The Master Pathogen Christmas Special

[leatherpunk16]

Chapter 5: Cum Dempsey

Zach Dempsey woke with that dull, insistent pressure low in his abdomen—the kind that dragged him out of sleep before his brain had time to catch up. For a few seconds, he lay there staring at the ceiling, disoriented, listening to the wind scrape against the house. The storm sounded farther away than before, muted, like the snow had swallowed more than just noise.

He groaned quietly and rolled onto his side, pushing himself upright. The room felt colder than it should have, the air stale and unmoving. His phone lay dark on the nightstand, useless. Somewhere downstairs, something hissed softly—static, maybe, or an old appliance cycling on.

“Great,” he muttered.

He swung his legs out of bed and padded across the room, pushing open the bathroom door with a practiced hand. As the light flicked on, he felt a small, irrational wave of gratitude wash over him.

At least this was his.

Being fraternity secretary came with exactly two perks: endless emails and meeting notes—and the room upgrade. His own bathroom. No waiting in line. No mystery puddles. No drunk pledges fumbling with the lock at three in the morning. At the time, it had felt like a joke reward. Right now, half-asleep and uncomfortable, it felt like a blessing.

He took care of business quickly, shoulders slumping as the tension eased. For a moment, everything felt normal again—just another night holed up in the frat house during a snowstorm, too much beer, too many movies.

As he washed his hands, he caught his reflection in the mirror. He looked tired. Pale. His eyes lingered on himself a second longer than usual, a faint prickle of unease crawling up his spine for reasons he couldn’t quite place.

The light flickered.

Zach frowned. “Seriously?”

It steadied again, but the feeling didn’t go away. He shut the bathroom light off and stepped back into his room, the hallway beyond dim and unevenly lit, faint pulses of light flickering at the edges like the house couldn’t decide whether it wanted power or not.

As he headed toward the stairs, the quiet hit him again. Phi Alpha Gamma was never this still.

Halfway down, he paused. The sound was clearer now—not just static. A low, irregular crackle from the living room, like a television tuned to nothing. He frowned. Someone must’ve fallen asleep downstairs again. Or forgotten to shut something off.

Rubbing his face, blinking hard to clear the fog from his eyes, Zach continued down. The living room came into view, dim and strange. The Christmas tree lights blinked erratically, some glowing steady, others flickering like they were struggling to stay lit.

The TV was on. Pure static filled the screen, bathing the room in a harsh, sickly glow.

Zach stepped fully into the living room, unease creeping up his spine. “Guys?” he called softly, though he already knew no one would answer.

The static crackled louder. As he reached toward the TV to shut it off, a sudden chill swept across the back of his neck—sharp and intimate, like someone had leaned close and exhaled.

Zach froze. Slowly, heart beginning to thud, he started to turn around—

And then something wet and burning struck his face.

The impact stole his breath.

Whatever hit Zach’s face was thick and warm, splattering across his eyes and mouth with a sharp, chemical sting that burned before it numbed. He cried out, the sound choking off as his vision blurred instantly, the world smearing into light and shadow.

“What the—” He staggered backward, hands flying up to wipe his face, but the sensation only spread. Heat surged through his chest, rushed down his arms and legs like something flooding his bloodstream all at once. His knees buckled.

The living room tilted violently.

Zach stumbled, heel catching on the edge of the rug, and crashed hard into the Christmas tree beside the TV. Ornaments shattered against the floor, glass popping and crunching under his weight as branches snapped and lights tangled around his shoulders. The static from the TV roared louder, drowning out his panicked breathing.

He tried to push himself upright. His arms didn’t listen.

The heat deepened, heavy and suffocating now, wrapping his thoughts in cotton. His head swam, pressure building behind his eyes as if someone were squeezing his skull from the inside. The last thing he registered clearly was the tree lights blinking erratically above him, red and green smearing together into a nauseating blur.

Then his legs gave out completely.

Zach slumped sideways, sliding down the broken tree and onto the floor. His cheek pressed against cold hardwood. The static softened into a distant hiss, like waves pulling back from shore.

As darkness closed in, he had one disjointed thought—

This doesn’t make any sense.

And then everything went black.

Zach surfaced slowly, like something being dragged up through deep water.

At first, there was only sensation—an all-over ache, sharp in some places, dull in others. His skin burned faintly, as if scraped raw, and the air felt too thick in his lungs. When he tried to swallow, his throat protested, dry and sore.

His eyes fluttered open.

Light stabbed at them immediately, harsh and flickering. He groaned and squeezed them shut again, waiting for the dizziness to pass. When he dared open them once more, the living room came back into focus in warped fragments: the overturned Christmas tree, broken ornaments scattered like ice across the floor, the TV still glowing with static.

He was on his back. That realization landed with a jolt. He tried to sit up—and froze. Something was wrong.

The air felt wrong against his skin. Too open. Too exposed. Panic flared as he looked down and saw that he was naked, his body marked with thin scratches that crisscrossed his chest, arms, and legs. They stung sharply now, as if freshly irritated, and each breath made them burn a little more.

“What…?” His voice came out hoarse, barely more than a whisper.

A shadow fell over him.

Zach’s heart slammed against his ribs as he forced his gaze upward. A figure stood above him—tall, impossibly broad, its skin pitch-black and gleaming as though polished. Long, demonic horns curved from its head, framing a face pulled into a slow, predatory smile. When it breathed, Zach could hear it clearly—deep, wet, deliberate.

A name slid into his mind without warning, not spoken aloud but placed there, heavy and unavoidable.

“Pixel.”

Zach gasped, clutching at the floor as another wave of dizziness rolled through him. The figure leaned closer, studying him with open amusement. Then it spat again.

