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!

[leatherpunk16]

Chapter 7: Raisin' Bran

Bran didn’t stop running.

The house felt wrong—too quiet, too large, every hallway stretched just a little longer than it should have. His bare feet slapped against the floor as he tore through the second-floor hall, breath ragged, heart hammering so hard it hurt. Somewhere behind him, he could hear movement. Not frantic. Not chasing.

Walking.

That terrified him more than anything.

He burst into his bedroom and slammed the door hard enough to rattle the frame, fumbling with the lock even though he already knew it wouldn’t matter. His hands shook as he crossed the room in three strides and threw himself at the window.

“Come on—come on—” he hissed, yanking at the frame.

It didn’t budge.

The cold had contracted it tight, the wood warped just enough to trap it in place. He shoved harder, ignoring the pain in his palms, panic climbing up his throat. Outside, the snowstorm raged—white and violent and unreachable.

“Fuck!” he shouted.

He spun and bolted into the attached bathroom, nearly slipping on the tile as he lunged for the second window. Same result. Frozen shut. No give at all.

For a moment, he just stood there, chest heaving, staring at his reflection in the mirror. His eyes were wild. His face was pale. He looked like someone already being hunted.

A sound came from the bedroom.

Soft. Deliberate.

Footsteps.

Bran backed away from the window slowly, dread sinking deep into his gut. His mind raced—stairs, front door, anything—but he already knew the truth before he acted on it.

They were everywhere. He rushed back into the bedroom—and stopped dead.

Derek stood in the doorway. Lighting a cigar expertly and blowing the smoke out at the flame on the tip before looking at Bran.

Naked. Relaxed. Smiling.

Behind him, filling the hall, were the others. Noah. Evan. Paul. Zach. All of them unclothed, unashamed, eyes completely black, expressions eerily calm.

Bran’s breath caught.

“Guys,” he said hoarsely, hands raised. “Guys—what the hell is this?”

They didn’t answer.

He tried authority first. Reflex. “I’m the president,” he said. “This isn’t funny. You need to fucking let go.”

Derek frowned slightly, like he was considering something. For a heartbeat, Bran felt hope spark.

Then Derek spoke.

“Bran… That doesn’t matter anymore.”

The words landed flat and absolute.

“We serve the Alpha now,” Derek continued. “And whatever the Alpha asks for… it gets.”

The brothers stepped forward together.

Bran turned to run.

Bran lunged for the hall. And he didn’t make it three steps.

Hands caught him before he’d taken a full step—too many, too strong. He twisted and slammed an elbow back on instinct, felt it connect with something solid, but it didn’t slow them. Not even a little. The brothers moved with quiet coordination, grips firm and practiced, like they’d done this together before.

“Stop—wait—” Bran gasped, thrashing as panic took over. “Derek, listen to me—this isn’t you!”

Derek stepped in close, calm as ever, eyes empty. He didn’t touch Bran at first—just watched him struggle.

“You’re wasting energy,” Derek said. “You’ll need it for what’s about to happen...”

That was when Noah moved.

Bran barely saw it happen. A wet sound, a sharp chemical stink—and then something warm and viscous struck his face. It burned and tingled at the same time, crawling across his skin and seeping into his senses. His breath hitched violently as dizziness slammed into him.

“No—no—” he tried to say, but the words tangled and fell apart.

His legs buckled. The room tilted. The brothers caught him before he hit the floor, lifting him effortlessly as his vision blurred at the edges. The world felt too bright and too dim at the same time, like his brain couldn’t agree on what it was seeing.

“Easy,” someone murmured—Paul, maybe. The voice sounded pleased.

They carried him down the stairs.

Bran fought to stay awake, counting steps, biting his tongue until he tasted blood. The living room lights swam into view, wreckage blurring together—broken decorations, overturned furniture, the tree shattered on the floor.

At the center of it all, sitting on the couch in the same spot he had been hours earlier, was the Alpha.

Bran felt it before he saw it. Pressure settled over him, heavy and absolute, pressing down on his thoughts until even fear struggled to take shape. They tossed him forward carelessly, and he hit the floor at the Alpha’s feet, breath knocked from his lungs.

He looked up.

Ty sat beside the Alpha, close—too close—watching with an eager, empty expression. One massive hand rested on Ty’s head possessively, stroking like you would an obedient animal. Ty smiled dreamily and pushed his head against his hand.

Bran’s stomach dropped.

“No,” he whispered. “Ty… what the fuck did they do to you?”

Ty didn’t answer. He just smiled.

The brothers formed a loose circle around them, blocking every path out. The Alpha regarded Bran silently, head tilted, studying him like a curiosity it had already claimed.

Bran realized then—with a sick, sinking certainty—that this wasn’t about punishment.

This was about finishing something.

The Alpha rested a massive hand on Ty’s head.

Ty stiffened, then relaxed, eyes turning fully black as if something heavy had settled into him. When he spoke, the voice that came out was not entirely his—layered, resonant, echoing faintly in Bran’s skull.

