Nemesis

by Steve Berman Sberman8@yahoo.com Let's start with the truth: I was following him. There, now I can set the tone. Not that I usually stalked people, but he was different. Struck me hard and fast, like an accident, only the feeling was welcome. So I waited outside the shop, peering into the windows as if browsing from the street. I was more than a little surprised that he was making a purchase. Not the sort of person to frequent a gallery, especially not the sort of gallery that this was. Were weird masks crafted from tooled leather and animal bones along with crepe and burlap wings his taste? That thought almost made me walk away and leave the stare of that something--once a raccoon or perhaps a possum--perched atop a calfskin helm in the display that was accusing me through empty sockets. Yet I was held fast, watching as he purchased a mask, a wide piece with fluted edges and scrollwork around the lips. When he left the store, not even pausing to offer me a glance, I stood by, breathing in his smell. One more inhale and a minute's passing happened before I followed him. I was not aiming for capture, but merely the thrill of the hunt. I could let my eyes follow the length of his young frame, supposedly with little risk. He led me to Jackson Square; on this weekend, it was full of both tourists and regulars, the artists displaying their paintings and caricatures along the wrought iron fence binding the park. In my two years of living in the Crescent City, I had never seen anyone walk that park. A snack at L'Madeline's seemed his goal. I sat down outside on a metal bench and waited. Resting and inert, I felt little like a predator. Embarrassment for acting in such outlandish fashion crept over me. I had kept my secret too well, preventing any overt betrayals even if I wanted them to be shown. So if I ever was attracted to another guy, desire was kept locked away tight behind my eyes. But this one made me act, even to this little degree, for approaching him was still out of the question. I had caught him on a side street to Royal, standing there watching with a host of others at a one-man band playing in the middle of the street. How could you not be taken by him? With his slim physique and wild black hair that so contrasted with his pale skin. A night dweller that had crept out for some reason to take a glimpse of the sun and its crowd. His clothing was worn, jeans almost tattered to shreds. He was definitely not one of the university crowd I normally hung out with, and did not have the brashness of a local. What he did have was quiet and furtive eyes that I thought would never find me. "Dance," I whispered, "you were surely meant to dance," but only his foot moved in time with the music. He left the cafe to walk down the alleys that led back to Bourbon Street, an infamous thoroughfare of the Quarter, which was truthfully a disappointment during the day. Those walkways had the rare person traveling besides us, but still I followed, my mind often urging me to turn away, but never quite vehement enough for the rest of me to listen. Yet, I wondered why he did not turn around and confront me, as my footfalls were neither quiet nor calm. Perhaps he simply chose to ignore my existence. The thought did not have much appeal to me, but I was saved when he left the known parts of Bourbon. He passed the Line. All newcomers to the Quarter hear of the Line if they spend any time downtown. Eventually the tourist trappings fall aside, the restaurants fade back, and you are only left with gloomy looking buildings. Most are bars of some ill repute squatting down, ready to gorge themselves on sodden customers. I had learned from the classmates I occasionally socialized with that beyond the almost visible line were places a normal guy, a straight decent fellow, just shouldn't go. Gay bars, rough spots, leather dens, areas where your ass either got shoveled or kicked in. And though the warnings were tabu entreaties, I had never before had the courage, or that much inclination, to cross. I watched him go with a sigh of regret. He never looked back, and neither did I. The walk back to the streetcar stop seemed so bland in comparison. Somewhere, I heard that New Orleans has two different patron gods, each presiding over not different parts of the city but rather the times. During the day, it is the sly Mercantile, the one who stands grinning behind the counter. He may be met as a sophisticate selling artwork or antiques, or be the street dealer with lewd T-shirts and garish Mardi Gras posters. But he will try to sell you something, anything, ‘name your price littl' lady.’ But at night, well, New Orleans becomes the domain of the Truck Driver, an avatar cruel and crude, laughing while he spills his beer on your sleeve, promising to show you sights never seen before, but all guaranteed to arouse. His language is blunt and to the point. The Mercantile wants your business, thrives on it; the Truck Driver couldn't care less, because he knows you have come to watch and don't feel like going home early. Or hungry. And since I like to think of myself somewhat sophisticated if not downright neurotic, I often avoided offering myself to the Truck Driver. At night most of the French Quarter is alive and crawling down Canal and Bourbon streets, with the other streets asleep except for the rare insomniac. Normally I am of little mood for crowds of drunken folk, seeking only to lose myself in a book back at the dorm. But one night late this past semester I sought refuge in their madness; for three weeks, I had been barraged with papers and tests, and the notion of just once losing my identity seemed like the perfect medicine. Come morning, should I regret something, well, that was a New Orleans tradition, too. I had come down on the streetcar with friends, letting them act as faulty guides and chaperons. With my hurricane clutched firm, and my college sweatshirt on as a warning label to the locals, I was ready to drink in deep that night. All was fine, even the two hours spent in the strip joint. I enjoyed the rank smell of sweat and smoke more than the dancers, who seemed all too eager to leave the stage; their social security checks must have been waiting for them in the back. But I was a consummate actor, in part thanks to the no-cover-charge-but-necessary-three-drink-minimum rule, and my friends never saw my disinterest in flouncing breasts. Outside the club, I took a moment to clear my head of vapors. The brick walls here are great for this purpose; one can lean against them and feel the world coming back into focus. Perhaps I should suggest that a bit of powdered brick added to chicory coffee might serve as a hangover remedy. My renewed perception let me spot him down the street. The clothing was so similar to what he wore the night I first saw him, that I wondered if I wasn't having some weird Dixie-beer induced flashback. But no, it was through the passing mob that my eyes were teased with him standing in front of a trader's shop, one arm casually draped around one of the cast-iron horse heads, relics from when busy folk had to tie up their steeds. I rapped my head against the wall ever so slightly, letting my friends chuckle at the display. I was trapped. To simply leave them would invite questions, none of which I could readily answer. But the desire to go to him was strong, making me think recklessly. My mind on a rampage, I muttered something up getting a refill and wandered into the crowd. I prayed they would not follow as I waded past the doomsayers, smelling rank like bad bologna stuck between their sandwich board signs. When I could no longer see my pals and my last link to school and sanity was gone, I headed directly towards him. This time his eyes were on me, casually, as I approached. I nearly lost my nerve, but to have come so close and then break away was too disheartening to contemplate. So, we met besides the black horse head with its bit of rust peeking through the bad paint job. Never having been so close to him, I was a bit surprised at his age; I would have guessed him a couple of years younger than me, but his confident pose had not a drop of inexperience. And since I did not yet have the strength to stare him straight in that delicately featured face, I found myself watching his long fingers that were idly stroking the post's huge nostrils. "Whew, its good to get out of that crowd. Felt like I was going to be swept along the street." My voice had a nervous edge to it, making me cringe slightly as I finished. He shrugged. "Nights here are like that." He had a soft voice, barely above a whisper. "Surprised to see you here, thought you were more of a day walker." The remark was received and noted; so he had known I was following him that day. "Yeah, but something brought me out tonight. You seem to blend-in here." I added. "That's not a compliment." And he flashed me a grin. "Are you waiting for anyone?" Hope was at my fingers, ready to fly off to the river if he should answer yes, that he was waiting for someone else, someone better looking, perhaps taller or bigger, without an East Coast accent that betrays seduction. "Sort of, but seeing as you're here, guess I might not have to." I was confused, but merely nodded, feeling it the right thing to do. "Umm, you want to go somewhere and get a drink and talk?" "Sure, I know a place." I followed him as we made our way along the sidewalk, avoiding the packed street to make faster time. I was so nervous that one of my school chums would catch sight of me that I kept my eyes trained on his backside, which was not altogether a bad sight. Before I knew it, the crowd had thinned out to mere stragglers. We had reached the damned Line, again. He crossed it with ease, then turned back to see my passage. Again it was too late to turn back. I wished that a shock of sorts had traveled up and down my spine as I crossed into strange territory, but it felt all too slick and painless. Seeing me step over, he again flashed me that grin that was oh-so-promising. Farther down the street, we reached a small doorway. Beyond it, the room was dark with dim splotches of light from weak bulbs hanging in the rafters. Small tables and chairs were placed haphazardly about, each covered with what look like remnants of cloth. Several people sat close together on the floor, amid pillows and covers. The bar was low, with too many bartenders milling about, fighting over the odd customer who wanted something to drink. A dim chord of music hung in the air, supplied by an unseen guitar. It was mournfully apparent that conversation, offers and promises, perhaps even deals of flesh were the draw. What was the minimum here, I had to wonder. We sat at one of the few empty tables. It was odd how such a quiet place could be so crowded; amid all the whispering, mouths barely seemed to move. I was disappointed that all sorts of couples sat down with their drinks; I had expected, had even hoped for, something more blatantly gay as a site for my initiation. The drinks were set before us; there was no choosing apparently. I took a sip from the wet glass and found it bitter but strong. My companion seemed as relaxed as ever, just content to stare at me it seemed, yet ,as I was to learn, the demeanor I saw was actually a carefully constructed wall. In a subdued voice, I was forced to start the conversation. "My name's Preston." I felt that offering my hand would seem childish and utterly inappropriate for what I was hoping would happen that night. He was more than a moment in responding. "Brandon." My hand shook a little, but as I cast my eyes about the room to avoid dwelling upon it, I replied. "An interesting place. Never saw anything like it before. Almost Bohemian." With a slight smirk, he said. "A lot of the hustlers take the johns here to settle terms before going farther, and then there are a number of places nearby to go. Haitian cabbies drift about like checkered sharks in case it’s a hotel job." I took a hearty gulp of the drink after that. As my throat burned, the truth crashed down, taking everything apart like a dropped puzzle. I knew that ‘innocent’ was written on my hands, but never I thought ‘naïve.’ Where to look? The table, the floor, my arms, all covered with fragments of my fantasies. Odd that he was clean. "Don't tell me you didn't know." He playfully rolled his glass between those pale hands. "You approached me, after tracking me for a long time, the other day." I was still in shock, my mouth open, no doubt. I came to when I heard "Enough of this," and he rose to leave. My arm shot forth and grabbed ahold of his hand. His skin felt cold and clammy and my first instinct was to let go and rub warmth back into my fingers. "No. Please stay. It's all right with me. Really." He sat back down, but still I could feel that more brick-and-mortar had been added to the wall that separated us. I wanted to knock it down before sharing anything with him, but realized that sitting between us was the Truck Driver, squinting and hooting, offering to pull away Brandon's shirt and to let me see a little skin before I went further. On such unfamiliar ground, with no maps or guides, all I had left was one recourse. That was to feel my way around him and hope to find some crevice that would let me travel inside. My emotions seemed overwhelmed by him, traveling the gray area between simple lust and the yearning for intimacy. In all my twenty years, neither had ever been accomplished. "What are. . . what are your rates?" "Depends on your needs." He loomed closer, reaching across the small table so that his fingers brushed against my hand that held the drink. The touch was shocking, not only from the erotic stroke that traveled my skin, but also the clammy and cold nature, as if his temperature worked on a different scale than mine. I timidly enwrapped his hand my own fingers, ignoring the cold and damp. As I spoke, the words tasted as bitter as the drink, but they had to come out. "I want . . . I want to sleep with you. To spend the night, maybe the morning." I said the words quickly and then grabbed my glass to finish off my drink. The smirk was back in full force, making his face look almost bestial. "Not just sleep. . ." he intoned. He was enjoying making me squirm with my request. Damn, I wanted the waitress to bring me another glass so that I might speak some more, but now the bar looked empty, and the guitar sounded too loud. My mouth was open but only small, guttural sounds came out. I think I was shaking, perhaps a few drops of sweat fell onto the table. I forgot that my hand was still over his until he squeezed my fingers. "No problem, I see what you need. Pay for the drinks and let's get going." My open wallet was a siren cal, two waitresses showed at the table, each eyeing the other balefully over the bill. No words were said, so I threw down a twenty and leave them fighting over the paper. As I turned, I noticed Brandon was leaning against the doorway waiting for me. Now that an arrangement had been made--though I did not recall a price even mentioned--his stance had changed. Before, his slim build seemed ready to quiver, if not twist and dance about. Each step that he made, was made with wild abandon. Now, his hips were cocked like a gun, his tread slow. He languished about, his arms spread wide at times to stroke the buildings along his side. I had a nagging hard-on for him, and stuck my hands in my pockets to help conceal my interest. He noticed immediately and began to laugh, an oddly loud sound when compared to his normal low-level of speech. We went along a maze of streets and corridors until we came to a inner courtyard, a rare sight that most folk who walk the French Quarter never see. Often, they contain old fountains or lush gardens. This one was bare except for several crates stacked like precarious towers and a metal gate set before stone steps down one wall. Brandon had one foot on a slim staircase that led to the upper floors of an adjoining building. I gave one more glance to the odd gate, since basements were rare in New Orleans due to the below-sea level nature of the city, and I was pondered where those steps led. But all Brandon had to do was to call out my name once, and my raging interest returned to what could happen atop the other flight of stairs. Once inside, I found that the upper floor was riddled with rooms. Behind closed doors I could hear sounds and moans, but couldn’t tell if all were sounds of pleasure. Subconciously, I realized now how dangerous my situation was. I had come to an area of the city with no clear way of getting home, and led by a complete stranger. For a moment, the urge to run, break away and head back to the safety of my dorm room crept over met, but before it had time to act, I had followed Brandon into one of the rooms. The room was small and cramped, containing a futon and an old chest. A Salem Witchcraft poster hung on one wall, along with a bizarre display of slate shards. A pile of stones decorated the center of the room, seeming more than haphazard and was disturbing to look at. Other than a few clothes scattered about, the rest was old carpet. Brandon shut the door behind us and leaned against the wood. I waited for a few minutes basked the moonlight that streamed in through a window and feeling somewhat at a loss for words or actions. He just stared at me with those dark eyes. Reacting to my hesitation, he walked to me, stepping so close, I could feel his cool breath on my face. "Take off my clothes." His was a demand not a request. My hands trembled as they went to his shirt. The tips of my fingers brushed against smooth, cool skin as I pulled it off. His chest was slim but toned, nearly snow-white, except for the darker rings around his nipples. All I wanted to do was caress him there, but I know that would not be following whatever rules had to exist in such situations. I knew that he had to be naked completely, so his worn jeans were next. As I unzipped them, he stepped closer to me, until our bodies were nearly touching. I pushed down the denim to expose a pair of black boxers, which showed the strain of Brandon's erection. I pushed the jeans down further, passing, with admiration, firm, muscular legs with not a wisp of hair to be seen. I helped him out of his sneakers, peeled off his socks, and then his jeans. He stood there in his underwear, the darkness of which contrasted with his skin so that it looked like his body stopped at the waist only to begin again in mid-thigh. I was entranced by the contrast; and one of my fingers had to reach out and touch his boxers just to ensure that it was indeed fabric. My hand ended up on the inner side of his leg, and I began to lazily stroke skin that was as smooth as milk. I looked up to see a half-smile on Brandon's face, and realized even as I saw it that I could accept that. I brought my own face closer until we were brushing against each other. The sensuality between us rose and I became aware that my own dick was still constrained, which reminded me that I was still fully dressed. As I stood there, one of his hands went to my neck, cupping itself underneath my chin. To my flushed skin, it was a cool compress. I sucked in my breath, feeling the blood race around his touch. Then, that hand drifted down, over my shirt and to my waist. It hesitated a moment before sliding up between the fabric and my skin. That I could feel such pleasure in his stroking my chest was astounding, I feared that I would completely collapse into a quivering mass if and when his hand went lower. I could not help but sigh and softly moan. My eyes were closed. He never said a word as his hand left me. The loss of such contact was frightening; all of a sudden I was left disoriented. I opened one eye to see that he was stretched out on the futon, one hand stroking the front of his boxers as the other did a slow wave to bring me closer. The fact that I would have to undress myself caused a wave of disappointment. I saw again how immense and intact the wall that Brandon had built, remained. For the last few minutes, I had been lost in fantasy. The fact that I was paying for a night's passion, however exquisite it may turn out to be, returned and threatened to dull my desire with self-disgust. My hands fumbled in removing my clothes. If he noticed my inner turmoil, he said nothing to ease my thoughts. Stripped bare except for my briefs, I crawled onto the futon besides him. He still wore that almost-grin. Along with adrenaline, my blood carried doubt, the whole mixture making me feel weak and lost as I laid there. Brandon leaned towards me on one elbow and with his free hand began to brush his fingers through my hair. His touch was so gentle and comforting that it felt like I had just drunk a tonic to chase away my fears. He leaned in to kiss me. His mouth was chilled, but rather than disturbing, I found the sensation delightful. Wickedly I had to wonder what it would feel like if he went down on me with that cold tongue. I held my breath for as long as I could, letting him explore. My arms went around him, almost sliding along as they made their way to his back. I gripped him close, desperate to bring him closer to me. At some point, he was atop me, rubbing his whole body against me, bringing shivers along the length of my spine. Then he rolled over, disengaging himself. Rather than speak, he guided my hand down to his crotch. The nerves along my arm readied themselves for what my touch would find. I slid his boxers down, exposing his erection. Around the base was a sparse arrangement of black hair that curved down to his scrotum. I leaned in closer to marvel at the dichotomy: it was both the softest skin and yet it felt so hard. I let myself rub along the length, now and then gliding down to cup his sack in my palm. When his hand pressed against the back of my head, inching me closer to his cock, I knew what he wanted me to do. I expected his cock to have a taste, but instead there was just a certain firmness that was still delightful. Even here, there was the coolness of Brandon's flesh, and I wanted to warm him with my breath and throat. I had no idea if I was pleasing him; he just lay there calm, looking down at me as I slipped my lips again and again over him. Finally, he lifted my face from his crotch. I moved slowly, not realizing that Brandon had managed to slide behind me and that I was now facing the mattress. Moments later I felt something sliding slowly inside of me, and then withdraw. As the movement returned again and again, I was drew heaving breaths as a tide of pleasure and discomfort ebbed and ripped through me. I could not help but collapse forward and hug the edges of the futon, and I heard him laugh in delight to my response. How long it lasted is beyond me. With a massive moan, I came into the folds of the sheets below me. Soon after, he pulled out from me, then turned me over to watch as he jerked off. His semen sprayed all over his chest and groin, and I was held enthralled by the sight. As his labored breathing eased, he dipped a finger into the streaks of cum and held it up it to my face as an offering. I hesitated, and found him pressing it closer to my shut lips. I opened and took his finger in, tasting him deeply, feeling his salty seed lay on my tongue. We then slept together. Come morning, instead of a shared kiss, he had me go down on him again. I did so without complaint. Afterwards, I gave him whatever money I had left in my wallet, leaving myself only enough change for the streetcar ride back home. He led me back through the streets until we came to a part of Bourbon I recognized. I said good-bye, he merely nodded. But I was not left alone so easily. It seemed that I spent all my time was in remembrance of that night. Perhaps I should have been disgusted, for, to some, I was merely used. But I did not feel this way. Rather my attraction to Brandon had grown beyond the physical. I wanted to meet the challenge of piercing his wall, to find and love the true teen that lurked within. Are most defrocked virgins so naive? The very next night I returned to Bourbon Street to find him. Now that I knew what sort of person I was dealing with, the hunt was easier. He greeted me with only a smirk, but this time as we entered the brothel, he held onto my hand, guiding me back to the room. For the next two weeks it continued this way. Rarely did I fail to find him, once even chasing away another potential customer, though Brandon seemed little bothered by the loss. My studies suffered as the task of college paled in comparison to the task of creating a romance with a prostitute. My newfound dedication began to pay off. Brandon must have developed some fondness for me as he began to refuse my money in the morning. When he took it, it was half-hearted born of a need. Soon he was less demanding during sex, allowing me to slow down each caress and find time to savor each taste and touch. The next step was far too easy, and I found myself staying with him each night, together roaming the streets where he would show me parts of the city few had ever seen. The wall was crumbling; I could hear bits of masonry fall as he guided me about, holding my hand during these private tours of decayed courtyards and manses. During the day we would mostly sleep, venturing out only when bored. I abandoned most of my belonging back in my dorm room, taking only the essentials. The only way to embrace him was to turn my back upon the old life and walk a new path. Sometimes I worried that Brandon did not return my true feelings. Was I only a diversion in his life, one that would last only so long before apathy returned? If so, I drowned my concerns in bitter drink and his heady presence; I would mourn that loss when it was presented to me. Now as a night dweller, I met the other boys who lived in the building. Like some secret clan, they all spoke in whispers, each I saw holding back a frenzy threatening to come unleashed. All were hustlers, though some catered to more exotic clientele. At first I found them distant towards me, like I was only a shadow amongst them. Soon, as they saw how much time Brandon and I were sharing, they began to speak to me, confide in me the events in their lives. I wanted them to let their guard down and regard me as a friend, but no, there still existed a bit of that wall between me and their breed. The story of Remus was fresh from only last semester's teachings. Then one cloud-covered night, with the threat of rain driving most from the open street, Brandon led me not to the room to spend one more night in each other's heat, but to the building's courtyard. He was quiet, the only snatches of conversation he uttered were both vague and unsettling. Something was going to happen that night, besides the thick showers that so-often patronized New Orleans. I had begun to believe that this was my last night with him, that tomorrow he would tell me to return to my old ways, to sunlight and textbooks… and loneliness. There was some measure of truth and foresight in this, as now the old ways are lost for me. The courtyard looked different when lit by fire. All the boys were standing about, many of them carrying handmade torches. I counted several faces hidden behind a variety of sordid masks. Here one crafted from broken porcelain, there a leather bondage visage complete with zippered eyebrows and lips. One of the boys brought Brandon the odd mask he bought so long ago, which he donned without a word to me. It was almost as if I could physically see his wall rearing up to prevent me from reaching him. The brickwork was far older than the flesh it contained. A deep groaning of tortured metal sounded as the iron gate was unlocked and thrust wide open, and the procession began to climb down the steps. Brandon need not have pushed me ahead of him; I wanted to go down and see perhaps the one aspect of his life that had remained hidden from me. The descent was rough on my senses. Flickering torchlight revealed only dripping stone walls decorated with patches of repellent fungus. They were all so silent, only the crackling of the fires and the sound of our feet falling upon the tiles reached my ears. The stench of musty earth was thick in the cool air. How long we walked down those steps, I could not guess, but finally, we reached bottom. My teeth were chattering against the cold, and I dreaded brushing against the stonework around me. I followed the others, but was careful to stay near Brandon. I believe we passed a few unlit chambers, all looking archaic and unsafe to venture into. Someone from the lead of the procession had begun to hum a strange tune that rose and fell in time with our footsteps. Soon other voices joined ours, and I fear to say that some of them emanated from those dark rooms. The corridor ended in a large circular chamber, and the line of masked and unmasked wound its way around a huge pit set in the floor's center. In the dim light, I could just make out the remains of mosaic tiles surrounding the hole. But if they were to decorated with words or icons, I was unfamiliar with the language. Even though it looked more like a pool of black water than a hole of depth, I could hear wind whistling up from the mouth of the hole,. A voice close to me ripped the silence. "Ia Nyogtha! Erikthnar l'hor kadishtu . . . Ia Nyogtha! Ygnaiih Nyogtha k'yarnak!" I was horrified to see Brandon's mouth move beneath the mask, those lips that I had spent so much time touching with every part of my being, now twisted to spit out such obscene sounding words. His voice was no longer a whisper, but seemed like the hoarse screams of some dying animal pleading for release. The others around me took up the chant, hurling it from one to another, until the last shouted it down to the pit. Shards of slate were then tossed into the pit, making no noise, meeting silently with whatever lurked there. That something that dwelled in the darkness of the chasm responded to the entreaties. I could swear that above their hoarse shrieks I heard a terrible sound, like the lapping of thickened water. Their shouting intensified as they began to leap up and down, shaking their limbs. One boy held out his hand. . . and was touched by something from the pit! A stream of blackness, deeper and darker than any my eyes had ever seen issued forth and snaked around that boy's pale wrist. It moved like liquid; and sounded like poison. Each of the boys began to howl, stripping off whatever clothes they wore. I watched as they finally freed themselves to twist and jump, a dance both graceful and horrific. Tentacles of the black thing shot forth to touch their skin, stroke their naked bodies with a lover's touch as they laughed and cavorted. Their firm erections were jolted by the creature's lingering touch, as if it sought out the most potent heat of their bodies, wanting to steal it from them. Several came, showering the blackness with their pale cum, all the while howling with glee. I had not noticed until now that some of the boys had brought bags along the descent. From them they dumped animals into the pit, letting the darkness swallow up a grand course meal. I say animals, and resist dwelling on the few things that squirmed and bawled as they fell. My mind screamed for release and I ran from the room. Even as I stood hunched over in the hallway, my thoughts shrieked, wanting peace and forgetfulness. I trembled and cried, wondering if it would not be best to rip my eyes free and cast them aside for having betrayed the rest of the body. Before my clawed hands could move, I heard someone enter the corridor from that accursed room. I looked up to see Brandon standing over me, his mask slightly askew, his naked body glistening with an iridescent slime. Even then lust caught me, my eyes glancing downward to note how rigid he was. He lifted me up gently, to meet his face. Then I watched as one of his fingers reached down to his chest and brought back a daub of that muck. He held it before my eyes; I could see the oily sheen it had. Then he offered it to my lips. I could read nothing of his thoughts through the mask. But the decision was made, had been back in that bar past the Line weeks ago. Before he had a chance to withdraw the offer, I wrapped my mouth around the finger and sucked hard. The slime tasted acrid and felt like cold slush falling down my throat. But I did not gag or show any signs of suffering. Brandon let me taste his finger for several minutes, and then he withdrew it and returned to the festival, leaving me alone again in darkness. I slipped down the wall, knowing that something black had entered me and was festering in my gullet. When they brought me back to the surface, Brandon had to carry me back to his place. I sank into a deep sleep troubled with images of dripping black water. I awoke to the little sunlight that crept through the boarded windows. To my side, Brandon was still asleep, his face serene, so different from the mask he had worn the night before. I rose without disturbing him and, dressed only in underwear, took the stairs down to the courtyard. Here I am. The hours have passed, and I have been staring at the closed gate. What happened last night was no delusion, I am sure, but rather something like a wedding. But to what am I married? The night came upon me while still in this fugue. The air holds a slight breeze warm against my bare skin, and I wonder just how cool my touch is now. Nobody forced this path of corruption upon me, nor did they place my hands on the metal bars and aim my eyes to those dark steps. I am solely to blame. But to what end? A light touch on my shoulder does not startle me, and I find the fingers assuring. I turn to find Brandon before me, naked in the night. He takes one of my hands in his, guiding it to his bare chest, against the smooth skin. We come closer and know that inside we both share a black taint. Together we make our way back to our room. For the first time, I am master upon the bed, selfishly taking before I give any pleasure. Afterwards we lay together and now I know that for all my waking moments when I dreaded the path I walked, the companion I had found along the way has made the harsh price worth it.

