Barrel's Backlog

(NSFW/ 18+, absolutely NO minors) Step into Barrel's Magic Shop, where your wishes might just come true...(Blog for generally TF/growth themed stories, half furry, half human) Submit your wishes in the ask box! There are only a few rules. Your wish can't cause harm to another, and it can't rob someone of their own body. (also, no slob, gore, or underage related kinks/wishes)

[barrels-backlog]

Well hi there! Glad you could stop in today, lil one… Looking for anything in particular? I got a fair few trinkets here that might interest ya, all a reasonable price, all guaranteed to be what you’re lookin for, or your money back. Hm? Ye wanna know about me, eh? Sure…

Name’s Barrel Jones. Half moon bear, half tanuki. Nook was my pa’s side, actually. I make magic items and sell em in this here shop. Anything I don’t already have in stock, I handle personally. People call me a wish granter, most times. Long as it ain’t gonna hurt anyone, I’m usually amiable to helpin ya out. I got this power for a reason, and I wanna make people happy with it. Found there isn’t really much I can’t do with it, really only depends on what I’m willing to go through with. Bring me those worries, those aches, the anxious buzzing in your head, and I’ll give ya the relief ya need. These rough ol’ paws know their way around most anything, I’ve found. So, anything on yer mind? Fancy a wish, a little spice in your life? I might have just the thing…

[mcbaer]

Jake couldn’t hide his surprise when this huge, bearded guy suddenly approached him at the gas station, asking him for a lift like it was nothing. He was a perfect stranger and yet he just casually walked up to him, introduced himself as ‘Pa’, placed his meaty, furred hand over his shoulder and behaved like they knew each other for years. All Jake could do was muster up a faint nod of agreement before Pa practically led him back to his own car.

For the first few minutes of the ride Jake couldn’t believe how insane he was to let this guy inside his car He didn’t as much as a blink or question what was he even doing on that gas station in the middle of nowhere or where he was headed to. While some hirsute guy with a bushy, grey beard and a big gut poking out of his denim vest was pretty far from the image of a serial killer that he always had in his mind, Jake still didn’t feel all that comfortable sitting only a few centimeters away from a complete stranger who looked liked he could probably break him in half with his bare hands without even working up a sweat if he ever wanted to.

Pa must have sensed the rising tension, because before long he started chatting up Jake in a fairly friendly manner, eventually even telling him various stories from his life in an attempt to lighten up the mood a little. While the plan seemed to have been working rather well at first, so much in fact that it almost seemed like any moment now the whole thing was going to turn into an actual conversation. It all went south the moment Jake learned that his companion spent a good portion of his life as a leader of a notorious biker gang, riding his hog across the country.

Now that Pa had actually admitted himself that he really was someone to look out for, Jake simply couldn’t keep on telling himself that his intimidating appearance was the only reason he was so afraid of this giant of a man. But even then, Pa was acting rather quite friendly and benign, wasn’t he? Maybe he was just worrying too much.  

Instead something completely different was starting to make Jake feel concerned. It was the increasingly musky smell that was slowly filling the air inside the car. His nose had picked up some faint whiffs of it earlier, but as the time went on it only grew more and more pronounced. It seemed like it was only a matter of minutes now before he was going to be breathing nothing but his passenger’s body odour.

It didn’t even smell all that bad really, just very musky and… kind of masculine actually, more or less how you would expect somebody to smell like after a whole day’s worth of physical labour. At the beginning Jake found it only slightly irritating to his nose and thought that he would get used to it eventually, but the moment Pa lifted his arms while stretching out, and a wave of his pure, concentrated pit stench filled the cabin of the car, Jake realized that he had been overly optimistic.

The cloud of ripe musk coming off from Pa’s pits was so intense that after his first breath Jake felt so dizzy, he actually had to slow down for a moment. Immediately he found himself thinking that if he were to lean in closer, and try taking a full breath after burying his face deep inside Pa’s furry, ripe pits, he would have been knocked out cold for sure. But just as quickly Jake realized just how crazy of a thought that was and shook his head, wondering where it could have possibly came from. He smiled and looked towards the mirror, about to give himself a “What the hell man?” kind of stare, but instead his eyes went completely wide when he noticed a dusting of dark stubble covering his face.

Crap, did he forget to shave today? No… he couldn’t, he spent nearly an hour in his bathroom preparing for the meet up with his buddies later today. But even then, that fuzz looked so much thicker than just a single missed shaving session could have possibly amounted to. More like a whole week’s worth of his usual beard growth. How could he have missed it until now?  

This was bad, he couldn’t just show up at Ed’s place looking like a slob and especially not smelling like one. If they ever caught a whiff of Pa’s stink on him, they would never have believed the whole story about getting manoeuvred into giving a car ride to a real life mountain man.

Jake always had serious trouble with saying anything that could have been construed as indiscreet or impolite to others, even when they didn’t have an appearance of a humongous bigfoot. Coming up with a right way of letting his passenger know just how disconcerting he found his smell was really quite troublesome for him. Eventually Jake decided that the best course of action would be to just roll down all the windows and hope that Pa doesn’t see it any sort of affront on his part. Much to his surprise the very opposite happened.

The moment Pa noticed what he was doing, he patted Jake over the cap resting on the top of his head and proceeded to pull out a stubby cigar from the front pocket of his vest, thanking him and saying that he really needed a smoke. Before Jake even had a chance to come up a single word of protest, the car was filled with thick, fragrant smoke. As if kept inside by some magical force it persistently lingered around, refusing to let itself be blown away by the countless gusts of wind that rushed inside the cabin through the open windows.

Jake was starting to boil inside, he tried to be nice and hospitable but this was too much! Not only did he waste so much time driving this guy around but now his car was also going to be soaked in the stench of his sweat and cigar smoke! He started turning towards the man with a death stare on his face, fully prepared to stop the car and at least attempt to kick him out, but the only thing he was met with was Pa’s cocky smile that showcased the fat cigar sticking out of his bearded mouth.

Pa blew out a huge cloud of grey smoke directly at Jake and watched as it enveloped his body. Just as the smaller man opened his mouth to say something he swiftly stuck the cigar between Jake’s teeth, patted him over his cap again and chucklingly asked him not to look so angry anymore. Explaining that he knows very well how much Jake loves his stogies and that he was always planning on sharing it with him.

Jake had no idea what he was talking about, but that didn’t matter, suddenly he found himself involuntarily breathing in some of the cigar smoke. Instantly feeling like he had to slow down the car to an almost full stop at the side of the road, fully expecting to be coughing out his lungs any moment now.

But no such thing happened, Jake did feel the smoke slowly rolling through his throat, burning it up and eventually getting all the way to his lungs where it gave him a really pleasurable rush. He couldn’t quite place its smell, but he liked it. It reminded him a bit of how Pa smelled like, but there was still something more to it, he just couldn’t figure out what. What he found himself enjoyed even more was the oddly salty taste that the end of the cigar had left on his lips.

Soon he was so lost in his thoughts as he contemplated the smell and taste of the smoke and how it made him feel, that he completely forgot that he was just about to kick Pa out of his car a moment ago. The buzz inside his head kept on growing with every next lungful of smoke that he took in, and eventually Jake’s head was so foggy that he barely even noticed when Pa pulled him out of the car and gently carried his limp body over to the passenger’s seat, saying that Jake was in no position to be driving right now, and that he will take it from there himself.

Jake didn’t have much control of what he did after that point, he tried saying something when Pa rolled up all the windows in the car, but it didn’t come out as anything even remotely coherent. Then he recalled feeling really hot and itchy all over, especially around his face. And after that his clothes got so impossibly tight that he was sure he was going simply burst out of them amidst all the ripping sounds he could hear..

That feeling was the worst around his crotch, especially after Pa got back to telling his stories.

They were all a bit different this time around, still about the various bikers and truckers he had met in the past, but so much kinkier than before. He recounted all his favourite truckstop glory holes and the numerous, nasty, perverted men he got to meet and fuck at each one of them. He described in great detail all the gangbangs he and his boys routinely threw out at the bars they stopped at, explaining to Jake that whoever was at the receiving end always found himself joining their crew afterwards. It didn’t matter who he used to be before, some trucker who bumped into them at a wrong time or a lone guy on a business trip who happened to take a stop at their favourite place, after Pa and his boys were done with him, he was a rugged, cigar smoking bear of a man like the rest of them.

Even then as his head kept on spinning Jake couldn’t shake off the feeling that there was something really weird about that story, but in the end he was way too horny to care. And the thought of Pa having his way with him, fucking him as roughly as he described, filling his ass with loads upon loads of his cum until he grew as big and furry as he was, seemed like the hottest thing imaginable at the time. Jake was so turned on that he was ready to whip out his rock hard cock right there and start jacking off, he knew that Pa would like the show, and maybe even join in.

He certainly seemed to be enjoying himself when he watched Jake as he moaned, groping at his crotch and chuffed on the cigar he gave him. Finally he turned to him and said that there is one more story he should hear, one he was bound to love even more than the rest.

It was about one of the first men Pa had ever changed, someone young who looked very unassuming when he met him many years ago. But who had grown to be a real symbol of masculinity for all the other men they encountered on their journeys. Pa was right, there was something special about that story, something that made it so Jake just couldn’t contain his arousal as he frantically clawed at at his jeans, trying to free his cock. When he finally managed to rip his fly open with his bare hands Jake began jacking off like there was no tomorrow, splattering the entire car cabin with his oozing out precum.

There were no questions inside his head about what was going on and how did his pants suddenly become so tight he couldn’t get them off without tearing them apart. All Jake cared about was blowing a big load against his chest and hearing the rest of what his passenger had to say.

Pa told him about how he seduced that man and how they spent their first night together at a roadside motel, having rough, sweaty sex and feeding each other cigar smoke. Fuck, that sounded so hot, Jake blew a small cloud of smoke against his crotch and nearly came when it scattered after a moment. His cock and the hand holding it had grown, not by a lot but it was instantly noticeable. He continued to repeat that process and watched as his tool became thicker and longer each time, the fingers of his hand that wrapped around it getting meatier and covering with more and more hair, until it became a real bearish paw with truly monstrous beer can cock within its grasp.

Pa wasted no time describing how his lover ended up looking in the morning. With his beefy, barrel chest covered with a forest of chestnut hair, the bushy, luxuriant beard and his immense size that rivalled even himself, he became the epitome of masculinity. With each word Jake felt his body changing as if to match the description. His arms and legs suddenly burst out of his clothes leaving them in tatters on the floor, his shirt split in half, now looking more like a sleeveless vest as it exposed his growing chest.

Jake couldn’t hold back anymore, he was so turned on he thought he was going to go crazy, not a single drop of doubt had remained in this torrent of excitement he was experiencing. He watched as his pecs pushed out of his chest and covered with fur, his beard grew out further and creeped up higher on his cheeks. But he still wanted more, Jake seized his cock with his massive paw of a hand and began beating off even faster, showering his body with more smoke from the cigar that within minutes turned from a sizeable stogie into a tiny nub clamped between his teeth as it accelerate the change.

Jake started running his other hand across his body, feeling as it curved around his belly, his pecs, as more of the hair sprouted underneath his palm. When the realization came that he was almost there, almost ready to become that furry, hulking beast from Pa’s story Jake’s cock simply exploded, covering everything with ropes of his creamy, milky white seed.

But Pa’s story didn’t end there. He told Jake about all the years they had spent on the road together, all the men they had met and transformed into sexy biker bears before they both grew older and decided to settle down. Jake felt a bit strange, his mind was foggy just like the air inside the car, filled so thickly with the haze-like smoke he couldn’t see anything clearly but then things began to gradually start coming together. Everything that Pa had told him about, they didn’t feel like just some random stories he’d heard before, more like memories, his own memories. Jake found himself remembering every last one of them like he had experienced them before himself.

The smoke began to clear up and so did his head. Jake looked at the beefy belly peeking out from his vest and gave it a firm pat. Yeah, it’s gotten a bit big as he grew older but he didn’t mind that, not at all, it only added to his rugged papa bear looks. He turned to Pa and smiled, judging by how turned on he looked, he didn’t mind it either, Jake chuckled.

Sure, they might have settled down and their beards might have turned completely grey by now, but they still as horny and virile as on the day they first met. In fact Jake had only just told Pa about these few cute cubs he had met earlier and they were inside their truck and on their way in an instant. He couldn’t wait, there was nothing he loved more than some hot, sweaty cigar sex with a bunch of younger bears.