“Tonight,” Ty said, smiling, voice deepening into something evil, “you will be the last, Bran Coletti.”

Bran shook his head weakly, trying to push himself backward, but hands pinned him in place. Christmas lights snapped tight around his wrists and ankles, their bulbs warm against his skin, pulsing faintly as if alive.

“I will watch,” Ty continued, his voice cold and ancient sounding. “As each of your brothers will give you their attention.”

The words slid into Bran’s mind like hooks. He thrashed again, muscles screaming, but the circle only tightened.

“No,” Bran gasped. “Why—why are you doing this? To me?”

The Alpha finally moved.

It leaned its head slightly to one side, studying him with something like mild curiosity. When it answered, the voice bypassed Bran’s ears entirely and pressed straight into his thoughts.

Because you invited us.

Images flickered behind Bran’s eyes: the basement door. The cold. The storm. The latch left loose.

A host opens the door, the Alpha continued calmly. A good host accepts what follows.

Bran’s breath broke into an angry sob. “I didn’t know,” he whispered. “I didn’t—please— Fucking let me go!”

He spat upward in a last, desperate act of defiance.

A hand struck his face hard enough to snap his head sideways.

“Show some damn respect,” Derek said sharply, puffing on the cigar, standing over him now. “The more you fight, the worse this gets. Keep it up and he’ll make you more brainless than Ty.”

Bran tasted blood. His ears rang. He looked up through watering eyes and saw Ty watching him closely.

Ty frowned at Derek for a moment—confused—then smiled again and nodded, pleased.

“It’s not so bad, though,” Ty said softly, before shyly looking up at the Alpha. “It’s nice being close to the Alpha. I’m his pretty boy, he likes touching me best. I like when he plays with my mind and makes me feel good. He likes hearing my voice talk for him, too. He’s a good master.”

The words broke something inside Bran.

The Alpha’s presence pressed harder, its attention sharpening. You will endure more than the others, it told him. That is the price of being first among them.

Hands closed in again.

First, he felt as Nate slowly kneeled behind him, pulling hard on the lights binding his wrist as he slammed as hard as he could deep into Bran’s ass, making him scream out in agony. He tried to pull away, look at anywhere else in the room, when Noah grabbed his hair painfully and pulled his head up to face the Alpha, who quietly watched and relaxed back, legs spread as he gently pet Ty’s head, guiding him gently to his groin and rumbling with pleasure as Ty began to deepthroat his cock.

Without warning, he heard as Noah let out a gasp and slammed hard several more times as his ass began to flood with cum, Noah calmly licking and biting his neck. With a wet plop, he felt as Noah pulled out, and finally able to move his head, he looked down and saw a foul looking puddle of black cum begin to drip out of his ass and onto the hardwood floors. 

He watched as Derek, his former vice president, patted his younger cousin proudly on the shoulder, gently running a finger on his forehead and smiling as they ran over two strange protuberances. Derek motioned at one of his brothers, and a half empty box of cigars was brought forward, with Derek smiling and reaching in, cutting it expertly and smelling the stick of tobacco. He held it out towards Bran with a smile.

“Want one, man?” Derek asked, puffing hard on the one in his own mouth, “Makes this a lot fucking easier.”

“Fuck you man…. Fuck you,” Bran growled out, watching as Derek simply shrugged and shoved the cigar into his own mouth and lit it up, inhaling hard and blowing a thick cloud of smoke in his face, chuckling darkly as Bran began to cough and tear up.

Quietly, Bran watched as the other brothers surged forward, each grabbing their own cigar and lighting one up, puffing happily and murmuring their thanks to Derek, before blowing thick clouds of smoke at his face.

Suddenly, he felt Derek plunged deep inside his ass, groaning happily.

“Yeah, bitch, fucking take my pig meat,” he groaned, fucking him hard and fast like a jackhammer, making him tear up and cry from the brutal assault on his ass. For several minutes it continued, Derek slapping his ass and asking him if he wanted him to knock his privileged ass up. Suddenly, he paused, looking over at the second largest creature standing behind the Alpha’s right shoulder.

“Can I shoot my pig load in him now, Daddy?” Derek asked, taking slow long strokes inside him like he was waiting for permission to shoot. One nod from the creature and suddenly he felt as Derek slammed hard and deep inside him, releasing a massive load inside him. Derek suddenly smacked his ass hard.

“Fucking milk that load out, whore,” Derek muttered, groaning as Bran’s ass tightened involuntarily as he pulled out, “And don’t let me catching you losing a single drop of that dirty jizz.”

Bran let out a pitiful sob, feeling humiliated at the way his former friend was talking to him as a strange feeling slowly started to course through him. He shook his head, fighting the feeling as he felt Derek shove him forward and Evan stepped forward next, a case of beer in his hands as he handed each brother a bottle.