The saliva struck his chest and face, seeping instantly into the scratches. The pain flared white-hot—then softened, spreading warmth through his limbs and fog through his thoughts. His head buzzed, the edges of reality blurring as the TV’s static glow pulsed brighter.

His fear dulled, replaced by a thick, sluggish confusion.

Pixel watched him carefully as the effects took hold, its grin widening. Zach tried to form a thought—run, scream, fight—but the words slid away before he could grab them. His muscles felt heavy, uncooperative, as though his body had already decided something his mind hadn’t caught up to yet.

The static hissed. The lights flickered.

And Pixel reached down, fingers closing around Zach’s shoulder with terrifying ease, pulling him upright into a seated position.

Zach’s head lolled slightly as he tried to stay conscious, tried to understand. His vision swam—and then he saw them.

Figures standing nearby. Zach’s vision wavered, then slowly sharpened.

At first, he thought he was hallucinating—his brain scrambling to make sense of shadows and light. The static from the TV cast a pale, stuttering glow across the living room, illuminating figures standing just beyond him. Tall ones. Massive ones. Black and muscular in an unnatural way. And then—

Familiar ones.

His breath caught. Derek stood near the couch, posture relaxed, head slightly tilted, watching Zach with an expression that might once have been concern. Noah was beside him, closer to the Christmas tree, his gaze unfocused but calm. Evan hovered near the edge of the room, skin pale, shoulders slumped, a faint, acrid smell clinging to him that Zach didn’t want to think too hard about.

They were all naked. They were all smiling.

Not wide, manic smiles—but soft ones. Content. Reassuring. As if this was normal. As if Zach was the one who didn’t belong.

“Guys?” Zach tried, his voice weak and unsteady. “What… what’s going on?”

No one answered him out loud.

Instead, Pixel shifted closer, its presence blotting out part of the static glow. Behind it, more of the horned figures stood in a loose circle, their bodies gleaming in the flicker of the lights. They didn’t rush. They didn’t grab him. They simply waited.

Derek knelt first.

The motion was smooth, deliberate. Noah followed, then Evan, each of them lowering themselves in front of one of the towering figures without hesitation. Their movements weren’t frantic or forced—they were practiced. Familiar.

Zach’s stomach twisted. “What are you doing?” he whispered.

Derek glanced back at him briefly, eyes bright with something Zach didn’t recognize anymore. “It’s okay,” he said quietly. “You just haven’t gotten there yet.”

The words sent a chill through Zach that had nothing to do with the cold. Pixel’s grip tightened slightly on his shoulder, grounding him in place as his head swam again. The room felt heavier, the air thick with a pressure that pressed inward from all sides. The Alpha’s presence brushed against Zach’s thoughts—not fully there yet, but close enough to feel like a shadow passing behind his eyes.

You see them, a voice murmured faintly in his mind. You see what waits for you.

Zach shook his head weakly, tears pricking at his eyes. “No. No, I don’t—this isn’t real.”

Pixel leaned closer, its smile widening as it loomed over him. The scratches on Zach’s skin burned again, pulsing in time with the static’s hiss.

“This is the part where you watch,” Pixel seemed to say—not aloud, but somewhere deeper, where words weren’t necessary.

The other figures continued their ritual movements.

He watched in horror as each of his friends, all straight as far as he knew before this night began to hungrily suck on each of the monster’s cocks, jacking their own cocks in time to fucking their mouths.

Zach squeezed his eyes shut, heart hammering. He didn’t want to see. Didn’t want to understand. But the Alpha’s presence pressed closer, forcing awareness back into him, prying his eyes open against his will.

You will witness, the Alpha whispered. So that you know what you are becoming.

Zach sobbed, the sound small and broken, as the circle closed around him.

And for the first time since waking up, he understood with terrifying clarity—

He wasn’t here by accident. The pressure in the room intensified.

Zach felt it settle behind his eyes first—a slow, invasive weight that made his vision pulse and dim at the edges. Pixel’s hand tightened at the back of his neck, fingers spreading like a brace, keeping him upright as his thoughts began to slip.

Then the Alpha arrived.

It did not step forward so much as enter him. The presence filled Zach’s mind completely, blotting out the static, the room, even his own breathing. The voice that followed was vast and calm, layered with something ancient and patient.

You are the next to receive our gift.

Zach gasped, clutching uselessly at Pixel’s arm. “No—please—” His words tangled and fell apart before they reached his lips. His tongue felt thick, uncooperative.

The Alpha pressed deeper. The living room dissolved. Images slammed into Zach’s mind—too vivid, too sharp to be memories, too intimate to be dreams. He saw Derek first: the moment his resistance broke, the instant fear gave way to acceptance. Then Noah, then Evan, each vision unfolding relentlessly, one after another.

Each transformation lingered. Each surrender was felt.

Zach sobbed, shaking his head, but the Alpha did not relent. The images intensified, forcing him to witness every step—every hesitation, every rationalization, every final moment where they stopped fighting.

You watched them leave you behind, the Alpha murmured. Now you will understand why.

Pain flared behind Zach’s eyes—not physical exactly, but deep and disorienting, like his thoughts were being stretched too far. He cried out, the sound breaking as Pixel forced his attention forward again.

Pixel grabbed his head and slowly grabbed his massive, inky black cock and began to jack himself, clawed hands wrapping around the throbbing veiny dick as his massive balls swung almost hypnotically. Zach was unable to look away, almost feeling at times hypnotized by the motions. With a sudden growl, he felt and saw as the corrupted black cum shot powerfully at him, splattering across his skin and into his eyes, feeling as the cuts and his eyes began to burn with an intense fire, followed by an almost soothing sensation, his mind reeling and stuttering as he tried to blink the foul liquid away.

The Alpha’s voice cut through everything. Submit, or I will show you more.