[brawnybear]

[mutabear]

Frank had no idea he had grabbed his roommate’s music player by mistake when be went go the gym. He realized it wasn’t his as he was about to start lifting, but figured some music was better than no music. He selected a playlist called “Bearmaker”, and liked the rock music. He figured the headphones bad a crappy wireless connection, as there were small bursts of static or white noise every so often. Frank hit the weights hard, surprised by the energy he had. He was able to go up by 10 or even 15 pounds for his 5 x 5, and barely felt fatigue. As he got in front of the mirror for the overhead press, he watched as his stubble began growing. He thought he had shaved this morning, but he already had dense stubble, much darker and thicker than he normally had. With each rep, the stubble grew. By the end of all five sets, he had a thick half inch long beard covering his face. Frank could have sworn he preferred the clean cut look, but clearly he had been mistaken. Frank continue with his work out, going through deadlifts and squats. The more weight he was lifting, the more his new-found beard continue to fill in and grow. After 30 minutes at the gym Frank already had several inches of thick, bushy beard and his mind accepted that was how he had always looked. In addition to that, other parts of his body was changing as well. He was a decently built guy, with thick muscles and his chest and arms, but now he was getting a dense layer of fur over his body as well. He usually shaved his chest to make his muscles pop more, but that seemed to be a mistake in his memory. He also could have sworn that he did cardio on some days to try to keep himself more trim, but with a gut like this, he must only ever go to lift. In addition, he could tell he was really starting to stink. He could have sworn he usually made sure to apply deodorant, but the next time his arms went up and he caught a whiff of his pits, he remembered that he liked the way he smelled after working out and would just wash that area down with soap. No need to cover up his musk. Frank finished off his curls, and then went to the sauna to steam. He tossed his shirt off in his locker before checking himself out in the mirror. He smiled, admiring his big, bearish body. He looked at his face in a little confusion, and begin touching and patting his beard. He watched as it continued to grow before his eyes, lengthening down to several inches. He went into the sauna, and since he was the only one there, he turned the volume up on his headphones and relaxed. He must have lost track of time, but the clock on the wall said he’d only been there for 15 minutes. He shook himself from his stupor and went to go mix himself a post-workout protein shake. He viewed himself in the mirror once more as he was heading back to his locker. He sighed a little bit, knowing he would need to braid his beard when he got home. It was well past his pecs, and he had a sense that if he continued listening to the playlist all the way through the ride home, it should be down to his waist. That was what his brain told him would be right, that he should look like a large intimidating bear of a man, and since they were only 30 minutes left on his playlist, he figured he might as well listen to it all the way through.

[burrcapts]

Well-Aged and Well-Hung

Here's one of the new caption stories from my Patreon if you enjoyed it and would like to read more stuff like it, there are a handful still unposted ones my discord channel! Plus a brand new one about a guy leaving work only to find the streets filled with tons of hulking, furry pipe bears: https://www.patreon.com/posts/151270546

“Holy crap duuude! Look at this thing! I bet Stacy would totally love a necklace like this, she’d been dropping hints about wanting something fancy for her birthday for like the whole month!”

You kept on rolling your eyes but after seeing your best friend’s excitement as he jumped around this antique shop you just didn’t have the heart to bring him back to reality by telling him that this shiny thing probably cost more than his entire apartment or maybe even his parents’ house. But there were probably some worse places out there to be stuck in, at least unlike that concert Eddie took you to last week this one didn’t seem likely to permanently damage your hearing. Plus, some of this stuff actually looked pretty neat despite smelling a little musty… Though you figured that was to be expected, it was as if you were in the middle of some kind of a labyrinth made out of all kinds of old looking crap, paintings, statues, vases covered in mosaics and countless other, barely holding together antiques… 

Suddenly you caught a whiff of a smell you didn’t quite expect to find here and as you turned your head, you found your eyes going wide as faint curls of smoke slowly drifted through the air right past your face. Oh crap! Was there a fire in here or something?! You whipped your head around to get Eddie’s attention but he seemed to have wandered off in the meantime so you quickly turned back around, quickly discovering just where those wisps of smoke were coming from… as odd as it sounded, it seemed like someone didn’t put out this pipe before placing it on the wooden display stand it occupied.

Wow, even this thing looked like a genuine work of art, with its large, wooden bowl painstakingly sculpted to resemble some old, bearded guy’s face. Every wrinkle and strand of hair on his pudgy face seemed so real that for a moment there you almost thought you saw it move and blink at you as if it was alive. You remembered that there was a sign near the entrance warning not to touch anything but what if something really were to catch on fire because of it? This entire shop would be gone in minutes like a box of matches and it’s not like you have seen any staff around anyway…

You picked it up and sure enough, the bowl felt a bit warm to the touch. For a moment you stared at it completely transfixed, admiring the level of detail and wondering just how someone would go around sculpting a thing so ridiculously detailed. Then suddenly you let out a surprised yelp, just barely stopping yourself from dropping the pipe to the floor. Holy shit! You weren’t seeing things earlier, this face did actually move! The wooden eyes shifted like they were staring straight at you, it gave you a wink as the mouth curled into a smirk and then opened up wide.

In an instant, a thick spiral of smoke erupted from between its carved lips, briefly drawing a curve through the air before wrapping itself around your hand before you could even react. Your first thought was to toss the pipe away but for some unknown reason you found your fingers clutching onto its bowl even tighter now. You could only watch as the smoke coiled up your arm like a living thing, moving up your limbs with impossible speed. Before you knew it, its plumes had already engulfed your whole chest, you felt its warmth as it surged up your neck and then face, its dense cloud nearly fully blocking out the sight of the antique shop around you. 

You opened your mouth to shout for Eddie only realizing that it was the dumbest idea ever when it was too late, the very moment your lips split apart, the smoke was already prepared to rush down your throat, forcing its way straight into your lungs. You began to cough violently, the harsh taste of tobacco burning inside your chest, your eyes watering as you doubled over, still unable to let go of the pipe in your hand.

For a second you thought you were actually going to suffocate right there, but just as you were about to take your last, desperate breath, you suddenly found the smoke flowing inside you without any resistance whatsoever. Not even a faintest scratch could be felt inside your throat, almost as though your airways have also discovered a brand new appreciation for this exquisite, premium tobacco blend, growing intimately accustomed to it at the exact same time you did… How curious… a sense of calmness proceeded to wash over you as you straightened your back, even if truth be told you found yourself at a bit of a loss… unexpectedly having a particularly difficult time trying to recall what it was exactly that left you so deeply perturbed just now… certainly not this fine specimen of a pipe? 

Oh, that couldn’t possibly have been the case.. Yet at the same time you had to concede that it seemed a little peculiar how only a second ago you could have sworn that its bowl had been adorned with an expertly crafted carving of a rather dashing gentleman’s face. Yet now all you could see as it laid nested within your fingers was your own, not a smidgen less galant reflection staring back at you in the dark, polished wood. But it only took a moment before its stem was placed rightfully between your lips, pipes were to be enjoyed after all, not simply admired, especially ones packed with such delectable tobacco! Oh… you could hardly suppress your moans as you drew on it for the first time, savoring its refined, complex notes as they melted on your palate. Your turgid member already calling out to you, tempting you to partake in your second favorite activity despite being in such an indiscreet locale.

“Holy fucking shit!!! What happened to you dude?!”

A terrified shriek of a younger man rushing towards you had momentarily pulled you out of your pleasureful reverie. You hastily confirmed that your pecker was indeed still well within the confines of your fly so what could have possibly warranted such an uncouth outburst? You removed the pipe from your mouth and tilted your head slightly in confusion and yet this young ruffian still continued to stare at you with his mouth wide agape and eyes as if ready to pop out of their sockets!

After yet another insistent stare from his direction, you sighed and glanced downwards to see what might have possibly placed him in such profound distress. Immediately you were greeted by the edges of your magnificent, luxuriant beard as it cascaded down from your robust, puffy cheeks, blending in with even more snowy white tufts that densely stuffed the wide-open collar of your tailored suit. Your chest was broad and powerful but any brawn cultivated in the distant past could never dream of approaching in its grandeur the true monument to indulgence that proudly jutted beneath your teats its round glory. You gave it a light pat, feeling reassured that despite appearing visibly strained, all of your shirt’s buttons were still entirely successful in their valiant effort of containing its girth. In total, nothing seemed to be amiss whatsoever…

You placed the pipe back in your mouth and ran your large hand across your beard, relishing the sensation of the silken, perfectly groomed strands gliding past your fingertips. Then you shifted your attention back to the younger man who by now grew even more agitated and barely coherent as he proceeded to unceasingly blather about something that supposedly had just happened to you. Insisting that he was in fact a close acquaintance of yours and just saw you being swallowed by smoke, only to emerge from it as ‘some old, fat guy’ as he put it. You scoffed, unsure if more at his sheer impertinence or perhaps simply just at how preposterous this entire notion appeared to be.

Calling this young boy underdressed would hardly begin to describe the full extent of his haggard state with those old, torn-up jeans and the garish t-shirt of some vulgar music group. Even the most cursory glance was sufficient to assess that this scrawny hoodlum lacked both the refinement and culture required for a gentleman of your standing to ever wish to associate himself with… However, after witnessing the sheer force of his conviction, a tiny fragment of you began to wonder if perhaps this pipe that he so desperately implored you to get rid of, did perhaps have some special power.

A mischievous smirk crossed your bearded lips… while you had no intention whatsoever of ever parting with this magnificent briar, if this young man did in fact insist on staying at your side, then perhaps its powers could be harnessed to refine him as well into a more… amicable form. Your stubby cock was already beginning to twitch within the silky folds of your briefs as you pictured it. His athletic frame did show some promise, but in truth it was hardly enough to whet your appetite… the lad was going to need far more substantial endowments in order to properly fulfill the duties you had planned for him. Both in terms of muscle and no doubt also the one area that counted the most when it came to satisfying your big, hungry arse behind the bedchamber doors. 

This rascal must have been shrewder than he appeared at first glance because it didn’t take him too long after you began to draw on your pipe before he seemed to catch on and turned around to run. But when you opened your lips and exhaled, hardly a few more squeaks of his sneakers against the hardwood floor managed to reach your ears before the rapidly surging smoke was already at his feet, engulfing his entire body. You heard him choking, gasping for air, his voice dropping octave after octave with each desperate breath, slowly reaching the desired timbre when he could no longer help himself and unleashed a true cacophony of moans so wonderfully ripe with helpless need and desire that it made your cock drip.

His features remained hidden behind the hazy, grey veil but by now his body was inflating to such obscene proportions that even its silhouette left hardly anything to the imagination. His shoulders squared and broadened, biceps easily reaching and then far exceeding the size of actual watermelons, chest exploding outwards into a boundless meaty shelf as his legs, now immense, sprawling pillars of pure muscle worked tirelessly to keep this hulking colossus fully upright. When the smoke finally began to dissipate you found him in a far more agreeable pose than before. Spine straight, hands clasped behind his back and eyes attentively focused on you with a composed, submissive expression, a truly perfect image of your new butler.

“Hello, how may I serve you today, Sir?”

Hearing this muscular giant who by now towered over you by well over a head addressing you with such respect and reverence suddenly felt so fitting… just as well as the choice of his new outfit. Thankfully that ghastly shirt and pants were completely gone, with only a bowtie underneath a small white collar adorning his neck and a black pair of skimpy posers, tight enough to immediately reveal that your wish regarding his endowment was fulfilled in an equally satisfactory manner. As eager as you were to inspect it up close, you simply had to take a moment to fully admire the very monument to the male physique he’d been turned into. Every smallest muscle was fully defined and sculpted to absolute perfection that would have made even the Farnese Hercules blush, all of it honed with utmost diligence and rigour… of course… you expected nothing less from your personal assistant.