Evan towered over him, somehow with a branch from the tree in his hand and began to smack his back and ass with it, his skin burning as the skin began to get scraped and scratched. Suddenly, his frat brothers let out a collective sigh and each one began to piss on him, showering him with warm, acrid urine. It sprayed in his face and on his skin, with Evan aiming almost expertly as his hole before plunging deep inside and filling him up with more piss inside. He wanted to scream and cry, beg for them to stop when Evan let out a huge groan as he, too, unloaded his foul cum inside.

Suddenly, Evan pulled out and he felt as his ass erupted out in a torrent of piss and black cum on the floor. Paul knelt beside him, actually seeming to comfort him, telling him gently to let it all out, to relax, to breathe. He looked up and almost for a second though maybe Paul would help him. 

“Chop… please… help me get out of here. They can’t fight against all of us,” Bran begged, thinking maybe Chop was actually on his side.

“Sorry, man… this is going to happen. I’ll make it feel good for you though. I promise…” Paul said, sighing sadly, as he hocked up a large ball of spit in his mouth, and spit squarely on his hole before crawling behind him and slowly began to shove his too-sharp nailed fingers into his ass.

“FUCK! NO FUCK!” Bran screamed, feeling as more and more fingers stretched him out painfully, “I’M NOT GONNA GET FISTED BY A FAGGOT PIECE OF SHIT LIKE YOU!”

Suddenly, he felt as the Alpha’s mind grabbed his and squeezed painfully.

We don’t like that word. You’ll pay for saying it, Ty and the Alpha echoed coldly, as Paul let out an angry sigh, his fist shoving hard into his ass and stretching his anus to accompany the massive hand.

Bran screamed, cursed, begged—his voice growing hoarse as the Alpha allowed the pain to crest, then suddenly withdrew it all at once. The silence afterward was worse than the agony, leaving him shaking, drooling, barely conscious.

He lay there, humiliated and broken, mind slipping.

Ty approached him again, black eyes shining with devotion. When he spoke, the Alpha spoke with him.

“Submit,” the voice said gently. “Or be emptied of everything that defines you...”

Bran sobbed openly now, tears streaking down his face. His resistance crumbled under the weight of it—fear, betrayal, the awful certainty that he was truly alone.

He nodded. The Alpha’s satisfaction rolled through him like a tide.

Bran’s nod felt like betrayal even to himself.

The Alpha’s presence swelled at once, filling the room like a pressure front rolling in. Sound dulled. Light flattened. The circle of brothers tightened, their silhouettes steady and patient, as if they’d been waiting for this exact moment.

Good, the Alpha said, the word settling into Bran’s mind like a weight.

He felt as Paul began to punch fuck him, the pain in his ass screaming in pain until he felt Paul press several fingers hard on his prostate, slowly massaging the gland from inside him, making him gasp and moan in confusion as he felt more of the Alpha’s presence flood his mind.

Eventually, Paul pulled his hand out with a wet sound and shove his dick inside him and cum hard, Paul’s meaty hands firmly gripping his hips and fucking him back against him.

Last, Zach stepped forward, cigar glowing in his mouth as he forced Bran, now shaking uncontrollably, back into a sitting position, and began to dig his nails into his skin and scratch his lean chest hard, leaving welts of blood as the other frat brothers stood before him and began to shoot ribbon after ribbon onto his skin, each shot dribbling into his cuts, into his eyes, into his hair… and making the burn as Zach forced his mouth open and shot a load into his mouth. With a firm, clawed hand, he felt as Zach closed his mouth and leaned forward.

“Swallow it, bitch boy,” Zach said, grinning evilly, “Drink my tainted seed down like a good slut.”

Bran complied, his mind feeling broken, unable to do anything but comply.

Hands adjusted his restraints—methodical, practiced. The Christmas lights hummed softly, warmth spreading where they touched, making it harder to tell where his body ended and the bindings began. Bran tried to focus on something—anything—to hold himself together. His name. His title. His rules.

They slid away from him.

The Alpha leaned closer, and Bran felt his thoughts being sorted—lifted, examined, discarded. Fear surged, then drained. Anger flickered, then dimmed. Pride cracked and crumbled. The process was not hurried. It was careful.

These pieces will not serve, the Alpha decided.

Bran cried out as the pressure spiked again—every nerve lighting at once—then vanished, leaving him hollow and trembling. He gasped for breath that felt too thin to matter. Somewhere nearby, someone laughed softly. Someone else murmured approval.

The Alpha withdrew the pain again, just as abruptly as it had come.

Bran sagged, drooling, eyes unfocused. The absence of sensation was worse than the pain had been. It made room for something else to settle in.

Listen very carefully to me, the Alpha said, and Bran did. He couldn’t help it. What remains of you can still choose. Choose ease. Choose belonging. Or I will remove the rest and leave you as nothing but a drooling husk.

Images pressed in—his brothers transforming alongside him, skin turning black, large horns sprouting out of their heads. Muscles growing that no amount of work in the gym would be able to produce. Their cocks lengthening and thickening, balls growing massive. His mind stalled at the idea, strangely pleased that this would be what was waiting for him. 

The idea of resistance felt heavy and pointless. The idea of letting go felt… simple.