Zach’s breathing came in short, panicked bursts. “Stop,” he pleaded. “I can’t—please—”

The pressure increased. The visions returned, harsher now. Not just his friends—but himself. Reflections of what he could become, what he would be shaped into if he resisted. Endless repetition. Endless awareness.

Zach screamed. Or rather, he tried to. The sound tore free of him, raw and helpless. It came out instead like a tiny screech. Tears streamed down his face as his mind buckled under the strain. He felt himself sliding—fear unraveling into desperation, desperation into a frantic need for it to just end.

“I’ll—” His voice broke completely. “I’ll do it. I’ll—just make it stop.”

The Alpha’s presence stilled. For the first time since it had entered his mind, the pressure eased—just enough to let him breathe.

Good, the voice said, satisfied. Now you see. Allow it to happen.

The room rushed back into focus around him, but it no longer felt solid. Everything seemed filtered, muted, like he was observing the world through thick glass.

Pixel leaned closer, approval radiating from him.

He slowly began to slide his large cock across his face, the skin rubbing more and more of the cum into the cuts, when he saw each of his corrupted friends sit up and begin to spit the foul cum in their mouths onto his face, each cut burning in a strangely comforting way as they began to jack off on his face and chest as well. 

He was shocked when each seemed to shoot their loads on him in unison, their cum looking less black, but still having a strange effect as it got into his eyes, 

Zach sagged, exhaustion crashing over him in heavy waves. His thoughts slowed, the sharp edges of fear blunted into something dull and pliable. The scratches on his skin burned faintly, then cooled, tingling in a way that felt wrong but strangely grounding. His jaw fell open, slack and relaxed as each frat brother dragged their cock across his face and shoved easily into his mouth. His mind felt surprised but not shocked when he opened even larger with an almost hunger to accommodate both Derek and his cousin Noah at the same time. 

The Alpha withdrew slightly, its presence lingering like an imprint.

You will remember this, it told him. And you will not forget how it felt to give in. You will enjoy replaying it in your mind over and over once you join us.

Zach’s head lolled forward, consciousness wavering.

He didn’t know how long he remained like that—caught between awareness and collapse—but when his eyes fluttered shut again, it wasn’t from defiance.

It was from surrender.

Zach felt himself being moved before he realized he had stopped resisting.

Hands guided him—firm, unyielding, but not rushed—positioning his body with an unsettling familiarity. His limbs responded sluggishly, like they belonged to someone else now. Each attempt to tense or pull away dissolved into weakness before it could take shape.

Pixel remained close, anchoring him, while the Alpha’s presence expanded until it filled every corner of Zach’s awareness.

You are fighting yourself now, the Alpha murmured. There is nothing left to protect. Just lay back and enjoy the show.

Zach whimpered, shaking his head, but the pressure behind his eyes intensified. The scratches across his skin burned again, flaring hot, then cooling as something dark seeped inward. He could feel himself changing—not all at once, but in small, horrifying increments, like pieces of him being overwritten one by one.

His vision wavered, and he almost was shocked at what he saw, almost like viewing himself from outside his body. Slowly getting up, sitting down on the couch, and letting Derek and Evan lift up each of his legs, as Evan held his head forward, aimed directly at the Alpha who was now stepping forward, massive dick drooling and aimed directly at his exposed asshole. Each of his frat brothers slowly massaged the black cum into his skin, each cut looking angry and almost infected, as faint black veins began to creep outward, his skin taking on a greyish pallor around each cut.

Suddenly, his mind was pulled back into his body as he felt the Alpha suddenly slammed into his ass. He gasped loudly, feeling as his asshole surrendered to the brutal assault, his stomach bulging obscenely as the Alpha’s cock dug deep inside him, his mind almost laughing at how this looked like the chest burster scene from Alien. The Alpha suddenly placed its clawed hand on his stomach and pressed down before slamming its cock into his ass hard, with Zach groaning as he felt something tear open inside him, and a sudden flood of pleasure flooded inside his body. 

The room pulsed with low sound. Zach’s thoughts fragmented, each memory losing clarity as it was touched. His name still existed—but it felt less important now, less solid. The things he worried about before—grades, schedules, being responsible—floated away like static washed from the screen.

Instead, his mind floated, watching in awe and a sick delight as he could see the massive cock twitching inside him, as the Alpha slowly dragged its claws down his chest and stomach, each line welling with small pinpricks of blood as he watched his skin take an even greyer appearance before his eyes, each detail now in even greater detail and focus.

The Alpha pressed deeper into his mind as it pulled out of his ass with a wet plop and its infected seed dripped out of him.

Images rose unbidden: Zach kneeling, eyes black and skin grey, waiting, watching others break the way he was breaking now. The threat of his own horns trying to breach out of the skin on his skull. The fear those images once inspired no longer held their edge. Instead, they felt instructional. Inevitable. Strangely beautiful.

This is where you belong, the Alpha said calmly. This is what you are for.

Zach’s breath hitched. A sob tore loose—but it didn’t carry resistance anymore. It was empty. Exhausted. The fight drained out of him completely, leaving behind a hollow, receptive quiet.

Suddenly, the other creatures… his new brothers his mind suddenly told him, walked up and surrounded him as Pixel suddenly knelt down and took him deep in his mouth, the too-sharp teeth dragging on the thin skin of cock, each scrape feeling like a wave of pleasure as each creature suddenly began to shoot load after load on his skin. He suddenly felt the urge to rub each load deep into the cuts, enjoying as he felt them entering him, reshaping him in ways he’d never known were possible.

Suddenly, he shot his load, watching with happiness as Pixel greedily gulped down the last remaining part of him no longer corrupted. He groaned and pulled Pixel’s head down harder on his cock as he felt several large clawed fingers deep inside him, milking his prostate and making him continue to cum.