You approached slowly, hearing the floorboards creak with each step, your substantial belly swaying from side to side as you savored the view as well as this delightful tobacco which caressed your tongue. His new, full beard and the dusting of blonde hair over his chest have captured your gaze for almost as long as his bulge. They made him look so virile… so profoundly masculine… your hole was already twitching with need but before you had him make you squeal, you fully intended to have some fun first…

With a mischievous smirk, just barely visible underneath your voluminous, snow-white mustache you extended your hand, only narrowly succeeding in cupping his enormous manhood within your pudgy, weathered palm. Aside from a barely audible whimper which slipped past his lips, your butler’s composure remained unbroken even as your fingers have fully wrapped themselves around his firehose of a cock through the soft fabric. But you were relentless, steadily fondling and massaging its entire length all while observing his brutish, broad-jawed face beginning to blush and cover in perspiration as he desperately tried to hold his trembling, colossal form in check. His head slowly tilting backwards as helpless gasps echoed from his throat. Oh yes… he was in your full control and you both knew it.

You slipped one of your chubby fingers behind the waistband of the posers and pulled them down, letting his gargantuan slab of meat spring free as it smacked right against his gigantic abs with a meaty thwack, spraying both his chest and your beard with countless, shiny beads of precum. Even before you laid your eyes on this unshackled, pulsating monstrosity you were already hungrily licking your lips, feeling your mouth overflowing with saliva, but now you simply needed it! The lad was perfectly trained, you found one of his arms already extended to serve as support while you descended to your knees, his posture not wavering in the slightest even when you balanced your whole weight against it.

You let the pipe stem out of your mouth and leaned forward, opening wide in the thrilling anticipation of finally getting your lips around that magnificent shaft… yet when you were only mere inches away from tasting his youthful, masculine essence, why were you suddenly the one trembling and starting to hesitate?

“Eddie…”

You heard yourself whisper, but not in the aged, sonorous and commanding baritone that you were accustomed to hearing resounding from your throat. No, it sounded more like a meek, confused voice of some scared boy. Why were you suddenly so terrified of that name?! Of course deep inside you knew exactly why… it belonged to your best friend… a guy you knew since college… a guy whose cock you were just about to suck off! Oh shit, what the fuck was going on here?!

“Is everything alright, Sir?”

You could hear the tension in his voice, as if he were fruitlessly trying to say something else but only those words were allowed to ever come out. He was still in there too! Fuck, you had to help him! Your eyes darted to the pipe still clenched within your hand, you saw smoke rising from it, angrily billowing in your direction as if it could sense that you were back in control. Oh fuck! You saw it shooting towards your face in countless white tendrils, you wanted to block them, cover up your mouth and nose but you were so huge, so monstrously huge and so awfully slow… your arm was only halfway to your mouth when it had already been filled with smoke that reached all the way down to your lungs. And by the time one of your hands had arrived by your lips, its only purpose was to place the pipe’s stem back where it belonged so you could enjoy yet another lungful of this refined and profoundly invigorating fragrance.

“With a scrumptious treat like this prepared for me to enjoy? I am feeling decidedly splendid, my dear Edward!”

Your robust voice was once again thick with desire, however as you glanced upwards you took note of your butler appearing rather disconcerted for a change, his panic-stricken countenance fidgeting slightly as if he was trying to shake it, yet at the same time quite unable to move his neck in the slightest. Oh, perhaps that silly lad still thought that you intended to merely tease him further, but no such thing! Now at last it was time for the both of you to depart together on your voyage into the land of the most blissful pleasures!

You parted your lips and exhaled, letting a few misty, grey curls descend upon Edward’s oh so appetizing manhood, embracing its imposing girth as they spilled down the veiny, engorged sides. It almost appeared to swell even larger right before your eyes as it violently jerked up and down, dripping like a broken faucet while your butler pleadingly moaned to you, imploring you to “snap out of it” or something along those lines. However you found yourself realizing that you did not quite care enough to inquire as to what he might have meant by it, after all you did not keep him around to be your conversation partner… For that both sides would have needed to keep their mouths unobstructed and you were already stuffing yours with his irresistibly swollen shaft.

Edward’s lightly salted precum mixed with the exquisite tobacco which still coated your palate made for a truly divine combination. You slowly dragged your tongue against the underside of his cock, sensing every tiniest ridge and crevice, feeling the ferocious heat which radiated outwards as his gargantuan form shook in untamed ecstasy. Your jaw was already aching from the strain as you attempted to fit the entirety of his humongous endowment down your throat, and yet you nevertheless greedily pushed forward, knowing that you won’t feel fully satisfied until you could smell the raw, primal scent of his pubic fur with your nose buried deep among it and could feel his huge, sweaty ballsack smacking against your beard with each thrust. 

Your own stubby member was aching so badly that you had no other choice than to send your pudgy fingers haphazardly fumbling with your pants until his angry head stood there, just barely jutting past the zipper. But even if you could hardly fit him within your palm, each stroke filled you with so much of this animalistic, ecstatic bliss that it only took moments before the facade of a refined man of culture that you have cultivated on the outside began to crumble, giving way to your true self, the absolute horny cockslut who moaned like a cheap whore as you tightly sealed your bearded lips around your butler’s obscenely throbbing piece of meat and began to suck with every bit of determination left within your huge, corpulent body.

Edward went completely rigid, his immense muscles flexing and contracting all at once as a strangled cry tore from his throat and his hips began to buckle involuntarily. Driving yet another inch past your lips and making you gag, but that only made it so much more exciting! His impossibly wide, gigantic thighs were quaking before your very eyes but you showed no mercy whatsoever and only hungrily drove deeper, bobbing your head in a frantic rhythm. Your hirsute moobs and belly jiggling with each rapid stroke of your stubby nub.

You were in heaven and as you lifted your heavy-lidded eyes to fully take in the view of this muscular behemoth helplessly trembling above you, of his tremendous chest heaving with each labored breath, of all the glistening sweat pouring in rivulets through every perfectly defined curve and valley on his Herculean body. His face was flushed deep red and tilted far back as endless moans and gasps poured out of his bearded mouth. What you so desperately craved was already well on its way. Edward’s voice cracked into a guttural roar as his entire form froze in place as if a marble statue and then began to flood your mouth with endless waves of virile, hot seed.

The first rope nearly made you choke as it shot straight down your gullet, but you greedily swallowed it all, moaning around the pulsating cock as it continued to unleash more and more of that thick, salty nectar which immediately threatened to spill past your lips out of its sheer abundance. But the cum-hungry fiend like you would never let even a single drop go to waste as your eyes rolled back in bliss, an orgasm of pure delight sending your rotund frame into powerful spasms. Yet even then you didn’t stop swallowing for even a second, didn’t stop sucking and milking that glorious piece of meat until it was completely dry.

When Edward finally slid his cock out your throat with an obscene pop, both of you found yourself turning to find an older, distinguished and finely dressed gentleman observing you from the side. He was still slowly stroking his newly spent cock, his eyes glazed with pleasure, clearly having just finished as evidenced by the mess staining the floor between his legs. Somehow you knew that he was the owner of this antique store and with Edward’s prompt assistance you heaved yourself to back your feet, dabbing the corners of your mouth with the handkerchief you pulled out of your pocket.

“Hello my good Sir, please excuse this small indecency. I simply must inquire about purchasing this remarkable briar!”

Yet in reply you only saw his lips curving into a knowing smile underneath the monumental, white mustache which adorned them.

“Oh, my dear fellow, this magnificent performance alone was worth far more than any monetary sum I might have requested for this little trinket, please, do consider it yours. I only ask that you recommend my establishment to other acquaintances of yours, a place like this truly thrives on word of mouth, I believe you understand.”

After seeing that mischievous glint in his eyes the implication was indeed not lost on you and after thanking him profusely you once again nodded your head and gestured for Edward to follow you to the exit. As you stepped out into the afternoon air, the pipe was already back between your lips, delighting you once more with its exquisite taste. Yet you knew that the pleasures of the day were far from over, your hole was already twitching in anticipation of all the things Edward was going to subject it to with his monumental instrument once the both of you arrived in your bedchambers. The road back home couldn’t possibly be short enough.

[burrcapts]

The Circus is Coming to Town

Here's one of the new caption stories from my Patreon if you enjoyed it and would like to read more stuff like it, there are a handful more posted in my discord channel! Plus a brand new trucker themed one posted today! https://www.patreon.com/posts/149037435

Timothy stood outside the small gathering of striped tents, pacing back and forth, checking his phone for who knows which time. Still nothing from Mr Henderson… Timothy assumed that if anything was wrong his fiance’s dad would give him a call... It must have been something like fifteen minutes or so since the older man had excused himself, muttering something about finding a restroom somewhere in this weird popup circus they had just been passing while on a stroll. The whole thing was really so unbelievably strange, Timothy could've sworn this stretch had been empty storefronts or something like that when he'd walked to the bar an hour earlier before their meeting… they couldn’t have possibly set up all those colorful tents and miles of flickering lights so quickly, right?

He slid the phone back into his pocket and decided to take a hesitant step towards the entrance. Damn, he really hoped that Samantha’s dad was okay, the evening had been going so well too until now. It seriously felt like for the first time since he'd proposed to her, her father had actually seemed to be warming up to him. They'd talked about all sorts of things over the whiskey, business, sports, even managed to share a couple genuine laughs. And then on top of that he got a pat on the back from Mr Henderson as they were exiting the bar! 

Admittedly he still did look at him a little funny when Timothy tried calling him Robert, rather than by his surname, but he thought he’d scored more than enough points tonight than what he could have possibly expected. Then they passed next to this rowdy gathering of lit up tents and it seemed to really make Mr Henderson feel nostalgic, he even briefly talked about how his father used to always take him there whenever the circus came to town, back when he was younger. 

“Oh gosh, this darn bladder… nature calls Timothy. All that scotch just flies right through me these days, you know. I think I’m gonna go and see if I can find a bathroom somewhere in there. Wait here son, I’ll be back in just two minutes.”

Timothy was so starstruck by Mr Henderson calling him ‘son’ that he didn’t even think to ask if he could come along. Even now, a handful of minutes later, replaying that sentence in his head gave him a warm, fuzzy feeling. But he was also starting to really worry, he should definitely check up on Samantha’s dad… 

Timothy stepped toward the entrance and the air had changed instantly, even before he saw the smoke his nose started to itch from the stench of cheap tobacco and something else… it was so pungent, like sweat or… as if someone had missed a shower or a whole handful of them, and after a few more steps forward he saw exactly who. 

He froze, the narrow alleys between the cramped up tents were completely packed, except not with merry families or young couples spending their time together like he would have expected. It was all clowns! And not just any clowns, they sure had the red noses and face paint, but every single one of them was some kind of a hulking monstrosity! So ridiculously huge, massive and burly. Each and every one squeezed into a tight singlet painted in red and white stripes, looking like it was ready to burst at the seams any second. And then on top of that, clamped within their wide, dopey grins were by far the largest and thickest cigars that Timothy had ever seen in his life, just cartoonishly huge!

This is what he’d been smelling from so far off, they were huffing and puffing so much that it almost looked like the whole space between the tents was filled with a thick, low hanging fog. Ugh, the stink of their sweaty, hairy bodies combined with those cigars was just twisting his stomach into a knot. He coughed, waving a hand in front of his face as he ventured further, but the haze was simply everywhere, there was no escaping it and he could practically feel it clinging to his skin and soaking into his clothes.

Timothy would have loved to get the hell out of there this instant, but he knew that he couldn’t leave Samantha’s dad alone with all those muscular freaks. It seemed like each of the clowns had some kind of a theme going on, he’d just pushed past a genuinely humongous one in a cowboy hat with a sheriff badge pinned to his singlet, his barrel chest covered in a pelt of sweaty hair, puffing up to an almost comical degree as he toked on his gigantic cigar and exhaled immense clouds of smoke that made Timothy’s head spin even though he’d covered up his mouth and held his breath for as long as he physically could when he passed him.

“HYUCK! HYUCK! HYUCK!!!”

Oh god, Timothy turned his head after exiting the smoke and he so wished that he hadn’t… there were two of them, easily over two meters tall, muscles bulging obscenely and even though he’d only seen their silhouettes in the shadows it was clear what they were doing. The wet slapping sound, the dumb giggling turning into deep, passionate moans, both of their massive bodies thrusting back and forth. Two of those freaks were actually going at it in the shadows between the tents!

He felt cold sweat covering his skin as he frantically looked around, how could he not have noticed it earlier? There wasn’t a single one of them in sight without a gigantic, wet stained bulge jutting from their crotches! He had no idea what the hell was going on here, but Timothy knew that he had to find Mr Henderson this instant! 

"Excuse me, I… I’m looking for an older man, suit and tie. He came in here a few minutes ago looking for a bathroom. Have you maybe seen him?”