by Hooder It was the start of John's second week in Hell. He'd skidded on some diesel in the road and driven his motorcycle into a tree. The next thing he'd known, here he was. It was not actually quite as bad as he'd expected. It wasn't continuous boiling oil, sulfurous fumes and everlasting fire -- the demons and fiends worked an 8-hour day torturing souls and everyone had the weekends off for sight-seeing. Accommodations could have been worse, too -- he shared a room with a serial killer who didn't want to talk about his punishments and there was a reasonable view of the general devastation from his window. His first week had been a getting-to-know-you kind of time: he was shown around, introduced to various dignitaries (he even caught a rare glimpse of Mephistopheles himself, getting into a hearse) and met his own personal torturer -- a fiend named Elmet. There then followed a variety of torments and tortures, to find out what John was most susceptible to. They started out with the usual physical things -- foot crushing, bamboo under the fingernails, branding -- (the nice thing was that however he was abused, at 5 PM prompt everyone reverted to their undamaged state so they could be worked on again tomorrow), but he reacted no more and no less to these crude methods of torture than did anyone else. Elmet was looking for something better -- something personal to John -- something he particularly couldn't take. The fiend found just the thing on Friday afternoon. It was 4:55 PM, almost time to quit, and Elmet had John spread-eagled on a table. He'd been gouging out bits of the boy's body with pincers and was getting bored. To be fair, John had been screaming quite well, but it just wasn't right somehow. By accident, Elmet's clawed hand slipped and a long, bony finger scraped across the boy's bare sole. The resulting yell and convulsion of the biker's body had made Elmet pause. This boy is ticklish, he thought. He put the pincers down and experimentally scraped a fingernail slowly down the length of John's left foot. The ensuing scream caused the demon next door to bang on the wall. Elmet looked at the boy, considering. He reached over and tickled both armpits lightly. Now John was strapped down with good-quality canvas restraints, but his convulsion was so intense that he actually broke the one holding his right wrist. At that precise moment the end-of-day whistle went and all torturing stopped for the weekend. Elmet ran his eyes over the young, hunky body before him. What he saw was not a healthy, 22-year-old boy with a firm, well-muscled body but an infinite number of intensely, unbearably ticklish spots. As he released the boy from his restraints and sent him off with a cheery, "See you Monday," he realized that this weekend would not be spent as usual watching reruns of "Baywatch" but in constructing a suitable restraining device and thinking of fiendish ways to make an excruciatingly ticklish -- and horny -- boy suffer as much as inhumanly possible. Elmet was good at that sort of thing. As he blew out the torches on the wall and left the torture chamber he smiled in anticipation. When John entered the room on Monday morning he noticed some changes First off, the walls had been soundproofed. Secondly, there was a large wooden device standing in the middle of the floor. Elmet greeted him. The fiend was looking especially ugly today, John thought. He was wearing a brown Monk's habit, the loose hood of which hid the back of his bald head, and his ebony-black face seemed particularly grotesque with its sharp, pointed nose and gash of a mouth. John noticed that the fiend had recently filed his teeth. "Now," said Elmet, drooling slightly, "we're going to try something different today. Observe the device." He pointed to the wooden construction that dominated the chamber. "Kneel on this board here. Your wrists are held high above your head by these metal rings and your tootsies are roped tightly to these rods at the side. Are you with me so far?" John nodded, although he wasn't altogether sure about the way things were going; he had seen the look on Elmet's face when he'd tickled him on Friday. This device would be ideal for that sort of thing. "This," he indicated a rod which stuck out at an angle a couple of feet above the kneeling board, "will go inside you. It will help to keep you..." He searched for a word, drooling some more. "...interested in what's happening." The fiend gave vent to one of his earsplitting cackles. He really did have an unpleasant voice, thought John -- thin and reedy. "Very well, on you get." Elmet helped the boy onto the device, lubricating the rod and making sure it was firmly up his ass. He secured John's wrists and ankles, pulled up a stool and sat in front of him. Reaching into the voluminous sleeves of his monk's habit, he produced a length of thin rope which he tied carefully around John's balls and the base of his cock. He then pulled it tight and fastened the other end to a hook in the floor. The effect of this was to pull John's already stiffening cock and his balls away from his body. His 8" cut cock stabbed the warm air in front of him in a disturbingly vulnerable way. John was getting nervous. Being mutilated with pincers was one thing, but being tickle-tortured was something else altogether. He prayed that that was not what was going to happen -- he was not sure he could take it. Ever since he'd been little, John had been painfully aware that he was unbelievably ticklish. He had been known to punch people who had playfully tickled him in the mouth -- quite involuntarily -- it was a reaction he had no control over. He was so inconceivably, incapacitatingly ticklish that even the thought of being tickled caused him to curl up into a tight ball to protect himself. Elmet knew this. He had spent part of his weekend researching into the ticklish aspects of his victim's past life and he had carefully designed this piece of apparatus to make him as devastatingly vulnerable to this unbearable torture as possible. When he'd completed the construction he'd sat in the Satanic Library boning up on techniques of Tickle Torture. It was not something he'd had any experience with, but fiends -- even more than demons -- are quick and studious learners and instantly became expert in their chosen field. They also have powers they can call upon which can assist them immeasurably in their work. John moved experimentally to find out just how much he would be able to protect himself if his worst fears proved to be true. It was not a lot. His arms were held immobile and the only part of his anatomy he could move was his pelvis -- and every time he did that, the rod rode in and out off his arse, making him extremely horny. He would watch the fiend closely, monitor his every move so that he would be prepared for whatever he might do. Elmet had thought of that, too. From the folds of his habit he produced a strip of black leather. "You know what's going to happen to you, don't you? I'm going to tickle you." The fiend cackled insanely as John's worst nightmares became fact and he shook his head in desperation. "And you need to see, don't you? You need to be able to see where my fingers are, don't you? Well," he dangled the strip of leather in front of John's face, "can you see through black leather? Imagine how much worse it's going to be with this leather blindfolding you..." He shrieked a cackling laugh. "Here -- feel it." The fiend wrapped it round the boy's cock, which jerked in response. "It's going to make you so much more ticklish -- and horny." Elmet took the leather and, in spite of John's pleas for mercy, tied it over his eyes. The leather was extremely thin and molded itself to the contours of his face, cutting out all light and blindfolding him completely. John was already on the verge of losing it and he hadn't even been touched yet. "Please, Elmet. Look -- what you were doing with the pincers was unbearable. Please do that. This is silly. Whoever heard of tickling as a torture? Anyway, I'm not very ticklish. You'll be wasting your time. Honestly. Let's go back to the branding irons. Please. Don't do this. Please." Elmet grinned. "Well, tell you what -- we'll try it for a few hours and see how it goes. Who knows, you might like it!" He sat on the stool again and waited, enjoying the sight of the hunky boy's body quivering with dread. He had no way of knowing when -- or where -- the torture would start. Suddenly, he dug stiff, bony fingers into John's sides, just above the waist. He probed and wiggled them. Unfortunately, in Hell it's not possible to faint, otherwise John would have done it, instantly. As it was he let out a shriek that tested the newly-installed soundproofing to its limit. Every muscle in his young body tensed and he used every ounce of his strength to escape from his restraints. Elmet had constructed the device well, though, and it was far stronger than John was. The fiend's fingers walked slowly upward toward the boy's armpits. John was shaking his head violently. "No! No! Please, not the armpits. I can't take it." Elmet cooed softly, "You're not supposed to be able to take it. If you could, it wouldn't be torture, now would it? Remember where you are. This is Hell, after all." He tickled John's armpits mercilessly and the boy convulsed, involuntarily moving his pelvis back and forth on the rod. When Elmet had built the device, he had paid particular attention to that rod. He had studied John's internal anatomy, taken precise measurements, and made the rod so that as it moved in and out it rubbed very gently against the boy's prostate gland -- not enough to make him cum (it was vital that it didn't do that), but just enough so that it would keep him intensely horny, indefinitely. The fiend's fingers wandered over John's sensitive body, finding every nook and cranny that was unbearably ticklish, and tickling every single one. He worked unpredictably so that the boy never knew where he was going to be attacked next, and alternated slow, sensuous teasing with bouts of merciless torture tickling. John was cursing the blindfold. If only he could see. If he could see, he might just possibly stand some slight chance of being able to prepare himself for the torture, alleviate it slightly. He willed himself to be able to see through the blindfold --- but that thin strip of leather made him more helpless, vulnerable and ticklish than all the rest of his restraints put together. He tried to shake it off, but wherever he moved his head there was no way he could shift it. Once he managed to lift it very slightly by pushing it against his bicep, but Elmet saw at once and, with a cackling, "Now, now, that's naughty," he pulled it back down so the boy couldn't see a thing and tied it tighter. Lunch break came and Elmet shared the usual hot coal sandwiches with the boy. John wasn't hungry, and he was still shaking. The fiend was very pleased -- this torture was proving extremely effective. The afternoon was what Elmet had been looking forward to. Not once during the morning had the fiend touched John's cock and balls. John had a rock-hard erection for the whole time and was desperate to cum. This afternoon it was time for some genital tickling to get the helpless boy really horny. Elmet produced a feather and made himself comfortable on the stool. He closed his eyes, recited strange words, and called upon powers to assist him. Instantly two disembodied hands appeared, and three more feathers. The hands, unseen by the blindfolded boy, positioned themselves at John's unprotected sides, two of the feathers readied themselves by his bare feet, and the other two at his armpits. Without warning, the tickling began. Gently at first, the fingers probed into John's sides and the feathers began their work on his feet and armpits. Within seconds, John was in hysterics. He squirmed and struggled as much as his restraints would allow and screamed at the top of his lungs. The feathers worked themselves between his toes, or turned and dragged their sharp ends across his soles; the disembodied hands dug their fingers into his ribs and sides, hitting the boy's nerve centers bang on and stimulating mercilessly. The other pair of feathers were stroking gently across his armpits, round and round, in and out, driving the boy crazy. Elmet cackled and directed his attention to the spunk-filled balls and the eight inches of vulnerable, unexplored, sensitive, ticklish boycock that swung helplessly above them. He used the feather in his hand to tickle the testicles, getting right into the crevices at their sides, and reaching round to tickle the backs of the balls as well. With his other hand, he used just one long, tapering finger on the very tip of the desperate young cock, moving round and round over the bare glans and up and down across the piss-slit. John was in an ecstasy of hysteria and horniness. He swore, pleaded, begged, threatened, screamed, shrieked, laughed, cried and struggled violently against his restraints. The fiend ignored his cries completely and the only effect the boy's struggling had was to make him even more horny. In common with all fiends and demons, Elmet possessed a power that enabled him to cause his victim the very maximum suffering possible: he could feel exactly what John was feeling, but to a much more attenuated degree. This meant two things -- first, he knew precisely where and when to tickle the boy for the most intense effect; and secondly -- he knew at any given moment how close he was to orgasm. As his fingers stroked and caressed the aching cock, sometimes working on the very tip, sometimes gently enclosing the entire shaft, squeezing lightly, or stroking up and down the full length, Elmet could feel exactly what John was experiencing. In this way he could keep the youth a hair's breadth away from shooting his load. He could keep him on the very brink of orgasm -- and still make it impossible for the boy to get the relief he so desperately craved. The main problem when someone else gives you a hand job is that because every individual does it in his own particular way, it's never quite right -- you could always, in fact, do it better yourself. However, because Elmet knew exactly what his actions were feeling like, he was doing exactly what John would have done himself if he had been trying to bring himself off -- the only difference being that if John had been doing it he would have brought himself off instantly, whereas the fiend was making very sure that the boy couldn't cum. John was almost delirious. He had been horny many times during his life, but never in his wildest dreams had he imagined that it was even possible to be this horny. The hands tickling his sides and the feathers working on his feet and armpits were driving him insane. His whole body, every square inch of his anatomy, was one big ticklish area. The chamber reverberated to his shrieks and screams. His voice was hoarse with screaming, his throat sore with laughter. For hours, pre-cum had been oozing out of the end of his cock, dripping stickily down to form a puddle on the floor. The fiend's fingers slipped and slid over the lubricated glans, the feather did its ticklish work on his unprotected, vulnerable balls. This went on for the rest of the day. At 5 o'clock the hooter sounded and all work stopped. Elmet caused the disembodied hands and the feathers to disappear and removed the boy's blindfold. John was desperate! "No! No! PLEASE -- YOU CAN'T STOP NOW -- MAKE ME CUM! FOR GOD'S SAKE MAKE ME CUM!!!" Elmet shook his head slowly. "For who's sake? God can't hear you, sorry. I might let you cum tomorrow -- or Wednesday -- or a week on Thursday..." He shrieked one of his cackling laughs. The fiend released John from the wooden restraint device and smiled evilly (which, for him, was easy to do). "Same time tomorrow, please." As John was leaving the chamber, Elmet called after him, "Oh, and don't try to bring yourself off -- I've put a holding spell on you. Don't want to waste all that lovely spunk I've been building up all day." John ran back to his apartment, flung himself on the bed, took his cock in his hand and began to jerk himself off. Within seconds he was on the verge of cumming - but he couldn't! He beat his cock desperately, but he couldn't cum. No matter how hard, how fast, he tried, he just could not cum. With a scream of frustration he punched the bed and cursed Elmet's name. His cock, rock-hard and aching for release, rubbed against the sheets. Again he tried, and again he failed. That night he got no sleep at all. Every couple of minutes his hand went to his cock and he tried to bring himself off. It was no good. He spent the night with a permanent erection. His cock begged him for release. Whenever he moved, whenever he turned over, opened or closed his legs, his cock made its urgent need known again. By the morning he was almost mad with lust and frustration. On Tuesday morning he arrived at the chamber an hour early. Elmet did not seem surprised to see him. The morning was a repeat of the previous afternoon. Lunchtime came, but John insisted the fiend didn't stop. Elmet made some comment about Union rules but carried on torturing the boy anyway, out of the goodness of his heart. John was not allowed to cum on Tuesday. Nor Wednesday... Nor Thursday... On Friday morning Elmet announced that he was going to let John cum. He tickle tortured him for an hour or so and then brought the boy off by using a small, soft brush on the tip of his victim's glans, tickling the boy's balls with two stiff feathers and causing the disembodied hands to tickle his feet, sides and armpits very gently and teasingly. The boy's orgasm was the longest and most shatteringly intense he had ever experienced. It went on and on. Thick, white gobs of hot, sticky spunk, which had been encouraged and built up so carefully, but which had been so sadistically denied release for so long, exploded out of his cock like water from a fire hose. Elmet carefully collected every drop. The boy's reaction was so violent that at one point the fiend wondered if the restraints were going to hold him -- but they did. Eventually it was over. John subsided, a quivering, shuddering wreck. His body relaxed for the first time in ages. He waited for the fiend to release him. But Elmet did not release him. Ten seconds after the last drop of spunk had been milked from his throbbing cock, the torture began again. This was a hundred times worse than it had ever been. Having just had the most intense orgasm of his life, the boy was at his most sensitive, his most ticklish, and Elmet was not going to let that hypersensitivity go to waste. Oh, no. The feathers tickled, the fingers probed and prodded and the torture went on -- and on. Today was Friday. By 5 PM John was once again half insane with ticklishness and the urgent need to cum. He faced a weekend of constantly needing to bring himself off but not being able to, followed by another week of pure torture at the tickling hands of the fiend. After a while it settled down into a routine. Elmet had decided that the boy's torture would be worst if he was made to cum on a Thursday morning. That way, by Friday evening he was at his most desperate for orgasm and had to get through an entire weekend of unrelenting frustration and three more days of tickle torture before he had any relief. John came to fear Thursdays more than any other time. Although the orgasms were the most wonderful thing he could imagine, the tickle torture immediately afterwards was horrifying to think about. His only relief came on Christmas Day. Elmet removed the holding spell on Christmas Eve until work resumed on Boxing Day. Christmas Day was the only time he ever got any sleep -- and even then he didn't get much as he spent most of the day jacking himself off. In odd moments he contemplated his fate. He had been in Hell for just three years now. Unlike some of the other poor souls, he had a fixed sentence -- he would not be here forever. At the end of his time he would go to the other place to spend the rest of eternity in paradise. How long had he got to go? Every week Elmet put the spunk he'd milked out of the boy into a container. When that container was full, John would be free to go. The container was a bottle. It was ten feet in diameter. And one mile high. -- Cody & Cory Foster

I watched the full moon come up. While I always looked forward to full moons, this one was special. This was the first full moon after my son's 18th birthday. Actually, it was my son's 18th. Like all males in my line, he was born on the first day of the full moon. We'd had a party that day with all his friends, but I made sure it was over by late afternoon. As the full moon rose, huge on the horizon, its ghostly light filled the twilight with sharp shadows. Between my legs, I felt its power as my cock and nuts began to swell and grow. I was naked, my 6’4 frame standing in the window watching the moon. Hard muscles lined my body in a taut swimmer's build. Strong, lean muscles bound my legs, and even before the moon rose, my penis was of breathtaking proportions. Fully limp, it dangled 15 inches from my hairy crotch, a wrist-thick hose. Behind it, a nut sack that belonged on a bull hung down, each orb as big as a coconut. When I got hard, which happens often, just over 2 feet of arm-thick dick stuck out from my groin, straight out, a foot around, with a head bigger than my fist. Precum ran from my dick like a stream, and I came in pints, not teaspoons like a “normal” human. But that was normally, not during the full moon. As the moon bathed me in its light, I felt my groin tingle like I was getting hard, but I wasn't, not yet. I watched as my limp dick grew, getting fatter, longer, heavier. Two feet of limp dick, now three. My nuts swelled even more impressively, by the time my outrageous penis hit a yard long, limp, my nuts were larger than watermelons, and hung well past my knees. From my son's room I heard screams of surprise, wonder, shock and a touch of pain. I smiled. Almost every one of us goes through our initial transformation at least somewhat clothed, and when you grow from a perfectly average cock to one that reaches to the floor, well, pants stop cutting it. I walked over to my son's room, my monstrous limp pecker swinging about a foot above the floor. It would almost drag on the ground, but the mammoth nut-sack behind it held a good portion of it up. The door to his room flew open, and there he was naked, and somewhat panicked. He was quite a sight! 