Something sealed shut inside him, locking the last part of himself away. He smiled, watching as his release finally slowed to a dribble as Pixel released his cock from his mouth before pulling Pixel up and locking lips with him, sucking the remains of his untainted cum off the forked tongue.

The burning across his skin dulled, replaced by a heavy warmth that sank into his bones. His thoughts slowed to a crawl, then smoothed into something eerily peaceful. He stopped trying to understand. Stopped trying to remember.

The Alpha lingered a moment longer, ensuring the change held.

Good, it said. You see clearly now.

Zach’s eyes fluttered, unfocused. His body sagged as if all the tension of his analytical mind that had once defined him had finally been released. In its place was only the satisfaction of being allowed to watch and enjoy the destruction of his friends around him.

Pixel withdrew, satisfied. The circle loosened.

Zach slumped back against the couch, breathing slow and even, expression blank and serene. Whatever had once made him Zach Dempsey receded into the background, muted and distant.

The TV static cut out abruptly as it was shut off. The living room lights steadied.

And Zach drifted into unconsciousness, the overwrite complete.

[kspozcum]

Chapter 6: Chestnuts Roasting Over An Open Fire

Ty woke up annoyed before he was fully awake. He’d been having an amazing dream, fucking that hot blonde bimbo from the student bookstore, when the sound of his door hitting the wall woke him up.

Someone was standing in his doorway, and that alone pissed him off. He cracked his eyes open, already halfway to snapping, and saw Paul Carter—Porkchop—looming there like a bad decision that hadn’t figured out when to leave yet.

“Jesus Christ,” Ty muttered. “What do you want?”

Paul swayed slightly, hands loose at his sides, wearing a dumb, unfocused smile that immediately set Ty’s teeth on edge. He looked drunk. Or worse—clingy.

“TV’s messed up,” Paul said, words slurring together. “Keeps doin’ weird stuff. You’re the only one who knows how to fix it.”

Ty rolled his eyes and flopped back against the mattress for a second. “That sounds like a you problem. Unplug it. Or don’t. I really don’t care.”

Paul didn’t react. He just stood there, smiling, like Ty hadn’t spoken at all.

That irritation sharpened. Ty hated when people did that—hovered, waited, expected him to fix things or just stare at him. He also had suspected for a long time that Paul was likely gay, what with the rumors he’d been hearing lately. And had likely a thing for him. Not that he was surprised, plenty of girls and guys liked looking at him.

He was hot, and he knew that about himself. Long flowing brown hair, flawless skin, gym chiseled body, round bubble butt that filled out jeans. Perfect teeth and classically good looking face. Plenty of girls insisted he looked like a model, and he never once failed to tell them he wasn’t. It made getting in their pants that much easier.

“Dude,” he snapped, pushing himself upright. “Stop fucking staring at me. I’m not your mom. Figure it out.”

Paul blinked slowly, then tilted his head. “Please… Need help,” he said again, softer this time. “C’mon.”

Something about the tone pricked at Ty’s nerves, but he refused to examine it. Instead, he sighed loudly and swung his legs off the bed, already resenting the situation.

“Fine. Whatever,” he said, grabbing his pajama bottoms and pulling them on angrily. “But if this is some drunk bullshit, I’m going back to sleep.”

Paul turned and shuffled into the hallway without waiting for him.

Ty followed, grumbling under his breath. The house felt off—too quiet, too cold—but he chalked it up to the storm and the fact that everyone else had probably passed out. Typical. He was always the one getting dragged into things while everyone else got to check out.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered as they walked. “I swear, if this is about the remote needing fucking batteries—”

Paul didn’t answer.

They reached the stairs. Ty noticed, absently, that Paul wasn’t looking around at all. Not at the doors, not down the stairwell. Just straight ahead, smile fixed, like he was on rails.

Ty frowned but kept going.

At the top of the basement stairs, he hesitated just long enough to feel stupid about it, then scoffed and started down. “Next time,” he said sharply, “ask Bran. Or literally anyone else. Just because I have a computer science major, doesn’t mean I should have to do tech support. And shut the fucking door. I’m the one who has to pay the damn electric bill each month, dumbass.”

Paul’s smile never changed.

And Ty, too busy being annoyed to trust the warning itch in his gut, followed him into the dark.

The living room hit Ty like a punch to the chest.

The Christmas tree was down.

Not gently toppled—wrecked. Branches snapped and splayed across the floor, strings of lights tangled around the legs of the coffee table. Ornaments lay everywhere, shattered glass glittering across the hardwood like ice. One of the nicer ones—the hand-painted ones they’d ordered online—was crushed into dust near the couch. 

Ty stopped short on the last stair.

“God fucking damn it!” he muttered aloud, taking in the sight. They had the alumni meeting next week and now the tree was trashed.

Paul just stood, swaying and smiling.

“What the fuck is this?” he snapped.

Paul continued to stand near the doorway, swaying faintly, smile still plastered on his face, shrugging innocently.

Ty’s irritation flared instantly, sharp and hot. “Are you kidding me right now?” He stepped into the room, carefully avoiding the glass. “Do you have any idea how much this crap cost? That tree alone was—”

He cut himself off, jaw tightening.

As treasurer, Ty knew exactly how much it cost. He’d approved the charges. He’d argued about them. He’d spent two weeks reminding everyone that decorations weren’t free and that the house budget wasn’t infinite.

“This is why we can’t have nice things,” he muttered angrily, dragging a hand through his hair. “Every year. Every single year.”

He turned on Paul. “Did you do this? Were you drunk and flailing around like an idiot, or did someone else trash the place?”

Paul didn’t answer.

Ty scoffed. “Unreal. You’re fucking wasted and no help at all.”