Feeling desperate Timothy approached the by far the least creepy and intimidating looking one of them who had been ogling him from across the alley, a short, portly one built like a ball of fat, wearing a top hat and a monocle, with huge mustache and sideburns. 

“An older gentleman? Oh yes indeed my dear, I believe I have seen him accompanying Thump and Thomp to the tent over there. The good man is in for some marvellous time, I can still feel my own rump aching after they’ve had their way with me! HYUCK HYUCK!”

He watched as the clown pointed with the tip of his huge cigar towards a larger tent with dense smoke pouring from beneath its flaps as if it was on fire, even before he understood what that freak was getting at as he reached underneath his beach ball stomach to fondle himself, Timothy was already moving, bolting straight ahead towards the entrance.

***

“Please… I… I can’t breathe… this smoke…”

Robert wheezed, the smoke inside the tent was thicker than soup. He couldn’t even see his own hand in front of his face… he couldn’t see anything other than those two gargantuan figures who were holding his arms and hauling him further and further inside. They looked like those old fashioned circus musclemen he used to see plastered over posters as a kid, bald heads shaved shining smooth, greasy black handlebar mustaches and skin tight singlets that left nothing to the imagination. He winced when he first spotted the outlines of their massive, throbbing erections squeezed tightly by the fabric against their muscular stomachs. He tried to run at first, but their grip was like iron and he wasn’t sure if after a couple lungfuls of the air inside this tent he would have even been able to stand on his own anymore.

“Tha smoke! HYUCK HYUCK! Yer gunna have ta get used to it if ya wanna join the crew pops! What’s a clown without a big, fat stogie between ‘is lips? Ain’t that right Thomp?”

Giggled the one who had previously introduced himself as Thump back when Robert still didn’t suspect that anything was amiss. His twin brother Thomp quickly joined in on the sinister laughter as he pulled the cigar the size of an actual wine bottle from between his teeth and showered Robert’s face with an immense plume of smoke. He was feeling so hot, his thoughts growing so jumbled up together that even formulating a single sentence suddenly required a near impossible amount of effort.

“No… this is wrong… I don’t want to join anything… I was just looking for a bathroom…”

The exhaustion in his helpless, pleading voice only seemed to amuse them more, as they giggled even louder, giving each other sly, knowing looks as if they were getting close to the punchline of a great joke they both knew all too well.

“HYUCK! HYUCK! HYUCK! Everyone who comes to the circus must join the crew, those are tha rules! Now open yer kisser wide pops!”

Robert was so disoriented that by the time he began to realize what this freakishly huge, musclebound clown was talking about, the cigar was already in Thomp’s hand, traveling towards his mouth at a breakneck pace. He’d made a huge mistake, he should have closed it and turned his head away, rather than opening it even wider in protest. Suddenly this obscenely huge log of folded tobacco, topped with a red, glowing tip was right between his teeth, stretching his lips around its immense girth like an airtight seal.

Oh god… he let out just the faintest shocked gasp and even that was more than enough to send plumes of thick, acrid smoke rushing down his throat straight from the cigar’s end. The instant they made it to his lungs, the most intense, violent heat erupted all across his body, but especially down there… down between his legs. Robert started to hear some strange, frantic sound and then realized that he was the one making it, moaning like a wild animal as his cock was straining, painfully erect against the zipper of his pants, throbbing so much it made his knees buckle.

The pressure only continued to mount… this time around within his abdomen, he looked down and saw the halves of his suit jacket pushing to the sides as a humongous mound of fat was swelling underneath his shirt. Robert’s mind screamed at him that something like this was simply impossible, but he could see right before his eyes as his previously moderately sized paunch of an older businessman near his retirement inflated into an absolute beach ball. Sending the straining buttons of his dress shirt flying off into the haze that filled the tent and exposing naked skin covered in a riot of white body hair.

Robert screamed around the cigar, trying to spit it out, but the sound was completely muffled, they had lodged it too tightly between his teeth, it didn't even budge as he violently shook his head back and forth.

“Gosh darn, look at that gut Thump, pops is turnin’ into one hairy fucker! Callin’ dibs on fuckin’ his furry hole first!”

The clowns seemed to hardly notice his efforts to get rid of the cigar, instead far more captivated by the hairy stomach now ripping his expensive shirt to absolute shreds, one of them beginning to caress it all over. Robert was scared out of his mind and yet even all the adrenaline coursing through his body was no match for the impossible pleasure he felt when that large, calloused hand rubbed against his distended belly. No… this was wrong… he started violently thrashing around, only to come to an abrupt stop when he felt Thomp’s hand sliding a little further down.

Robert’s eyes suddenly rolled back, the ecstasy was so immense he thought he’d cum on the spot as the hulking clown’s fingers started fondling his engorged, unbelievably sensitive cock. He wanted to fight it, he knew he had to… but his body didn’t want to listen anymore. His hips bucked forward, grinding into that massive palm, and he couldn't stop himself from inhaling again, pulling more smoke deep into his lungs. Each breath was like an orgasm, it wasn’t just his gut swelling larger anymore, but rather the entire body, growing so hulking and huge, ballooning out with muscle and fat, all of it covered with a wild pelt of fur. He could hear his biceps ripping the sleeves of his suit wide open, felt the itching on his face as the day’s old stubble exploded into a huge, bushy beard.

With each inhale of the smoke, the horror was giving into wild, uncontrollable lust. A dumb, horny giggle was rising from his own throat, fuck! He needed to fuck! HYUCK! HYUCK! No, dear lord… Timothy… Timothy must be looking for him by now, he just had to… Robert shuddered at the powerful throb of his cock, no… he just had to hold on… hold on a little bit longer until he came.

***

“Mr Henderson!”

Timothy pushed the tent flaps apart and burst inside, immediately choking on the dense fog. The smoke was somehow even thicker here, immediately wrapping itself around his whole body as if it was alive. He could hardly see anything through it, but the gigantic thing towering in front of him was impossible to miss. It was so huge that at first glance Timothy thought it had to be some circus prop, but then he saw it starting to move towards him… he recognized the outline of a freakishly thick and long cigar with a glowing ember at the end… It was one of them! 

The clown was well over two meters tall and somehow every bit as wide. Timothy froze in fear as he watched him taking a step forward, the very first thing to emerge from the impenetrable fog was his massive, round gut, clad in the same tight, striped singlet, an outline of an inhumanely large cock running straight up across it from below, its swollen bulbous head reaching all the way up to the clown’s belly button and soaking the material completely with the filth oozing from it as it ran down his bulky, musclebound legs. Only then came the cigar and the rest of the clown’s face…

Timothy wasn’t sure why but there was a brief moment where underneath all that caked on greasy face paint, countless pounds of puffy fat, bushy eyebrows and the most immense santa clause type beard which eclipsed his rotund face, cascading down over his chest in thick, white waves and countless snow-white curls that seemed almost impossible to distinguish from the sweaty, white pelt covering the rest of exposed skin on his body, he really thought that something about this hulking beast of a man looked familiar.

“Timmy!!! There’s my little helper! San Nicko had been waitin’ fer ya, boyo! HYOHOHO!”

Holy fuck… that voice… It was as if Timothy felt his blood turning into ice. No, this couldn’t be… 

“Mr Henderson? No, no way, who the hell are you?! Where is he?!”

As a response the clown only grinned even wider, his swollen cock throbbing visibly as he exhaled an actual cloud of smoke that gathered underneath the tent’s roof, then flexed his gargantuan biceps, each one couple sizes larger than Timothy’s own head and covered thoroughly in thick, matted fur. He looked right into Timothy’s eyes and then with a nod pointed straight at his chest with both of his thumbs.

“Yah, yer lookin’ at him boyo, but Henderson was such a boooring name! Hyohoho, it’s San Nicko now! Thump and Thomp gave it to me because they said I looked like Santa, but I also like a big, hard cock ramming up my chimney so I guess it fits! HYOHOHOHO!!!”

With that the bearded clown had turned around and bent over, revealing that the back of his singlet had been completely torn out around the ass, but even that wasn’t enough for his twisted and demented mind. He then reached back and spread his hirsute cheeks wide, making Timothy gag at the sight of his gaping hole, all the fur inside the crack matted with a massive load of fresh cum, globs of it dangling around with each movement.

“Thump and Thomp had to go check on some pesky police fellers, so now Santa needs someone else to fuck his big ol’ slutty ass! And his little helper arrived just in time! HYOHOHO! Santa reckons that with a little christmas magic yer not gonna stay so little for much longer, though!”

No… this couldn’t be… this was some kind of a nightmare… Timothy felt like he was going crazy as his brain was trying to process everything that was happening, but he didn’t even have time for that. The hulking santa clown that used to be his father in law began stomping towards him. Something in the back of Timothy’s head screamed at him to run, but he was too slow, the clown’s meaty, hirsute hands were already gripping onto his upper arms, lifting him up as his gargantuan gut pinned him against the broad, wooden tentpole. 

“Mr Henderson! Please, snap out of it! We need to get you help!

“HYOHOHO! Tha only help papa needs is with this terrible itch deep down his hairy crack boyo!”

Mr Henderson leaned forward, the glowing ash at the tip of the gigantic cigar clamped between his teeth hovering only millimeters away from Timothy’s cheek, but in an instant even that was impossible to see when with a maddening giggle the hulking clown exhaled as hard as he could, unleashing a concentrated blast of smoke right into his face. It didn’t matter that Timothy tried to hold his breath, the fumes have wormed their way up his nose anyway, filling up his body. It was as if they contained everything, not just the cheap, acrid tobacco, but also the primal stench of sex and cum, of all those hirsute, sweaty, unwashed bodies constantly rutting against each other.

It was like his lungs were on fire, and then the rest of his body… but it felt so good. A wave of intense, dizzying horniness washed over him, his thoughts growing dull as his brain came completely enveloped by this now, so pleasantly smelling fog. He sensed himself slouching back against the tent pole as his consciousness slowly drifted away. Something big and hard was placed in his mouth and Timothy instinctively closed his lips around it without any resistance. Only one thing seemed to exist for him now… his cock… solely the pleasure radiating from it with each powerful twitch was capable of piercing that horny, giddy veil which tightly encased his mind.

Soon it started to feel even better as his cock became enveloped by something so wonderfully warm and soft, almost by pure instinct Timothy’s hips started thrusting forward, the sensation simply overwhelming his mind. He began to moan helplessly and then heard Mr Henderson doing the same, his voice sounding so passionate and… slutty. Goosebumps covered Timothy’s body as his hips continued to move on their own, but he still desperately tried to pry his half-lidded eyes open just so he could see what was in front of him.

Oh god, he so badly wished that he didn’t… Samantha’s dad was bent over in front of him and grinding his massive, furry ass all over his crotch… this fucking slut… Timothy moaned around the cigar as that single thought passed through his head, his cock momentarily throbbing the hardest yet. In an instant he tried to yank himself away from underneath the clown, but his body hardly moved at all… something was wrong… he looked further down and discovered that his hands were tightly gripping onto Mr Henderson’s hips and then he spotted his own arms… holy shit… they were so enormous it seemed that if he were to give them as much as a tiny flex, both sleeves of his suit would come flying off in tatters!

Timothy watched as his entire body swelled before his eyes, buttons of his shirt straining against the expanding pecs and abs, his shoulders and back growing wider, he was terrified, breathing more heavily, more smoke pouring down his throat. Despite all the horror it felt so incredible, the sensation of all his clothes pushed to their limit by the sheer size of his hulking, musclebound body. He couldn’t stop thrusting forward, fucking that big slut’s loose, needy hole. His jaw was clenching harder around the cigar, teeth digging deep into the tobacco, sucking on more of the smoke with each breath. 

“That’s it boyo, ram is deeeep up Santa’s chimney HYOHOHOHOOOOOOH!!!”

Before hearing that horny, demented laugh was enough to twist his stomach into a knot but now the corners of his mouth were starting to twist into a dopey grin as well, a perverted giggle rising from his throat. HYUCK HYUCK! That’s right! Horny fuck! Needs to rut! Hnnggh… no… Timothy groaned, trying to wrestle back the control over his body, but it was useless. He heard a seam pop, then another, it was like a cascade, a series of firecrackers going off as his clothes had finally given out. Below he was greeted with a sight of his pecs, two meaty slabs of muscle covered with dark hair, below them came his bulging six pack, and even further down a cock the size of his old forearm.