18, youthful, smooth and still boyish. Long blond hair, blue eyes (don't' as me now, I'm dark haired, dark eyed), and my eyes widened when I saw how he had grown! I knew from spying on him that his dick was a normal 18-year old 6-incher, which he, like any teen, had been jerking off since he was 11 years. He found out about guys just before he got his driver's license, and Tommy (my son) and his best friend Rick lost their cherries to each other soon after. O.k., so it isn't the most scrupulous thing to do, spying on your own son while he sucks dick for the first time, or jerks off his buddies, or such, but hey, how else was I supposed to keep up on my son's development. O.k., that's a lame excuse. I just liked watching two 16 year-old boys go at it, especially when one is my son. Rick was also a damn hung teen boy! Tommy couldn't get enough of Rick's 9-inch teen dick, and to give Rick his due, he loved having my son cum in his mouth. But what was throbbing between his legs was a bit larger than Rick's 9-incher. At the sight of it, my 36-inch limp pecker began to grow, but my son's was already rock hard. It still looked like a teen boy's rod and nuts, but the WereQueer gene had gone overboard. Normally, we grew from an average dick to a 2-footer or so on the first transformation, with the rest growing as you finished puberty. Not my son! His 18 year-old penis was as massive as my own 35 year-old cock. Four feet of throbbing dick stuck out from in front of him, each nut bigger than a watermelon (yes, I know I've used that analogy before, but it's hard to find things to compare our nuts to!), and precum spitting out the tip. He looked at me, panic and lust in his face. We were about 5 feet apart, so our dicks overlapped by several feet. I could feel hot splashes on my body from his precum, and I could see his body getting wet with mine. I saw his nostrils flare as he smelled my scent, and I could feel my head filling with his. I knew from experience that soon he would be beyond reason, that soon lust would fill him. It takes a few transformations before you can control the lust rampaging through your body, and longer before you can control what happens when you smell another WereQueer in heat. I decided to help him through this moment, so I did exactly what my dad did to me, 19 years ago. I turned around, our dicks slamming against each other, causing us both to grunt is pleasure, and bent over, my nuts hanging past my knees, almost to my ankles, my erect dick sticking past my face, drooling precum into the hall carpet. The sight of my manhole did it. Reason totally left him as the sight of a hole to fuck filled his eyes. He lunged forward, and I felt his massive, bulbous cockhead ricochet off my ass. I reached back and grabbed it and lowered him down until he was on target. Without any thought, he lunged forward, and I grunted as I felt him split me in two. His dickhead, half as wide as my hips, popped in, followed by a good foot of shaft as he powered into me. Good thing WereQueers can take anything up their ass without damage! I felt him shove more and more shaft into me, loosing his cock-cherry to my hole (his anal cherry would come later that night). Soon 3 of his 4 feet of dick were in me and I started encouraging him to fuck me. “C'mon Son, plough your dad with that monster dick! Fuck me like you fuck Rick!” Nothing so intelligible was coming from his mouth, only incoherent groans and shouts of lust. He power-fucked my gaping hole, taking foot long thrusts, and I could feel his head carve a path through my guts; however, something don't change even when you're a WereQueer, and one of those things is that 18 year-olds cum very quickly. I felt his dick get even harder, like a rod of hot steel, the head swell, filling my guts even more, then he screamed and I felt the first burst of sperm fill me. For a solid minute his first jet blasted into me, then a second jet, as large as the first. As deep as my ass is, there was too much cum even for it. On the 3rd blast, his juice sprayed back at him, coating his nuts and groin, as did the next dozen shots. By the time he was done, him, my back and legs, and the floor, not to mention his the entire front of his body, were dripping with 18 year-old cum. I too had cum, from feeling my son's 48 inch penis cum inside me, the cum arching out from my dick some splashing on my face, the rest shooting down the hall, 8, 10, 12 feet until it splashed against my bedroom door. The length from us to my bedroom was also soaked in cum. He pulled out from me, slowing shrinking down to limpness, only 3 feet dangling over his enormous nuts. Mine too had subsided, but I knew it wouldn't last long. “Dad?” he asked, his voice almost a whisper, “What the hell is going on! I mean, there I was standing in my room, suddenly my dick swelled so much it busted my pants, I come out here, and you're naked and I just fucked you!!” His voice rose as he spoke, climbing towards a panic. I hurried to explain before he either got hard again and had to cum before thinking properly, or he got himself into a good panic! “Son, Son, Son!” I said, eventually having to shout to be heard over him. “Everything is perfectly O.K., you're just a WereQueer.” That stopped him in his tracks. “WereQueer?” he asked, “What the Hell is that?” “It's just like a Werewolf,” I explained, “only, well, different.” “Yeah, I can see that,” he replied wryly. I smiled. If he could start to joke about it, then he was starting to calm down. I invited him into my bedroom to explain further. I explained how we'd been around for a long time, and that every full moon, his cock and lust would grow to immense proportions. By the time I got that out, his cock was growing again, blood flowed to it as he got hard, and soon his pecker was sticking straight up, past his head, spitting precum over both of us. I pushed him down rolled him over so he was lying on his dick, the head well past his own head, wetting my bed. Before he could say anything, I got behind him and put my dickhead against his ass. My cock was almost as wide as his teen hips, and I could hardly wait to take his boyhole. Tommy was writhing on top of his cock, the head sticking out past his own head, pissing precum onto my pillows. His mouth and both hands were moving over as much cock as he could. My own 4-foot meat was causing a river to run down his crack, pooling in the incredible mass of his nut sack. I let my weight fall down on him, and his hole started to open. He was screaming in ecastcy, and I was doing the same! Ever since my son had been born I had been thinking about his day—the day my son became a full WereQueer. The head shoved into him, and his hips and belly expanded to take the volleyball sized head. I shoved and grunted, and a foot of shaft slipped in. I was about halfway in and knew he probably couldn't take me, until he reared back on his knees and took another foot into himself in one thrust. His mighty young dick exploded! I could feel his monster-nuts draw up against mine, and his ass clenched, and I watched as his enormous cockhead opened, and his 2nd WereQueer load sprayed out. Since he was almost at the headrest of my bed, it splashed against it, spraying back and over us. As the first hot splashes of my son's cum landed on me, I began to unload myself into him. I lay on top of him, 3 feet of dick buried in his guts, my cum pissing out in a steady fountain. I knew how I came. For 5 solid minutes I shot cum like a hose…no blasts, just a steady stream that shot out a good 10, 15 feet, or would have if it wasn't spraying into my son's boy hole, filling it up and spraying out of his full hole. Then the stream started to subside, and after 10 total minutes, I was done. My son had come again, and my room was ankle deep in man-juice. We spent the rest of the night fucking, sucking and playing with our enormous dicks. He sat on me, his dick between us, the 2 of us working it over, all sorts of stuff! All the fun you can have with 2 four-foot dicks, nut sacks that are as big as Glad trash bags, and loads that are properly measured in gallons (and lots of them!) Now, let me tell you how WereQueer is supposed to work. The gene hits, your cock grows to immense proportions, and the next morning you no longer have 4 feet of dick (4 feet is average for a WereQueer. The King of the WereQueers had an 8 foot dick during the full moon, and a 4 footer, normally!), but you do have at least a foot or so! Then over the next few years as you finish puberty; you grow, the average being 2 footer, with it doubling during the Full Moon. That's what mine did. Imagine my surprise when I woke up the next morning, next to my son, and he was sporting something bigger than mine! He was lying there, asleep. Arching over his thigh was 30 inches, 2 1/2 feet, of limp dick, with nuts that had barely shrunk from the night before. As I watched, his penis began to grow, and soon 3 1/2 feet of super-teen pecker stood up along his chest, the head dripping precum into his face. I knew soon he'd wake up from that, and from the way he was hard, I knew he'd wake up needing to cum. He started to wake due to the precum dripping into his face, and when he woke up, the first thing he saw was his Daddy bent over, his own rock-hard 2-footer throbbing, nuts drawn up. My boy, overcome with lust, didn't even think. He just ran over and rammed his super-cock home. I screamed as his monster-dong split me open, and continued as he pumped me for several hours, cumming every few minutes, filling my ass to overflowing, until the floor was ankle-deep in our splooge, both his and mine. As we came down from our father/son orgy, and my own dick got to spend some time in my son's ass, I started to wonder…the WereQueer hierarchy is decided by the biggest dick. I've fucked around with the King of the WereQueers, and talked to him, and his dick wasn't as big as my son's when he first transformed. Could my son be the next king? If his cock growth continued, he sure would be!

@yuedarkguardian

Story by Gabriel on 23 Apr 2015 "Where the fuck are you man?" Alex muttered to himself as he walked down the stairs that led down a long back-alley on his way to his apartment. He tried Martin's cell phone again as he approached the door to his place...it went straight to voice-mail. Alex and Martin were childhood friends, since kindergarten thirty years now, and work with each other in a New York real-estate firm. They were supposed to meet for drinks that night. They have girlfriends, but like to mess around with each other as well, a little male bonding every now and then to make it interesting. "Fuck it!" Alex exclaimed, putting away his cell as he fumbled for his keys on an unseasonably rainy and cold October night, it's been a long day and his friend was supposed to me him at the local bar, the White Eagle in lower Manhattan. Martin was distressed, very upset about something, Alex reluctantly agreed to meet him, he had a long day at work and he was really tired but....Martin never showed up anyway. At least he got this girls' phone number while he waited, so the day was not lost. Alex finally found the right key to his front door when a noise caught his attention. Something moved down the alley by the steps he just went down. "Hello? Who's there..." he called out, smiling to himself as he realized how movie cliché that sounded. Something always bad happens to someone each time after they say that. 'Stupid cats'. Alex muttered under his breath. As he opened his door, he heard a noise again. The rain started to intensify as the garbage cans in the alley rocked back and forth from the wind disturbing them. A few lids came undone and blew across the narrow alley. Alex looked up and down the alley saw nothing then as he was about to enter his apartment a looming dark figure blew past him knocking him down. Alex barely caught it in his peripheral vision but that thing was huge! "What the fuck!" Alex yelled as he looked around startled. "Shit!...what the hell man!" he said as he got up and brushed himself off. He turned around only to find this huge dark figure standing in front of him, he tried to say something but the words didn't come. The outside lights that illuminated the alley created a silhouette of the figure, he couldn't make out what it looked like but it was seven feet tall if not more! A vice-like grip enveloped his entire body to the point he thought his body will be crushed. He felt the warm, musty breath on his face the figure panted as it held him suspending him a few inches off the ground. Alex felt his feet leave the pavement, swinging in mid-air, he didn't dare look at this beast or whatever it was, paralyzed with fear, he didn't want to see it...and then...everything went black... The next morning Alex woke up with a splitting headache and his body felt like it was made out of lead. He could barely get up off the floor. 'Oh man....what in theeee fuuuck....what-the-fuck happened last night...' Alex said quietly as he awoke, rubbed his eyes and face and realized he was completely naked and the front door was wide open. Water found it's way into the walk-in apartment Alex rents in a Park Slope Brooklyn, Brownstone. He held his head in his hands for a few more minutes, gathering his bearings. The windy rain was slamming the front door back against the wall. "Aw fuck... that's great! That's just great!" Alex exclaimed irritated realizing the mess that was all over the floor. His legs still a little shaky, Alex stood up and closed the door. He shuffled over to the closet and got the mop to clean up the partial flood in his living room. As he did so he noticed how dirty his body was, his arms were dirty, his feet were muddy, sandy, as if he just walked off the beach, his hair was messed up and dried blood was around his nose and mouth. He tasted it as he ran to the bathroom to check out what the hell was going on, flinging the mop to the floor. The reflection in the mirror startled him. "Oh shit...Oh my God....what....in theeeee hellll man..." he said quietly, slowly out-loud, gazing at this strange figure in the mirror he at first, couldn't recognize. It was as if he was swept up in a hurricane, his face was muddy as was his hair and littered with debris, matted, dirty and damp. Alex ran his fingers through his hair and over his face. He grabbed a tissue and dabbed at his bloody nose. He immediately turned on the shower and leaped into the tub and frantically started to soap himself up from head to toe. The warm water was stinging at first but eventually comforting. His body ached, it was sore all over, as if he had quite the work-out the previous night. As he was washing up he replayed that entire night in his mind. He went to a bar, waited for his friend Martin, who never showed up and never called, got a number from this smokin' hot chick and went home...that's it. So what in the hell did he do that he wound up this fucked up?! The dirt was washing away down the drain as Alex hosed off each part of his body thoroughly. The soap found it way into tender places on his body. Stinging and burning spots that were scratched or pitted with small abrasions and long scratches on his back, shoulder-blades and chest. One of his nipples was sore but other than that he was okay. Alex turned off the water and was gently toweling himself off, stepping out of the shower stall he couldn't help but wonder why the hell were his muscles so sore? From the chest down it felt like he fell down an elevator shaft or something, each step hurt like hell. He reached in the medicine cabinet from some aspirin and popped two of them. "Fuck!" Alex said, as a cold chill ran through the apartment. The front door was open, again, and the wind chilled the apartment down a bit but other than the damp floor no one seemed to have come inside. Why would they, the front door to the apartment was down a long alley, so a stranger didn't exactly see into Alex's place, it was pretty secluded from the public view. Alex went to close the door and noticed an object gleaming in the alley, as he approached it he realized that it was his cell phone! It just dawned on him that he had no idea where his clothes were, his wallet was in his leather jacket and it was nowhere in the apartment! He ran out into the alley with just a towel around his waist frantically searching for that jacket. But...it was gone, so was his shirt, so were his pants, shoes, socks! He looked around up and down the narrow alley running back and forth desperately looking in each possible corner of that alley, as if possibly he missed a spot were his clothes would've been...but to no avail. Alex went back inside slowly closing the door, mopped up the rest of the remaining water off the and put away the mop. The cell-phone was okay, not even scratched, it was water-proof so the rain soaking it was not a problem. The problem now was to call his bank and cancel those damn credit cards he lost. Not to mention the $54 in lost cash and that chicks number too! As Alex dialed his bank, as he waited for customer service, he thought about the previous night and was at a loss to explain what happened to him. He didn't drink that much and he can hold his liquor, he was no falling down drunk. The customer service representative answered within a few rings. "How may I help you today?" she said cheerfully. "Yes I'd like to cancel my credit cards...I lost my wallet, I have no idea what happened to it." Alex said speaking to the National Bank customer service rep. "Ok sir, I will cancel those and issue you new ones, you should receive those within forty-eight hours, can I assist you with anything else sir?" the female voice asked. "No, that's all, thanks a lot...oh wait, have those cards been used yet?" "No sir, the last activity was $45.34 at Home Depot...and $12.00 at a bar called..." "Yea that was mine..." Alex interrupted. "As long as no one else got to it I'm glad..." "Yes sir, thank you for being such a long-time customer and if I can be of further assistance my name is Jessica feel free to call us back with any further questions." "Okay, thanks a lot...thank you." Alex said as he hung up. As he did, he noticed that his nails were brittle, his toes as well, they practically disintegrated as he rubbed them, his thumb nail fell off completely. "What the..." Alex started to say as his cell-phone rang, it was Martin. Alex put him on speaker as he started to examine his fingers one by one. "Hey...man...how you doin' bro..." Martin said, sheepishly. "Oh don't give me that 'how you doin' shit man, where the fuck were you last night anyway? I was at the Eagle for hours!" Alex shot back, looking at each of his fingers on both hands. "I was feeling a little under the weather...but I called didn't you get my message?" "No I didn't get the message, I checked dozens of times...since you never called otherwise I would've got it, I had my phone on all night...not to mention some weird shit happened to me last night you won't fuckin' believe this I was..." "Um yea, my phones battery is low...you're kinda breakin' up so...can we meet at my place this time...later today? Martin said, cutting Alex off. "Yea....sure man...you okay?" Alex asked. Martin sounded nothing like his usual self, life of the party, loud and boisterous, and that's without a few drinks in him...but this Martin was different somehow. "Yea...yea I'm fine, I just need to tell you something, about my trip to Europe, you know I was going to tell you something last night...but...well lets' just get together soon, you need to hear this in person." Martin said, his tone more serious now. "Okay, okay I'll come over tonight around seven, sound good?" Alex replied. "That's fine bro...but make it closer to 10 PM. I'll tell you everything then." "Um, yea, ok 10 it is then...wait tell me 'everything'?...everything about what?....and why so late!" Alex shouted into the phone, his curiosity peaking. But he was met with a dial tone...Martin had already hung up. "What the fuck is going on with that boy! And what the fuck is going on with me!" Alex yelled aloud, going into the bedroom to get dressed. As he was picking out his clothes, Alex started to feel different, something was different about him. He felt warm, his nose was runny. He felt body-aches as if he was coming down with a cold or something. 'Oh great, I'm getting the flu now?' he thought to himself. He looked over at the full-length mirror in his bedroom and looked himself over. Alex was a muscular man, not the tallest guy, but at 5'6" his body was lean and ripped. He took pride in his workout routine and how he took care of himself. This time he noticed how much more defined his muscles were, his cock was semi-hard at the moment but that was not surprise, his big dick was always jumpin' around in his pants. Alex's dick got hard with a mild breeze blowing through his jeans, or checking out other fit bodies be they male or female. Nevertheless, his veins in his arms seemed to pop more, his thighs were more muscular and defined....his pecs seemed to be even more defined as well. It didn't surprise Alex much, he works out with a disciple that Army recruits don't even have but....something was different. He felt warm and his balls hung lower than normal, he was running a fever. Alex could feel it, low-grade but a fever none the less, his glassy eyes confirming it. He thought about calling Martin back and telling him he'd come by tomorrow but thought better and was determined to go and find out what the fuck was making Martin act so weird. Ever since his trip across Europe he came back different somehow, a little 'off'. Alex slipped on his boxers, socks and pulled on a white tank top. He went into the bathroom to brush his teeth and noticed his front tooth was slightly chipped. "Oh crap..." he said as he swirled his tongue around the tooth and touched it with his finger. "That's gonna cost me to fix...shit." Alex called in to work and told them he was taking a sick day, now way was he in any shape to go to work and that fever could be something more than just a common cold with flu season in full swing. Alex took another aspirin and grabbed a glass of water, he wasn't in the mood to eat anything just yet. He turned on the TV and just closed his eyes for a few minutes...but he wound up drifting off to a deep sleep. Alex was dreaming... ...he was running through and alley, from his apartment, through the streets of Park Slope and into Prospect Park, running like he never ran in his life, he could smell the grass under his nose and feel the wind whistle in his ears, he ran into a man, a jogger or someone like that, that man looked up a look of horror fell over his face, and screamed! So did Alex...he shot up in his couch, there was as thunder storm raging outside, Alex was sweating and shaking but his fever seemed to be gone. Looking down at his boxers, they were soaking wet...wet with semen he had a wet-dream! A wet-nightmare was more like it. 'Oh fuckin' hell! Really? Really!' he said to himself in disbelief. He stood up and the semen ran down his legs, as he reach for a box of tissues to wipe it up. Alex's cock felt tender, swollen in fact, it was semi-erect but felt different than normal. It looked different too, something was off. It reminded him of a canine cock almost! 'No, no I'm nuts is all...get a hold of yourself boy...get a hold of yourself!' he muttered. Alex was bleary-eyed and chalked it off to just coming down off a major hangover or something. He went into the bedroom to get another pair of boxers, slipped them on and was looking for his jeans. He felt his dick twitch, and tingle as it began to get hard. His cock swelled and hardened and was tenting his boxers, the head of his cock straining through the fabric and burst through the fly! He was startled, shocked, at it's appearance. His hard cock was more animal-like than human! Like a canine penis. He stared at it in shock and disbelief, clutching it as if to stop it from becoming this, this thing! But it felt awesome! In spite of it's appearance Alex found himself grabbing it, clutching it, jerking it ferociously with both his hands. Grabbing at this balls, pulling on them, ripping off his shorts and yanking furiously at his dick til it spurt semen all over the floor in the bedroom, his balls tightened so much he thought they'd burst! His cock twitched as some residual cum leaked out of the tip and ran down the shaft splattering on the floor. 'Oh fuuuuuckin' hell that felt sooo goooood...' Alex whispered as closed his eyes and slowly slid down the wall behind him, feeling a tingling chill shoot though his whole body.... Alex woke up again, he had passed out and was lying on the floor in his bedroom. 'Damn man...what the hell was that all about!' Alex thought, holding his head and sitting straight up. Thinking about that disturbing dream he just had, was it a dream? Or something else? He grabbed his dick and examined it, looked normal to him. Alex was relieved, laughed to himself even, how could he have thought his cock was canine looking? Ridiculous! His balls ached a bit, but in that good way, the way a man feels after his jizz goes flying or spurting in his boxers during a wet-dream, there's no feeling quite like that...nightmare or not. He was a little disturbed as to why he found himself in his bedroom when he remembered falling asleep on the couch but he chalked that up to the drunken state he must've been in. It had to have been alcohol related...had to be. Alex looked at his cell phone the time said 9:34PM. 'Oh shit! I slept through the entire morning and afternoon....wait...did I go to work..yea...no I didn't I didn't?!' Alex exclaimed, questioning his memory and his sanity. He ran into the bathroom splashed some cold water on his face and got ready to met up with Martin, he was going to be late but fuck it, let him wait. As Alex on the faucet he suddenly started to drink the water coming out of the faucet, cupping it in his hand and lapping it up, ten to fifteen handfuls of water! But it wasn't enough. He went to the refrigerator and took out bottle after bottle of water and drank five medium sized bottles. Alex suddenly smelled the turkey in his refrigerator as well, taking slice after slice of it and eating it without bread, just all by itself...and it wasn't enough. Alex was feeling a craving for food like he never did, even post workout, he took out all the bread, cottage cheese, yogurt, celery sticks and devoured it all. Everything that was left in the fridge was gone...plus three more water bottles that were in there. 'What the hell is happening to me?' Alex thought as he sat in the kitchen, rubbing his hands over his face, looking at the crumbs and various remnants of food left on the table, and the empty refrigerator....staring at it all in disbelief. Alex rationalized it of course, he had a bad night, he did eat last night but he was just really, really.....really hungry is all. That's all...nothing more...right. He was suddenly aware of a presence outside his front door, someone was there...he went over to the door and opened it slowly....no one. Stepping out into the alley, Alex did notice someone. It was David, the grocery store manager across the street, he recognized the smell of his cologn. Sometimes he worked late at night in his office. He wore way too much cologne, he could smell David a mile away and....he just did! He literally did, Alex smelled that bad cologne before David was anywhere near his place! His mind was racing, there's no way he could've smelled David from the apartment that far off...and yet... Alex rubbed his hands over his face. 'What is this....what-is-this!' He wondered. Maybe he was losing his mind.... Alex seemed more acutely aware of his surroundings more than ever before, and his appetite increased. He had no rational explanation for it, hungrier, hornier than ever before! His cock vacillated between getting semi-erect and fully erect again and his balls-ached they got so tight! He was hornier than all hell, nothing new here, but even for him it was distracting...he had to rub one out before he left...he had to!! Once again Alex found himself clutching his balls, grabbing at them and furiously stroking his dick till he shot his load on the throw-rug just inside his doorway...thick jizz gushed from his hard cock splattering on the floor, the last few shots spurted forcefully landing on the floor beyond the carpet. Alex let go of his still hard, pulsing cock, as some more residual semen gushed out. Alex arched his back in pleasure, his balls were so tight as the semen ran down his throbbing shaft, making it way down over his balls before falling onto the carpet beneath. 'Ohhh....fuuuuuuuck yeeeeaaa...' he moaned. 'Fuuck yeeeeaaaaa...' he said as he continued to moan rubbing his neck and ran his hands over his pecs, his nipples responded by hardening immediately. His big cock hardened so much Alex winced for a minute or so...feeling the blood coarse and pound through his cock, watching it throb....finally it started to go down, a few more drops of semen dripped out as he rubbed his erect nipples. He was so lost in the pleasure that he almost didn't hear his cell phone ringing, waking him up from this latest intense jack-off session. Alex ran over to the phone and picked it up, it was Martin. "Yea sorry man, I know, I'm late, I'm late...but..." "No that's okay bro, I want you to meet me at this location...I'm sending you the address now..." Martin said. "Wait we're not meeting up at your place?" Alex asked incredulously. "Yea it's better if you met me here today." Martin insisted. "And hurry up....moon's rising getting stronger." Before Alex could answer Martin hung up. Alex read the text message Martin sent with the address. It was strange since that location was near the water-front. He went over to this computer and looked up the address, it was a desolate location with abandoned factories and warehouses. Alex was more confused now than ever, what the hell could be going on with Martin? "Moons' getting stronger...rising?" 