The TV hummed softly behind him, screen filled with flickering static. The sound grated on his nerves. He stalked toward it, irritation overriding the faint prickle at the back of his neck.

“I swear to god,” he muttered, reaching for the power button, “if this is broken too, I’m docking dues—”

A sudden cold washed over the back of his neck as the skin of his bare chest prickled with goosebumps from the cold wave coming from the basement.

Ty froze mid-step.

The air felt wrong. Thicker. Charged. He straightened slowly, turning just enough to glance over his shoulder. “Paul?” he said sharply. “What are you standing there for, looking like an idiot? Go get a god damn broom and dustpan already!”

That was when it hit him.

Something warm and wet splashed across his face, stinging his eyes and mouth with a sharp, chemical burn. Ty cursed, stumbling back on instinct, hands flying up as his vision blurred violently.

“What the—shit!”

Heat surged through him, fast and overwhelming. His knees buckled as the room tilted sideways. He staggered blindly, heel catching on the edge of the fallen tree, and crashed down hard amid broken branches and glass.

Lights flashed. Static roared.

Ty tried to push himself up, rage and confusion tangling together—but his arms didn’t cooperate. His thoughts slid, softened, slipping through his grasp like wet paper.

The last thing he saw clearly was Paul standing above him, still smiling.

Then the floor rushed up.

And everything went dark.

—

Ty woke up choking on cold air.

It scraped across his skin in a way that made his whole body tense, nerves screaming before his brain could fully catch up. He sucked in a sharp breath and tried to roll onto his side—only to freeze as sensation flooded back all at once.

Bare skin.

Too much of it.

His eyes flew open.

He was sprawled on the living room floor, every inch of him exposed to the chill, the hardwood biting into his back and shoulders. No clothes. Nothing to shield him. Panic surged as he tried to cover himself, hands fumbling clumsily, his limbs sluggish and uncooperative.

A shadow shifted above him.

Ty looked up.

The thing standing over him was enormous—broad-shouldered, towering, its obsidian-black skin catching the dim light like polished leather. Thick, horned protrusions curved from its head in heavy arcs, framing a face twisted into a slow, mocking smile.

It was holding a cigar.

The ember at the end glowed red as it took a long, deliberate draw, smoke curling lazily from its mouth. The scent hit Ty immediately—burnt tobacco mixed with something sharp and chemical that made his head swim.

“Well,” the creature said aloud, voice deep and amused, “this is a nice present to wake up to.”

Ty’s heart slammed. “Back off,” he snapped, scrambling awkwardly, palms sliding on the floor. “What the hell are you?”

The creature chuckled, smoke rolling from its lips as it exhaled. “Name’s Stag.”

It crouched slightly, bringing itself closer to eye level, its grin widening as Ty’s breathing picked up.

“You’re loud,” Stag continued. “I like that. Any mouthy. Makes it even more fun to watch when that fire drains out of you.”

Ty swallowed hard, fear burning through his chest. “You think this is funny? Get the fuck out of our house, man!”

Stag didn’t answer right away. Instead, it took another slow drag on the cigar—long enough for Ty to notice the ash at the tip growing thick and unstable.

Then Stag flicked its fingers.

The ash broke free mid-air and landed squarely on Ty’s chest.

Ty screamed.

The heat was instant—sharp and searing—sending him into blind panic as he slapped at his own skin, smearing the burning embers and making it worse before they finally scattered away. He gasped, chest heaving, heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst.

Stag laughed. A deep, satisfied sound.

“Careful,” Stag said mockingly. “You’re just making it burn longer.”

Ty curled inward instinctively, hands clutching at his chest, eyes wild. “You sick freak—”

Stag rose to its full height again, looming, shadow swallowing Ty whole. It took another drag, unbothered, then casually tapped the cigar against its fingers.

“You’re gonna spend a lot of time panicking,” he said calmly, voice deep and gravely. “At first.”

It stepped closer, heat rolling off its body, the smell of smoke thickening in the air.

“Then you’re gonna get tired,” Stag continued. “And when you do, you’re gonna stop yelling. Stop fighting. Stop pretending you’re in charge of anything.”

It leaned down just enough for Ty to see the sharp edges of its teeth when it smiled.

“And by the end,” Stag added softly, “you won’t even remember why you thought you mattered.”

Ty’s breath came in ragged bursts, fear flooding every thought as Stag straightened again, taking another slow, deliberate draw from the cigar.

The ember glowed brighter.

And Ty realized—with a sick, sinking certainty—that this thing was enjoying every second of his terror.

Stag circled him slowly, boots heavy against the floor, smoke trailing behind like a leash. Ty stayed frozen where he was, muscles locked, breath coming too fast. Every instinct screamed at him to move—run, lash out, do something—but his body refused to cooperate.

“You can fight if you want,” Stag said calmly. “Most of you do.”

It knelt in front of him without warning, movement sudden enough to make Ty flinch. A clawed finger traced a slow line up Ty’s sternum, not breaking skin, just enough pressure to hurt. Ty sucked in a sharp breath as his muscles seized.

“But don’t confuse noise with control,” Stag continued. “That part belongs to me.”

Ty tried to shove the hand away. His arms twitched—and stopped. His mind screamed at them to move again, harder this time, but it was like hitting a locked door from the inside. Panic surged, hot and humiliating.

Stag smiled.

“Feel that?” it asked. “That moment where your body listens to me instead of you?”

It leaned closer, tapping a clawed finger against Ty’s temple—light, deliberate.

“You’re sharp,” Stag said, almost approving. “You plan. You calculate. You keep track of things. A strong mind in a pretty package. That makes you… interesting.”

The finger tapped again.

“And it makes this better.”