He had no idea if it had first ripped straight through his pants and underwear or if they had rather been torn apart by his immense, expanding thighs, either way, his cock was now sliding all the way inside this hairy pig’s gaping, cum-drenched hole and it felt fucking amazing!!! He was huffing the smoke deeper and deeper, flexing his biceps and watching them grow, covering with dark, matted hair and popping veins. He didn’t see the red clown nose or the face paint appearing on his face, but at this point he probably wouldn’t have cared.

“HYUCK HYUCK!!! SO FUUUCKING HORNYYYY!!!”

He giggled as loud as he could, his jaw growing wider as dense stubble sprouted all around the cigar clamped tightly within his grinning mouth. He was fucking the ass of his former father in law even harder and faster, both sex crazed clowns filling the tent with horny, animalistic grunts as their bodies dripped completely with sweat. Last sparks of their old selves fizzling out, smothered by the overwhelming pleasure and smoke. This cock hungry Santa calling him down to his workshop for a good pounding was starting to become more real than the drink they shared at the fancy, upscale bar barely an hour ago.

The grapefruit sized, churning balls of the humongous, muscular beast that used to be Timothy were rapidly slapping against his new slut’s ass, the need to unload them becoming irresistible. He had his lips closed tightly around the cigar’s girth, drawing as much smoke as he could, flexing every muscle in his body as it grew further and further beyond human limits, ramming his gigantic swollen cock forward with every bit of strength he had until with a thundering roar his back arched as he began to cum, yet another gigantic load flooding the horny Santa’s insides until the pressure grew so massive that the seed was squirting down his legs.

Mere seconds later both of their hulking bodies collapsed on top of each other out of exhaustion, but even then, the embers at the tips of their cigars were still burning bright. It wouldn’t be long before the two of them were back up again, ready to spread their jolly horniness further and further across the city so that everyone they met could join their merry troupe as well!

[burrcapts]

BW-TK-004 field test report

BAER CORP Apparel research division report

Project: BAER WEAR tanktop BW-TK-004 field test

Initial subject: Ryan M.

Report Compiled By: Dr. B. Decker

Summary:

Subject Ryan M. (hereafter referred to as Subject #1) was selected as an ideal candidate for field testing of our latest BAER WEAR prototype due to multiple recent life disruptions: romantic separation from long-term girlfriend, recent relocation to an unfamiliar metropolitan area (minimizing his social network), intention to begin a fitness regimen based on his internet activity. Interception of the subject's online gym clothing order was executed without incident. Original merchandise was replaced with Prototype BW-TK-004 tanktop. Delivery was completed by newly acquired asset "Daddy Rick" (originally Richard Paulson, 31, now 54 prime example of a musclebear daddy, bearification achieved through conventional anal and oral penetrative conversion protocol by Senior Field Agent Ursus.) Daddy Rick reported no complications. Subject accepted package without suspicion. Subsequent email complaint of Subject #1 regarding visual discrepancy with the ordered product was successfully placated with an apology and a 50$ gift card. No further customer service contact attempted.

DAYS 1-2:

Browser history surveillance flagged search query: "gym tank top stinks even after washing". Research note: the beard hair and body hair harvested from volunteer BAER CORP employees woven into the fabric continue to produce detectable musk even after standard washing machine laundering. Further prototypes need to boost olfactory masking in order to prevent early-stage resistance. However, psychoactive effects of the musk remain fully potent despite repeated washing. Subject #1 was observed putting on BW-TK-004 within approximately six minutes of waking up, after having spent the night with it in his room. No further complaints regarding odor have been logged.

Day 3:

Upon wearing tanktop for approximately 3 hours and 46 minutes before arriving at the gym for his first workout, visible physical changes in Subject #1 have already been observed during the surveillance in the lockerroom:

-faint hair growth on previously entirely smooth chest

-darkening and thickening of forearm hair

-faint facial stubble, correlation with the effects of BW-TK-004 inconclusive, subject did not shave that morning

Post workout analysis revealed remarkable growth. Subject completed standard beginner routine (full body training, 45 minutes duration). Physical changes documented:

-Pectoral muscles have increased in size significantly, are now visible even through clothing

-Biceps circumference increased by approximately 3,4 centimeters

-Body hair thickened significantly across chest, spread across the abdomen and formed a distinct treasure trail

-Stubble transitioned into a visible beard shadow

-Overall muscular development equivalent to 4-6 weeks of intensive training in an average male

Day 4:

Subject doubled his training volume without any apparent signs of fatigue. Second workout duration: 97 minutes. Muscle hypertrophy continued at an accelerated rate, surpassing the projections. Overall increase in 9.3 kilograms of muscle mass and 13.1 kilograms body mass in total. The subject's chest is now becoming visibly barrel-shaped. Arms thick, veins becoming prominent across the biceps. Subject’s beard growth is now unmistakable, dark, coarse hair covering the skin around jaw and upper neck completely. Body hair spread to shoulders and upper back, increasing in density.

Observation of critical behavioral shift: Subject did not shower after performing his workout despite its high intensity and extended length. Proceeded to return to his apartment while still wearing the sweat-soaked tanktop. Home surveillance registered the following sequence:

At 17:12 subject opened his laptop, accessed a heterosexual pornography video saved on his harddrive “big booty blondie.flv”, watched the video for 1 minute 47 seconds, closed the video, laid down on his bed, pulled the front of BW-TK-004 up to his nose and masturbated for 4 minutes 18 seconds with his eyes closed before reaching orgasm. Substantial increase in ejaculate volume observed compared to previously established baseline during preliminary surveillance. The subject proceeded to rub the ejaculate into his chest before promptly falling asleep.

Day 5:

The subject’s muscle hypertrophy and hair growth follow the adjusted predictions. The subject is now approximately 19 kilograms heavier than the baseline. The beard became full and thick. Body hair is now covering the entire torso, arms, and legs, hairline shows signs of receding. 

After returning from the gym the subject initiated an internet search for new workout videos. While viewing a video featuring the professional powerlifter Harald Stein the subject became visibly aroused. The subject's gym shorts immediately tenting up, erection clearly visible through fabric. 

Following search history was documented:

“bearded bodybuilder” - 8 minutes of browsing through multiple short videos and pictures while occasionally palming his erection

“hairy muscle” - search performed on a pornographic website, subject continued to scroll through video list until finding one featuring a solo male performer, masturbation commences, orgasm reached after 7 minutes 13 seconds

Subject clicks on suggested video “Musclebear fucks his cub hard”, after less than two minutes of refractory period, subject’s member is fully erect again, he commences masturbating again and ejaculates in 3 minutes 41 seconds.

Subject clicks on subsequent suggested video “Alpha daddybear orgy”, after approximately three minutes of watching the video and breathing heavily, subject begins masturbating with increased intensity, ejaculation commences within 3 minutes 21 seconds.

The subject's stamina and recovery time showed dramatic enhancement compared to baseline. Ejaculate volume remained high across all three orgasms. The subject fell asleep with his laptop still open, gay pornography still playing, dried semen covering his torso and beard. The subject did not shower after waking up and moving to his bed or the morning thereafter.

Day 6:

Gym surveillance camera 7 located in the weight lifting area captured the subject performing bicep curls in front of the mirror. Visible erection formed as the subject watched his own reflection, creating an obvious bulge. The subject did not appear alarmed and completed the workout before proceeding to the men’s restroom. 

Bathroom surveillance camera 12 recorded the following:

The subject entered one of the stalls, pulled the front of BW-TK-004 and commenced masturbating while flexing his biceps. After approximately 47 seconds, subject left the bathroom stall and entered the public bathroom area admiring himself in the large mirror installed on the wall. Verbalization recorded: "Fuck yeah... so fucking big...", subject flexed continuously while masturbating and caressed the hair on his chest. Orgasm achieved within 1 minute 12 seconds. Ejaculate sprayed across the mirror and wall, substantial volume, thick consistency. The subject did not clean it up, pulled BW-TK-004 back over his chest and exited the bathroom.

Surveillance Team #2 assigned to Subject #2 (Trevor H.) for monitoring of subsequent bearification progress.

Days 7-10:

Subject #1 began to regularly interrupt his fitness routine with masturbation sessions in the gym bathroom, always ejaculating on either the mirror or the wall surfaces and never cleaning it up. Subject #2 began to arrive at the gym daily in hours coinciding with the schedule of Subject #1. Observed Subject #1 from a distance with visible signs of arousal and entered the bathroom immediately after Subject #1 left it, licking up the left behind semen and masturbating. Orgasm achieved in 42 seconds. On day 10 Subject #2 appeared to abandon his training routine. After confirming that Subject #1 was present in the gym, Subject #2 instead chose to spend the following 37 minutes slowly masturbating while hidden in one of the gym stalls in anticipation of Subject #1 entering the bathroom for one of his regular masturbation sessions. 

Subjects #1 and #2 show further augmentations to their libidos, stamina as well as ejaculate volumes. Visible physical changes to Subject #2 have been noted: Increased body hair on arms and chest. Facial hair growth significantly accelerated. Muscle tone improvement of 17% compared to baseline despite the reduction of exercise amount. Internet search history showed a progression from heterosexual to exclusively gay bear pornographic content over the 72 hour period.

Day 11:

A message exchange between Subject #1 Ryan M. and his former college classmate and associate Derek P. has been intercepted:

Derek: dude, all okay with you? Saw your new pics online, are you on gear or something? You look like a completely different person!

Ryan: no worries man, I’m not taking anything, I think it’s just those newbie gains I’ve been reading about…

Derek: lmao that’s not how noob gains work man! It’s been barely over a week and you’ve got a beard like a lumberjack and are so freaking huge and hairy! like some kind of a manbear!

Ryan: hell yeah cub, can’t wait to get even more MASSIVE!!!

Subject #1 closed the browser window and commenced masturbating while admiring his chest and biceps, repeatedly running his fingers through his beard. Orgasm achieved in 4 minutes 11 seconds. Subject #1’s dismissal of acquaintance’s concern indicates that psychological restructuring is nearly complete. The subject rationalizes physical changes without outside assistance, preventing cognitive dissonance that might disrupt the bearification process. Physical bearification continues to meet most optimistic benchmarks, subject’s muscle mass has increased by 34 kilograms compared to the baseline. The beard is full and thick. Body hair densely covers the subject’s entire torso, arms, and legs. Subject's penis is estimated to have grown by 4 centimeters, increasing in girth substantially. Subject wears BW-TK-004 continuously and never washes it.

Day 12:

Gym bathroom surveillance camera 12 recorded Subject #2 entering his usual bathroom stall in anticipation of Subject #1’s masturbation session. After entering the bathroom Subject #1 did not proceed to his preferred location facing the mirror and instead remained standing near the door, appearing to be listening closely. Subject #1 approached the stall occupied by subject #2

Vocalization recorded: "I can smell you in there cub, you've been listening to me, haven't you? Open up."

Subject #2 opened the door and nodded after establishing eye contact. Visible erection through gym shorts. Subject Ryan M. approached, grabbed Subject #2 by the throat and began to kiss him forcefully. After initial shock Subject #2 reciprocated while removing their clothing. Subject #1 bent Subject #2 over the sink, penetration occurring without lubrication. Subject #2 vocalized discomfort but did not resist, 17 seconds later facial expression shifted to extreme sexual arousal and pure bliss. Recorded intercourse duration: 19 minutes. Both subjects demonstrated remarkable stamina, maintaining rapid thrusting pace throughout multiple position changes. 

Verbalization included: "Take this fucking cock, yeah!", "You're mine now, cub" "Feel this bear cum inside you, cub?".

Ejaculation occurred internally. Subject #1 withdrew his penis, semen leaking profusely from Subject #2's anus. Both subjects dressed and departed separately, Subject #1 expressing that he expects to see Subject #2 in the same place the following day.

Following the sexual encounter with Ryan M., subject #2 Trevor H. experienced a dramatic acceleration of his bearification process. Throughout the intercourse the originally sparse body hair coverage increased by over 200%, substantial beard growth, muscle mass increasing by approximately 7 kilograms. Within the following 24 hours, Subject #2’s weight increased by following 11 kilograms, acquiring a large, full beard, substantial hair loss on the scalp with remarkable growth everywhere else below the neckline.

