him cringe and cry out. He felt around the lobe with one of his hands, and…and there was some sort of hole in it? Confused, he got up from his desk and walked over to the small, slender mirror hung on the wall in the house, and took a closer look, and sure enough–it was a hole. A piercing, a thick gauge stuck in it, almost an inch in diameter–a stainless steel ring holding the lobe open, and he felt sick to his stomach, looking at it. How had that happened? That was insane, he’d vowed to never do something like that to his body–and then the same sensation, that sharp prick started up all over his body. First, an identical gauge in his other ear, and then a variety of barbells, rings, and studs all across his face in a variety of colors and sizes. He tried to pull them out, but they couldn’t come, no matter what he did, and then something new–a burning itch across his arms, his chest, even down onto his legs.

He unbuttoned his shirt and saw the tattoos through the white undershirt underneath, and he nearly went into hysterics. He peeled the shirt off, however, and the actual designs left him speechless. The word “Skintrash” was written across his chest, and he saw violent, sexual images spiraling up and down his arms, and onto his stomach, and then the worked their way up as well, dark, tribal spirals circling his neck and then climbing up onto his face, weaving between his piercings and then his hair pulled back into his head, until all that remained was a pitch black skinhead mohawk, a two inch strip of short hair with shaved, tattooed scalp on both sides.

He just stared at himself in the mirror for a few moments. A freak–he was a total freak, but the changes didn’t stop there. His pants–the only clothing he had on still, were growing up his body, covering him skintight. He pushed against it, and it was rubber, or latex, or something, and as they pulled tighter, they were turning clear. Before long, a latex skinsuit covered him from wrist to neck to ankle, and he could see all of his changes, the tattoos covering his legs and feet, as well as the riot of piercings in his cock and scrotum, his sack stretched down one leg of the suit several inches beyond natural, and he looked so freakish and so…so sexy.

His mind, what was happening to his mind? It felt like some strange corruption was growing within his skull, and every fact, every piece of manners and decorum it touched was replaced with some sexual fetish, some new obsession, some disgusting habit he hadn’t even known was possible. “Fuck…” he said, “Fuck cock shit ass, fuckin’ A I’m such a fuckin’ hot piece of skintrash meat!” He shouted. one hand groping his pierced cock through the latex, rubbing it while he screamed obscenities at his reflection until he shot a wad of cum in the suit, watching it pool in the air pockets and slowly work it’s way down one of his tattooed legs, and damn if he needed a fuck. Something freaky, something kinky, something…strange.

He leered at himself, and then started pulling on his bleached jeans, held up with narrow red suspenders, over his latex body suit, but decided to skip the shirt–he wanted people to see he was a freak, he wanted people to see it, and be a freak like him, he had so many ideas, so many fetishes, but first, maybe one more load in his suit.