Pain lanced suddenly through Ty’s chest as Stag twisted its grip, pressure crushing muscle and nerve together as he grabbed Ty’s nipple and twisted until he cried out despite himself. His vision blurred, breath hitching as the sensation overloaded him.

“That mind,” Stag said quietly. “Is going to be so much fun destroying. That’s the best part of the gift you’re about to receive. How it lets me torture you however I want.”

Ty shook his head, jaw clenched, teeth chattering as fear and fury tangled together. “I’m not—” he started.

Stag struck him hard, fast, smacking his hand hard into Ty’s unprotected bull balls. The impact knocked the breath from his lungs. Ty doubled over with a broken sound, hands curling uselessly as the pain rippled outward as Stag firmly grabbed both large orbs and gave them a hard squeeze.

“Nice pair of cum factories you got there. Gonna make you feed me a nice big load when I’m done with you.”

Ty suddenly panicked as a sudden mental image filled his brain. He was bent over, drooling and begging, asking Stag to breed him and feed from his cock. He tried to scream out, shocked when he found he couldn’t talk. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t make a single sound.

“There it is,” Stag said, satisfied. “That moment where you realize yelling doesn’t change anything.”

It straightened slowly, towering again, cigar glowing red as it took another long drag.

“You’re going to learn,” Stag went on, voice steady and cruel, “that everything you are—every thought, every reaction—is something I can reach and reshape. Crush out any little part I don’t like. And something I don’t like is pretty boys like you telling me what to do. Thinking you’re so much smarter and prettier than the rest of us.”

Smoke drifted down over Ty’s face as the world narrowed to heat, pain, and the horrible understanding that this wasn’t random.

This was deliberate.

And Stag was enjoying taking him apart one decision at a time.

Stag was still looming over Ty when the pressure in the room changed.

It wasn’t subtle.

The air thickened, pressing down on Ty’s chest until breathing felt harder, slower. Even Stag paused mid-motion, its grin tightening into something irritated as a heavier presence pushed its way into the space.

“Enough,” a deep voice said.

Stag straightened with a sharp exhale, annoyance flickering across its features. “I was enjoying myself.”

“You’re playing with your food,” the Alpha replied coolly. “And you’re dulling his brain doing it.”

Ty’s head snapped up despite himself.

The Alpha stood at the edge of the room, arms folded across a massive chest, horns longer and more ornate than Stag’s. Its presence dwarfed everything else, the dim light bending around it in a way that made Ty’s stomach drop. Smoke curled lazily around its face, its gaze fixed on him with unsettling calm.

Around it stood the others.

His frat brothers.

Derek was closest, posture loose, eyes bright with something that made Ty’s skin crawl, licking and kissing his body, occasionally smoking a cigar in his hand. Noah stood beside him, calm and distant playing with himself and rubbing a hand over the Alpha’s chest. Paul swayed faintly while kneeling, smiling, fingering his ass as licked the Alpha’s feet. Even Evan was there, looking oddly wet and reeking of piss, licking and sucking on the Alpha’s cock like it was the best thing he ever tasted, gulping occasionally. None of them looked concerned. None of them looked confused. He stilled as he watched Zach suddenly walk in, a sheen of oily black liquid on his body, skin grey and covered in blackened scratches, kneeling next to Evan as he began to reverently grab and tug on the Alpha’s massive low hanging balls.

They looked… devoted.

Behind the Alpha, several other creatures stood behind him, slowly jacking their cocks.

Ty’s panic spiked. “What the hell is wrong with all of you?” he demanded, voice cracking as he looked from one familiar face to the next. “Derek—what is this? Tell him to stop!”

Derek stepped forward just enough for Ty to see him clearly. His expression softened, almost fond.

“You should just give up,” Derek said quietly, sticking the large cigar in his mouth and hauling hard on it while slowly working his cock, the same smile as the others on his face, eyes looking black and unnatural. “It’s easier if you don’t fight it. It really feels so fucking good when you let go, buddy.”

Ty shook his head frantically. “No—no, you don’t mean that—”

Stag laughed and leaned down again, clearly irritated now, one clawed hand bracing Ty in place.

“See?” he said. “Even your friends know when it’s over.”

Suddenly, Stag moved—fast and deliberate. He firmly grabbed Ty’s impressive cock and shoved his longest sharp claw down his piss slit. His other hand held the end of the cigar painfully close to his right nipple, the hair singing against the heat of the cherry.

Ty cried out, the sound tearing free of him before he could stop it. His body locked, shock rippling through him as his breath hitched into a broken whimper. Tears blurred his vision as the pain and fear tangled together, overwhelming his ability to think.

“Stag,” the Alpha warned, voice sharp now inside Ty’s mind.

Stag withdrew slightly, grumbling under its breath. “Fine. Fine.”

Suddenly, another glob of spit hit his face, making him shudder and feel numb. Ty lay there shaking, every nerve screaming, his mind scrambling uselessly for escape. The Alpha stepped closer, its shadow swallowing him whole.

“Listen to me,” it said calmly, voice reverberating in his head. “You can resist if you want.”

It tilted its head, studying him.

“But you are already surrounded by proof of what happens when you don’t. Willingly give yourself to my gift, and you will feel nothing but pleasure.”

Ty sobbed, chest heaving, the tip of his nipple burning from the heat of the cigar, skin burning and turning red, unable to pull away, locked in place by Stag’s hold on his mind. His gaze flicking back to his brothers—each one watching him with quiet expectation.

The Alpha’s voice softened, almost gentle.

“Lay back and enjoy this,” it instructed. “And let us finish.”

Ty’s body trembled violently as the command settled over him, heavy and inescapable.

And somewhere beneath the fear, beneath the shock, something inside him began to give way.

Ty barely had time to register the Alpha’s command before Stag moved again.