Analysis suggests that Subject #1’s semen is well on course to acquiring bearifying properties equivalent with males transformed through conventional penetrative means.

Day 14:

Intercepted text message exchange between Subject #1 and his father (Donald M., 52):

Donald M: Hi son, your friend Derek called me today and told me you look completely. He told me all about those different gym supplements and how dangerous they can be. I hope you are being responsible, he sounded really worried...

After reading the message Subject #1’s face appeared to exhibit signs of mental distress and concern as he proceeded to examine his naked body. 37 seconds later Subject’s penis began to grow erect despite Subject’s vocalization “please, no, don’t get hard again”, 11 seconds later Subject’s penis reached fully erect state. Subject exited to the bathroom and began washing his face with cold water exhibiting signs of heightened distress. 1 minute 52 seconds later Subject #1 began masturbating while flexing his muscles and admiring himself in the mirror. Ejaculation occurred 6 minutes 11 seconds later, observable increase in the volume and thickness of the ejaculate. The subject gathered all of it and rubbed it into his chest before returning to his cellphone.

Ryan M: no worries dad, feeling better than ever!

Research note: Potential intervention by the subject’s father represents an opportunity for further expansion of the study. Closer monitoring of the situation is strongly recommended. If the subject's father attempts an in person contact, integration as an additional study subject should be strongly considered. Dr. Hendricks expressed particular interest in overseeing the development of bearified father-son dynamics. Noting that any potential intervention from company side may prove to be unnecessary given Subject #1’s rapidly emerging dominant and sexually aggressive behavioral patterns.

-Body mass: 74.3% increase from baseline (74kg -> 129kg)

-Body hair: complete dense coverage on chest, back, shoulders, arms, legs, buttocks. Density comparable to an average freshly bearified male.

-Facial hair: Full thick beard extending to upper chest. Mustache fully connected.

-Scalp hair: 100% recession.

-Sexual characteristics: Penis length increased to 26 cm while erect. Testicle size increased approximately 40%. Semen production is highly elevated.

-Behavioral changes: Hypersexual, dominant personality, averages 6-8 orgasms daily. Exclusive attraction to male subjects, preference for bearish/bearded type. Hypothesized to instinctively understand that he is capable of making other males fit in with his desired archetype better.

Additional notes: Subject’s musk is detectable within an 8 meter radius. Other gym patrons show visible psychosexual alterations after prolonged exposure and increased arousal.

Day 15:

Mass bearification event involving Subject #1, Subject #2, two personal trainers employed by the gym, gym owner, 9 gym patrons.

Detailed summary of the event:

Event commenced at 9:42 AM during the regular intercourse session between Subject #1 and Subject #2, Nathan C. (further referred to as Subject #3, 29, heterosexual male) entered the bathroom. Body musk in the enclosed space reached critical saturation levels due to prolonged sexual activity, Subject #3 demonstrated an immediate physiological response and heightened state of arousal. Subject #3 continued to observe the sexual activity while massaging his growing erection for 52 seconds before being noticed. Despite vocalizing his surprise and concern Subject #3 remained stationary when the two other subjects approached him. Minimal resistance observed. Subject #3 was initially exposed to precum of the two subjects then came in direct semen contact through oral ingestion and internal anal ejaculation of Subject #1 Ryan M. Physical bearification is visible throughout the sexual contact, accelerated muscle hypertrophy and rapid proliferation of beard and body hair across chest, arms and buttocks.

Eleven minutes after the arrival of Subject #3 inside the bathroom, personal trainer Marcus W. (further referred to as Subject #4, 37, bisexual, engaged with a woman) entered seeking the client. Found Subject #3 mid-bearification initially not recognizing him due to the presence of the full beard, body mass increasing by approximately 21 kilograms, evident personality shift. Subject #3 initiated forcibly kissing Subject #4 while retaining traces of Subject #1's semen still in mouth, introducing bearification compounds directly. Subject #4’s resistance collapsed within 11 seconds after contact with Subject #1’s semen, proceeded to join the sexual activity willingly. Noted rapid physical changes - beard growth, muscle mass increase, extremely dense body hair spread, hypersexual frenzy.

Four additional gym patrons entered the bathroom over the subsequent 37 minutes. Each succumbing rapidly upon exposure to concentrated musk. Conversion pattern consistent throughout all four subjects: initial arousal, brief resistance, sexual penetration (oral or anal) and exposure to semen, immediate physical bearification. All newly converted subjects engaged in group sexual activity. Musk concentration reached levels detectable outside of the bathroom.

At 11:51 AM Gym owner Robert C. (further referred to as Subject #9, 48, heterosexual, married, retired professional bodybuilder, baseline body mass 108kg) entered the bathroom in a highly agitated and verbally aggressive state after complaints about the noise from other patrons. Musk exposure produced an immediate behavioral shift - any aggression ceased, visible arousal despite apparent cognitive resistance. Submissive posture adopted, immediately complying with Subject #1’s verbal command to strip naked and get on all fours.

Across following 1 hour 14 minutes all eight bearified subjects participated in repeated oral and anal penetration of Subject #9 causing him to undergo an extreme and rapid conversion:

Physical changes: subject’s body mass increased from 108kg to 149kg noting substantial muscle hypertrophy accompanied by significant body fat increase, pushing him towards the “daddy bear” physiology. Body hair proliferation extreme - complete coverage of every space under the neck with the thickest pelt observed yet within the BW-TK-004 study. Facial hair reaching the subject's stomach, hair turned fully grey. Apparent biological aging of 12 to 15 years, skin texture coarsened, overall appearance shifted from late 40s to mid 60s.

Behavioral changes include a complete personality inversion, the previously dominant authority figure within the fitness space is now a hypersexual, highly submissive bottom. Any expressions of verbal resistance registered during the bearification process have shifted to pleading for continued sexual contact after the conversion. His exclusive focus now appears to be serving other bearified males sexually.

Additional note: following the conclusion of BW-TK-004 field test, Subject #9 and Subject #2 moved into Subject #1’s apartment, now regularly performing domestic and sexual services for Subject #1 and Subject #24 (Donald M., Subject #1's father). 

Study conclusions:

BAER WEAR tanktop BW-TK-004 performance exceeded all projected expectations. Subject #1 (Ryan M.) transformation represents an outstanding success across all measurable criteria - full physical bearification, complete psychological conversion and behavioral modification and finally acquisition of full secondary transmission capability. Initial concerns regarding degradation of psychoactive compounds have proven to be unfounded. Subject’s bodily secretions produced after the exposure more than made up for initial repeated washing attempts. Subject #1 demonstrated no sustained resistance to the product's influence.

Bodily fluids of subjects #1, #2, #7, #9 and #24 achieved bearification potency equivalent to conventionally transformed subjects with other subjects projected to reach that mark after further exposure. Secondary and tertiary bearification chains have been established organically without any corporate intervention. Bearification success rate: 100%. No reversal observed. No subjects demonstrated sustained psychological resistance after exposure

Report compiled by Dr. B. Decker, Head Researcher, BAER CORP Apparel research division.

[mcbaer]

Hey guys, this is caption was a request from one of my Patreon supporters, if you liked it and would like to have something written for yourselves, please consider supporting me there, thanks! https://www.patreon.com/mcbaer

Mike knew that he couldn’t keep on doing this… It first happened a few weeks ago, just after his college graduation. He was having a small celebration with the two buddies from his class, it wasn’t anything flashy, they had a couple beers together, watched a few bad movies and played some video games on his console. It seemed like nothing out of the ordinary for three nerdy guys like them, at least until Steve remembered about the box of cigars he’d been keeping in his backpack. Apparently the guy at the smoke shop he got his vape from had talked him into buying a couple of them during his last visit. Mike had to admit he was a bit sketchy on the details and didn’t remember all that much of what was going on before they lit up the cigars. And for a long time he certainly wished he could have said the same thing about what happened afterwards… all it took was a couple puffs of smoke before things began getting really weird.

Mike remembered how much he loved the taste of the tobacco, he only agreed to put one of them in his mouth as something of a joke, but soon enough he was smoking that stogie like a seasoned cigarman. Closing his lips tightly around it, sucking deeply and then letting all the smoke slowly flow out through his nose and the corners of his mouth. His friends began doing the very same thing and as he watched them, he couldn’t resist putting a hand on his crotch, caressing his growing cock. Something told him to give them a good look at the bulge he was sprouting in there and when Mike took a quick glance at it himself, he realized that he was suddenly wearing a very expensive looking suit. He had no clue whatsoever as to where it came from, he was shocked to see his t-shirt and jeans disappearing like that, but at the same time, something about this seemed so right… so fitting for him… for all of three of them…

Jake looked just perfect in that pair of greasy, loose overalls, with a thick, smoldering stogie rolled into the corner of his mouth, teasing his big, meaty nipple that poked out on the side with a thumb and tightly gripping that fat cock of his through the dark blue fabric. Mike watched as he lazily opened his lips, letting out countless plumes of grey, billowing smoke that slowly enveloped his entire face. He seemed so blissful, softly moaning and tugging on his big piece of meat while his eyelids gradually dropped down and his head tilted back. Mike could feel his cock grow and pulse within his palm, it made him moan as well, he was so profoundly aroused, not caring one bit that it was his male friend he was suddenly lusting after.

He turned to Steve who looked every bit as sexy as Jake, he had a flat cap on his head and a sweater vest stretched tightly over his shirt. His face flushed red, he was holding his cigar with his teeth, at the very center of his mouth. Letting out quiet whimpers as he caressed his belly, making that sizable tent in his slacks steadily grow in size. But it wasn’t just his bulge that was getting bigger, Mike could see Steve’s gut pushing out against his fingers and spilling over his belt. He still remembered the moment when he put a hand on his own belly and felt it slowly swelling up. Nothing had ever aroused him this much before, he stood up and lumbered towards Jake, flopping down next to him on the couch. He looked even hotter up close, filling those overalls so nicely with the bulk that was slowly piling up on his bones. Mike could see the smoke leaking out of his half-open mouth, cascading down onto his body, whenever it touched his exposed skin, it would become a little more weathered, a little looser, growing patches of hair that soon entirely covered his chest and shoulders like a dense forest.

It seemed like both Jake and Steve, who wasted no time in joining them on the couch were starting to go bald. The discovery startled him a little, they both suddenly looked a lot older than their twenty three years. Mike could see the deep wrinkles forming around their eyes and on their foreheads, the skin sagging from their puffy faces that covered with stubble which in turn soon flourished into large, bushy beards. It scared him, but as he placed his hand on his cheeks and felt the silky, grey hairs sprouting between his fingers, he just couldn’t get rid of the sense that this was how things were supposed to be. The realization that everything he’d seen had been happening to him as well, aroused him beyond belief. The mere thought of becoming a fat, cigar smoking dad like his friends suddenly seemed so perfect.

He pressed himself tightly against Jake’s large, hirsute body and began gently kissing his lips, swapping the fragrant tobacco smoke between their mouths.Their beards began turning grey and growing even thicker as Steve’s mouth joined them, showering them with dense, milky haze coming from his stogie. Mike felt his hands all over him, pulling off his clothes, teasing his most sensitive parts. If he still had any doubts about what was happening to them, seeing himself without the suit on was enough to get rid of every last one of them. He’d grown so large… so sexy… he began grinding against his friends, kissing them more passionately than before. They’ve spent the entire night doing that, three big bellied daddies entwined in horny lovemaking, smoking their cigars and exploring their new bodies until they fell asleep inside each other’s arms.

At the time they couldn’t have imagined anything more perfect than that, however as they opened their eyes in the morning and found themselves back as their old selves, naked and piled on top of each other on his bed, it all seemed like a terrifying nightmare instead. Mike remembered every smallest detail of what happened to him, and the sight of his sweaty body caked with the cum of his two friends only served as a reminder that it was all real. Jake and Steve were so freaked out they didn’t even bother showering or cleaning themselves off before they dressed up and left. They used to be some of his best friends, but he hadn’t seen them even once since that night. Steve never returned any of his messages or texts, Jake only did it a few times, and just like him, probably only in an attempt to convince him that everything they remembered was just a bad dream of some kind, brought upon by these cigars that simply must have been laced with something really strange.