Ty stepped into his view, smiling with uncomplicated devotion. He didn’t threaten. He didn’t plead. He just watched, content until the Alpha spoke through him.

“Just give in. Join us and it can all be yours.”

Bran’s last defenses faltered.

He felt as his cock suddenly hardened, his body humming pleasantly as he felt something inside him shift. He looked down and saw the black spiderweb of veins spreading out of each scratch… the puddle of piss and black cum from his ass on the ground no longer looking repugnant and instead… inviting. Even tasty.

The Alpha’s satisfaction was immediate and complete.

There, it said. Now you understand.

Bran’s breathing slowed. His thoughts smoothed. The frantic edges of panic dulled into a blank, receptive calm. He was still aware—enough to know something essential had slipped away—but the urge to reach for it was gone.

The room steadied. The circle relaxed. And Bran, no longer fighting, waited for what came next.

The Alpha waited. That, more than anything, broke what was left of Bran.

No rushing. No spectacle. Just the unbearable certainty that the moment would happen whether he moved or not. The pressure in his head eased slightly—not enough to free him, only enough to make thinking feel like wading through syrup instead of fire.

Come willingly, the Alpha said, voice settling deep and heavy inside Bran’s skull. Or be carried.

Bran swallowed. His throat felt raw. He looked around the room one last time—at the wreckage, at the shadows, at the brothers he no longer recognized. Ty met his eyes and smiled with simple, unthinking contentment, as if nothing in the world was wrong.

Something in Bran finally gave way.

He nodded again. Slower this time. Deliberate.

Hands loosened the bindings. Someone helped him upright. The room swayed, but he stayed standing, guided forward step by careful step. Each movement felt like surrendering another piece of himself, not all at once, but in small, irreversible increments.

Slowly he kneeled down in front of the Alpha and nervously took its massive cock deep into his throat and sucked it, reverently cupping a ball in each hand and groaning at the weight of each in his hand. The Alpha gently grabbed his head and shoved it down, shooting a load down his throat before pulling his head up and nodded.

He suddenly felt the urge to stand up and climb onto the Alpha’s lap, and in one solid motion pierced himself to the core on the cock, fucking himself as hard as he could on it until with a deep growl, the Alpha shot again in his ass, black cum flooding him and filling him up in a way he never realized he needed.

With one final slam down, he felt as his cock erupted and began to coat the Alpha’s body in his uncorrupted seed.

The Alpha’s presence enveloped him completely.

Thoughts that had once defined him—responsibility, authority, pride—were lifted and peeled away. Memories blurred, not erased, just made distant and unimportant. The frantic need to resist dulled into a quiet, obedient calm.

Good boy, the Alpha said, satisfaction rippling outward.

Bran felt himself accepting what he was being shaped into—not because it was right, but because the idea of fighting no longer made sense. The house felt steadier now. Warmer. Whole.

He watched as his fellow frat brothers surged forward, licking his untainted cum off the black skin… his mind flooded with pleasure, enjoying watching his brothers consume the last pure part of him as he continued to feel his body painfully empty itself of the cum, set on giving that remaining part of himself to fuel their conversion.

His strength gave out at last. The world tilted. Darkness crept in at the edges of his vision, soft and inevitable.

As consciousness slipped away, Bran’s final clear thought wasn’t fear.

It was relief.

[BearCubCuntBoi]

19 hours ago, BearCubCuntBoi said:

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!

Speaking of main story...Will this all be a sort of fever dream by Graves? The cannonity of this special mini series would be quite the interesting addition if it were truly real! I'd also love the chance to ask for some guidance in writing my own stories, should you both grant me this Christmas wish this year. 😉

[kspozcum]

@BearCubCuntBoi: I can’t exactly speak for @leatherpunk16 on this, but I am always happy to help people with their stories, and to provide feedback and proofreading. Feel free to DM me any time you’d like. As for being canon, this is not, but we -may- have something very early in the pipeline being planned out. 

[kspozcum]

Chapter 8- New Year, New Me

Clearview University- North Campus. 05:44 MST. 20-Dec-20XX. REDACTED location.

The SUV hummed steadily as it cut through the snow, tires whispering over packed ice. On the side was the emblem for BLACKWELL, Bio-Level Authority for Containment, Knowledge & Epidemiological Lockdown. It had been formed shortly after the Helixion Event claimed their entire team, Black Sigma, just 3 months prior. The windows were darkened, the interior lit only by the dull glow of the instrument panel bleeding in from the front. In the passenger seat, Tobias Vahn leaned back with one boot braced against the floor, a bag of hastily eaten fast food resting loosely between his knees, looking far too relaxed for a man headed into quarantine.

Elias Kade sat beside him, rigid, arms folded, eyes fixed on the blurred white landscape sliding past the glass. He hadn’t spoken since they’d left the checkpoint.

“So,” Tobias said finally, breaking the silence like he always did, casual and careless. “What’re your Christmas plans?”

Elias’s head turned slowly. The look he gave him could have frozen the engine block.