The horned figure’s attention returned to him with a sharp focus, eyes glittering with impatience. Stag struck him hard in the balls—once—watching closely for the reaction. Ty cried out, body jerking on instinct, breath tearing free of his lungs. The pain was immediate and blinding, but his body didn’t behave the way it was supposed to when given pain. It lingered, twisted, and then—confusingly—shifted, sending a sickening wave of sensation through him that made his thoughts stutter.

Stag noticed. He always did.

“See?” Stag said, voice low and pleased. “Your body’s already learning.”

Ty shook, breath coming in ragged bursts, panic tangling with something he didn’t want to name. His mind screamed at him to pull away, to fight—but his muscles betrayed him, locking up, then loosening as if waiting for instruction.

“Hands and knees,” Stag ordered.

The words sank deeper than sound. Ty found himself moving before he could stop it, posture collapsing into something smaller, more exposed. His face burned with humiliation and fear as Stag loomed behind him, claws spreading with deliberate cruelty.

Stag leaned in, forcing Ty still.

He slowly felt as his body, against his will, sat up and turned itself over, his mind screaming in agony to stop, to fight this, to bargain. Maybe with money. Or maybe he could find a distraction and make a break for it in the snow. That he might be able to get to one of the houses if he screamed loud enough and someone let him in.

He felt himself rest his shoulders on the ground, and slowly pull his asschecks apart, his face looking at the door. He stiffened as he was Stag rest a hand on his shoulder, cigar burning frighteningly close to his face.

The impact came suddenly. Smack after horrifically painful smack access his asschecks like fire. He sobbed slightly at the assault on his smooth full, muscular ass. He thought this would be the worst of it when Stag stopped and let out a dark chuckle. He shuddered as suddenly, cigar-scented spit drooled down into his asshole and clawed fingers stabbed deep into him. They inched in, before finally pressing down hard deep inside him.

Ty screamed—first from shock, then from the overwhelming rush that followed, his voice breaking as pain bled into something else entirely. His body betrayed him again, reacting in ways his mind refused to accept, his cock hardening and balls aching for release as the man’s claws dug and stabbed hard into his prostate. Stag laughed softly, a sound of pure satisfaction.

“There it is,” he murmured. “That moment where it stops being a fight. The little button deep inside you that reduces you to nothing. Nothing but a pretty boy waiting to be fucked raw.”

He felt as the fingers pulled out, and Stag’s hand came down again on his firm ass with a resounding smack. Again and again, each strike measured, watching how Ty’s reactions changed—how the fear softened, how the resistance thinned. The burning of his asscheeks spread out, fingers pressed again and pressing hard on his prostate. Only for it to be removed again and again as he was bright to the edge of losing it. The Alpha observed from behind, silent, allowing the lesson to continue.

Eventually, he felt Stag’s clawed thumbs jab into his ass and pull his hole apart, followed by the sharp stab of his cock into his ass. He groaned in agony at first, tears streaming down his face until a new sensation started to wash over him. He could feel his ass getting slicker, the foul precum from Stag’s cock slowly working into his battered hole and into the deep scratches inside of him and to his bloodstream. 

Stag took his time, making sure to make each stroke slow and long, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in as hard as he could. It felt like hours but was likely only minutes later when he felt as Stag slammed one last time and a massive torrent of foul, likely infected cum flooded his ass, and he felt the strange pleasurable warmth spreading through his body, even as his mind tried valiantly to fight it.

Just as he thought that the torture was over, he felt as something inexplicable squeezed around his mind, tighter and tighter as he felt something in it break. Ty’s cries blurred into helpless sounds, his thoughts dissolving into sensation. His body shaking in pure pleasure as his mind screamed in protest. He tried to claw at his head, feeling as Stag chuckled darkly and grabbed ahold of his hands and pulled them painfully behind him, fucking him once again.

His hands stopped fighting, only loosely hanging at his side as he felt his brain struggle to even form a sentence. Somewhere in the haze, he realized he was no longer trying to escape. He was just trying to keep up.

Stag straightened at last after shooting another massive load inside him, clearly pleased.

“Good,” he said. “You’re learning your place.”

And as Ty sagged forward, shaking and empty, the Alpha stepped closer—ready to decide what remained of him was worth keeping.

The Alpha moved.

The room responded instantly—pressure deepening, sound dulling, even Stag’s posture stiffening as the greater presence asserted itself, sending out pain to Stag and watching coldly as he collapsed into a kneeling position at the Alpha’s feet. The Alpha did not raise its voice. It didn’t need to.

Enough.

The word landed directly inside Stag’s mind, sharp and displeased. Stag hissed softly, his head hanging down as its satisfaction curdled into irritation.

You knew better than to just break him. We will talk about this later, the Alpha added, colder now. For now, I need to see if you left anything left for me to salvage.

Stag stood up, head still hanging down and withdrew a step, jaw tightening, but did not argue.

The Alpha’s attention shifted fully to Ty.

Ty barely registered the moment before the Alpha’s presence flooded his thoughts. It was not violent. It was methodical. The Alpha sifted through Ty’s fractured mind like a collector examining broken pieces on a table.

Fear. Anger. Pride. Control. Identity.

Each fragment was lifted, examined, and—if found wanting—discarded.

Ty whimpered as memories blurred and slid away. His sense of self unraveled, replaced by a blank, receptive quiet. The Alpha lingered on certain traits—focus, endurance, responsiveness—setting them aside deliberately.

These will do.

The rest was erased. His mind suddenly pleasantly absent save for a small voice begging for it to stop.