He started massaging his crotch again while Art watched, having already shot himself on the carpet hallway, and exhausted, he went over to a window at the end of the hall, and smiled to himself. These glasses were amazing, but he wanted to take a break. He took them off and looked out the window, which he noticed gave him a look directly into his now bearish neighbor’s living room window, where the new bear was fucking the daylights out of his son…his son who was now…a cub? Art just stared at him. He hadn’t changed his son, what was going on? Art, however, was about to discover exactly what was happening, when he spun around and found one of the changed roommates eyeing him down the hallway.

~~~

1. Is it Eric and Charles? The daddy and son would probably love a more elderly addition to their family.

2. Is it Trent? He’s pretty thirsty for cum and a good fuck, but I doubt Art is ready to become the top Trent wants.

3. Is it Julian? He seems to have some pretty kinky interests, and Art would probably end up heavily modded and with a few other kinks.

If you have a particular suggestion for Art’s change, feel free to mention it along with your preferred number. What do you all want to see?

Trent was in his room, watching one of his favorite pornos before he had to go to football practice in the afternoon–he was planning on just rubbing one off real quick, but he’d been at it for a few minutes now with no luck. Something was missing, something…just wasn’t letting him cum for some reason, and he couldn’t figure it out. Looking over, he noticed the door to his bedroom was open, when he was sure he’d closed it earlier. Still, the idea of being discovered masturbating was…kind of hot. And maybe one of his roommates would let him…let him suck their cocks, or fuck his ass.

He let out a groan, and he started swelling in his chair, his pecs ballooning, abs growing increasingly ridged, his delts swallowing his neck as his thighs swelled into huge trunks. His somewhat pale skin took on a nice tan–the window on his computer shifted suddenly to his live cam show, and he started jacking off to the camera, watching men flood into his room, urging him onward. He wanted them all–their cocks in his mouth and ass, he wanted to drink their cum.

He reached over and grabbed his favorite dildo–eleven inches and thick as a beer can–and started working it in and out of his ass while he twiddled his three inch cock for the men to see. They loved how a masculine man like him could also be a total bottom, and the fact that he was a first string linebacker for a college football team just drove them wild. The cam sessions in his uniforms were always the most popular, and as he fucked himself, he swelled even further, until he was nearly six and a half feet tall and 275 pounds of muscle.

His body remained somewhat hairy, but what he did have accentuated his body, rather than distracted from it. As he fucked himself, now moaning loudly, what little intellect Trent had started to fade. All that mattered to him, before long, was twofold. First, having as many men’s eyes on him as possible–if their attention wasn’t on him, then something was wrong. And second, how to get as many men currently looking at him to either fuck or fist his meaty hole, or else feed him their delicious cum. Trent licked his lips and drooled a bit, thinking about his favorite food. And for some reason, after he drank it, he always seemed to get bigger–and stupider. He finally shot a load all over his keyboard and licked it clean, before staring hard at the clock on his computer screen. He was late for something…but what? Oh well, he could put on another show–maybe then he’d stop being too horny to think. Maybe.

Art shot his own load as he watched Trent–the massive beast of a bottom he now was–lick his own off his computer, and figured he’d have to get the web address of his cam show. He didn’t want to miss a single load blown by the massive slut. Still, one more roommate remained, just a short way down the hall. It was Julian–the smart one, and the rich one. He was in the middle of looking over his notes for his next class, and Art sneered–Julian had just a bit too much going for him. Maybe it was time to knock him down a social peg or two–and get Art’s rocks off in the process. What does he choose?

~~~~

1. Make him a heavily modded punk, covered with lewd tattoos and extreme piercings, unable to speak without swearing. Everyone he encounters will pick up some of Julian’s mods, and some extreme sexual fetishes to boot, especially pain play and bondage.

2. Make him a middle aged, slobbish chronic masturbator, uninterested in anything beyond jacking off. Everyone he encounters will find their ambition and drive greatly diminished, leaving them only interested in sex. WARNING–Might get messy, but probably not.

3. Make him a burly, dumb redneck with a southern accent who chews tobacco. Everyone he runs into will be in for some sort of culture shock, usually turning into a perverse biker, trucker or redneck like the new Julian.

What’s your choice?

“You’re fucking screen peeking!”

“Was not–don’t blame me for the fact that you can’t aim worth shit.”

Eric let off a heavy sigh–his twin brother was such a pill, he didn’t even know why he played this game with him. They were identical in looks, both slim with youthful faces prone to stubble, and they even got their hair cut similarly, but their interests were far more varied than their looks. Eric had always been more interested in sports and the outdoors, while Charley had grown into more of an introvert, playing video games and reading more often than not. Still, they were close–close enough that Eric could resist the urge to wring his neck most of the time. He waited a few seconds until his character respawned, and then set off into the base again, hoping he could get the drop on Charley once this round so his brother wouldn’t have a clean sweep, and he kept an eye on Charley out of the corner of his eye, to try and catch him in the act, which was easier said than done.