'The fuck was that all about?' Alex muttered. Why meet him in some abandoned factory? Nevertheless he grabbed his keys and ran out, getting into his Jeep Wrangler and entering the address into his GPS. Alex arrived at the location about forty minutes later where Martin told him to be. Alex drove through the deserted streets, turning down a desolate alley it was about 11:20 PM and not a soul was about in that part of town. The streets were empty outside of a few trucks and abandoned cars. Alex drove around til he saw Martin's car, a classic Oldsmobile 442 was parked in an empty employee parking lot next to a open warehouse door. Martin was waiting, he waved him over, smiling. Alex parked next to Martin's car, shut off the engine and stepped out, his dick semi-hard...again, he felt that different feeling again as well. As Alex approached a smiling Martin, before Alex knew it Martin ran up and hugged him, hugged him....held him close like just found a long lost brother or something. Alex smiled and hugged him back, Martin stepped back and looked at Alex's crotch. "Bulgin' big bro as usual." he said with a laugh. "Yea, well you didn't call me out to this place to tell me that, so..." "No definitely not." Martin said chuckling. Martin just smiled at Alex...for what seemed like an eternity. He just looked at an incredulous Alex looking back at him with a 'what the fuck' look on his face. "Well? Why'd you call me out here...seriously what is this?" Martin finally spoke, he hugged Alex and motioned to the stair-case leading up to the second floor of the deserted warehouse. Alex followed Martin upstairs, and as they reached the top of the stairs and went inside the largely empty cavernous space. Martin ran inside and waved his hands in the air spinning around a few times. "I brought you here, because you and me are...kindred spirits now...please don't hate me too much with what's about to happen man." Martin said, his tone more serious and yet not frightening or threatening. Alex was a bit irritated now, and simultaneously feeling uneasy with all the mystery crap and demanded an explanation...for everything. "Will you tell me what the fuck is going on or I'm outta here Martin!...I mean enough already!." Alex shouted. Martin continued to smile. "Have you been feeling at bit under the weather, flu-like symptoms, but not really...hornier than usual...hungrier than usual...shit like that?" Martin asked. "Well...yea...yea, thought it was just a bug goin' round is all..plus I'm always horny...so?" "It's more than that Alex...much more....so much more." Martin said looking out the large cracked factory window. Alex just looked at him making a puzzled face. "Something wonderful is about to happen to you Alex...something incredible...a gift really...an unreal but amazing gift, I hope you accept it as I did." Martin said, gazing up through the skylight as the rising moon's brightness seemed to intensify. "Ok, that's it....I'm outta here..." Alex said turning to leave. "...if you're having some mental breakdown, or something..." "No, no, nothing like that....have you seen the moon tonight? It's full...not that it always needs to be but it does start the metamorphosis." Martin said cryptically. "Yea so, I mean who gazed up at the moon anymore, everyone's on their fucking smart-phones oblivious to the world around them....not, not looking anybody in the eyes...wait metamorphosis...what...fuck you talkin' bout man?!" Alex shouted, as he rubbed his eyes and leaned against a wall, feeling a bit faint, nauseous his insides feeling warm and tingly he ran his hands over his face a few times. His body felt itchy, tingly. "It's beginning Alex...it's beginning...soon you'll realize what." Martin said cryptically. "What the fuck happened to you in Europe exactly...you didn't call for weeks, no one knew where you were...I mean....." Alex's voice trailing off as he spoke, he started to sweat. Martin ran over and helped Alex down to the floor. "What're you doing man....seriously!" Alex said struggling to get up. "No! No, no! Just relax, don't fight it...let it happen it'll be less painful if you just let it happen..." Martin insisted. Alex tried to get up but...he couldn't, he was dizzy, the factory skylights seemed to spin and laying on the floor was much better than standing up. "Let...let what happen?...what's happening to me?!..." Alex asked weakly, agitated and feeling hot, sweat was pouring down his face and body, he took off his jacket and started to breath heavily. "Um...it's better if you take your clothes off man...seriously...saves on the wardrobe believe me." Martin said matter-of-factly grinning, trying to undress Alex quickly. "What the fuck you doin'!... what're are you talkin' bout man? I'm not...takin' anything....off here..." Alex started to say, trying to push Martin away as he went over and started to undress him, taking off his shirt and attempting to take off Alex's pants, unbuckling his belt. "Get the fuck away from me man! What the fuck dude? What the fuck!....seriously, you losin' it or something?!" Alex screamed, pushing Martin away violently. "I'm just tryin to make it easier for you bro is all..." Martin insisted as he took off his own jacket and clothes, he took off his shoes and pants. He put his clothes in a neat pile on an old chair stripping off his undershirt and boxers and ran over to Alex completely naked now. Alex looked at his friend, incredulously. "Dude! What-THE-FUCK-ARE-YOU doing?! Why are you...naked...why..." Alex's voice trailed off as he shook, and held his head. "What is...this....I'm so...sooo dizzy...so..." "Ok, ok, just let it happen, the more you fight it the worse it'll be..." Martin said insistently. The next event happened quite quickly as the moon came up and Alex was sweating profusely, his body seemingly coming undone or loosening up somehow. He started to grab at his chest his nipples seemed to be on fire, tingling and very tender, sensitive, his pectoral muscles started to spasm as his nipples painfully hardened, protruding through his shirt. His chest was starting to expand ever so slightly. Alex felt his muscles quivering, spasming under his shirt, as if his ribs were trying to push through his skin, then his entire musculature trembled and spasmed slowly at first, uncontrollably. "Seriously man take your clothes off...shoes...loose it all! I'm telling you...you need to!..." "Okay damn it!! fuck!! I'll take them off! Why though!? Fuuuuuk!! What's....what's going on?! Tell me!" Alex screamed in pain as he frantically grabbed at his shoelaces and took off his boots, tearing at his shirt, grasping at his belt buckle undoing it. Pulling off his jeans and stripping down to just his tank-top and boxers, but after that he fell to his knees, he was becoming something....changing, transforming into something. Martin tried his best to see him through it. "Just let it happen bro it'll be okay... in a little while..it's always bad the first time..." Martin said as he stepped back and away from Alex, he knew what was about to happen and gave him some room. "Whaaaat do ...you mean..it...it...oh shiiiiiit....." Alex tried to speak but his body started transforming, Alex's smooth body was sprouting hair, dark hair almost imperceptibly at first. Alex spun around, arching his back, as he writhed on the ground. He fell on all fours, watching as his body was transmuting, he noticed his finer nails started to get longer, claw-like! He felt itchy all over he was scratching his body as the hair sprouted from each follicle of his body, increasing in thickness by the second from head to toe. His dick suddenly became painfully erect pushing against the inside of his boxers, the veins throbbing on it's shaft, pulsing, his throbbing cock-head ripping through his boxers, pre-cum was dripping from it like a faucet! Alex looked down at this throbbing cock in disbelief of what was happening to him. "Oh! Fuck..Fuckin' hell! What's ha..happening to me! Whaaaaaaaat!" Alex screamed, watching in horror as his body was changing into...something...something he couldn't imagine. Alex stood up, unsteady on his feet as he was rubbing his hands across his body in a vain attempt to stop whatever was happening. His chest heaved, stretching, increasing in size, widening, his nipples were so hard Alex grabbed his chest in an attempt to stop it, somehow, but to no avail. Whatever was happening was continuing...a force not to be stopped. Every inch of his body was twitching, moving, reforming into something....new. His cock twitched a few times and began to spurt thick white gobs of semen on the floor. It poured down the shaft of his cock in gushing streams , his balls tightened hard against his body, as they unloaded their contents. His beard thickened and started to grow, hair was growing all over his body. "Oh shit!...what the fuuuuuuuuck!" Alex yelped, his voice crackling, changing as well. He looked at his arms and grasped at this face. His skin was stretching slowly as his body started to morph into...something... his fingers, hands, and legs were growing...taking on a canine shape....a wolf's shape! "Martin! Martin! Help me man! Help me man!!, make it stop! Aw fuuuuck!" Alex screamed in a shaky growling voice, his eyes bloodshot and welling up with tears as he writhed on the concrete factory floor, his body continued sprouting more thick gray and black fur, which protruded through his tank top ripping it to shreds. His hands as well as fingers lengthened as did his feet and toes stretching three times in size. He looked down at his legs as they stretched, his skin seemingly ripping apart as thick black hair grew on them! His hands and knuckles creaked and made cracking noises as they transformed getting longer and hairier. Martin was a few feet away....motioning with his hands in a calming way to just 'let it happen'. "I can't stop it man, you have to give into it, it'll go easier on you if you just let it happen, don't fight it man! It's the fighting that makes it worse than it could be!" Martin reiterated. Alex watched Martin, his eyes pleading for him to help make it all stop...somehow. But Martin just watched, unable to help as his friend continued to change, there was no stopping it. Alex stood up and let out a high-pitched scream arching his back violently as he fell to the floor. His spinal vertebrae pushed through his skin as a tailbone ripped through his lower-backs' skin snaking out, forming a long tail stretching the skin over it, long black hair grew in covering it. His shoulder-blades were creaking and cracking gaining in size and mass his legs lengthening. His hands elongating, claws growing out from where his finger-nails once were, long and sharp, blood leaking down from his hands. Alex screamed trying to do something, anything to lesson his torturous transformation. "Help meeeeeeeeee!! someonnne!! anyonnne!!! No! Nooooo! Nooooo! This is noooooot hapennnnning!" But it was happening, there was no stopping it. A mix of grunts and screams echoed off the distant walls of the cavernous factory as he writhed in pain as his fingers and toe-nails grew longer, thicker and sharper as they protruded out as newly forming claws. His skin was stretching as the muscles and bones grew bigger and longer, his torso elongated as well. Alex's body shook and twisted violently as he felt his abs stretching and tried to clench them from doing so but to no avail. His muscles stretched, ripped and grew to accommodate his newly forming body. He crawled along the floor tin a vain attempt to escape this somehow, but there was nowhere he could go...no way to stop this. His entire skeletal and muscular structure was morphing, transmuting every part of his human body, reshaping into his new, inhuman..lupine body. The boxers and tank top he still had on stretched as far as their stitching allowed, shredded, ripped, and tore off as his body as the transformation continued, his ears stretched out and up as his skull cracked and flexed reshaping as well. Alex's screams were muffled and morphing into loud grunts now, growls and roars, as well as painful whimpers more canine than human as he collapsed on his back twisting and turning as his DNA was being rewritten. His fingers continued to grow longer, thick fur was growing over them. All he could do is lay there writhing and convulsing on the floor till his transformation completed. He could feel the hairs as they sprouted from beneath his skin, all over his once smooth abs and body, Alex turned and managed to up-right himself on all fours again. He felt his bones, muscles and skin being pulled and elongated. There were some broken glass among the debris in the factory as Alex was transmuting he caught a glimpse of what he was...becoming, in the reflection of the glass shards. He quickly turned away in horror, his screams drowned out now gurgling into louder more guttural inhuman growls and snarls now as his head shook violently and his skull creaked and nose crackled protruding slowly pulling away from his face and elongated forward along with his jawline as his skin stretched across his long newly forming snout. His his tongue stretched along with his snout and jaw and his ears were repositioned on his head pointing up. Blood poured from his gums as his long jawline was forming as his new upper and lower canine teeth and incisors were pushing through his bleeding gums, replacing his human teeth as his green eyes were turning ice-blue. Alex foamed at the mouth as he writhed in pain, his legs shaking as he tried to balance himself on them as fur continued enveloping the rest of his body. Alex's dick twitched, sporadically harden and soften, ultimately hardening so much Alex grunted loudly in pain as his balls tightened and his dick started to ooze a few drops of semen again before it spurted violently out of his cock all over the floor. He just collapsed on the floor, he lied there on his left-side, his body shivered and convulsed intermittently while some more fur continued to sprout enveloping his face, filling in the remaining hair-free parts of his body. The semen gushing from his cock just oozed out now, his balls emptied every drop as his transformation continued. Alex rolled over on his back and grunted loudly as his leg muscles thickened and kept stretching, he legs flared out as his dick hardened and started to spurt crimson urine sporadically as it morphed into a lupine one. A long jet-stream of urine sprayed out, jettisoning over his head as his body shook and convulsed violently. His toe-nails replaced by claws now and his arms were now fully formed legs, bloody foam dripped from his gums. The pain subsided somewhat as his high-pitched whines and grunts quieted to low intermittent growls. Alex was exhausted, the urine stream subsided as well, down to a few intermittent squirts now as Alex was panting heavily, as his transformation was complete. Alex threw his head back let out an intensely loud howl that shook the girders of the factory and rattled the glass in the windows. Martin smiled and looked over at his friend, his best friend and what he's become. Alex's piercing, now ice-blue eyes, stared back at him angrily, defiantly. He stood up on his four legs, tried to take a step forward but was still a bit shaky at first, he sat down momentarily on his hind-quarters but becoming ever-more steady on his powerful legs. Some residual urine dripped from his cock, hardening and softening sporadically, his balls tightening and loosening accordingly. Alex was now a fully developed wolf, he growled, snarled and bristled his fur, he whipped his newly formed tail around and with each movement of it his semi-hard cock moved with it as well. Unable to vocalize humanly now, his grunts, growls and teeth-baring spoke for him...clearly. Alex just glared at his friend, panting like an exhausted dog, his breath visible in the cold night air of the factory as he let out another fierce howl that shook the rafters and echoed against the distant walls of the building. Saliva and blood dripped from his lower jaw onto the floor as Alex let out a slow, low-rumbling growl focusing his attention at Martin. Alexs' cock twitched and hardened again, engorged with blood, the veins pulsing and throbbing through it. Alex continued his subdued growl, his erect cock oozing precum now as he bared his oh-so-razor sharp teeth at Martin. Alex was a magnificent specimen indeed, all nine feet of him and his powerful muscles and claws. "Yea bud...yeeeessss....awsum...my...my turn buddy....my turn..." Martin managed to say, his voice cracking, body shuddering, as he fell to his knees. He arched his back and let out a guttural scream. Martin's cock was fully erect the veins pulsing rhythmically....His finger nails started to grow into claws, his face contorting and morphing his jawline elongating...pulling away from his face....

by SwampRat (6/15/98) There are many levels of hell... and some are more interesting than others. Author's Note: When I first started playing DOOM, I noticed how Cute the Imp's butt was. All the others are nice, but those brown furry cheeks just begged to have more done to them than be peppered with buckshot. As game technology gets better, it gets easier to make things lifelike. I am still hoping for 'Anatomically Correct.' In the dim light, something stirred... groaned. "Well. I see you are awake." A head lifted, bruised. Eyes opened to stare into the gloom. Then winced shit as a harsh light hit them, illuminating a man in battle armor. Torn, scratched, dented, it told of a great fight. The man's arms were chained behind him, barely being held up by poles on either side. "You were a handful to capture alive - but I think well worth it." A cup was held to his mouth, and he swallowed, tasting a light wine. "Were you expecting blood? Something nastier maybe?" A chuckle and he was given another swallow. "Bad press, of course. We don't get the delicacies the Higher-Ups do." A third and he refused any more to drink, instead choosing to glare at the monster. Something was very wrong. Sam had seen enough naked Demons to notice differences. He could have sworn the demon wriggled its hips as it walked back to its desk. Perhaps it was female? The body language suggested it. He struggled a moment more, and then just sagged. Whatever happened, he was pretty much powerless to stop it. The monster sat down, and looked at the man for a moment, then over at something on its desk. A knock came from behind him. "Come" it said. The word, albeit simple, sounded dirty coming from the beast's muzzle. A door creaked and something entered. "Work, Work, Work. Ooooooooo! Who's the new one?" Sam grunted as a clawed hand grabbed his rear, then a brown Imp padded past, eyeing him. Same noted this one was male; very much so! All the other creature he had encountered were neuter - Or as best as he could figure. Not that he had looked, mind you - but curiosity was curiosity. "Mmmmmmmm. Butch." The new imp hissed, licking its lips. "You have something for me?" came a familiar growl. The new Imp turned, its red eyes never leaving the human. "Yeah. Here are the reports on East Sector." It handed a sheaf of papers over, hissing as a big hand rubbed its butt. "We getting him?" it questioned. Sam wanted to be sick. There was no mistaking what this one wanted. "No. We have other plans for him." The new Imp looked petulant, then moved when a big hand swatted its cheeks. "Back to work - Reginald." The monster made a face and padded off, but stopped long enough to wriggle a finger through a hole in Sam's armor and rub him intimately. "I bet you would love to beat me up." It hissed, eyes blazing. Sam jerked and grunted, wanting to do just that. 'Shit! They even made fighting dirty.' His captor licked its finger, grinning. "Reg.." it intoned. "I'm going, I'm going." Then it growled soft and low, "Anytime a hot, hunky male wants to beat on this cute Imp's ass. You just whistle." Then it was gone, leaving the man feeling like he had been slimed. A chuckle hit his ears. "Reg is - enthusiastic. But you know how it is getting good help, especially here." It shrugged and looked the papers over. "Well Samuel Markham. If you wonder why you are here, It's simple. You killed a lot of my brethren, and there was a lot of... discussion about what to do with you. Finally, it was decided to send you to the worst Hell there is for one of your kind - ME." Undressing, it stood and came to him, cock swaying between it's legs. "Reggie is right - you are one butch human." It gripped his crotch, a clawed finger rubbing his cock through the tattered cloth and what was left of his cod-piece, the other hand combing his short hair. Sam growled and shook his head "Go fuck yourself, you goddam faggot demon!" "That's the spirit." It growled back, fondling the human erotically. "You come back in a millennium or two and tell me that, and maybe I will believe it." It squeezed his ass roughly, ripping a hole to slip a finger in and goose the man, growling when the cheeks clenched tightly around its thick finger. "You'd be fun, but you have other places to be." A hoof stomped on a plate in front of him and the floor vanished."Have fun sexy" it said. Then it kissed him and snapped the chains on the poles. Sam plunged into darkness before he could reply. The man spat. He could still feel himself slide down that hairy leg. Struggling as he fell, he was rewarded as he felt the chains part. It took but a moment to rid himself of them. The tunnel he was falling down was starting to get warm, and he looked down at the steel links falling faster than he. His clothes ripped on the walls of the tunnel, leaving shallow scratches that burned. "Shiiiiiiittt!" He yelled, feeling like he had been tossed into a thicket of thorns. He shoved his boots against the tunnel to slow down, hearing them scrape and rip. Suddenly he was in water, and going down deep. Jerking, Sam pulled off his heavy chestplate and kicked for the surface. Within seconds he was gripping a crumbly edge and lifting himself onto his belly, wincing as more cuts and bruises made themselves known. Sam crawled out and sat coughing on the ledge, eyes closed, feeling every abuse done to him over the last few days. He was alive, a minor miracle in itself. "Forget the clothes", he thought, "what was left of them wouldn't make a loincloth. As for my boots..." He tossed what was left of them away, hearing a hiss as they hit lava. Just great! Laying there, he felt his eyelids grow heavy, but now is no time to sleep! "Rest. Relax." Something murmured to him. He woke with a start, feeling pleasure wash over him. "Damn! Thought I was too old for such things." His muscles contracted as another wave came, spurting his seed into. He opened his eyes, and stared into a single green orb, which was set in a much larger red sphere. Its mouth was closed on his erection and it was licking him. He could feel the big, warm organ gripping his dick, making him moan, shiver, and spurt again. Something was wrong as Hell about this. Ok, so he was in Hell, but still... He felt teeth press into the base of his stalk, then the creature floated up, pulling all the cum he had out of him, tongue still wrapped around the head. It grinned at him as he groaned, and began to lick the sweat off his belly, swirled over his balls, stroked his straining erection, keeping it hard. Warm breath ran over his body, as it moved lower, cleaning the sweat and grime from his thighs, giving him a tongue-bath. Sam gritted his teeth, trying not to curse out loud, keeping as still as possible, lest it get any other ideas. "Mmmmm, you humans taste soo goood!" It kissed his dick, then winked and floated off, muttering something about being late for the orgy. He waited until it was completely out of sight before grabbing handfuls of water and washing himself. Never had he felt so - dirty. And his dick refused to go down, waggling at him. "Traitor." He growled at it, then noticed something. He felt really good! His wounds weren't bothering him as much, he wasn't hungry, thirsty or tired. The walls gave off a sickly light as he took stock. No clothes, no weapons, and surrounded by queer creatures who wanted more than his hide. Just fucking wonderful! He stood a moment longer, thinking he had been through worse. But, he couldn't remember when, right off hand. He chose a direction at random and walked away into wherever this was, ready for most anything. Or so he thought. As the human turned a corner he saw a large imp much like the one he had left 'upstairs'. "Shit," Sam muttered, wishing he had something besides a hardon to defend himself with. Shaking the thought off, he noticed there were plenty of fist-sized rocks around. He had to turn in order to find one that was big enough to suit him, and as he grabbed it, he heard a snort. "Mmmmm, nice ass." Sam froze for a moment, then whirled, ready to toss the stone and run. But all he could do was stare. He didn't believe his eyes. The monster stared at him for a moment, gaze sliding between his legs, black tongue licking gilded lips. "You are a hot one." Then struck a classic 'muscle-man' pose, arms curled, hips turned slightly. It moved its bull-like head, flexing, pouting its mouth sensually Gold flashing on its half-closed eye-lids, golden rings gleaming in the light as they moved, piercing horns, ears, nose, nipples and cock. As it moved its body, he could see the hooves had also been painted gold. Fingers caressed furred hips, framing a pair of muscular, rounded butt-cheeks. It squeezed them firmly, one eye winking at its audience. "Like what you see, sexy?" It growled, a faint lisp making it sound stranger than expected. When Sam said nothing, it wriggled its butt at the human, then turned around and slid a clawed hand over its cock, playing with the ring that hung through the pointed tip. Striking another pose, it looked at him with undisguised lust, reaching out. Suddenly it yelped and jumped as a hand smacked its ass! "Hey!" An imp smirked at the monster, who was holding its rear and glaring at the brown creature. "Goldie only likes looking... and being looked at...well, and