Ty rolled onto his back, slack jawed and blank faced, positioning his ass as high as he could as his fellow frat brother’s descended upon him, squeezing his balls, twisting his nipples hard, smacking the head of his cock playfully like it were a toy. Derek positioned himself at Ty’s head, smacking his face a few times as Ty automatically started grinned at him mindlessly, the pain turning to pleasure in his mind as Derek hauled hard on his soon-to-be ever present cigar, and spat a large ball of enhanced spit in his face, smiling as Ty expectantly opened his mouth and began to suck on Derek’s already larger cock.

The Alpha pressed in closer, its will overwhelming, reshaping Ty’s responses at a fundamental level. Panic gave way to confusion. Confusion thinned into pleasure. The noise in Ty’s head faded until there was nothing left to fight with.

His body relaxed. His thoughts slowed.

Drool slipped from the corner of his mouth as the Alpha rewired him, reinforcing one simple truth again and again:

You exist to receive. You exist to serve. You exist as a vessel for my gift. To incubate it and spread it.

Ty smiled around Derek’s cock, feeding eagerly as Derek erupted in his mouth, flooding it with now black tainted cum. Swallowing happily as Derek removed his cock, switching places with Noah. He began to suck Noah with increased hunger, enjoying the feeling of the Alpha sinking deep into his guts, using Stag’s black cum as lube as he began to fuck Ty’s ass, taking his anger at Stag out on his hole. He whimpered at the feeling, the last shred of his mind clinging on for dear life, barely a whisper in a dark echo as he finally felt the Alpha still, flooding him with a massive amount of seed.

Ty felt as his body shuddered in happiness and relief as rope after rope of untainted cum painted his perfectly sculpted abs and chest, smiling with dim satisfaction as his fellow frat brother’s leaned forward and began to feed. Ty’s mind stuttered and fully stopped—then restarted.

Not as it had been.

Clean. Quiet. Purpose-built.

The idea of resistance felt distant and irrelevant, like remembering a dream that no longer mattered. In its place settled a deep calm—and a need to please the presence shaping him. He suddenly found himself happy to give up the last piece of himself untouched by the Alpha, given to fuel his brother’s transformations, feeling as his battered, large balls emptied out, unable to stop himself from the continued flood of cum exiting his body. Pleasure filled him, making his limbs shudder as he felt flash after flash of what his body would become filled his mind. Even more muscles and perfect pitch black skin, sharp teeth and claws, beautiful large horns curving off his skull. He would be a machine, made for spreading the Alpha’s gift.

Without any reason to know, he realized he would be able to change himself at will, looking normal as as Derek, purpose built to draw in even more prey for their master. The pain of the change would feel like the best orgasm.

The Alpha withdrew slightly, assessing its work.

“Better,” it said, standing up and glaring at Stag. “This one has the gift to transform at my will. Next time, see that such a useful mind isn’t so broken that I have to fix your mistake. He’s mine now since you can’t behave. Perhaps next time you will not be so rough when I give you a pretty toy for Christmas.”

“Yes, Alpha. My apologies, Alpha,” Stag ground out, angry and hungry for the untainted cum that should have been his.

Ty remained where he was, breathing slow and even, expression vacant and eager. Whatever he had been before—treasurer, foul natured, self-assured, loudmouth—had been stripped away and discarded.

Only the shape remained.

The Alpha turned away, satisfied. Stag watched in silence, chastened.

And Ty, newly hollowed and remade, did not notice either of them anymore.

Ty rose unsteadily to his feet.

Whatever had been carved out of him left behind something unnervingly eager—movements loose, posture open, eyes unfocused but bright. He drifted toward the horned figures one by one, guided by instinct rather than thought, offering himself wordlessly to each presence in turn.

He walked over without hesitation and began to make out with the first creature, smiling and groaning happily as he began to make out with it, feeling the long tongue snake down his throat, gently tugging the massive cock and breaking apart only to turn around and sink himself down on the cock, letting the man-creature… his new borther… use his cock and balls as a grip. He groaned happily, letting it set the pace as it painfully squeezed his balls or spanked his ass, his ass clenching down hard in response, enjoying the torture on his cock, balls, ass and nipples. The more pain inflicted on his already impressive body, the more his pleasure became.

The Alpha watched, arms folded, assessing. Satisfaction rippled through the room as the ritual completed its circuit, Ty’s behavior smoothing into a practiced, obedient rhythm.

“Fucking breed me. Infect me and flood me with your virus,” Ty moaned, veins already turning black.

Then a door slammed open upstairs, followed by the sound of frantic feet on the stairs..

“—What the hell—”

Bran froze in the doorway, crashing to a stop at the bottom of the stairs, horror etched across his face as he took in the scene: the wrecked living room, the horned figures, the altered brothers—Ty moving among them with vacant enthusiasm, a river of black cum flowing like a river down his leg. Pupils blown open with pleasure and an obedient, happy smile on his face.

“No—no, no,” Bran breathed, backing away. Panic snapped him into motion. He turned and bolted for the stairs.

“Stop him,” the Alpha said calmly.

At once, the frat brothers moved.

Derek was first, then Noah, then the others—faces serene, steps coordinated, moving with a shared purpose as they surged up the stairs after Bran. Their footfalls thundered overhead, chasing him into the dark.

The Alpha lingered a moment longer, eyes tracking the pursuit before calmly relaxing down on the couch and lounging back.

“Bring him back to me,” it added.

The house seemed to hold its breath.

Below on the ground, Ty happily knelt in front of the Alpha and slowly began to lick and nuzzle its cock, awaiting the next instruction, smiling happily when the Alpha gently began to run its hand through his hair. He continued to aim to please his master while above, the hunt began. Now thrilled to be the personal pet of the Alpha.

[Menbendovr]

Another spectacular chapter!

[BearCubCuntBoi]

I must commend you kspozcum...I've never wanted another character to get his just desserts more than Stag...Makes me excited to see the amount of trouble he'll get too caught up in with the main story!