Still, these new fangled systems–he just wasn’t used to these controllers at all. He itched his arms, not noticing the hair which was filling in across them as he did, or the stubble growing across his face. Still, his younger brother was the one who’d bought the system–the last system Eric had really played much of was two generations ago, so of course he wasn’t going to be as good at it as his little brother. He turned back to the game, but the controller didn’t fit in his big hands quite right–but then again, they probably weren’t designed for someone with hands as big as his were.

Charley peeked over at his older brother, with his bushy beard and hairy arms, and felt a strange shiver run through him. His brother was…really sexy, actually. He’d always liked it when Eric took his shirt off, and he could see all the hair on him, even on his shoulders and down his back to to his ass crack…he shook his head, wondering why in the world he was thinking about his dad like that. That wasn’t right…was it? He shifted his position on the couch, his body filling out with fat. His slim physique was gone in a matter of moments, replaced by a chubby body–not fat by any means, but certainly nothing compared to the hulking form of his father, the tiny controller looking like it would be crushed to bits in his massive, hairy hands, leaning and and squinting at the TV screen. Eric took a second and grabbed some glasses off the side table as his hair grew streaked with silver strands, and put them on. Now he was able to see better, not that it helped him play better. He just never liked this whole video game thing, but Charley had always enjoyed it, so he played along to make him happy…still, he had an inkling that Charley would be much happier with his dad’s cock buried up his ass.

Eric looked over at his son on the couch next to him, and the two of them just stared at each other for a long beat, and then Charles clambered over and had his lips locked with his father’s, though he had to kneel on the couch in order to reach them, considering how tall his dad was. Eric wrapped his big arms around him, their clothes disappearing in a puff of smoke like they’d never even been there, and the heat of his boy’s soft fat against his hard, weathered muscle made him growl as he bit down on his cub’s lip.

“Something tells me you already know what you want for winning, son,” Eric said, smirking, and Charley grinned, wrapping his hand around his father’s big cock and swallowing it all, getting it nice and wet so it would slide into his ass easier. He loved getting fucked by his father so much–it was the only prize he ever wanted–though he usually got it regardless of whether he won or lost.

Watching the two of them, over by the doorway, Art–invisible to both–couldn’t last long enough to watch them start fucking, and nutted all over the carpet in front of him, panting a bit. That had worked better than he’d imagined–or rather, it had worked exactly how he imagined. Where there had been two slim college twins, there was now a massive bear daddy and his cubby son, the second sucking on his dad’s massive cock, and he figured that the two of them would probably spend more time fucking than anything else from now on, and he hoped Eric would be willing to let Art fuck his new son’s hole sometime in the future–it looked too good to pass up, from where it was, up in the air as he sucked his daddy hard.