“Playing dumb now, are we? Didn’t your brother already tell you how thrilled I was opening the care package your mother sent?” Elias asked flatly.

Tobias grinned. “Trevor? Oh yeah. He mentioned it all right.” He nudged Elias’s side lightly with his elbow. “Said Mom sent the onesies already. Red nose. Felt antlers. Just for the newest member of the family.”

Elias looked away again. “Don’t you dare call me Rudolph.”

That only made Tobias laugh. “Don’t even try to deny enjoying the tradition. I bet Trev already asked you to guide his sleigh.”

Elias didn’t respond. He shifted in his seat, jaw tightening, and after a beat deliberately changed the subject. “Just… give me the rundown, Tex.”

Tobias straightened a little, the humor draining just enough to let something professional surface. “All right… Reaper.”

He tapped the tablet mounted to the seat in front of them, pulling up the case file. “Frat house. Phi Alpha Gamma.”

Elias nodded, activating the turn signal and slowing down at their exit.

Tobias snorted. “Jesus… what a name.”

Elias looked over at him and let out a bored sigh looking at him.

“What’s so funny now?”

“Phi Alpha Gamma… FAG House? Really? Whatever… keep forgetting you never were part of the Greek system…”

Elias rolled his eyes, turning his attention back to the road.

“Anyways… Seven residents,” Tobias continued. “All male. All enrolled. All failed to show for finals. Campus security did a welfare check after a few professors escalated.”

The SUV passed under a streetlight. For a moment, Elias’s face was starkly illuminated—focused, alert.

“Security found signs of a struggle,” Tobias said. “Furniture displaced. Decorations destroyed. No bodies. No sign of forced entry however.”

“Local PD?” Elias asked.

“Called in. Then immediately sent away once preliminary forensics came back.”

Tobias scrolled. “Multiple biological residues found on site. Samples confirmed as bodily fluids. All samples tested positive for HIV-3, complete with the markers for human mutagen variants.”

Elias closed his eyes briefly. Opened them again. “Quarantine?”

“Full lockdown,” Tobias said. “BLACKWELL took jurisdiction. Media blackout in place. Anyone who came in contact tested, no positives in anyone.”

The SUV slowed as they approached the perimeter. Flashing hazard lights reflected off the snowbanks ahead.

Tobias glanced at Elias. “We were too late,” he added quietly. “Again.”

Elias didn’t answer. He reached for his respirator, already slipping back into mission mode.

The SUV rolled to a controlled stop just short of the cordon. Red and amber lights pulsed against the snow, painting the night in slow, warning colors. Beyond them, the frat house sat dark and ordinary, its porch light burned out, windows black. It looked abandoned in the way only places that shouldn’t be empty ever do.

Tobias flicked the tablet fully toward Elias.

“A’right,” he said, business now. “Names, faces, and what we know.”

Elias leaned in, eyes tracking as Tobias scrolled. Each profile slid past with the same sterile formatting—photo, age, role in the house, medical notes. Normal kids. Normal histories. Nothing that justified a BLACKWELL response on its own.

“Campus security went in first,” Tobias continued. “They thought it was booze, finals stress, maybe a prank gone wrong. Found overturned furniture, broken ornaments, the tree down. No blood. No bodies.”

Elias’s gaze sharpened. “But I’m sure plenty of biologicals.”

“Damn… looks like everywhere,” Tobias said. “Floors. Furniture. Basement stairs. Maintenance room.” He paused. “That’s when PD backed off and called us.”

He tapped a file and brought up lab results. “Semen. Urine. Saliva.”

Elias didn’t react outwardly, but his shoulders tightened.

“Like I was saying, all samples were positive for HIV-3 and HMV…” Tobias added. “Extremely high viral load. Uniform markers.”

Elias exhaled slowly through his nose. “That doesn’t happen by accident.”

“No,” Tobias agreed. “Which is why the house is locked down. Quarantine radius established within the hour. Media blackout—‘carbon monoxide leak’ for now.”

“And the missing?” Elias asked.

“Seven residents,” Tobias said. “No confirmed sightings since the night before finals. Phones dead or abandoned on site. No exit footage. Nothing on traffic cams.”

The SUV’s engine idled softly. Snow tapped against the roof like static.

Tobias hesitated, then scrolled further. “One more thing.”

Elias glanced up. “What.”

“Frat vice president,” Tobias said. “Derek Vance.”

He brought the file up and held it there.

“Medical history includes a confirmed CCR5-Δ32 mutation.”

Elias went very still.

Tobias didn’t look at him as he continued. “Same mutation you have.”

Silence stretched between them, thick and loaded.

Elias nodded once. “Meaning resistance,” he said quietly. “Not immunity.”

“Exactly,” Tobias replied. “Which means if he’s involved—”

“—then maybe we have a chance at a new ally,” Elias finished.

They both looked toward the house again.

The lights ahead flickered as a generator kicked somewhere in the perimeter. The snow kept falling. The frat house remained dark.

Whatever had happened inside it had selected its targets carefully.

And it hadn’t finished speaking yet.

—

They suited up in silence.