occasionally jerking off. Don't you Sweets." The Demon huffed, shook its head and clopped off, growling something about its makeup needing to be redone. "Now me, I prefer a good ... " The sound of a teleport pad drowned out whatever the male was going to say. Sam spat on the ground again and walked closer to see three rings inset like a triangle within a couple feet of each other. "Strange," he muttered, walking past the first one. Only to jump when a hand grabbed his butt! "Hey! You." He turned, to see the flash as the imp vanished again. Damn teleport pads! The human stood a moment, both fists cocked, stepping backwards in case it showed its ugly... whatever. And got goosed again! "You sonofa.." He turned again, and again there was nothing there. Sam tried to keep one eye on the left pad, and one on the right pad, half-crouched with both fists ready again, and stepped backwards. He jerked upright with a screech as his nuts were squeezed, his nipples pinched and something hard, thick and dripping rubbed against his butt. "Admit it, you love it." Sam reached back to rip the imp off his back and got empty air. "You, you little..!" For the half hour or so, the human staggered between the three pads, trying to get a fist, foot or anything on the bastard who caressed, kissed, nipped and generally played with his body. All during that time the only sounds was curses and giggles and the hum of teleport pads as the creature lived up to its namesake, always behind him. "Stand still, damn you!" Sam was panting now, winded and dizzy from whirling between the pads, never quite quick enough. It was bad enough he was caressed, nuzzled and kissed, but did it have to comment on his anatomy while doing it? He was tiring, panting hard, and sweaty when he heard the pad go off again. He made a half-turn, then quickly turned back, knowing it would appear in one of the two rings in front of him and when it did. He felt clawed fingers wrapped around his dick, stroking it gently and a tongue slid up his shoulderblade, cleaning it of sweat. "You feel so good in my hand. I bet you would feel even better up my ass." Sam stood, trying to catch his breath, which wasn't easy as part of the problem was it did feel good. He tensed, then threw a left hook that spun him around. He barely caught himself from falling, holding his trembling legs, and gasping for air. "I'll get you yet!" he screamed as he missed. He then stiffened as fingers parted his cheeks and a muzzle was shoved in, giving his anus a long obscene kiss, tongue flickering across the puckered ring, while another clawed hand stroked his dick back to full hardness yet again. Sam roared and jerked upright, about to twist around. "Admit it. you love it." he heard even as the creature dissolved into nothingness. A bite on his butt, a kiss on his balls and one long lick on his dick before the familiar hum, and silence again. Sam shook himself and stood a moment thinking. Then, he threw a hay-maker straight into the chin of the imp who had just teleported in. Whack. "Damn!" he said, rubbing his hand, "You bastards are hard-boned." Then looked at the heap of brown fur a few feet away. "One thing you are right about - I do love beating the crap out of you." Carefully avoiding the outlines in the rock, he walked onward down the path, if that is what it could be called, wincing as the words of the first imp he encountered returned - "Anytime a hot, hunky male wants to beat on a cute imp's ass, just whistle." A noise behind Sam made him whirl. The creature wasn't quite out after all. It groaned, gripping its dick and panted, "Ohhhhhh! Hit me again!" Then came all over its belly and fell back, panting heavily. If Sam had his boots he would have kicked the queer bastard square in the balls. But he didn't, and he wasn't about to put his toes there, despite how tempting it was. He growled and turned again, disgusted with himself. "Damn air, it has got to be the air." He continued on down the path, not listening to the sniggering behind him and ignoring the stare that burned on his bare ass. Sam continued on until he heard yells and screams coming over a ridge. His blood burned as he grimly made his way up, determined to set the souls whose screams he heard free. He stood on top of a hill for a moment, then flung himself down so he wouldn't be seen, lifting his head just enough to watch the goings-on. What he saw overwhelmed him. Men in tattered uniforms hung from poles, hands chained above them. Brown creatures much like the one he had punched intermingled with 'Arnies' - pink-skinned demons with big mouths and muscular that ran in a permanent stoop. An army of them milled around, looking for an unattached body part to suck on, play with or stick between their glistening cheeks. Of course the monsters had dicks, and were busy buggering the keening humans, adding to the noise when they came. Along with this menagerie were 'red balls', licking at the cum the others missed, and 'brown' ones that caressed with their hands and long tongues. This was bad enough, but standing like a king among the court was a huge creature that looked like a brain on a platform, with big metal legs splayed under it. The eyes oozed lust as it stroked a pair of hapless men, taking first one and then the other into its slit of a mouth, sucking them like bottles. He could hear the pleas and moans roll up the hill to him. When they became so exhausted that they hung limp, a red ball would light up and fire a ball of energy into the man, who would scream with pleasure and become stiff again. This was truly Hell - never being able to stop cumming. The last straw was a monster who looked like its mother had screwed a machine. Its cock was a massive, life-like (if you are an elephant or a draft horse) dildo, while its left hand was more plain (if a twelve-inch long, three-inch thick, vibrating plastic penis could be called ordinary). It marched around stuffing its twin members into anything that moved, making them shriek, howl and wriggle. It was almost too much and he fervently wished for a shotgun to kill the bastards, or at least release them from their torment. For every human down there was a truly a zombie, their eyes glazed over in death, but unable to die; playthings for the perverted creatures. He carefully crawled back down the hill, standing in time to hear a noise come from above him. One of the 'Arnies' was staring down at him, drool running down its big jaws. Three steps of those chicken-legs and it had him. He stifled the screams and yells as best he could as it munched on his ass, balls and whatever else would fit in a mouth the size of a 55-gallon drum. Its tongue shoved his cheeks apart and wormed into his pucker. For a moment it felt so good he didn't want it to stop. Then he caught himself. "What the hell was going on here?" he thought. First the brown thing, then the orgy, and now this."Get your goddam tongue outta my asshole, you fucking queer bastard!" Silence followed the outburst, cut only by the slobbers and grunts of the creature who had no intentions of stopping. The fact that it was shoving still more thick, wriggling tongue up Sam's butt only confirmed his suspicions. The creature moved one 'hand' around to grip his cock, stroking it while it teased his prostate. He could only moan and take it, caught in the creature's vise-like grip. Then a noise caught his attention. He turned his head. On the ridge were all the creatures that had been down below. Not even the collective gaze of the former soldiers staring at him could stop the orgasm that burned from his ass-hole, through his spine and kicked him in the head. He howled like a dog in heat, spurting cum like a broken firehose, jet after jet splattering loudly on the rocky terrain. Then he heard the comments... "Did you see how much he came?", "I wonder how many times he can do it.", "I could sleep with that cock buried up my ass anytime", "Look at those hard nipples! I'll bet they are sensitive to caresses and nips", "I would love to lick the sweat off those balls.", "I would shove my muzzle between those sweet cheeks and not come up for air for a month!" "Damn, you guys are making me horny!" There was a chorus of laughs after that one bounced off the walls. Worse was the applause, sprinkled with cruel catcalls, wolf whistles and offers of 'muzzle-rides'. Sam couldn't help the blush rising over his face, Angry and embarrassed. "Did you see that?", "Bet he hasn't done it before." , "Hey sweets, you ever had your cock sucked on until you passed out?" Sam turned, now free to look down the slope. A deeper voice growled, "Ever stick your cock up someone's ass? Or had one in yours?" This was too much! He turned and gave them both barrels, finger-wise. "Screw you All, buncha queer faggot bastards!" There was another silence, giving Sam enough time to remember where he was, the state of undress that he was in and who he was telling off. A growl came from the group, scaring him badly though it had nothing to do with anger. The delude-welding monster grinned lustily. "Think you are up to it stud? Who would you like to have that big dick in first?" As one, the brown demons fell to their knees and began licking their lips. Bull-like humanoids turned, grabbing nearby zombies. The dildo-demon squatted and slid it's vibrating 'hand' up between its cheeks, groaning as the thick thing was pushed in deeply, moving its hips with lust as it screwed itself. Half of the Arnies played with their cocks, tongues hanging to the ground. The other half were squeezing their asses and wriggling obscenely. After a minute or so, they stopped and turned back to stare at the lone human. "Can't make up your mind? It is hard to decide, isn't it." Sam took a step backwards and stopped suddenly, making his dick slap his belly. One of the imps moaned at the sound. "I love dick first thing in the morning. It is morning, isn't it?" The others nodded and grinned. He took another step back, and almost fell, and instead decided to risk it and turn around. Which brought another collective growl of lust. "Or maybe a pair of muscular buns, hot and sweaty to lick and caress." Another chorus of growls made him decide to move just a little faster. "Fresh meat." he heard one of them say. While another chorused it. He decided that the better part of valor was not to have his ass reamed by fifty or sixty horny demons and turned a walk into a semi-controlled fall down the hillside. "Fresh meat!" echoed from many voices behind him, along with growls and pants and still more comments on his butt. The sound bayed him as he ran back the way he came, a virgin rabbit before horny hounds. "Shit!" he panted, seeing an all-too-familiar brown form standing in the path. "Well... back for more?" Sam didn't even slow down. He lowered his shoulder, and tackled the imp, shoving them both through a portal. There was a flash and some nausea as they suddenly reappeared someplace else, rolling head over butt for a few feet and then lying, locked in each others arms. "Mmmmm... It feels like you are happy to see me." The monster rubbed its body against his cock, throbbing as it squeezed his ass and panted a little. Sam could do nothing but wheeze and take it, actually happy it was only one imp. Even when it rolled him over and straddlled his legs, and then proceeded to take his dick into its ass. "Ohhhhhh, I love humans! Your cocks are soooo.." The creature arched, sinking fully, taking the man to the hilt. Sam's eyes bugged out a little - he had never felt anything so tight and warm clinging on his rod before. Clawed fingers raked his chest and belly gently, as it bounced slowly and then faster on him. "Move for me human. Arch your hips up. I want every last thick inch inside my hot ass!" The man could do nothing as his hips moved, pushing up to meet the imp's furry butt, feeling it squeeze him erotically. Then the teleporter went off, and he groaned. Then groaned louder as a tongue lavished over his balls, licking at his cock as it slid in and out. Again it sounded, and again and again... "Oh Crap! they found me." he heard himself think. Actually an army of imps had found him. Fingers and tongues ran over his sweaty flesh, pulling his hands into furred crotches to fondle hard, throbbing cocks. "Cum in me." The one hunching over him growled. "Cum for us." The others chorused. They worked him over, stroking, sucking, kissing his flesh, Chanting "Cum!" every few thrusts. The chain broke as one shuddered, spewing hot sticky sap on his body, which was eagerly cleaned up by another. Then another came, and another. Then the one who rode him arched up and exploded, ass trying to eat his dick, sucking on it so strongly he came twice, balls munched on and sucked on and rolled with a warm tongue, basting them in saliva. Everything stopped for a long, cum-soaked moment, then they all gave out a moan and fell on Sam, hugging whatever bit of skin was theirs and becoming still. As Sam got his breath back he inhaled the smell of male bodies, semen,saliva, and whatever else was in the air with great gulps, until he could move again. Snores and grunts came from those around him as he struggled. "Damn, I think I would rather be bitten and mauled." The teleporter went off again and in the light he could see a tall demon, again like the one at the desk. It clopped over and looked at him. "Well... I heard some noises coming from here and thought I would see what was going on..." It grinned, dick swaying between it's legs as it bent to run a large hand over the pile. "Looks like you were the main course." Sam couldn't even so much as flip the creature off. Then again - after the last time, he wasn't sure he wanted to either. It reached under a grunting brown furry hump, and rubbed his balls, making him jerk a little, feeling them get hot and swelling in the demon's hand. The imp was pulled off, growling loudly at the intrusion but quieting when another dick replaced the man's. Fingers curled around his cock and again he felt the heat, this time seeing the green glow, and feeling himself stiffen. Then it lifted him up and cradled him, clopped back to the transporter. "Let's go someplace more private." The lips kissing his abused cock were the last things he remembered. Sam awoke to someone snoring. He was about to yell something about keeping the noise down when the events of the previous day came back. As if that wasn't bad enough, he had a mouthful of chest, with nipple. His balls were being crushed in a clawed hand and what could only be described as a horse-cock was jammed between in his butt cheeks, the head touching his hole. The man involuntarily contracted his cheeks, anus puckering up at the very idea of being humped. Which got a groan, a wave of pain from his abused nuts and hairy legs shoved up, thick meat pushing insistently at his rear orifice. "You ain't putting that up my ass!" he intoned as he got up, determined to get away before the monster awoke. "Got a problem, sexy?" Oh joy. A red ball floated into view, and drifted around him. "I see... and I bet you are a virgin." it chuckled. Sam sat upright, and was about to cuss the creature out when it chuckled and winked. "It's ok sexy. Here - let me help." The air charged and the ball glowed, then hissed and spat a ball of energy straight at Sam! There was no way he could dodge, but instead of horrendous pain, there was that feeling of well-being.. Especially between his legs. A tongue probed his cheeks, licking his anus erotically. Then it wriggled inside him, lubing his passage. "Ohhhhh." He moaned, feeling something bigger stretch him.. It hurt for a moment, then another hiss and another fireball and he was slowly sitting down, taking the length easily. The demon groaned, waking up. "John, what you doing here?" The green eye winked at Sam, who winked back as he reached for the big nipples.. "Helping you ream out a newbie." The demon hissed, gripping the man's cheeks, shaking his head.. "Damn! No wonder you are so tight.." The man lay back as his monstrous lover slowly pulled out and pushed into him, the red ball finding his jutting cock to suck on. "Besides, we have met before.. and he still tastes great!" Everything after that was a haze. He felt movement around him, was fed, washed, and fucked by so many different creatures he didn't even try to remember them all. Of course he also had his share of mouths, tongues, butts on his body, finding a special thrill when someone groaned under or in front of him, begging for his semen. The final memory was this dark-eyed bull-like male and a red-eyed imp who took him into their bed, and into their arms for a long time. Sam woke up and groaned. "What a horrible nightmare!" No more garlic, onion and anchovy pizzas for me! He got up, stumbled to the bathroom and emptied bowels, bladder and sinuses. Washed, he decided it was too early to get up and stumbled back to bed. He had no more than gotten comfortable when big hands pulled him close to a hoary body, one sliding down to rub his crotch. A deep, ugly but somehow familiar voice came out of the darkness.. "Mmmmmm. I don't know how you do it!" Teeth bit at his shoulder as something big and warm spread his cheeks. A moment's resistance and then the head opened him up and slid inside, his cock swelling in response. "You were such a hit at the orgy yesterday - taking on any and all comers. I damn near had to drag you away!" A thrust and he moaned, unable to make any other sound as the big dick slid deep into his ass. "Of course there were others who were very reluctant to part with your anatomy. I admit that your wearing that harness and that steel collar just set off your hunky body so well. I would have been tempted tosSteal you, that is, if I didn't own you already. And the offers I got... I can tell you Grunt. There are going to be a lot less demons wanting human blood in favor of human cock, let me tell you." Another grunt as he was shoved roughly on his belly, and held.. "So! You two started without me.. again." A petulant hiss came from his left. Light blinded him a moment.. "You snooze, You loose." Came from above him with a chuckle that vibrated his entire body. Sam saw a familiar creature, brown fur, red eyes and swishy step. "If you don't hurry up, I will make him cum on the sheets." The imp squealed and quickly came to the bed, lust evident in every movement. "Get him up love.. you know where I want that cock!" It got on all fours and rubbed its furry butt against him as the monster above pulled him upright. Clawed fingers rubbed his erection between the hairy mounds, then pushed it In, making their owner squeal and wriggle. "He may not be the biggest, but he is definitely the best!" Another chuckle from the demon. "You think so, Reg?" A hand slapped Sam's ass and like a startled horse he lunged forward, burying his length into the imp, balls slapping its firmly. "Ohhhh.. You bet Sir! I wish we could get him into the office somehow, but I know we would Never get any work done." T he Baron Demon pulled the man's hips back, pushing forward until the smooth ass was firmly against his crotch. The imp growled and shoved back, making their scrotums thump together. Sam jerked, squeezing the big log inside him and squirted a little pre-cum. "You do that again and I will be cumming!" Fingers reached around to play with the Imp's cock, both monsters moving, keeping the man trapped between them. "Damn, I love your tight human ass." The big one growled, lifting it's human slave's chin and kissing him deeply. "I love your human cock in my ass!" the creature gasped, gripping the bed, riding it's lover's stiff rod. Sam could neither think nor move, being pummeled from both ends.. He rode the crest of pleasure to orgasm, hearing twin snarls as he milked the cum from one cock and spewed his own into another's ass. Flames burned him, keeping his stamina up through two.. three.. four orgasms. He rode the demon to exhaustion, and fucked the imp to oblivion. "Well - I guess I will have to make breakfast... again." He pulled free of the imp, smacking his still hard cock across its butt, getting a pained moan. Then pushed back, rubbing his body against the bigger one, shoulder brushing the big nipples, squeezing the soft dick inside him. The Baron fell onto its side, breathing deeply. "You two think you can clean up the bed, and get in the shower, Or shall I call the office and tell them a human fucked your balls off and you won't be in today." Sam grinned, gripping said nuts until they writhed and promised to make the bed and get in the shower. He hopped up, heading for the kitchen. "We have got to get more of them." The imp panted, slowly getting up and pulling the sheets he had scummed up. The demon nodded, rolling off the bed and gathering the cloth to toss it in the laundry basket, putting a clean one down. "I am not sure I could survive two horny humans." They staggered to the shower, holding each other up. The man laughed as he listened, making breakfast. Thank goodness they ate 'normal' food. Of course compared to 'complete, nutritious meals in a bar', Also known as 'shit' because of what it resembled and tasted like, he could have gotten used to Arnie steak. Plus, having creatures fall to their knees begging to worship his body was really good forthe ego. Upside, he was just another grunt, not even considered handsome. So he had to take it in the ass once in a while. He had gotten a lot worse from dipshits who didn't know squat about situations outside their cushy desk-jobs. Of course cooking with a lava flow required some getting used to, but he managed. "Hey Limp-Dicks! Breakfast is ready." Then went to the door of the strange house and waited.. A few yards away a teleporter pad went off with it's usual light-and-sound show, and a brown form appeared, carrying a sachel. "Paper, handsome." Sam could get used to going naked all the time. The radiation from the walls was giving him a nice all-over tan, His feet were calloused enough to stand on the hardest rock and no boots to pinch or cramp his toes. The Imp rubbed it's body against his, panting heavily. Then it put the sachel to one side and knelt to nuzzle his dick, kissing it, fondling it. "Will you be in later to abuse me? I love the way you throw a right-cross." The man had to shake his head.. He had been beating up on Imps for years it seemed like and none had come back for more. That is, until now. Then lips were on his cock-head, teeth nibbling, fingers caressing his balls in such a way he knew he wouldn't last. Semen exploded from his hard cock, sucked down hungrily, tongue lashing the tip of his dick to make it spew harder. Sam finally had to hold onto the creature's shoulders as it inhaled him to the roots, stripping him. One last kiss on his balls and a promise of what it would do when it returned, and the imp was gone. The human collected the paper and walked back in. "Paper, sir." The baron pulled him close and kissed him. "Thank you Samuel." There were times to be formal, and times to not be.. And when a big hand squeezed his ass, with a burning touch, a muzzle opened to slide a tongue into his mouth and french-kiss him hard enough he swooned, was definately not the time. "Ready to go Reg?" The imp growled, stroking itself, and nodded. Then danced away when the human reached down.. "Want me to take care of that for you?" The creature panted, and shook it's head, looking up at the Baron Pleadingly - "We have to find a way to get him in the office." The demon nodded, grunting as Sam stroked it's half-hard cock."Once in a while it could be arranged.." It leaned over and growled huskily, "How would you like to lay me over my desk and fuck my ass while an imp sucked on our balls." All the man could do is nod vigorously and stroke the hardening dick a little faster. Reginald laughed. "Looks like we are both going in with hard-on's. You should hear the comments among the Lesser Demons - they all want their own hunky human to service.." The bigger monster groaned. We would never get anything done. We would have to ask for more staff." His dark eyes lit up as did his hands and he gripped Sam, lust-fire burning the human into cumming all over the thick cock and balls until they literally dripped. The imp was on his knees, catching any excess, licking the man's cock-tip until it shone. "Now let them talk, you rest. We will bring dinner home, so relax and fill those balls so we can drain them far into the night." They both kissed the panting human and left. Sam could barely stand, decided it's wouldn't be too humiliating to crawl to the bedroom. Having just made it when a knock came on the door. A head appeared at the doorway. "Mmmmmm.. The smell of fresh cum get me all excited. I hope you don't mind - I brought a friend." A creature that looked like a Lizard in leather grinned at him, turning it's head back and forth, making it's gold nose-ring sway. "You really into males?" it said, licking it's black lips and stroking the imp's dick. Sam nodded, eyes widening in surprise as it leapt clear across the room, to squat beside the bed and lick his cock. "We had heard rumors but.. you know how that goes." It got up on the bed, sliding his cock through its nose-ring, kissing the stalk to the base. Then with a slurp, it sucked his balls on, sharp teeth biting on his nuts, but gently. The man groaned, arching up right into the imp's mouth. He looked over at the mirror on the wall in time to watch it's cock disappear under the lizard's stubby tail. 'Just what I need - more horny monsters...' The End?

I'm a man who, while loves inserting his man meat into his partner, likes to be dominated; have his man straddle him and do most of the actual riding is common. Other examples would be that they like to let the partner do what ever they want to him. I'm a submissive top looking to be dominated by a Power Bottom. Looking to be turn into a hell hound by force. Destroy the good in me and claim me for the forces of darkness. Watch as slowly I become the beast of your fantasy. Inject me steroids, growth hormones and wolf blood. Destroying this body so that your hell hound will come out to please you. Collar and train me if dare to the beast I'm meant to be. Mold my body to your pleasure: turn my teeth into fangs, etc.