However it wasn’t too long before they both gave up as they realized it was only making things worse. Even just thinking about his friends made it all come back, and the most frightening part was how much he liked it despite everything. Mike tried his best to suppress it, to make himself forget all about it, but deep down he knew that he’d never felt as disappointed as when he woke up that morning and saw that the box of Steve’s cigars was empty. He had overreacted, all three of them have, he had seen it on their faces, even Steve’s… If there had been even one of those stogies left, they would have been ready to wrestle each other on the ground just for the right to light it up and take the first puff of its smoke. They were just too ashamed and too scared to admit it.

On the outside, Mike might have looked like his old self, but he began to realize that in reality he felt more like that same, big, fat daddy trapped inside of a body of someone much thinner and younger than he was supposed to be. Sometimes he would absentmindedly try putting his hand on his round beer belly to give it a rub and then be painfully reminded it wasn’t there anymore. He dusted off the suit he used to put on for the most important college exams and began wearing it all the time around the house. Sometimes stuffing the shirt with pillows and clothes to at least make it look like a part of his old gut was back. It wasn’t the same, but it still helped him to slowly embrace his true, dadly self. Mike stopped shaving altogether and began treating himself to the largest meals he could stomach, growing to love the feeling of being absolutely stuffed with food. Playing with himself while caressing his full belly after a healthy dinner was the only thing that came anywhere close to the memories of his night with Jake and Steve. Only other thing he needed was a big stogie in his mouth…

Mike never gathered enough courage to contact Steve and ask him where he got his cigars from, instead he began checking every single shop in town, one by one. At first, simply picking up regular stogies was enough, while also vaguely hinting at what he was really after. He would dress up, stuff himself full after returning home and then smoke one of them while looking at pictures of other hefty men and big, bearded dads online. While it seemed like he only found the place he was looking for by mere accident, he knew that was it as soon as he walked inside. It was almost like that huge, bearish man behind the counter was waiting for him. He placed a whole box of them in front of him before Mike could say anything. Not even bothering to bill him as he told him to come back soon.

Mike didn’t think twice about any of this and simply ran back to his apartment where he unpacked the box with his hands trembling from excitement. He knew they were the real thing from the moment he opened it, he never forgot the intoxicating scent of their tobacco for even a second. He put one of them between his teeth and walked up to a mirror. Lighting it up and sucking on it as deeply as he could. Allowing the fragrant smoke to escape his mouth and wash over him, changing his clothes into the same suit he wore on that fateful night. He barely had a chance to taste it before his body began to change as well. His hands were already on top of his belly when it started to swell up again. Mike could not contain his arousal when he saw it grow in the mirror, he only took a few puffs from the cigar but it was already so huge. He began to moan as the billows of smoke drifted across his face, returning his old, dadly looks, helping his beard sprout on his cheeks once again. Sliding his hand down, towards his crotch, he fished out his fat, needy cock out of his fly, gently massaging it with his plump fingers. Seeing his beard turning grey and his belly filling his shirt to its limit was enough to bring him to an orgasm. He gasped as thick strands of his daddy cum shot out onto the mirror in front of him, nearly knocking him out. He spent the next couple minutes panting loudly and not moving at all, only closely studying his reflection in the mirror as large tendrils of smoke shifted around his body. Mike slowly lifted up his hand, his thick, chubby fingers were still glued together with his milky load. He placed them in his mouth and began licking and sucking them clean, the taste bringing out some very pleasant memories…

[bearforcecaptions]

It had started out like any other quiet night at home. Ben Larsen and his husband, Tyler Grant, were celebrating their anniversary—seven years together. The evening had been simple, cozy: takeout containers littered the coffee table, and soft music played in the background. The small apartment they shared was warm and lived-in, with framed photos of vacations, friends, and family smiling down from the walls.

“C’mon, Ty. Let’s grab a pic for Insta,” Ben said, leaning over and slinging an arm around his husband. His brown hair was still damp from a shower, his clean-shaven face pressed close to Tyler’s cheek.

Tyler chuckled, brushing his blonde bangs out of his eyes. “Alright, alright. Just one, though. No filters, promise.”

They propped the phone up against a beer bottle, leaned in, and snapped the photo—a simple shot of two lean, boyish men in their late twenties, smiling wide with love.

Ben tapped at his screen, typing up a sweet caption: Lucky to have this man by my side for seven years. Here’s to many more. ❤️ He hit post.

But something went wrong.

The app refreshed, and both men froze.

“Uh, Ben… what the fuck is that?” Tyler’s voice was tight, confused.

Ben blinked at the screen. The photo was not the one they’d just taken. No, this was two massive, thickly-built men, shirtless, both with heavy tattoos curling across their chests and shoulders. One had a broad, hairy chest and a thick black beard that covered half his face, framed by a black cowboy hat. The other was bald under a straw hat, his reddish-brown beard full and wild, a glint in his eye as he leaned close to his buddy.

But it was the caption that made Ben’s blood run cold: WRECKED that hungry hole tonight—hot collab with my boy BUCK KELLER. Three loads and the fucker was still beggin’. 🔥💦🐻 Full vid up now—link in bio, don’t miss this bear meat show. It was on the profile of the black-bearded man—the account was named BEARBRUTE69.

And beneath that caption, a preview video had auto-played.

“Oh my god,” Tyler whispered.

There they were—those two men—grinding, rutting, gasping. The black-bearded brute pounding into his partner, sweaty bodies slapping, their guttural moans filling the room. Tyler’s face went pale, but before either could react, it began.

Ben felt it first. His skin itched and burned as dark hair began sprouting along his chest, then thicker, denser, as if years of testosterone flooded his veins all at once. His smooth face tingled, and red-brown stubble exploded into a full, wild beard, wiry and coarse, spreading up his cheeks and down his throat. His jaw widened, nose broadening, eyes deepening under heavy brows. His lean arms swelled with muscle and fat, thick veins rising along his biceps. His soft belly firmed up just enough to form a solid gut, framed by heavy pecs dusted with hair and tattoos curling across his shoulders—tribal patterns, skulls, barbed wire. His age advanced—he looked mid-40s now, roughened by hard years, his voice a gruff baritone with a lazy southern drawl he hadn’t had before.

Tyler tried to speak, but his voice cracked, shifting lower as his throat thickened. His clean face bristled with black stubble that darkened and spread in seconds, forming a dense, square-cut beard that framed his jaw like a pelt. His brown hair darkened to black, receding just slightly under his black cowboy hat as if it had always been there. His frame widened, arms bulging with thick muscle padded by a layer of bulk. Chest hair erupted, curling dense and sweaty across massive pecs, the same sunburst tattoo from the video branding his shoulder. He aged too—pushing past 50, with lines at the corners of his eyes, a nose broken once or twice in bar fights. His voice rumbled deep, with a slow, cocky Texan accent. His name wasn’t Tyler anymore—it was Hank Slade. Owner of this house. The black-bearded bearpig who just wrecked his buddy’s ass on camera.

And Ben? He wasn’t Ben Larsen now. He was Buck Keller, forty-six, a traveling content creator who lived for collabs like this, for the raw, nasty sex his subscribers craved.

Their apartment morphed around them. Gone were the photos, the cozy couch, the bookshelves. The walls became wood-paneled, adorned with leather straps, cowboy hats, and a giant mounted bull skull. The air smelled of sweat, cum, leather polish. A camera sat on a tripod in the corner, a lube bottle next to it, and used towels strewn across a battered leather couch. A jockstrap lay discarded on the floor. Hank’s house. Always Hank’s house.

The men sat, sweaty and sated, reality fully rewritten.

Buck scratched his beard, smirking as he looked at the post on Hank’s phone. “Fuck, man, didn’t realize you was gonna post that clip so fast. You’re gettin’ your subs worked up already, huh?”

Hank chuckled, voice deep and slow. “Hell yeah. My boys been waitin’ for this collab. They love seein’ me split some hole, ‘specially when the fucker’s beggin’ for more. You took that bear cock like a fuckin’ champ, Keller.”

Buck laughed, taking a long swig from a beer he didn’t remember grabbing. “Damn right I did. Shit, Hank, you sure know how to break a man in. My hole’s gonna be singin’ for a week.”

Hank leaned back, pulling out a fresh cigar and lighting it, the smoke curling around his thick beard. “That vid’s gonna make a killin’. Might hafta get you back here next month. Thinkin’ we do somethin’ in the barn. Got a few toys out there my subs been wantin’ to see me put to work.”

Buck licked his lips, his thick fingers stroking along his beard. “Hell, man, you just say when. I’ll be here. Ain’t nothin’ I like more than helpin’ a buddy get his nut on cam. ‘Sides, you wreck me real good. Feels fuckin’ right.”

Hank grinned, eyes glinting under his hat. “Bet your subs are lovin’ it too. They like seein’ that hole get opened up proper, seein’ a real man get bred.”

Buck’s cock stirred again in his worn jeans, the massive bulge straining the zipper. “Shit, Hank, you’re gettin’ me hard again talkin’ like that.”

“Yeah?” Hank drawled, leaning in close, his cigar clenched between his teeth, his breath hot with whiskey and smoke. “Might hafta fire up that camera again. Give ‘em a lil’ bonus.”

Buck chuckled, voice low and raunchy. “Fuck yeah. Let’s give the boys what they want.”

And that was all they knew, all they’d ever been—two filthy bear pigs, living for the next collab, the next video, the next load. The sweet anniversary, the apartment, their old names—all gone, as if they’d never existed.

[bearslikeus]

Dale was upset that the car rental was out of available vehicles. With his car in the shop he needed a way to around and to and from work. Friday evening. Horrible time to need a last minute ride.

The gentleman behind the counter said he did have one vehicle left but it wasn’t their usual quality. It was primarily used by construction companies when they needed a few extra work site vehicles. Dale didn’t care if it was cleaned out or not. He just needed some wheels for the weekend.

As the clerk handed him the keys there was a tingle of electricity between them. He smiled and took the keys.

Heading to the vehicle he was greeted by a big heavy duty pick up. Definitely a change of pace for Dale from his normal economic hatch back. He hopped up into the cab. The motor started with a loud rumble and he took off.

As Dale drove he was quickly becoming used to the ride. He adjusted the mirrors slightly as he drove along. Glancing in the rear view mirror he was startled by a flash of someone he didn’t recognize. As he approached a red light he looked long and hard into the mirror. He was greeted by his reflection. His face showing his exhaustion after a long day.

Green.

He took off down the road and rubbed his hands across his chest. Feeling the fabric tight across his pecs. He tugged at the collar. Dale shifted uncomfortably in the seat. Bringing his hand up to his face his calloused hand met stubble. Shocked by the sensation he held his hand in front of him.

Sure enough his hand seemed to clearly be those of a man who toiled daily with them. Not the soft hands of the office worker he was accustomed to. Looking in the mirror again he saw the reason for the stubble. A thick mustache the same light color as his hair was filling in.

He touched the mustache with the tip of his tongue. Feeling the bristly texture. Unsure how it could just appear as it did. But he liked it. It looked good on him.

The changes continued unnoticed for the most part by Dale. Or more appropriately he noticed how good he looked with each passing moment. Lightening hair. Full thick stache. Firm body.

He leaned over to the glove compartment and pulled out a cigar. That’s where he normally kept them in his truck. Firing one up he puffed away. Windows rolled up to really marinate in the scent.

As he drove it was a very vague sensation that he didn’t know where he was going. Yet he kept on down the road. It wasn’t until he stopped that it dawned on him. He had to swing by the job site and pick up a few things.

Getting out of the truck he immediately took off his polo. He wasn’t sure how his husband had managed to talk him into buying it let alone wear it. But he knew that it helped make a good impression from time to time. Much more so than the work dirtied t shirts and flannel cutoffs he work around the site.

Showing off his sun-soaked hirsute body and tattoos, Dale stretched his arms. He felt stiff like he’d been uncomfortable all day. He stroked his thick walrus mustache and made his way to the the for and trailer.

Kicking back at his desk he finished off his stogie while playing with his cock. He knew his husband hated it when he shot his load before getting home from work. Yet smoking always made his aroused. He could give it to him later that evening still no problem.

[bearslikeus]

Just look at yourself with that cigar in your mouth. You look almost as good as I do. Almost. Yeah. Just keep puffing away on it.

Thanks. I like your beard too. What? Well of course you’ve always had a beard. You don’t remember?

Don’t be silly Papa. You certainly don’t look like some college punk. You look like my handsome PapaBear.