Respirators sealed with practiced ease, filters clicking into place with the soft, final sound of containment protocols engaging. Tobias adjusted the straps at Elias’s shoulder automatically, muscle memory from other sites like this—places where the air itself had become a liability.

“Feels festive,” Tobias muttered, glancing at the snow piling against the curb.

Elias didn’t answer. His eyes were on the house.

Phi Alpha Gamma sat behind police tape and portable floodlights, its Greek letters still bolted proudly above the door. Someone had tried to decorate for Christmas. A string of lights drooped unevenly along the porch railing, half of them dark. One red bulb blinked intermittently, slow and tired, like a failing pulse.

They crossed the threshold together.

The front door stuck before giving way with a dull crack, wood warped by cold. Inside, the smell hit immediately even through the respirators—stale beer, the reek of cigar smoke, pine sap, old urine, something metallic beneath it all. The air felt wrong. Not thick, exactly. Just… used.

Tobias swept his light across the living room.

The Christmas tree lay on its side near the television, ornaments shattered across the floor like glittering debris. Tinsel clung to the couch cushions. One stocking hung torn from the mantle, its contents spilled and trampled.

“No forced entry,” Tobias said quietly. “Whatever happened, it started inside.”

Elias moved slowly, methodical. His gaze tracked details Tobias knew better than to ignore: drag marks in the carpet, smears on the arm of the couch already flagged with biohazard tape, a half-empty beer bottle knocked beneath the coffee table.

The television was still on.

Static hissed softly, filling the room with white noise. Tobias frowned and muted it. The sudden quiet felt heavier than the sound had.

“Basement?” Elias asked.

“Eventually,” Tobias said. “But let’s finish the main floor first.”

They moved deeper into the house. The kitchen showed signs of interruption rather than chaos—chairs pushed back, a case of bottled beer stacked neatly near the counter as if someone had been in the middle of moving it. A faint trail of boot prints led toward the back hallway, then vanished.

Elias stopped near the couch.

“There,” he said.

Tobias followed his line of sight.

A single gift box sat on the center cushion, perfectly upright amid the mess. Red wrapping paper. A crisp silver bow. Untouched by the surrounding destruction.

Two names were written on the tag in neat block letters.

FOR TEX AND REAPER

Neither of them moved for a moment.

“Forensics couldn't have missed that,” Tobias said softly.

“No,” Elias agreed. “That’s for us. Seems someone must have snuck in and left it for us.”

The house creaked around them, settling in the cold. Somewhere deeper inside, a pipe knocked once and fell quiet.

Elias stepped forward.

“The Alpha wanted us to see this.”

Elias stared at the box for a long moment before touching it.

Protocol said to wait for a containment tech. Protocol also said do not interact with unknown media devices. But nothing about this scene had followed protocol so far, and the longer Elias looked at the box, the more certain he became that it wasn’t going anywhere on its own.

Tobias shifted beside him. “You want me to call in a team and—”

“No,” Elias said quietly. “If this is meant to be seen, it’s meant for us. I’m sure he wouldn’t leave us any clues on it.”

He picked it up.

The box was light. No ticking. No vibration. Inside, nestled in cheap green tissue paper, was a single black flash drive. No logos. Just plastic and metal, clean and deliberate.

Elias’s jaw tightened. Picking it up and turning it around before finally seeing the small Korean anime girl etched on the case. 

“Of course,” Tobias muttered. “One of Pixel’s, I’m sure. Because who else would leave us such a clue?”

They exchanged a glance. Then Elias walked to the television, inserted the drive into the side port, and stepped back. A single movie file was on the drive, and grabbing the remote, Elias selected it and hit play.

The screen flickered.

Static gave way to video.

At first, it was hard to tell what they were seeing. The footage was shaky, handheld—someone laughing just out of frame. The camera swung wildly, catching glimpses of the frat house interior they were standing in now, but altered. Darker. Warmer. Lit by blinking red and green Christmas lights that were no longer there.

Then the figures came into view.

Tall. Inhumanly broad. Black, glossy skin reflecting the lights like polished stone. Horns curved from their heads in shapes that felt intentional—decorative, even. Several of them turned toward the camera at once. Each one waving at the screen. Their old team.

Tobias inhaled sharply. “Jesus…”

More figures moved into frame.

Young men. Naked. Smiling.

Elias’s stomach dropped as recognition set in—faces from the files he’d read in the SUV. Noah. Evan. Paul. Zach. Ty. Bran. All standing among the creatures as if they belonged there.

All in advanced stages of being transformed.

Every one of them looked altered in horrifying ways: posture too relaxed, expressions too vacant, eyes pure black. Horns starting to grow out of their heads, skin grey, teeth sharp and glistening. Their movements were uncoordinated but eager, like performers waiting for a cue.

Except one.

Derek Vance stepped into the center of the frame, pulling a chair behind him and slumping into it with a happy smile.

He looked… unchanged. Mostly. Still human in shape. Still smiling the same easy, arrogant smile from his student ID photo. A cigar hung from his mouth, ember glowing as he took a slow drag but his pupils were blown open, with black veins creeping off around them.