By John Y. I'd always wished for a larger cock. I mean, don't get me wrong—I like my cock and it does just fine by me, but I'd always envied the huge donkey hung studs I'd see at the Y where I have a membership for my family. I like to jog, swim and “relax” in the sauna in the rare instance that I actually have some free time for myself. Mostly it's my beautiful wife Denise and my sons who take advantage of not only the facilities themselves, but a whole host of workshops, spinning classes, and weigh training seminars available. My wife does the yoga classes to help de-stress from running the boys around to their full schedule of extracurricular activities and sports practices. I have three sons total; Jeff, by my first wife, and two other sons; Jake and Tyler—both from my current wife, and both as adorable as their mother. Raising sons nowadays is a lot more complicated than it was when I was a kid. If I wanted to play baseball after school I'd just bring my mitt w/me to school that day and play at the park on the way home along with the other kids. My sons, like most nowadays, need their own electronic organizers and costly uniforms and accompanying safety gear for each team they're on—which is many. My oldest son Jeff is a hearty high school senior, all American in every way—sort of beefy from too much soda pop and videogames, yet he has an intensely competitive nature. He excels in sports, and has the kind of beefy build that's perfect for rugby, hockey, and football. He's still growing and he's gonna be a big bruiser by the time his body catches up with his hormonal fluxes. Jeff has adorably messy light brown locks that poke out all over and kind of flips from under the back of his omnipresent ball caps. The kid wears a different ball cap every day and even holds down a part-time job at the local lids shop at the mall. He claims he couldn't support such an extravagant image without the generous employee discount. And apparently not having your own personal brand or completely unique style is unacceptable as a high school senior in 2004. When my first wife and I divorced, Jeff was a toddler and his mother was more interested in booze and other men than she was being part of a nuclear family. So with the help of my parents and brother, I raised Jeff primarily by myself until I remarried. The bond between my son and me is stronger than any other I've ever known. In many ways, Jeff is my best friend; my sounding board about everything from listening to me bitch about “that idiot on talk radio”, to enduring my frequent tales of how “we used to do it” when I was a kid. We share blond jokes and a sick addiction to AFV (yes—the stupid show where people send in videos of their grandmothers catching on fire or dying at weddings with overt canned laughter overlaid.) It's wrong. We know. But we cant seem to change the channel once it's on, and I chalk it up to my voyeuristic side. Jeff's also the one who'll tell me how bad my golf swing is, and why I shouldn't wear “those way too short Adidas running shorts, Dad!”. Secretly I think he's just jealous and wants to wear them for the vintage factor, but they're a little too large for him now. All in all, we have one of the closest, most communicative, and healthiest father/son relationships I know of. Jeff's eighteenth birthday was coming up soon and I wanted to make sure it was a day for him to remember. Turning 18 is a big thing for someone that age and I easily recalled my excitement at the prospect of graduating from a restricted license, high school, and all the wonder and freedom of a life away at college. I knew Jeff expected something significant for his birthday and I debated for a long time over what to get him. Even though he wanted his own car, I didn't want to go that route. Lots of dads buy their sons new cars for their 18th birthdays and 3/4 of them end up totaling it within weeks anyway. I wanted Jeff to earn his car, so he'd appreciate it. I wanted to give Jeff something more substantial than a material purchase. I wanted to give Jeff something that he could really own for the rest of his life—something that his “old man” gave him, by which he'd always remember and cherish our good times together. I gave the matter a lot of thought over the weeks leading up to Jeff's birthday, and one day at the Y it finally came to me. After a particularly taxing day of work, a heavy greasy burger lunch on the run in my car between meetings, and two too many beers with the my last client of the day, I decided I should do myself some good and hit the gym. I phoned my wife from the car and explained that I needed some “me time”, and I'd be home late after I hit the gym and unwound a little. She and I respect each other's need for space and time and I think that makes for a good marriage in our case. We both know how invigorating and detoxifying it can be to pump out some adrenaline at the gym, sweat out that stress, and rejuvenate in the bathing facilities at the Y. Our local Y was just built a few years ago and is well maintained. The men's steam and dry saunas are spic and span, as are the pool, locker, and shower areas. After a good run and some free weights, I felt like I deserved some shower time and indulgently headed towards the showers. I couldn't wait to peel off my sweat-drenched gym gear and just bask under the hot jet sprays of the shower for a while. It was about an half an hour before the Y closed and I'd been the only one under the refreshing steam jets of the showers for a while. I'd actually finished scrubbing myself down and eyes closed, I was letting the warm water glide down over my oxygenated muscles and swirl the ocean-scented body wash down the drains at my feet. Racking my brain once again about what to get Jeff, and breathing in lung-fulls of steam and scented water, my mind wandered. I started thinking about how good the water felt on my skin. My balls were hanging low and when my soapy hand drifted past the head of my now lucid cock I felt hedonistic warmth rush in patches all over my body. My mind's eye flashed images of all the hot muscles I'd seen straining and pushing in the gym. Guys with massive arms—huge guns Jeff called them—paraded and pumped in my mind. I remembered a distinctly huge, beefy football player we'd seen during last Sunday's game. Trying to imagine what this guy's look like unstuffed from his tight shiny blue pants, I threw wood. This jolted me back to reality and I struggled to focus as I opened my eyes. At first, I wasn't sure if I was asleep or really under the hot foggy showers. What appeared to be that guy from Sunday's game—or perhaps his brother—was hanging up his towel at the end of the row of showers and heading towards me on the right. I wiped my wet hair to the side and flushed the excess water from my eyes and still I had to blink twice to realize that I was in fact fully conscious and cognizant of the hulking beefster next to me. He casually said hi and turned on the shower nozzle next to where I was standing. I choked out a ridiculously girlish “umm …hi there.” and turned the other way to quickly apply an additional dose of shampoo to my already clean hair. After all, I tried to convince myself, the bottles does read “shower, rinse, repeat”. I just needed to figure out how I could steal another glance what I thought I saw with this huge guy. What I definitely knew was that this guy was stacked. He was probably 6’6”, thick slabs of bulky rounded muscles that bounced on his already massive frame, black hair, and a strong healthy girth that in all honesty must've been about three bills. This guy was massive! In a deep baritone, he started humming that clever baby back ribs jingle, then started singing it. When he breathed, his thick d cup pecs bounced, and in turn so did his ripped but bulging belly, and so on down to his meat. In my peripheral vision I could sense something huge and pendulous moving, and as my eyes were drawn down this beast's thick body I honed in on the hugest package I've ever witnessed The guy sported a long fat dong, close in size and shape to a baby's arm, and a massive pair of bull nuts. He was donkey hung and didn't seem to mind me staring, as he rinsed the shampoo from his hair. Arms raised behind his head, blowing out his huge biceps for me like cocky plumage—his gut and basket were pushed forward making his meat bounce even harder with each deep “baby back, baby back, baby back” reiteration. He finally addressed my stunned stare with a friendly, but decidedly knowing, “Ya wanna know what it's like, doncha? I gulped and nodded. He told me most guys couldn't keep their eyes off of it and he didn't mind the attention at all. In fact, he told me he liked to share the wealth and I could take a hold of it to see how heavy it felt. I couldn't believe this guy was gonna let me grab his donkey in the showers, but I knew that beggars can't be choosers and decided to seize the opportunity, along with his horsemeat. I nervously looked around—the locker-room was silent except for us, and I stepped over in front of him. When I took his huge hang in my hand I blushed because even my man-sized hand couldn't reach all the way around it. I squeezed a little and repositioned my fingers around the rubbery dong, but I still couldn't get full grasp. It must've weighed a solid pound plus, and the giant bag that hung beneath his flopper held two testes the size of softballs. I recoiled my hand quickly because for a second I thought for sure this must be some kind of physical abnormality—like a twin brother that never fully developed and I was going to see this guy on Oprah next week or something. It was abnormal to say the least, but it was indeed a cock. And the most perfectly formed giant monster cock I think anyone has ever seen. Even with the internet male porn I'd sneak on the computer sometimes late at night, I'd never seen anything this big. “I guess you've got some rare lucky genetics”, I nervously snickered to break the tension. “No way buddy” he chuckled, “this isn't a genetic gift from my dad. This is Christmas gift from my girlfriend”. Puzzled, I stared back wondering what the hell he meant. I asked him to explain, and he told me that his girlfriend worked downtown—not far from Chinatown. During her lunch breaks she would often peruse a local herbal shop and buy crazy cough remedies and PMS teas and stuff. She developed a great rapport with the owner—a withered but wise old Chinese man who had an herbal remedy or potion for anything and everything that ails ya. His girlfriend mentioned one day that she needed a unique gift for her boyfriend, and something that they could possibly use to enhance their sex life. She expected some Benewah balls or spicy herbed lube of some sort, but instead the old man winked at her and said he had just the thing. He scurried off, climbed up a ladder, and produced a glass jar of what appeared to be dried black leaves of some sort from a hidden stash, behind the New Age book overstock section. As he climbed down from the ladder he shook a bony finger her way and warned her to be very careful with what he was about to share with her. He told her it was an ancient Asian masculinity herb and would produce amazing yet unregulated aphrodisiac affects on whoever ingested the mix. He warned that the results were always unpredictable, yet he'd never seen happier customers than those who'd purchased the herbs for their mates. He said it was never to be taken—or even touched by women, and she should only allow her partner to open and ingest the contents that he spooned into a tiny rice paper envelope for her. She agreed and giggled inside thinking that if nothing else, it would make for a great gag gift Little did she know that the seedling thought in her mind at that moment would manifest itself in the way the herbs would take effect. Three days later her boyfriend was transformed after drinking the herbs steeped as tea, as the envelope prescribed. “She eventually learned to overcome her gag reflex.” the bruiser cockily laughed, “and I've been the object of admiration and respect from everyone I've met since, he snickered. “I've gotten three promotions at work, was made captain of my rugby team, and I never pay for drinks at clubs anymore.”, he goaded. He shook the obscene member at me again and taunted me with it. You want one, doncha bud? You wanna know what it's like to have a donkey swinging between your thighs 24/7, doncha buddy? His previously jovial demeanor now verged on arrogance, but I suppose I couldn't blame him. I nodded and agreed when he inquired for the third time about my envy, but I knew I needed to play it cool if I were to maximize this situation. It almost seemed as if the serpent in his fist was speaking directly to me now. “You want this for yourself, doncha dude?” it hissed lewdly. “No”, I responded simply. That threw the guy for a loop, as I'm sure it wasnt the typical glazed and patented “uh huh” he was accustomed to hearing. “I want it for my son.”, I announced. The guy laughed and asked me if I was kidding. I shared a little info with him about my relationship with my son, and told him about my desire to gift Jeff with something he'd not soon forget. He agreed with my logic and told me he'd share the secret shop with me, but only on one condition. “What's that?”, I queried him. “That if he gets bigger than me, I get to see his.” Deal! We shook on it and he clued me in as to where I needed to go and what I needed to do. The next morning I cleared my afternoon schedule and made a beeline to the shop at lunch. By 12:30 I held in my possession the gift of life for my son's 18th birthday. Jeff's eighteenth birthday was two days away, and I was anxious to give Jeff his gift. I doubted and questioned myself over and over again in the meantime. Was this wrong? Was it illegal? Doesn't every dad hope that their son wil inherit the best genes the family jewels have to offer? I figured at most Jeff and I would get a good laugh, and then I'd buy him a car to reoccupy his mind. That Friday night couldn't have come sooner. Of course Jeff was hosting an obligatory blow-out bash in our basement rec-room with 10 of his closest buds (car keys to be left in my possession), but I wanted to share a special private moment with my son before his guests arrived. After dinner I went into my den and threw back two double Scotch's, and called for Jeff to come join me. Feeling the need to be relaxed I was wearing those old Adidas track shorts form my stint on my HS running team 2½ decades prior, and I was adjusting my ball sack and to the warm glow produced by the Scotch when Jeff entered the room. “What's up Pops?” he asked—with an inconceablable smile on his face. In the back of his mind, I knew he thought he was baout to be hnaded a set of keys to a new Porsche or at least a VW. I told Jeff to feel free to grab a beer from my minibar fridge and sit down, because i wanted to talk to him. His eyes lit up about the beer and the newly adult privilege I bestowed on him, but of course he felt compelled to add a cynical teenage groan and obligatory eye roll at the prospect of a lecture. He flopped into the leather armchair opposite me, threw one leg over the side and popped open his beer. He paused just briefly before swigging form it—first to see if I was really going to allow him to drink a beer, and secondly to hide that fact that he knew how to swig beer form a bottle like a sailor already. That fact would have solidified my sneaking suspicion that hed been raiding my wetbar for about a year now anyway, and possibly even explain why I couldn't find my favorite Adidas shorts sometimes. He sensed my lax attitude about the beer and took and sip and pretended to make a face at the fuzz. I told him to cut the BS with me and remember who he was dealing with here and we both laughed. That broke the ice and he proceeded to swig the bottle like a seasoned pro. “Jeff”, I started, “I want you to know that since you were a little boy, I've only ever wanted the best for you—in every possible way.” Another obligatory eye roll and a mumbled “I know that, Dad—sheesh!”. “Now Jeff, listen to me here for a minute, I continued. Aside form footing the ridiculous bill for this party of yours tonight, I picked up something special for your birthday. One more gulp of beer and an intense stare to me as he tried to figure out what kind of car I was leading up to. Then he finished the beer. “Can I have another one Dad? Please! It's my only 18th birthday, c'mon!” Ok, I relented but I want one too, and I have something else for us as well.. He swung back around from the fridge, hading me the beer and looked at the tiny envelope in my hands. “I have something here for you son, and now that you're a man I think you can handle this.” He looked again at the envelope as he flopped back into the chair and asked me if I was going to smoke a jay with him. Now I was the one who rolled my eyes, and explained that I wasn't quite that kind of Dad, but I did have something for him that I could almost guarantee none of his friends Dads would give them. “What is it Dad?” he asked, his curiosity piqued. “Whatcha got for me Pops?” “A donkey dick.” I flatly replied. Jeff blew beer foam thru his nose—spraying my legs and shorts. Coughing and trying to regain composure, he laughed out loud at me. “No, really c'mon Dad.” he belted out. The beer was going to his head fast and I could see his beefy pink cheeks flush with alcohol and laughter. “What is it?”. I explained to him about the old Chinaman in the shop and the supposed effects of the herbs and Jeff just stared at me—trying to determine if I was pulling his leg, or if premature Alzheimer's was settling in. “I'm serious, Jeff.” I explained. “Guys with monster cocks get ahead in this world and even though I don't believe I've done you wrong in the family jewels department, I want you to have every advantage possible in this world.” He knew my spiel was of the utmost honesty and sincerity and he quieted down. “So what do I do?” He looked to me for a lead. I handed him the envelope and told him to add the crushed leaves to his beer. “Even if it tastes bad, swallow it all and don't puke, OK? I chided him. “I know how to drink beer Dad”, he mocked and snatched the satchel from my hands. The reality of what I was presenting him kicked in, and I knew that at this moment a new car was the FURTHEST thing from his hormonally charged teen mind. I had to admit—I was on the edge of my seat, myself. Jeff added the mixture to his beer and glug, glug, glugged it down. He sat back down in the chair and looked completely normal. I watched intently for any sign of change. He looked down at his crotch, back up at me, and then let go a huge belch. That made us both laugh an then Jeff's face went completely blank and pale. He bolted up quickly in front of me and grabbed my arm. “Oh my God, Dad!, he exclaimed nervously, I think it's starting.” Jeff began trembling and his grip on my arm grew stronger—almost to the point that it hurt me. I steadied him at the hip with my other arm and frantically panicked, wondering if I'd just poisoned my own son. A huge smile dawned on his lips and he shook my arm excitedly. I broke my gaze from his face as I noticed his baggy khaki trousers begin to heave and stir. He was tenting alright and my curiosity kept me glued in my seat—at eye-level with his growing mound. Jeff threw his head backwards, let out a lewd moan, and inhaled deeply. When he did, the bulge in his trousers lunged forward and a large burgeoning outline was taking shape. With each low guttural moan, Jeff was breathing life into his new baby. Within minutes the distinct outline of a large eggplant was bulging out of his pants I wondered how insane this night would become. “Awww yeah—that feels sooooo damn good”, Jeff hissed under his breath. His voice had already deepened and his nascent donkey drew the attention of his hands. Both of them rubbed the enormous eggplant bulge in his pants and he caught my eye with a glace as he squeezed his pant mound. I could see pure sexual lust in his eyes and it was a little awkward for me to recognize that in my son. I'd seen this look before during really intense, connected sex sessions with girlfriends—even my wives now and then, but this was different. I could literally smell and taste the pheromones Jeff's pits were exuding and the heady aroma drew me in. Jeff's moaning continued and I thought his antagonized pants my burst right in my face. It was as if someone were filling a giant water balloon down his leg and soon the bulge began to resemble a butternut squash. I doubted the cotton of his khaki's ability to retain the monster much longer and wondered when it would stop. I mean—I did want Jeff to have a huge one, but I didn't want him relegated to a traveling sideshow or medical journal. Oh shit—what if I gave him too much? What if he's too young? Thoughts were racing through my mind, but the manly aromas now wafting form Jeff's body were starting to bone me as well. Jeff's breathing began to slow and the bulge seemed to have slowed its rapid rate of expansion. I couldn't help myself any longer and I reached forward and yanked down Jeff's trousers. What lay before my eyes was the wildest thing I'd ever seen. Jeff's cock had morphed into a heavy, lewd column of meat. He'd even developed a massive juicy foreskin that bloated out the circumference of the cock and make it appear even larger. It had to be at least 15 inches in length and probably 10 inches around. It bobbed and throbbed in front of my face and seemed to be breathing on it's own. His ball sack hung a solid foot below his groin and his testes had swollen up like ripe Florida grapefruits. Jeff wrapped both hands all the way around it and with his voice definitely an octave lower asked me if it was really him. He squeezed it and shook the bloated beast a few times. Jeff shuddered in ecstasy and a tablespoon of thick precum oozed from his quarter-slot piss-slit, and began a viscous, slow-mo descent from Jeff's monster and dripped lewdly onto my leg. I shoveled the goo up with my fingers and brought it to my nose. It reeked of semen personified, and I nearly succumbed to the Cloroxy smell, as if I were scrubbing an unventilated bathtub. Jeff leaned in and inhaled deeply. When he did my cock jumped and the head burst forth from my tight Adidas shorts. That gave us both a jolt and Jeff's monster bounced one final time and bloated up another inch in diameter. That was as big as it was gonna get, and it was gargantuan by any standards. Neither of us knew what to expect from his newly birthed monsterbone. My son was now a magnificent bullstud. His monster meatshaft would be the envy of men everywhere, his now stacked bulbous chest had grown a thick matt of fur. His voice was a full octave deeper and he'd developed a visible 5 o'clock shadow. His eyes were lustfully wild and it was plain that I'd turned my son into a sexual beast. He grabbed my head from behind and forced my mouth onto his Easter ham. My eyes bulged and my lips stretched tightly just to accommodate the head. As my eyes teared up, I looked up at him and saw maniacal evil in his eyes. I don't think he even knew it was me he was forcing onto his cock. I don't think he cared either. At that moment my manboy just needed his nut. I got him into this situation and I was to endure the brunt of his first powerdong experience. He bludgeoned my mouth and I whimpered like a punished boy, taking my medicine. Copious amounts of precum poured from his nozzle like a broken beertap and my swollen lips barely accommodated one third of his might girth. He pumped and grunted and I gasped for air thru my nose. Thick bolts of precum squished out the corners of my mouth and landed in loud splats on the floor each time he plunged his beast into my skull. My boner was throbbing like mad but I couldn't touch it because I needed both hands to steady myself as my son tore me a new one. Tears streamed down my purple swollen face and I nearly passed out form asphyxiation. Synaptic stars shot off like fireworks in my brain due to lack of oxygen and then the first volley hit. The cum gushed so intensely out of Jeff's cock that the pressure blew him off of me like a crimped firehose unraveling. Trying to get a hold of the angry beast, Jeff grabbed it tightly with both hands and attempted to direct the lurid flow of semen, but it was no use. He shot off at least ten huge wads of cum, each one pulsing out of his monster and hosing me down in warm pungent jizz. Jeff grunted and growled and I could literally see his balls beginning to deflate as they unleashed their substantial payload. A thick gloppy cupful of jizz splatted squarely in my face and I looked out from under the drippin ooze to see Jeff collapse back into his chair. I shot my meager manwad into a puddle of my son's mitochondrial spermpool, and struggled to catch my breath. Within moments Jeff was snoring in the chair, and I scrambled to clean up the slippery mess. My den was awash with jizz and I sopped it with as many bar towels as I could find. My body was covered in the gooey gore and I worried that Jeff's guests might start arriving soon so I hurriedly wiped down everything and ran to the shower. When I came back Jeff began to stir, the swelling of his thick member had begun to subside and in the light it looked like a like a saintly baby sleeping. “Oh my God, Dad, Jeff started, I just had the most fucked up dream.” When he looked down for a reality check, he gulped hard and his eyes shot up at me in near disbelief. There was an intense moment of silence and then Jeff's signature smile appeared. He confirmed what I had always hoped he would say to me. “You're the best Dad ever!” “Happy Birthday Jeff, I replied. Never forget who's your Daddy!”