Still, he had two more students to visit, and change, Art thought. All of their cars were here, so he assumed that they were all home–the others were probably just upstairs in their rooms. Art tromped up the stairs, his cock already hardening again, wondering who he’d find first. It was Trent–the jock. He was sitting at his computer, looking at some straight pron site, masturbating, and Art rolled his eyes. Perhaps it was time for Trent to develop a more interesting fetish–and one Art could get behind as well?

~~~~

Your choices:

1. Trent is going to chub out a bit and develop a fetish for grungy slobs. He himself will stop showering and changing clothes, enjoying musk and piss play in particular. Everyone he comes into contact with will find their hygienic standards diminish substantially. ***WARNING*** Don’t vote for this if you aren’t ok with things getting potentially messy.

2. Trent is going to become a bear with a smoke fetish. He himself will love all kinds of tobacco–chew, cigarettes, cigars, and pipes–as long as he can get as much nicotine as possible. Everyone he encounters will pick up the habit, but whatever they end up smoking or chewing will change them somewhat as well.

3. Trent is going to become a musclebound manwhore. He’ll be obsessed with sucking off and being fucked by as many men as he can find, as often as possible, and have a strong exhibitionist streak as well. Everyone he encounters will find themselves bent to his submissive desires, twisted into tops designed to please his holes–as well as toys for his enjoyment.

 

Art climbed out of his car in the driveway, loosening his tie as he did, and with his briefcase in hand, he headed up the front steps. He seems rather hurried and nervous, and fumbled with his keys, dropping them once before he managed to get them into the lock on the door to let himself in. On the surface, Art is a fairly normal middle aged man. A bit portly and balding slightly, working as a manager in a corporate office of a large bank–he was someone most people ignored–but in the privacy of his own home, the truth was that Art was a complete and total pervert and voyeur, and it just so happened that today he’d received a strange gift, and he’d left the office early to come home and test it out.

He pulled the rather dull spectacles from his shirt pocket and turned them over in his hands, wondering if he’d been hoodwinked. Still, there was only one way to find out, wasn’t there? He looked out his window, and saw that his neighbor, Walt, was mowing his lawn–and Art leered at him. Art didn’t have many standards–and even fewer boundaries. He’d jack off to anything, if given the chance–he’d never found a fetish that didn’t turn him on, but especially loved the mere act of unknown observation. He put on the glasses and stepped outside, wandering across the street to where Walt was working and started shouting and waving to get his neighbor’s attention–but Walt ignored him, as though he were invisible–which it turned out, he was.

He jumped for joy–already ecstatic, but wanted to try out the rest of the glasses’ powers since he had a subject right in front of him. Apparently, so long as he was aroused, he would be able to manipulate and warp whoever he was jacking off to into whatever sort of person he wanted them to become. He unzipped his khakis and pulled out his dick, staring lustfully at his oblivious neighbor, and decided he’d turn him into exhibitionist bear. Immediately, most of Walt’s clothing disappeared, aside from a pair of short, cut-off denim shorts, and hair began sprouting all over the place, front and back, and a massive, bushy beard erupted out of his cheeks and chin. The crotch of his shorts bulged out, and Art ogled his new neighbor, loving the extent of the changes, and then shot his load all over the newly cut grass. He took a few moments to catch his breath on the sidewalk, and just kept watching as Walt finished the lawn, parked the mower inside, and then headed in for a drink.

It worked–it really fucking worked. Art couldn’t believe it, and he knew just where he wanted to use it next. He lived a few blocks away from a college campus, and the house next door to him was always rented out to college students. This newest crop was all young men Walt had already spent day’s fantasizing about–two twin brothers, a muscular jock, and a more preppy, rich nerd. He was growing a bit bored though, so he decided he’d change all four of them in some way or another. He headed over, and let himself into the house.

Unknown to him, Walt’s son had been home with his father when he went back into the house. He’d had a short moment to gawk at his father’s new look, before he’d felt his body start itching as hair grew in across his body as well. Before he really knew what was happening, his father had him against the wall, pressing their hairy bodies together, as they made out, his son slowly converted into his father’s obedient cub. See, the glasses did more than change people–it’s contagious. Not everyone effected changes people in the same way though, if it mutates. But now that Art has unleashed it, what’s going to happen to the twins Art found playing video games in the living room of the house?

~~~

Take your pick!

1. He decides to play with their ages. He makes one of them a daddy in his 50’s and the other his chubby cubson. They will have the tendency to incorporate everyone they meet into their growing family, often changing their ages wildly in doing so.

2. He’s always hated how similar the two of them look–he decides he’ll make them into opposites–one a buff muscular hunk, and the other into a hairy, obese bear. Everyone they come into contact with will find their body shifting into something completely alien to whom they were before.

3. He wants to see the two of them in some more revealing gear–one will be forced to wear leather, and the other rubber, for the rest of their lives. Everyone they come into contact with will find themselves looking more like they belong in a fetish club, than on the street.

Most of you probably remember how this works. You can submit your preferred answer in the box below, or send me an ask, IM or email. Whichever gets the most votes, is the one I’ll write. So, what do you all want to see?