“Hey, Tex. Reaper,” Derek said cheerfully, waving at the camera. “Or would you prefer Toby and Elias? Hope you had a nice Thanksgiving.”

Tobias froze. “He knows us. What a cocky little shit.”

Derek laughed, smoke curling around his face. “Let me guess… Tex just said something cutting… Just so you both know, we already knew you both would be coming. We figured it’d be rude not to leave you something to open for Christmas. Don’t bother checking for anything of use on the box or drive… we made sure to hide our tracks.”

He gestured behind him.

The creatures shifted. The transformed frat brothers moved closer together. Someone off-camera began humming.

The tune was unmistakable.

Elias felt his blood go cold.

The camera tilted, capturing a line of creatures standing behind each transforming frat guy. As if on cue, Derek walked over to who Eli guessed was Gravestone, the largest in the group, and quickly backed himself onto the massive cock with a groan, pulling out the cigar out of his mouth and locking lips with him before placing it in Gravestone’s mouth. Gravestone grinned at the camera and smacked Derek’s ass hard.

For a brief moment they all stood there, and then it began.

Each one of their former teammates took a turn, slamming their dick hard into their frat boy, as each frat boy began to individually moan in key each word to “We Wish You A Merry Christmas.”

Tobias turned away instinctively, letting out a muttered curse, but Elias couldn’t. His eyes burned. His hands clenched at his sides.

Right as they reached the final part of the song, they sang in unison. 

“We wish you a Merry Christmas…”

The camera rotated again as the sound of growls and moans echoed out into the room, each man cumming on the floor or into a frat brother.

The camera stopped moving and faced the one holding it.

The Alpha.

Larger than the others. Horns more elaborate. Its grin was wide, teeth gleaming. It lifted one clawed hand and waved slowly at the lens.

The gesture was almost friendly.

The video cut back to Derek, with his cigar back in his mouth.

His eyes were fully black now.

“And a Happy New Year, Elias. We’re coming for you soon.”

“Fucking bastard,” Elias whispered, jaw clenched.

“Our master wanted me to say we’re long gone,” he said pleasantly. “Too late again, buddy. But don’t worry though—he’s very excited to see you.”

He leaned closer to the camera drawing on his cigar and blowing it at the camera, before blowing a kiss at it..

The screen went black.

The house was silent again.

Tobias swallowed hard. “Elias… what in the actual fuck…”

Elias didn’t answer. He was staring at the dark screen, his reflection faintly visible in it.

The Alpha hadn’t just escaped.

It had planned this.

And it knew exactly who was coming next. Like it had a fucking crystal ball or something.

Silence held the room long after the television went dark.

Elias was the first to move. He reached up and pulled off his respirator, dragging in a sharp breath that tasted like dust and disinfectant and something older underneath. Tobias followed suit more slowly, rubbing a hand over his face as if that might erase what they’d just seen.

“That was some psy-ops level shit right there. Tell me you’re as fucking disgusted as I am,” Tobias said finally. “Please.”

Elias shook his head once. “Too coherent. Too… personal. He’s playing with us now.”

He crossed the room and knelt near the couch, careful not to touch anything. The gift box sat open where he’d left it, innocent now, like it had never held anything at all. Around them, the house felt suddenly smaller—walls closing in, shadows pressing closer.

Elias tapped his comm.

“BLACKWELL Command, this is Reaper,” he said. His voice was steady, even if the rest of him wasn’t. “We’ve confirmed contact with the Alpha. I repeat, confirmed. Evidence recovered includes direct communication, pre-recorded taunting, and proof of full conversion of all seven subjects.”

A pause. Static crackled faintly.

“Copy that, Reaper,” came the reply, clipped and controlled. “We were able to see it ourselves from your live feed. Upload all the data immediately. New orders are pending.”

Tobias leaned against the wall, arms crossed tight over his chest. “They left it for us,” he said quietly. “Not just the video. The house. The scene. Like a god damn calling card.”

“Yes,” Elias said. “And a warning.”

His comm chimed again.

“Reaper, listen carefully,” Command said. “Site status is now a Level 5 Quarantine. No recovery. No rescue. No pursuit beyond perimeter. You are to disengage and await further instruction.”

Elias’s jaw tightened. “Disengage,” he repeated. “With respect, Command, the Alpha is mobile. It’s recruiting. It knows our identities.”

“We’re aware,” Command said. “Which is why this just escalated to Level 5. BLACKWELL is assuming full jurisdiction. A joint task force is being assembled.”

Tobias let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Another fucking task force. Great. Like the last one they got.”

“Tex,” Elias said softly, without looking at him.

Command continued. “Reaper, there’s another factor. Medical flagged something in the subject files you reviewed. Derek Vance.”

Elias didn’t respond immediately.

“Yes,” he said after a beat. “I saw it.”

“The CCR5-Δ32 mutation,” Command confirmed. “Same as yours.”

Tobias straightened. “Your point being?”