By BostonBiGuy There are old legends that tell of a different type of vampire - sexual vampires. Spirits that would seek out mortals and steal their life force away by having intercourse with them. These were known as either succubi (female spirits) or incubi (male spirits). These tales are true. I know many of you won't believe me, but I know from first-hand experience. You see for several months now I have had an incubus as my lover. I know it's dangerous, but to me it's worth it. From our intercourse I have weakened, and I've become very sick. I don't have much time left. Even though I know this I won't refuse him when he comes for me tonight. But I want to be able to share my story, so I will try to write this out and describe everything in detail, so that my tale may at least make it out there to lie amongst the vampire legends. My story began on the night of a full moon. I had gone to bed and was sound asleep. At first I thought I was dreaming. He had come into my room, the full moon making his pale skin glow. When his hand touched me it was like ice - so cold that it numbed my skin where he touched. It was then that I realized I was awake. His eyes captivated me, they were a pale wintry blue. Then he kissed me. At first his lips were as cold as his hands - they didn't seem completely solid. Then the world started to spin around me, it seemed that the bed had fallen out from under me. I was falling, in free-fall, flying down, ever downwards; but there was no fear, I knew I was safe in his arms. While I was experiencing this rush his lips had seemed to grow more solid against mine, warming up at the same time. He broke the kiss, and it felt like I touched down lightly on my bed. He seemed so fragile, ephemeral like the night's mist. Then he lay against me and pressed his body into mine. His body was cool against my own, but not as cool as before. He kissed me again, and his skin warmed. His touch that at first had been icy against my skin now become like warm velvet draped across me. As the passion increased he became more real, more solid, more like a person. For the first time I could now feel the pressure of his hardon against my own. He started to grind his dick into mine. A pleasure so intense, with all the force of a hurricane enveloped me. Before I knew it, it was over. Orgasm ripped through me with an almost frightening intensity. Then I felt only exhaustion, severe exhaustion. I looked up at my phantom lover, saw him for the first time as solid, and seemingly human. Then he faded away into moonlight and sleep overtook me. The next morning I awoke very late, having slept throughout most of the day. I was unsure about what had happened, the only thing I remembered clearly was the pleasure and him. I knew it had been much too real to be a dream, but exactly what had happened I did not know. What was he? I knew there must be an answer somewhere. So I searched every source I knew on the occult. After long hours spent searching, I think I found an answer. A vampire, more specifically an incubus, a male sexual vampire that draws the life essence from its victim during intercourse. An incubus could cause extreme pleasure but it would also lead to extreme fatigue in early encounters and if taken too far could cause death. From my research I was aware that it was likely that he would be back again. The legends seemed to point out that an incubus was likely to return to the same few victims. My logical mind said I should be afraid of this creature, this killer, but my sexual side was drawn to the idea of another such encounter. I did have to admit that my intellectual curiosity was at an all time high, I needed to know more about this creature. All that was known were legends, here I had the chance to learn more. Once I found out more, then I can stop this, or so I told myself. The next time he appeared to me I was more prepared than before and was on my guard. This time instead of submitting instantly, I moved away when he went to touch me. He still had that somewhat pale look that he'd had the time before. This time however, his eyes did not hypnotize me. Finally I found my voice and spoke. "Who are you? Why are you here?" The answer I received astonished me, not because of content but because of how it arrived. His lips never moved and he made no sound, but thoughts filled my mind. His thoughts did not come to me like words, instead it came like images and feelings. It is very hard to explain exactly what I experienced but I will try. One of the first things I saw was sorrow, he didn't like what he had to do. He hated that in having sex with someone it would lead to their death in most cases. It felt wrong to him but he had no choice; this was what he was and it was his only way to survive. He was not the monster that the legends had painted. He was compassionate, but lost and confused. He was trapped in a world where all he could do was cause harm to others, even those he loved. In the thoughts he shared with me was grief, agony, despair, love and love lost. He could never quite show me how he had become the way he had, he did not know exactly, it was in a time before he could remember. But the promise of pleasure even after all that I heard in legends and all that he had shown me caused me to invite him into my bed once again. His skin was still cold to the touch, but it quickly warmed and solidified as got into our passionate lovemaking. He kissed me like he had that first time and I felt the world spin around me. I was safe in his arms, nothing could touch me in this whirlwind of pleasure. Our bodies were intertwined together as we undulated in passion. Then he sat up on top of me and took my erection in his hand, stroking it gently up and down. With his other hand he traced his finger along my chin and down my throat, across my chest lightly touching each nipple and then down my stomach. His actions were sending shivers down my spine. I was lost in the ecstasy of the situation as he continued his stimulation. Then he leaned over and flicked his tongue across the head of my cock, the sensation making me arch my back with a quick intake of breath and release it in a slow moan of passion. Whatever else he might have been he knew what he was doing. He swallowed the head of my cock, taking it in and sucking on it. His tongue sliding around the ridge causing me to moan more loudly. He began a bobbing motion up and down on my cock, sliding it in and out of his mouth, his tongue twining sinuously around the shaft, I knew I had given myself over to him completely. Before I could reach orgasm he stopped. At this point he was very solid and real, and looked and felt like a normal man, nothing like the pale specter he had been earlier. He sat back up again, but instead of sitting down like he had earlier when he first started he lowered himself onto my cock - impaling himself on my shaft. I described the earlier part as ecstasy and this went way beyond anything I'd ever felt before. There is simply no way words can describe the feelings of pleasure coursing through my body. The feeling of being inside him set me off immediately; there was no pain for him in penetration, and only pleasure for me. I could not believe the feeling of being inside him. So intense was the feeling that even after climax I stayed hard. After my orgasm had faded, he began a slow riding motion. His body bouncing up and down pounding my cock into his ass. Slowly at first, then speeding up, then slowing down to prolong this intense feeling between us. I pulled him to my chest and rolled him over, so that now I was on top. Slamming my hard cock into him as waves of pleasure pulsed through my body, and the feelings of his pleasure flowed through my mind, until finally our passion reached a crescendo with an orgasm that felt as if it should have shaken the stars from the sky. I fell down on top of him, panting hard, barely able to breathe freely. He just sat there stroking my hair as I lay heaving on his chest. When I had finally regained my breath he kissed me - very quickly - then he rolled me over onto my back. He climbed out of bed and pulled the covers up over me, and as I watched he disappeared into the moonlight streaming through the window. When I awoke it was late in the afternoon, I had slept for almost 14 hours. When I looked in the mirror the face that looked back at me was pale with fatigue. I looked like I had not slept at all the past night instead of just having slept for 14 hours. Still I knew what to do. I had to restore the energy I had lost the night before, and that meant getting something to eat. I fixed myself some soup, which warmed me and seemed to bring some of the color back to my skin. As the day wore on my health improved markedly and over the next several days I returned to normal. It was four days later when he returned to me. Having shared his thoughts and the sexual relationship made me sensitive to his presence, I knew he would be coming that night. When he appeared it was easy to see that where I had gotten better his appearance had worsened. When he came over to kiss me the icy feel of his lips made me shiver. But within seconds they had warmed and he kissed me forcefully as I kissed him with equal passion. It was after we broke the kiss that I first noticed that he was now naked. I had taken it for granted before that his clothes just seemed to disappear whenever we got close but now it seemed very strange to me. When I asked him about it all he could relay was that he did not know, it simply happened. Expecting the usual tide of feelings and images in his answers I was surprised to find that his thoughts now had a structure, not words exactly but I could interpret them like that. There had been one question that I had wondered about since our last encounter: where did he vanish off to and where did he go during the daylight hours. When I asked him this images started to stream into my mind, along with the word-like structures of thought. I will attempt to interpret them for your understanding, but I must reinforce that these were not words by any means, merely my interpretation of what he showed me. Into my mind swept an image of the moon, and his tale began "The incubi and succubae live in the night realm, a world very separate from yours, and this is where we exist during the daylight. We are free to travel wherever the moonlight shines, which is how I came to you that first night. The time of daylight is poison to us, for the light of the sun is against our nature, so we must follow the moonlight when it leaves the earth, or die. The night realm is not a pleasant place to dwell. It is a place of darkness, absolute darkness. Not until the moon shines down on the earth are we able to see and it is then that our eyes are open to this world. When we walk in this world we must look for someone to feed upon, for without their life-energy we will perish." This is the tale that he relayed to me and now I'm relaying it on to you, so that this information can join the legends about the incubi and succubae. I felt sorry for him, to be forced to roam the earth for only a short period of time then to return to utter darkness, alone and lost. And so it was that I let him into my bed a third time, however this time I wanted more. After our usual kissing I rolled him which solidified him and made him warm to the touch I rolled him onto his back and licked my way down his chest, stopping to suck briefly on each nipple before continuing on. The taste of his skin was unlike anything I'd ever experienced before. His skin was soft, almost like silk or velvet, as I ran my tongue across it. His flavor was indescribable. If I had to put it into words I would have to say that it had no taste at all, but had every taste as well. I know that description is pretty vague so I'll try to explain. It wasn't like a human, it didn't have the usual flavor of a light sweat on it. In fact it really didn't have any taste to it at all but it did evoke a pleasure from the contact as though it were the pure essence of a flavor. It was sweet, so sweet that it was like someone had mixed, brown sugar, maple syrup, pure sugar cane and every other sweet flavor together and put that taste into his skin. There was also a salty flavor to it and at the same time a kind of spiciness that cannot be described - like every spice known to man had been mingled together into a harmony as complex as one of Bach's concertos, while still being as simple as the sound of a cricket on a summer night. Experiencing his unique flavor, I slid my tongue down his chest and down to his navel where I licked it, causing him to squirm with delight and sending echoes of his pleasure into my mind. Then I continued down to his throbbing cock. I ran my tongue along the satiny underside of his shaft up to the tip of his cock, and then back down to the base and his balls. Licking my tongue in circles around each one, then taking them one at a time into my mouth, sucking on them and rolling them around in my mouth, savoring his flavor. Then I returned back to his cock nibbling my way up the underside until I reached the tip and then plunging my mouth down over the head. Swirling my tongue around the satiny dome until I had him writhing in ecstasy, sending waves of pleasure through my mind as his thoughts poured into my head. Then it was time, he lifted my head off his cock and drew me up to him till we were face to face again. He kissed me, his tongue darting into my mouth and wrapping itself around my own. When we broke the kiss he lifted his ass into the air and gripping my cock aimed it towards his hot hole. Wasting no time I pushed forward and into him. There was no pain for him just pleasure at the penetration, which occurred easily even without lubrication. I pushed into him all the way the slowly slid back out until just the head remained in, then ramming forward again burying myself deep inside him. As the rhythm of pushing into him then withdrawing built up, I tried to remain in control, but the animal lust took over and I began to pummel his ass with almost reckless abandon. Slamming into him again and again as passion surged through me like an ocean of fire consuming me. Again and again I worked my way into his magical hole as the world spun around me in a exultant cry of sexuality and lust. Finally the all-consuming pleasure raced me to that fantastic orgasm, sending me soaring among the stars, only to land back on Earth in his arms. He stayed with me that night and I slept in his arms until just before the morning light crept in. When I awoke without him I almost cried from the loss, but it did not last long for sleep was drawing me down again. It was several nights later before he showed up again, where we had our talk and then continued into the wildest sexual frenzy that ever occurred on the face of the Earth. Each time he would linger with me a little bit longer, staying with me until just before dawn's light could trap him. Each time I became more upset after he left. Our relationship progressed over the several months I'd known him. I fell in love with him, and even knowing what he was didn't bother me. I'd come to know him well, and knew that he loved me too, and that was enough. My health began to get worse with his every visit, and his visits became more frequent. He is coming to meet me tonight, I can feel it. I do not think I will live past this night, I have grown very weak and it is difficult to leave my bed. Even knowing that being with him tonight will mean my death doesn't bother me; if I die in his arms I'll be happy. With that thought I will leave you. I have told my story now so that it can go down in the legends and possibly shed some light on these mysterious beings who are not monsters at all. That is the tale of the incubus who found love and the human who loved him. According to the legend their first kiss that night killed the human and the incubus held him in his arms until dawn light found them. Now we can only hope that they are together wherever they are, and if they are together then I know that they are happy. The End

by SwampRat (1/20/99) John and Mark were good friends. At least once a week they would meet in a bar and chat. Sometimes they would go back to Mark's place and have sex. Afterwards, John returned to his own apartment to clean himself up, leaving his sometimes lover to become 'just a friend' again. Deep down it hurt Mark a little - He was gay and enjoyed being gay. John on the other hand was... well, John. Whatever he was he was not gay - he just like looking at other men, and fantasizing about having sex with them. But he only did it with Mark, and only as a top. But he was definitely not gay! One night they both had a little too much to drink, and Mark tried to talk his 'lover' into taking a cab home, but John disagreed. "I can drive." He got in the car, and Mark, shaking his head, got in as well. Not so much because he believed John could drive, but to make sure his friend got home alright. As they went down the road, John got horny. He unzipped his pants and pulled his semi-hard dick out. Mark noticed and reached over to play with it, always enjoying the feel of a dick in his hand. Undoing his pants as well and playing with his own erection, then pumping them together. They both creamed so hard that they blacked-out for a moment. Just long enough to slam into an oak tree that was close to the road. When the firemen arrived they just watched the wreck finish burning, put out what remained of the car, and left the rest to the police. It was ruled as an accident caused by oil on the road. A guard-rail was put around the bend, and a few attended the services (both bodies were burned to ash), saying what a shame that people had to go like that. John awoke to find himself on the floor of a dark room. There seemed to be no windows, nor any door - just what felt like a bed and a single candle set into the wall. He wondered what the Hell was happening when suddenly the candle lit by itself. Blinded by the sudden glare, the man stumbled back and fell onto the bed. It was only then that he noticed he was naked. and that he wasn't alone. A creature stood on horse-hooves, strong back-bent legs sliding up into a muscular, almost human, body. The creature was rounded off with a canine muzzle topping the thick neck. 2 legs, 2 arms, 1 dick... and what a dick! Long as his forearm, a wrist-thick maleness swayed over a bull's ball-sack. It swayed even more as the creature clopped up to him, giving the human a good look at the dark meat with its thick tip, throbbing veins, and spicy scent. A clawed hand gripped the base and lifted it up so it almost touched John's nose. He shrank back, putting up his hand. The log was slid into it, as the creatures hips move a little. Shocked, John pulled completely away this time, scuttling back on the bed until his shoulders hit the wall. The monster growled and grabbed him, throwing him onto his belly. He swung a hairy leg over and mounte John's ass. John felt the thick, hot cock root around between his cheeks a few times before it stabbed inward. He screamed as it forced its way inside. His fingers clutched the sheets, helpless to stop the creature pulling his hips back. Shoving down in his tight ass, it growled lustily over him. John tried not to enjoy being raped, at having his body abused and used for another's pleasure. But it truth, he did enjoy it. He liked feeling the thick meat move in and out of his ass. Soon he was pushing back, wanting more of the big dick. His own erection bobbed and dribbled pre-cum as the creature grunted, pushing his hips back at the hairy crotch. "So you do like it." A gravely voice growled over him. John froze as the creature came deep in his guts. He shuddered. "And you like to feel cum splashing hot and wet inside you, don't you?" He shook his head, still gripping the bed. "No ... no, I don't. I can't... I can't enjoy being fucked." He tried not to notice the meat hot and throbbing inside his ass, the squishy sounds of semen pumped into his butt. "I can't! That would make me a..." "Queer!" The creature snarled in his ear, pulling the half-hard dick out of him, wiping it on his butt, and leaving. John curled up and whimpered, wishing he was someplace else. Wishing anything but. Hooves clopped again on the floor, and again he was thrown on his stomach, a big piece of male-meat seeking, then stabbing itself in his ass. He cried out when fingers encircled his cock, stroking its already hard length, fighting the illicit pleasure. Mark awoke in a carbon copy of the room. He shook his head and looked around, noticing he was naked. "Where am I?" he wondered aloud? "Does it matter?" He turned at the deep voice to stare at what could have been a twin to what was making John scream. "Wow..." Mark breathed, unable to take his eyes off the hunk. It showed its body off, hooves clopping on the floor as it turned, giving him a view of its round, masculine butt-cheeks. "Wow..." he said again, getting a chuckle from the creature. It looked over its shoulder at him and Mark needed no second invitation! He crossed the floor in two steps, slapping hand to ass, gripping the muscles. "Mmmmmmm." He nipped the hard shoulder softly, caressing the male's rear, panting over the beautiful guy - wolf head and horse-legs notwithstanding. "You are getting me horny." Mark laughed softly and pressed his aching hard-on into the hot cheeks. "Got ya beat." Mark whispered, moving his hands around to grip the rising cock. "Oh Wow!" He had Dreamed about such dicks, stroking them, sucking them, having them up his rear until they blew all over. His hands gripped the creature's butt, holding it tight as he frigged the big male-meat. He knelt and nipped/kissed the cheeks, then rocked back as its pole swung into view. Fingers curled around the thickness, tugging it towards a salivating mouth. Mark sucked on the head, flicking it with his tongue, loving the taste, the size, the groans as he jerked what wouldn't fit, until with a roar, it exploded in his mouth. So much cum he couldn't drink it all and some dribbled down his chin and onto his chest. Still he stroked the creature's dick, keeping it erect. He felt himself pulled up and the wolf-man kissed him, licking up the excess from around his mouth, delving in to french-kiss the man hotly. As he moaned and rubbed the big arms Mark was lifted, carried to the bed and kissed again. His legs were slipped up onto the beast's strong shoulders, his ass exposed to the throbbing pole. The human moaned, wriggling his hips, relishing the feeling of the thick head split him open and slide through his anus. There should have been pain, he thought. He was taking a dick the size of a horse inside him. But except for some twinges, mostly made by clawed fingers digging into his butt, or tweaking his nipples, all he felt was pleasure. That and a lust that threatened to engulf him. The next thrust made him shudder. Soon after, he gripped the bed, arching his back as the monster cock thrust in and out of his ass. "Oh yesss! Do it! Fuck me." The being complied, pounding his tight ass roughly, biting at his nipples, stroking his hard dick. The explosion washed him away in a tide of lust and pleasure, feeling the big male laying over him, panting as loud as he. They lay together, caressing each other for some time. "That was the best." The wolf-being nodded and kissed him again, and then moved back. "Please! leave it in me." Hands gently untangled his legs. "I wish I could, but - I have other things to attend to. Maybe later we can lay together longer - My beautiful lover." The male moved away, vanishing into nothingness. Mark never noticed, hearing the word ring in his ears, content to just lay on the bed and wait. A hoof-clop made him open his eyes. "That was quick." The big hands rolled him onto his belly, lifted his hips and held him in place while the wolf-head nuzzled, bit, kissed, caressed, licked every inch of man-ass. Thumbs spread his sweaty cheeks and Mark howled as a hot tongue delved into his neither regions. Though he screamed, he was enjoying every moment. Xarnrax looked at both men. At Mark, pushing his butt up at the demon eating it out, all the while gasping with pleasure. And at John, trying to pull away, trying not to feel the enjoyment the tongue brought him. He shook his head. "One man's heaven is another man's hell." With a snort he clopped off to see about the other Eternal Prisoners - or Guests... it only depended upon their perceptions. The End

by Andrew "Aethan" French afrench@gct.com Given the events you're about to read, you might guess that Micky and I met at a Horror or Sci-Fi convention, or in some weird voodoo cult in New Orleans, or some farfetched locale. The truth is, Micky and I met in a little gay bar in downtown Boston. I had broken up with a real asshole (no comment; I have nothing to say about him, and he has nothing to do with this story) and was looking to drown my sorrows in a lot of bad alcohol and a few nights of utterly dangerous casual sex. I was crazy from having broken up, and I really didn't give a shit about AIDS or anything else. Luckily for me, the first night I went cruising, Micky wandered into my life. When he entered, I was awed by the seemingly total focus with which he carried himself. Every step seemed to have been planned out ahead of time, and his walk was graceful and predatory. Everything about him bespoke a man who was looking for good sex in large amounts. I couldn't help but be attracted to those smoldering black eyes, set under brows whose fiery red matched the wild mane that framed his beautiful face. His body was muscular and lean, and his clothes snugged up against the fine structure beneath, hiding and revealing things in an alternating way that immediately sent a charge to my crotch. Judging by the reaction of the others in the room, everybody was experiencing the same sensation. I felt, rather than saw, his eyes upon me, and I was disappointed when they flickered away to explore the rest of the crowd. I spent the night watching him. Everywhere he passed, heads turned, and he slipped through the busy bar, hither and yon, looking, apparently, for just the right somebody. I watched in mounting terror as the bar's patrons began approaching him. I wanted him, badly. I wanted him to dominate me utterly and use me as he chose. I wanted to belong to him, not in the sense of the short encounter I had come looking for, but in a long term relationship. This, I sensed, was the real Mr. Right of my life, and I wanted to be with him, more than I had ever wanted anything before. When I saw a new wave of barhoppers enter and fixate on him, I knew I had to make my move or I was going to lose him. I was scared that he would ignore me or reject me, but I was going to have to take my chances. I waved at him, beckoning to him and smiling my best smile. He looked at me curiously, shrugged, disengaged one guy who had draped an arm around his waist, and glided in my direction. He sized me up when he arrived, and he didn't seem to have lost interest. So I steeled up my courage. "I'm Jack. Can I buy you a drink?" He looked at me with a raised eyebrow, and I cursed inwardly for using such an obvious pick-up line. To my surprise and eternal gratification he smiled, a long lingering toothy grin which spread from his mouth and eyes across his whole face. He spoke, in a deep sonorous baritone. "Hi Jack. I'm Micky. No, you can't." I felt my heart sink. "But I'd like to buy you one." I felt it leap back up. "Not here though....too crowded...too many assholes." He took my hand and drew me off of my seat. I couldn't speak. We stopped by the coats, where he pulled down mine and handed it to me. "How the hell did you know that was my coat?" I asked, when we had slipped out of the bar into the cool spring night. He shrugged. "It just seemed like the coat you would wear. I'm a pretty decent judge of character. Besides, it smells like you." We walked under the light of the bright moon. It had just turned past full, so it illuminated the street like another lamp, casting our shadows ahead of us as Micky guided us down the sidewalks in the direction of what he referred to as "the best damned bar in Boston." It was indeed a cozy little place. Not a gay bar, but a fine place to talk quietly amongst a staff that genuinely seemed to like you. It turned out that Micky was an amazing judge of character. He guessed instinctively what I drank and that I was a painter. "You seem the artistic type," he said with a shrug. I became more and more fascinated with Micky, and by the time the bar sent us home, I knew that I wanted to know everything about him and to be a part of what he was. So when he looked at me and asked "Would you like to come home with me?" I accepted without a second's hesitation. His apartment was quite close. He lived in a one-room studio which had been, he explained, the attic of the brownstone building. A friend of his owned it, and his rent was remarkably low. It was spartanly finished, but plants grew everywhere. Their smell was heady and lush, and it was as if he had shown me a hidden rainforest in the center of Back Bay. A state of the art sound system surrounded the room with soft music. His CD collection showed extremely eclectic tastes. A complete run of the Beatles sat side by side with Beethoven, Mozart, and Bach. A They Might Be Giants CD sat atop a sound effect disk of thunderstorms. He put in the thunderstorms tape, took me by the hand, and led me into a space between the plants. His bed was a nest of pillows and blankets, and I let him lower me onto it, loving him even before we ever made love. Sex with Micky was an almost religious experience. His gentle ways of coaxing me into various positions and activities only served to heighten my arousal with him. He seemed to know my body and its desires better than I knew myself, and he cheerfully exploited every one of them. And when it seemed that things were getting too innocent, he would suddenly reveal a rough side. His straightforward, uncomplicated, animalistic charm truly won me over, and I felt completely vulnerable and yet totally safe in his arms. We finally fell into sleep in each others embrace, and when I awoke, he was lying there studying me, smiling. From then on, we were lovers. I had never had a complaint with Micky as far as his being my lover went. He and I had been lived together for two years or so, after my parents disowned me for being gay. We shared his great studio apartment in the Back Bay. It turned out that Micky was very well off, owning his own shipping company, and this gave me the freedom to paint for a living. Micky became my favorite model, and his easy-going attitude towards nudity made him fun to work with. He developed a following among my audience, and while it became increasingly easy to sell my work, it became increasingly difficult to part with my pieces. I loved looking at my nudes of Micky, and I was