“The guys in the lab here think it likely explains why he reacted differently,” Command went on. “Why he isn’t transformed just like you. That makes Derek a dangerous vector, Reaper. Or worse… a prototype for the Alpha.”

The word hung heavy in the air.

Elias closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them, whatever shock he’d felt was locked down, buried under years of training.

“So what are my orders?” he asked.

Another pause. Longer this time.

“You and Tex are to return to base immediately,” Command said. “Medical screening. Another round of antivirals. Full debrief. After that— you’ll be on immediate standby.”

“Fucking lovely. There went our Christmas, Mom and Trev are going to be furious. Control, what about the Alpha?” Tobias demanded, leaning toward the comm like it might answer him directly.

“The Alpha is now designated a global bio-threat,” Command replied. “Reaper?”

“Yes.”

“If it reaches out again… we’ll need to activate Omega protocols.”

The channel went dead.

Elias lowered his hand slowly. The house seemed to exhale around them, as if relieved the conversation was over.

Tobias looked at him. Really looked at him. “They’re saying this is bigger than Helixion, aren’t they?”

“Yes.”

“And that thing—” Tobias swallowed. “It knows you.”

Elias glanced once more at the dark television screen, imagining the Alpha’s grin, the casual wave.

“It always did, remember?” he said, tapping his head in annoyance.

He replaced his respirator and turned toward the door.

“Come on,” Elias added. “We’re done here. Leave the rest to the clean up team.”

They both removed their suits and tossed them into the biohazard bin, listening as it locked electronically. Behind them, the frat house remained quiet and empty—quarantined, condemned, and marked.

Reaching into his pocket, Elias pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one up, exhaling in annoyance.

Tex looked over at him and sighed, muttering something about how Trevor would be pissed if he caught him smoking again.

Elias sighed, leaving a trail of smoke behind him, his mind fixated on one thing. He knew, without a doubt, somewhere beyond the cordon, the Alpha was already planning its next gift.

—

Derek kept his head down as he walked, the leather collar of his jacket turned up against the cold. Sunglasses hid his eyes from the bright glow of the snow, and anyone passing him would’ve clocked him as just another student cutting through the neighborhood—nothing remarkable, nothing worth remembering.

The phone pressed warm against his ear.

“Hey Ty. Tell the Alpha they found it,” he said casually, voice light. “Wrapped it up real neat. Whole place is crawling with suits now.”

A pause. Then a low, pleased hum from the other end.

“Yeah, Blackwell is moving in now,” Derek continued, slowing as he reached the end of the block. A government SUV idled at the corner, its lights dark, engine murmuring. “They’re packing up the scene as we speak. Quarantine tape, stern faces, lots of very serious words.”

He smiled.

Behind the lenses, his eyes were pitch black.

Another pause. Derek nodded along, even though Ty couldn’t see it. “Mm-hm. Told you they would. Always so predictable. Anyways, tell our Master that I’m off to the next recruit.”

He ended the call and slipped the phone into his pocket. For a moment, he just stood there, breathing in the winter air, listening to the distant sounds of radios and engines and people who thought they were still in control.

Derek pulled a cigar from his coat, bit the tip, and lit it. He drew deep, savoring the burn in his lungs, the familiar calm settling over him.

Next year, he thought, amused. Next year will be even more fun.

He adjusted his coat as he walked toward the waiting car, posture relaxed, unhurried.

His cock was hard and digging into his hip as he walked. With a brief grope, he adjusted his now massive uncut cock and balls and kept walking, sucking harder on the cigar and enjoying the feeling of the nicotine flowing through his toxic veins.

The phone buzzed in his pocket again. Derek pulled it out and glanced down at the screen as he exhaled a thick stream of smoke, opening the PigLoadr app on his phone.

Cumlvr99: You close? I need your load in me so bad, dude. Been taking loads all night.

He smiled as a picture of the guy’s ass loaded on the screen, gaping and dripping with white cum. He typed back without breaking stride.

Daddysboi25: On my way now. Hope your ready for me to change your fucking life.

He opened the car door, checking himself out in reflection, adjusting the black leather coat and aviator glasses, adjusting his wavy black hair and touching the newly-placed septum ring in his nose. Pulling out the cigar for a brief moment, he let out a large glob of spit into the snow, smiling at the ever so slightly grey tinge to it.

“Fuck, I look so much hotter now,” he said, grinning at his reflection.  Satisfied, Derek stepped inside, smoke curling after him as the door shut, smoke filling the cabin.

“Time to go claim another victim.”

The engine revved as he pulled away from the curb.

And somewhere, deep beneath the city’s noise and lights, something ancient and satisfied watched the road stretch open ahead.

—-------------------------------------

That concludes this year’s Christmas Special. We hope you enjoyed this one-off event, as it was a lot of fun writing it.

With that, Merry Christmas from the Master Pathogen team. We hope you all have a great holiday and look forward to continuing the main story in the new year!

- leatherpunk16 and kspozcum

 

Edited 2 hours ago by kspozcum