jealous of anyone who bought one. He was supportive of my work, and whenever I would express disappointment in myself or comment about my shortcomings, he would hold me and rock me like a child until I felt myself again. Everything seemed ideal, except for one detail. Every month, Micky would get very moody and restless without any provocation. The next day, he would disappear without explanation, not returning for three nights. When he returned, he was always in better spirits, and we would have wild, reckless sex for hours non-stop. That part was okay, but his disappearances began to bother me. He would always try to say that he had been away on business for his company, but I began to recognize a pattern. I became suspicious, even morbidly so. Was he in the Mafia, doing hits for money? Was he seeing another lover? What was he hiding from me...or trying to protect me from? As much as I loved him, I began to be afraid of him. Doubt became my worst enemy, forcing me to worry that we were about to spiral into a breakup. I questioned him at length, but he would always worm his way out of the conversation. At last, I couldn't stand it any longer. He was sprawled on the couch, and he was moody. I sensed the time was about to occur; he would disappear tomorrow, unless I was able to determine what was happening. "Micky," I said, quietly but firmly, "I know you're going to leave tomorrow. Please tell me where you're going." "Business," he muttered darkly. "Commodities deal in Acron. Be back..." "Three days from now." I glowered at him. "Do you think I'm stupid? Do you think I haven't noticed the pattern? Don't insult my intelligence." "Jack," he said, as his temper rose, "don't be ridiculous. I have business. I'll come back on Tuesday. You'll have a nice quiet long-weekend, and everything will be fine again." "Bullshit, Micky! I've called your company. They never know what I'm talking about when I mention these business trips. They say you take the time as vacation days. Now will you tell me the fucking truth." He sat there, his hands clenching and opening as if he might suddenly attack me. I felt an anger boiling just below his facade of calm. "Jack, you wouldn't understand." "Try me, for Christ's sake. I don't understand now, but I'm willing to listen. Otherwise this whole relationship is for shit! If you go away without explaining yourself, I won't be here when you get back." Saying it nearly destroyed me, but I was insane with the need to know. That was the threat that got him. He deflated visibly and stared up at me miserably. "You might leave if I tell you the truth." "Better that than to keep living with these stupid lies." He struggled with himself for awhile, emotions playing across his face. Finally, he sighed heavily. "Okay, tomorrow I'll explain everything." His expression darkened. "I'll show you everything. You deserve to know." We didn't make love that night. I sat awake in bed, feeling his warmth near me under the sheets and listening to his slow deep breaths. I was afraid. Now that I was going to know everything, I began to wonder if I really wanted to know it. But I felt that it was too late. I had started everything sliding, and I was just going to have to find out what was at the bottom when I hit it. I just hoped we'd survive the fall. I sank at last into a fitful sleep. When I woke up, Micky was gone. At first I was afraid that he had left for the weekend, having chickened out of telling me his secret, but I found a note that indicated he would be back later that afternoon. The day crawled by, and I worried about Micky. I was worried I had driven him away, that he could not tell me his story, and that he had left me alone again. I tried to do some painting, but I couldn't concentrate. I started at every movement in the hall outside our door. Every time the phone rang, I jumped. At last, around sunset, he appeared, and I almost cried with relief. He was carrying two bags of groceries, both of which proved to be full of meat. He stuffed them into the fridge and came over to me. "Its almost time for you to know." I felt a shiver of anticipation, or was it fear? I could not say. Then, inexplicably, Micky started removing his clothes. "Oh, no," I laughed nervously, "I'm not going to be so easily distracted." Micky smiled without humor. "This is integral to your understanding of the truth." "I've seen you naked before, Micky. Its impressive, but nothing new." "You've never seen me completely undressed," he muttered mysteriously. I started to protest, but then something prevented me from continuing. Micky's skin began to ripple and bunch, as if he were changing subtly, underneath. A slight tear showed in his skin, revealing... what? Fur? So it seemed. The surface below was covered with a fine glistening fur the same color as Micky's hair. I realized that all of Micky's skin was peeling away in chunks. It fell to the floor, dry and brittle, like the outer skin of an onion. The thing underneath the skin was seven foot tall if it was an inch, and its body rippled with muscles. A canine snout unfolded beneath Micky's face, tearing through. Gleaming fangs shone in the light, and I wanted nothing so desperately as to be able to run, but, somehow, my brain seemed to have shut down, refusing to send signals to the rest of my body. One message only was getting through. Micky's a fucking werewolf. It began to make some twisted sort of sense. Three day disappearances. Must be the full moon. I couldn't move; shock held me rooted to the spot. I was going to die, and Micky, my lover was going to kill me. He would leap on me, his powerful jaws crushing the life from me. With a jolt of terror, my body began functioning again, but far too slowly. I turned to run, when a voice stopped me in my tracks. "Jack, its me." I turned back to look at the creature which stood before me. It had Micky's voice. It was deeper and harsher, but it was his voice nonetheless. "Micky?" I gasped out from lungs frozen with shivery fear. "Are you in there?" "Its me, Jack. This is what I am." I stared at him. This was no Lon Chaney junior with yak hair on his chin. Micky looked like someone had put a huge wolf's head on top of a weight-lifter's body and covered the whole thing with fur. He was gigantic. His whole body seemed to have swelled, getting physically massive. I glanced down; his cock had become huge. It was nearly a foot long, and it stood erect, giving it the illusion of even greater size. Despite myself, I was a little aroused. I had always been satisfied with Micky before, but this was a fuzzy Adonis! I laughed, a hysterical little giggle, at the incongruity of my thoughts. "Shit, Micky. How the fuck did this happen?" A low guttural laugh escaped the fanged maw of my lover. "Puberty. Some kids got acne; I got fur. My dad said that it skipped a few generations, that my great grandfather had had the gift, and that now I had it. He taught me not to be afraid of it. Its a good thing, I believe, but its hard to explain that to people. Telling people you're a werewolf makes them think you're really crazy or really kinky. But as you see, its the truth. On the three nights of the full moon, this is what I become. It doesn't make any sense. For one thing, I put on about two-hundred pounds of mass...pure muscle." "Yeah, you certainly got..." I looked at his cock involuntarily, "big!" He chuckled. "My senses go from being remarkable to being downright scary, even to me. I can smell things...and hear things....God, Jack. You can't imagine what its like." "Help me to imagine. How does it feel?" He shrugged his gargantuan shoulders. "Natural now. It was weird at first, but now its very natural. It doesn't hurt or anything, like they show in the movies, and I don't eat people. I just get a little wilder, a lot hungrier, and my instincts start kicking in." He blushed then, under his fur, and I caught his train of thought. "In other words, you get really really horny." He grinned hugely as I said this, exposing sharp rows of teeth. "That's why we always fucked so crazily when I came back. I couldn't get laid all that time, and I'd be aching for sex." I looked at him closely. He was so different that he almost couldn't be Micky in my mind. The fur was definitely Micky's hair though, his wild red mane. And the eyes were just the same as Micky's, big, black, soulful, and full of love. "Wow, Micky. I really wasn't ready for...this." He nodded sadly. "I understand. I'll leave. The rent's paid through the end of the summer, and you'll have plenty of time to find a new..." "No Micky! That's not what I mean. I don't want you to leave. I still love you. This is...really weird, but I think I can handle it." He looked at me, hope radiant in his face. "You mean it, Jack?" "I mean it, lover. Look, I'll cook some steak for dinner, and you can explain it to me over dessert." He looked at me thoughtfully. "You are a hell of a guy, Jack. I was so scared...so afraid that I would lose you. When we met, I knew you were the right one, but lately I...I...." He smiled; it was Micky's same gentle smile. "Thanks, Jack." He reached over and took me into his warm furry embrace. Dinner was messy and a bit awkward. Micky insisted that I not cook the steaks he ate, and as I was talking forkfuls of my own well done T-bone, he was ravenously ripping chunks of raw beef into his mouth and swallowing them whole. I drank several glasses of red wine, while he drank nothing but water. "Trust me Jack. You don't want to get me drunk when I look like this. Tipsy werewolves singing Irish drinking songs under a full moon is not the sort of thing we want the neighbors to see." We laughed then, and I was pleased with myself. I was really adapting to this well. It must've been my abiding passion for Micky. Or maybe it was the wine. We talked until three, pondering the existence of other werewolves and whether any of the others were gay. As the clock struck, he looked out the window and sighed. "Thank goodness," he said. "It'll only be a short time until dawn, and then we can be together again." "But we are together, Micky." He shook his head. "I mean sexually. It'll be good to relieve the urges on a daily basis rather than all at once. I was always afraid I was gonna hurt you." It was then that my wine-befuddled head finally acknowledged what my sober self refused to. I wanted to have sex with Micky while he was like this. I couldn't help it. It was the one thing I could do to really prove to him that I was fully accepting of him. I stood, and crossed the room. As he turned, I wrapped my arms around him, laying my head against his chest. He seemed surprised, but he returned the hug. His body seemed to radiate heat, and as we stood there, I felt his dick pressed up against me. I felt a throb of sympathy from my own crotch, and I couldn't help letting my hands explore down his back to his ass, which I began kneading roughly. He pulled back a little, surprised. "Jack, you ought to be careful. I have claws you know. And I'm afraid I'd be really rough if we..." his voice trailed off. In reply, I began undoing the buttons on my shirt. "You won't be rough with me, Micky. I know you. You're still in control in there, and you'll be very gentle." I stripped off my shoes and socks, then beckoned to him. "Help me, Micky." He approached, trembling. His huge hairy paws reached out and came to rest, feather light, upon my shoulders. He pulled off my shirt with the care of a mother undressing her child. I could feel his enormous claws, sharp as razors, but his touch was so light that they never drew blood, only traced lines along my skin. His hands drifted lightly down my sides until they came to rest on the front of my blue-jeans. With exaggerated caution, he worked a finger inside the waistline. I flinched involuntarily. He froze, panic on his face. I smiled at him. "Don't worry big guy; you didn't Bobbittize me. He relaxed and unfastened my pants, then slowly pulled them down until I stood, as naked as he. I took his hand and led him through the plants to the nest of pillows and blankets. We embraced again, and feeling his furry muscular frame pressed close to mine, his warm fuzz on my cock, made me squirm with pleasure. Our hands explored each other's bodies, eliciting occasional murmurs of pleasure from one or the other. I ran my hands over his body, delighting in the magnificent muscle structure. I swirled my fingers through his fur, causing him to shudder and shake like a dog whose belly is being scratched. Then I took his enormous cock in my hand, feeling the new weight and heft of it. This was so strange and wonderful; it was Micky's soul in a new body that was mine to explore. We were intimates and strangers at the same time. Knowing Micky's favorite sexual zones gave me a certain advantage. I tugged at the hairy balls with one hand while feathering a finger up and down his thickened shaft with the other. Micky's beautiful eyes closed and his head lolled back on his shoulders as he succumbed to the stroking I began to give him. I knelt before him, sniffing the musky odor of his crotch. My tongue darted out, flicking into the hole at the end of his massive wolfmeat. He moaned, and his hands fell heavily onto my head, pulling me towards him. I obligingly opened as wide as I could to take him in. Inch after heavenly inch shoved its way into my mouth, and my eyes watered as I nearly gagged from the sheer size. I gave him a good session of sucking, his hands running through my hair and insistently continuing the rhythm we had fallen into. He tensed, his body going rigid and a low ululating moan escaping his lips as the first wave of his cum splashed the back of my throat. I renewed my sucking, intent at getting every last drop. Finally, when nothing more seemed forthcoming, and his body relaxed, I came off of his shaft and grinned. "Your turn, Fido. Lie down." Micky did as I asked, his massive frame sinking deeply into the cushions. I knelt with my cock poised over his face and my balls dangling down to brush the tip of his long wolfen snout. He carefully covered his sharp teeth with his lips before reaching up to engulf me with his mouth. I felt his hot breath against the length of my shaft and shuddered with the anticipation. He reached up and encircled the globes of my ass with his hands, pulling me down into his waiting jaws. The length of his mouth made it the deepest throating I have ever had, and I humped my hips, fucking his face so hard his head bumped against the floor with every thrust. Meanwhile, I reached out to continue my research into his larger member and wonderfully full scrotum. His dick responded immediately, beginning to swell up again. I remembered that Micky's power to get it up again and again after he had been absent had been startling. If he was any more capable of multiple loads in an evening in his wolfen form, we might be at this for a long time! Within his mouth, he began rubbing his long slippery tongue against my cockmeat. I felt myself slipping towards orgasm, and I halted my screwing, unwilling to give up my load so soon. "Uh, uh, Wolfboy. You're not getting off so easy. I want to be reamed. Royally screwed, and you're the best werewolf for the job. You're the best one I know; hell, you're the only one I know!" Micky seemed to be in a fog. His meat was swollen again, and he looked about ready to stick it someplace moist and tight. I knelt down on my hands and knees beside him. "Okay, Micky. We'll do it doggie-style. In your honor of course." With no hesitation, Micky grabbed my ass and heaved himself forward. He buried his long nose in my butt, licking and slurping. I felt the elongated tongue snake forward and push against my tight hole, shoving with such authority that it finally wiggled its way in. Micky ate out my ass with relish, making it nice and slippery for what was to come. By the time he pulled away, I was aching for more. He obliged me by sliding forward until I felt his shaft at the very opening to my hole. I shivered with anticipation, and it was with slow and cautious movements that Micky began moving into me. Now I'm hardly a beginner at anal sex, but the sheer size of Micky's meat made me tremble with fear. I could feel it inching inwards, and my poor ass did its best to relax and open as wide as possible, but it still hurt like hell. Micky, to his credit, waited every time to let me get used to what was happening. I felt like a virgin again, but when he had slid in as far as possible, so deeply that I was sure that if I looked in the mirror I'd see his cock in my throat, the feeling that I was getting melted me to my heart. He reached around to stroke my straining meat, and I moaned in painful pleasure. "Oh, God, Micky. I can't believe you've got the whole thing in there." He didn't respond, except to whimper slightly in sympathy. We started rocking, and I did what I had always done sexually with Micky. I put myself completely under his control, trusting to his gentility and judgment. I was glad I did. Micky's senses allowed him to know exactly when to move and exactly when to be still. And if Micky ever ignored my comfort, I never noticed. We fucked in a slow deliberate rhythm until we realized that dawn was about to break, at which point Micky began pounding into my ass. I felt nothing but waves of pleasure now, and a few minutes later, I felt him tense and buck. A howl burst from his throat as waves of cum came rocketing into my ass. His hands clenched on my cock, and the combination of feelings was enough to send me over the edge, just as the sun rose into the sky. We collapsed onto the bedding, Micky's body slipping rapidly back into human form. Exhausted, we both fell into a dreamless slumber. Micky's arm encircled my waist, and I felt loved and protected as I never had before. The following two nights were a repeat performance, and I began to realize that Micky as a werewolf was just as wonderfully sexy as Micky as a human. Once he got over his initial fear of hurting me, we got back into our usual routine of alternating roughness and gentility. The nights passed too quickly for my tastes, and I found myself beginning to long for the next full moon. Life with a werewolf has now become my norm, and Micky is just as glad not to have to spend his full moon nights hiding in dark alleys and getting chronic blue balls. Micky still models for my paintings, and if some people wonder why I've stopped working on nudes and started painting sexually explicit werewolf scenes, I just explain it as a creative phase. Micky is just as wonderful a lover as ever, and I count myself lucky to have found him. And if he's a fucking werewolf, so what? He's MY fucking werewolf. Nobody's perfect.

by Kevin Ryan kev_ryan25@yahoo.co.uk I used to be normal, just an average young man living an ordinary, dull life. That is, until I went for late night stroll, and found a new world of lust, strength and the night. The full moon was on display on a warm summers night. Always a troubled sleeper, I decided to take a walk around the local area. I came across a woodland area that I knew from my childhood days, and, feeling adventurous and very horny, plucked up the courage to strip and wank off in a suitably subdued spot. As I walked around to find the right place, I heard a strange sound. My ears were surely playing tricks – it sounded like a howl, followed by grunting and growling. This was England, and we’re not supposed to have anything like wolves, but it sounded so wild and eerie. Despite obviously being an animal, it had a human quality that raised goose bumps. I wrestled with the notion of running home, but something about the sound fascinated me. Curiosity having got the better of me, I ventured on tiptoe in the direction of the noises. I reached the end of the tree line and saw a clearing. The moon was incredibly bright and nearly full, so I had no trouble seeing. The air had electricity, vibrating with energy. I felt the hair go up at the back of my neck. But that was nothing compared to what I saw. A tall, naked man aged maybe 40-50, with a massive chest and protuding nipples was standing upright in full view. His pecs were so big his nipples pointed down. The rest of him was muscular and perfectly proportioned with his considerable height. He had short greying hair, and a moustache. Once I had taken all this in, I dared to look further down. His penis was massive. It jutted out angrily, straining upwards in search of relief towards the moon. Even from a distance, I could see it pulse, and the veins protruded out. His balls were huge and hung down between his muscular thighs. He was like a wild animal, displaying his superiority. I was incredibly turned on from this display, but also freaked out as to why he was out there. I felt my erection growing, and was desperate to relieve myself, but before I had the chance to do anything, he lifted his head up released a powerful howl. He sniffed the air, and glared towards me. His eyes were glowing yellow, and I saw his teeth reflect the moonlight. But they weren’t ordinary teeth - They were fangs. I was by now terrified and considered making a run for it, when he crouched down on his powerful thighs and pounced at least 15 metres towards me. He surely wasn’t human and I had no time to react. He landed in front of me, growled and licked his lips. Grabbing hold of me with his huge hands and supernatural strength, he clamped his jaw on my neck and sunk his fangs into me. Utterly helpless, I simply gave in and waited for death. Instead, weird images and sensations flooded my head: fucking, the smell of sex and sweat, of wolves howling. My dick got even harder, as he unleashed it from my jeans and jerked me off. I quickly shot a huge load over his thighs. I collapsed to my knees, as the man who had attacked me shoved his huge cock in my mouth. Fucking my throat with a ferocity I had never experienced, I could barely cope with its size. He soon erupted in my mouth, forcing me to swallow most of it; the rest spilled down the sides of my mouth. He shuddered with orgasmic joy, as I could see the sweat glisten on his massive chest. He howled once more, and strode off into the night. Confused, drained, and excited, I staggered home. Collapsing into bed fully clothed, I had forgotten that he had bit me on the neck. There was no pain, and I was too disorientated to really care. Waking up the next morning, I was still freaked out by what I saw and experienced, but as I did not appear to suffer any ill effects, I tried to put it behind me, though I did enjoy a satisfying wank remembering his stunning body. Would I go out and look for him again? It turns out I did not have much of a choice. Feeling restless and snappy all day, which only increased as evening drew closer. I found myself pacing my house, unable to shake a feeling of being drawn somewhere. I tried drinking myself to submission, but that just got me more annoyed and aggressive. Eventually I gave up and went to bed. I actually managed to sleep, but my dreams took me back to those disjointed images I had experienced last night. I saw the man from the woods, surrounded by a circle of naked, muscular men in wolf-masks, chanting something unrecognisable. The man was tied up, and crouching over a stone with a design at its centre. He seemed less muscular than when I saw him, and his cock was normal size. He was covered in some weird design, which I couldn’t make out, but I got the impression that it was blood. He let out a scream which made me wake with a start, covered in sweat, panting, with my heart beating incredibly fast. My cock was rock-hard and I knew I had to do something. The clock said it was only 11.30. I fell out of bed, grabbed some clothes and made my way out. I didn’t really know where I was going, but I found myself taking the same route as last night. I was still panting and sweating, and I must have looked seriously disturbed to anyone that saw me. I didn’t care; something was making me go back to the woods. Once I arrived, I made my way to the clearing where that damn man had been. Sure enough he was there again, that magnificent display of muscle and cock, and those weird animal sounds coming from him. Only, he wasn’t alone. The men from my dreams surrounded him. They were all hulks of muscle and displaying massive erections, but they looked very sinister. Something clicked in my head, and I found myself approaching the circle. A gap formed to let me through. Again, my cock was straining to be released, and my body felt like it was on fire. Two of the men came up to me and ripped my clothes off. My cock was nowhere near as big as theirs, but I didn’t care, it felt so good to be naked, the moon shining on me. One of them took me in his mouth and sucked ferociously. My brain boiled with lust, as another went behind me and licked my arsehole. It would not be long before I shot cum everywhere, but before I could, two of them pinned my arms together, and lifted me onto the stone from my dream. All the while my cock was straining angrily, almost as if had a life of its own. They covered my torso and back with the design I recognised from my dream. Another one of the men passed me a wooden cup. Containing what smelt like blood and spunk. One side of my brain was telling me to get the hell out of here, but something more primal, and instinctual pushed me into drinking from the cup. My throat felt like it was on fire, as the chanting grew heavier and more fevered. I dropped on all fours, as I felt my body undergoing a transformation. My cock strained up to my belly, and seemed to grow in length and girth. It was rock hard, and angry. The head, which was glistening with pre-cum, was massive and purple. The shaft red, and bulging with veins. My balls doubled in size and filled with cum, waiting to explode. The rest of my body was also transforming: I felt my skin stretch as my muscles grew and bulged like my cock. I felt the fat sweat out of me, replaced with taut, firm muscles. My arse became the perfect bubble butt, and my tits developed a deep cleft. My stomach reformed with a sharp six-pack, as my thighs and calfs swelled. My biceps strained with power. I had never felt so alive, and raw. I was full of strength and aggression. I needed to fight, to wrestle, and rut with any of them – all of them. I knew what I was meant for. But the men were not finished with me. I glanced up at my initiator, who grinned a lustful and hungry smile. His yellow eyes shone in the darkness. I would be his. I looked down to his cock, it was bigger than mine, and I realised that I wanted him to fuck me. I had never been fucked before, and I knew that humongous cock would tear me apart, and I couldn’t wait. He growled at me, as if he knew what I was thinking. Crouched down and tied up, my newfound muscles bulging with power, and my monstrous cock dripping precum, I was nearly over the edge. Any rational, human thought had ceased in my brain. The circle of men began masturbating their equally large cocks as they continued their chanting. I sensed that the ritual may be drawing to a close, as my mentor came up to me. We snapped and growled at each other, as I strained against my bonds with ever increasing fury. He played with my nipples, twisting and slapping them. One by one, the circle climaxed and began to cum, huge arcs splashing all over us. I was doused in it. Another cup was shoved in front of my face, and I eagerly drank it dry. I felt my cock grow another inch, and my muscles expand even more. I had reached my breaking point. In a howl of anger and lust, I ripped by bonds apart, and leapt for my man. We tore into each other, rolling around on the grass, punching, biting – the sound of hard flesh slapping, the smell of blood, cum and sweat overpowering me. I had to fuck him, to be fucked now, or I should surely explode. He wrestled me into submission, climbing on to my back. He spat on his giant cock, and began to finger me roughly, teasing my asshole. I writhed about in lust, but he managed to find my enlarged prostate. He pressed on it which sent unbelievable sensations through my body. My cock jumped and gulped, getting even bigger. In my near-animal state, I growled at him to fuck me. He needed no more invitation. He lubed my cock with some of the globules of spunk around us and rammed his cock up to my arsehole. There was little resistance, as I seemed to have greater control over my body. I willed my arsehole to expand, and we both howled in ecstasy. The world seemed to disappear from my consciousness. We were making unholy noises, but I did not care. my insides were being pushed apart by this monstrosity. I didn’t care. It was the best feeling I had ever experienced in my life. It did not take long for both of us to reach what was going to be an almighty climax. I felt his cock enlarge, as he urgently pumped into me. Suddenly, he exploded and shot his cum deep into me, letting out a massive roar. This tipped me over the edge, as my cock, which looked about to burst, shot out cum again and again. It felt like several orgasms at one. We fell apart, as both of us began to convulse. I could feel the final stage of my new life begin. My skin rippled, as hair began to push out of the folicles. My mouth stretched outwards into a muzzle, as tooth became fang. My hands changed shape, to be more paw-like, with long, hard claws. My body became even more muscular, even muscles I did not know I had pushed out of me. My cock became hard again, with the sheer ecstasy of my new form. The change was over in a matter of minutes, and I was dimly aware of my new wolf-lover transforming. He truly was a magnificent animal. I could not wait to mount him this time. We leapt at each other as the change was completed, as I shoved my cock into his eager arse. Biting at his back, we holwed in unison. I had found my soul-mate, my alpha male. That was two years ago. My old life dissappeared from my consciousness. Although we only became wolf during the full moon, my body was forever changed after that night. I soon learnt that it was our job to recruit fresh meat into our wolf-pack – a task I was more than ready to take up.

Turn this angel into a pure blood werewolf Looking to be turn into a hell hound by force. Destroy the good in me and claim me for the forces of darkness. Watch as slowly I become the beast of your fantasy. Inject me steroids, growth hormones and wolf blood. Destroying this body so that your hell hound will come out to please you. Collar and train me if dare to the beast I'm meant to be. Mold my body to your pleasure: turn my teeth into fangs, etc.

Looking to be turn into a hell hound by force. Destroy the good in me and claim me for the forces of darkness. Watch as slowly I become the beast of your fantasy. Inject me steroids, growth hormones and wolf blood. Destroying this body so that your hell hound will come out to please you. Collar and train me if dare to the beast I'm meant to be. Mold my body to your pleasure: turn my teeth into fangs, etc.