Now just relax. Yes that is your favorite cigar. How could you forget. It’s the kind you always like to have while we fuck.

Of course I’ll fuck you, PapaBear. I know you just can get enough of my big bear dick.

I love you too.

[beardedbucktf]

Just grow up already!

Ethan had enough. He had been stuck with that new roommate only for a few months, in the same old cheap rent just to finish college, but every week had its issues. And right now? His freshman of a roommate Logan got back home at 3am, completely drunk, making an absolute ruckus without any care in the world. It was the fifth time this year, and October hadn't even started.

Slamming the entrance door, dumping his bag next to Ethan's door, throwing his shoes against the wall, and crashing into the couch before immediately beginning snoring, Ethan had woken up and he knew he was not falling back asleep anytime soon.

He knew something needed to be done; it couldn't keep happening! He was tired already.

"If only I had a better roommate," he muttered to himself, "someone more mature who'd let me sleep... Someone who knew how to take care of himself, ugh! Why am I stuck with such a kid who can't party responsibly! I wish he just grew up already."

As Ethan expressed his unassuming feelings to the air, unbeknownst to him, the air was listening. The young man still couldn't sleep, but somehow, he finally felt awake. His mouth suddenly felt very dry, so he slowly got up of his bed and began walking towards the kitchen.

The problem was, such a path meant having to go through the living room, where Logan was sleeping. Great, Ethan thought, the guy had thrown his clothes randomly on the floor and was now sleeping in his underwear, and snoring like a speeding truck. After a defeated sigh, Ethan moved on, and went to the kitchen to grab a glass of water, hoping it would be enough to get him to sleep.

However, as he passed Logan again, Ethan couldn't help but wonder: had his roommate always had abs? He could have sworn those weren't there a minute ago. Sure, Logan was a bit of a jock and hung out with the sports guys, but Ethan had never expected him to have such abs.

Now intrigued, the young man couldn't help but walk closer, inspecting his snoring roommate. And as if sensing his presence, Logan began... Changing. There was no other way to put it. Ethan couldn't believe his eyes.

Everything seemed to begin in the sleeping beauty's stomach, as if something was brewing deep inside his core. The abs that had just appeared soon began vanishing as a thin layer of fat made itself known, although one look at that belly was enough to understand the strength hidden underneath. A similar phenomenon was simultaneously occuring all through Logan's body, as hard toned muscle began pouring throughout every single patch of his body, arms becoming bigger than Ethan's legs, a chest now composed of two impressive slabs of meet, thighs rivaling tree trunks, and an ass that made the silent observer blush. And once that bodybuilder too wide for the couch he was sleeping on had stopped growing, it was time for a layer of fat to round up every muscle available. He still maintained all his bulges and curves, but now had a softness that made Ethan want to come closer and touch.

But that wasn't enough to make Logan into the mature roommate Ethan had wished for.

It began between the two meat jugs that were now Logan's pec. A hair or two were making themselves visible in his otherwise entirely smooth cleavage, but soon enough, they seemingly multiplied, flooding his chest and torso with body hair. Soon enough, his entire torso was covered in a deep, rich forest of long dark curls, that eventually spread onto his arms and legs, as well as creeping up his chin before linking to the short stubble that had begun making an appearance. But that stubble didn't remain unchanged for long, as it too soon grew into a dense but well trimmed beard, at the cost of the sleeping man's hair that visibly shortened and receded. His skin then began changing as well, as hints of wrinkles began appearing here and there.

After all, it was no surprise. Professor Logan Barrett had been teaching at this university for a while, he couldn't remain young forever—

Ethan froze. Professor? Where did that come from? Wasn't he roommate with an irritating freshman?

But the more Ethan looked at his professor, the more that thought slipped away, until he couldn't recall why he had held onto it in the first place. After all, being roommate with a professor had its perks, such as the low rent and tranquil evenings.

However, a loud ripping noise quickly took the student out of his reveries, as Logan's underwear gave way to the manhood that had been growing underneath. The overgrown glutes that made all the guys and girls of Professor Barrett's class — and even those who didn't even attend his class, like Ethan — drool had been terrorising his underwear since the beginning of his sleep, and his hardening rod had left it no hope of ever winning that stretching battle.

And that's when it hit him.

That cock had to be the biggest Ethan had ever seen — not that he had ever seen many outside of the sports locker rooms and showers, as he considered himself straight. But seeing that meat he was sure he couldn't hold without both hands standing straight alongside his egg sized balls underneath made Ethan's mouth water.

Logan's warmth, as his bulking hairy body was brushing against the younger man's legs. His musk, permeating through the air, and making Ethan's brain go numb.

"What are you waiting for, boy?" A deep, baritone voice called. "I know you want to suck it; go for it, you know we'll both enjoy it."

Ethan didn't even register that the professor had woken up. Instead, he just knelt in front of him, one hand grabbing his impossibly thick rod, the other groping his log of a thigh for stability.

Yeah. Being roommates with a professor had its perks.

[beardedbucktf]

The 1000th Guest

It had been a rough week for Ben. His car broke down, his boyfriend had dumped him for some popular jock and, just fresh out of college, he got turned down from multiple applications for boring but well earning office jobs. Clearly, he didn't have much going for him, and the reflection he saw in the bus' window seemed to agree on that. Sure, his friendly boy next door looks were nice, but in this bus alone, Ben could see many other guys looking similar enough, and most of them had something unique to them. He did understand a bit how his boyfriend — well, now ex-boyfriend — decided to go with some jock with a big dick.

He sighed. The lovers trip he had planned was already a failure, but having paid for two tickets, he sure wasn't going to just not go. A stay at a nice hotel with everything you could ask for was supposed to be their first year anniversary of their relationship, and Ben had worked hard for that, being forced to help ungrateful grandmas find the vegetable aisle at the local supermarket.

Looking at the scenery go by through the window, he tried his best to see the good parts of that. Sure he was going alone, but he was still going to a luxury hotel. He could stay all day by the surely overcrowded pool and just relax. Well, relax as much as he could, seeing how self conscious he was about his lean body. He tried to exercise, but he just looked like a beanpole; he tried to let his stubble grow, but only managed to get uneven patches; he even tried makeup to give himself a look, but didn't try again after a catastrophic asymmetrical failure.

The bus suddenly halt to a stop. Before he knew it, Ben was already at his destination. He shook his head to clear his mind, grabbed his bag, and got off of the bus. There was a short walk to go to the hotel, but that was fine with him. And soon enough, he was at the front desk.

"Hey," he started, "I have a reservation for, uh, for two. Ben Morrison's the name."

"Ah, I see. Here's your room key. Is the second person coming in later?"

"Well, not really. I'm on my own."

"Oh," the receptionist replied, "No problem."

After some more clicks on the receptionist's computer filling in this awkward silence, their face beamed with a smile.

"Oh, would you look at that! I hadn't noticed, but you're our 1000th guest this season!"

"I... I didn't even know this was a thing," Ben added.

"Well, it's a new policy, said to boost our sales. The ads are not plastered everywhere on our websites, I keep telling upper management we should!"

"Erm, what does being the 1000th guest bring?"

"Well you see," the receptionist started, "it gives you free access to the deluxe bonuses. Room upgrade, spa, secondary pool, and a free cocktail every day. Neat, isn't it?"

Ben was at a loss for words. After how shitty his week had been, this surely was great news. Staying mouth agape like this, the receptionist seemed glad to see the effect of such news.

"Time to enjoy your stay, don't you think?"

Still not knowing what to say besides a timid ‘thank you’ he nodded and swiftly grabbed the key before heading straight to his room to drop his bag. And sure enough, the room did look deluxe to him. King sized beds, extra pillows on the side, and more things that he couldn't tell if they were upgrades or not compared to the base room. But once his emotions had settled down, he finally noticed how thirsty the trip had made him. Well, maybe it was time to enjoy that free cocktail first.

The bar was pretty much what Ben had expected from a hotel bar. He looked around at the bottles on the shelves, most of which he didn't even recognise. But a rich voice took him out of his reveries.

"So you're the special guest, huh? Name's Paul. What can I get ya?"

When Ben turned towards who he guessed was the bartender talking to him, he froze. He didn't expect him to look so good. The man was a total hunk of a bear easily a head taller than Ben, bouldering shoulders that seemed to stretch his work shirt, a dusty blond 5 o' clock framing his sharp square jaw, bright blue eyes that seemed to pierce through the younger man's soul, and luscious golden locks that framed his face to make it look even more perfect.

"So, what will it be?" Paul tried again with a grin, noticing the effect he had on his guest.

"I'm... Not sure. I don't know. What do you have?"

"Well, I can pretty much make you anything. Let me put it another way... What do you want?"

Mesmerized by the bartender's clear eyes, Ben paused and thought about an answer. He felt as if that question was not just about a drink, but something deeper, more grounded in his desires.

"I want... Something strong. Something warm that will help me relax. I'm not sure..."

"Don't worry, boy, I have pretty much what you need."

Before Ben could react, the bartender had already turned his wide back at him, moving with a surprising swiftness to prepare a drink from bottles and sources Ben did not recognise. And once the drink was done, Ben was faced with a large, honey-golden drink. The glass was warm to the touch, and the cyan sugar rim seemed to fizzle in the air.

"The private pool access is that way," the bartender said. "How about you enjoy by the pool?"

"The- Thank you."

Ben was speechless. This felt like a perfect dream, after the nightmare that week had been.

Once he arrived at the pool, he was surprised. Of course, he would have never dared expect a premium pool, so he did expect kids screaming and families occupying all the chairs on the side; but this? This was perfect. The pool was large, and not many people were there, mostly childless couples and elderly people.

Not having grabbed his pool stuff, Ben was glad to see the swimsuits and towels were freely available. And after a quick change, he was ready to enjoy the sun. He lay down on a free chair, the nearby sunshade protecting his eyes from the bright sun but letting his body enjoy its rays.

He still had his cocktail. And somehow, it was still warm. And as he began sipping it, he realised how good it was. Sweet as honey, but with spices to not make the sugar numbily sickening, and bubbles to make it even more tickling on the tongue. And thus, before he knew it, he had already finished it. Well, he could always get another free one tomorrow, he thought.

With the sun warming up his body and the cocktail maybe stronger than he thought, Ben began feeling a bit sleepy. After all, the bus ride had been exhausting, and he hadn't even enjoyed his king sized bed yet, so a nap was long overdue.

And while he was asleep, unbeknownst to him, the cocktail started working its magic through him.

His stomach was the first thing to be transformed by the deluxe magic at work. The faint abs he had spent so long working for began fading away, but their strength were only being increased, as his torso was now a strong pillar encased in a soft layer of fat.

His chest followed a similar trend. The flat pecs that barely existed before slowly inflated with each breath until two massive slabs of soft meat sat there. And to match his newly grown chest, his back started wide ing as well, his lats slowly spreading until he was wider than the groaning chair he was resting on.

Him being asleep didn't stop Ben from enjoying what his resting body was going through, far from it, as his nap was filled with what had to be the rawest form of warmth and bliss he has ever felt. This whole process felt so good that eventually, he woke up, and welcomed his changing body with a devious smirk. As he cupped his newly grown pecs, his meaty hands, undoubtedly bigger than they were before, still were dwarfed out by his meaty slabs of muscle.

Ben's arms quickly followed suite, as his shoulders rounded out like two cannonballs stretching out his frame even further, and his arms were now as thick as his legs were before. By then, his upper body looked like the epitome of strength, like a powerlifter in his bulk phase.

But Ben's legs were not ready to let the upper body gather all the glory, as they quickly started inflating as well, with both muscle and fat pouring in with each heartbeat. His glutes, started off as a timid bubble butt, had given way to two massive globes of jiggly meat, such that the napping man had to readjust his position.

Slowly but surely, Ben came back to his senses. He did see how his body had changed, but he did not mind in the slightest; the bliss brought by the transformation alongside the honey aftertaste of the cocktail put him in a relaxed state like he had ever felt. No longer was he upset about his ex or anything. He felt born anew, better alone than he had ever been with that douche.

Groping his soft but sensitive chest, the wave of acceptance brought with it a final change, as if to close off all this strange phenomenon that he was glad was happening to him.

Under his finger, small dark curls started sprouting from his previously smooth skin. With a satisfied grin, the man kept groping his own chest as he watched the hair make its way down and down, tickling Ben its path, as if hundreds of tiny acupuncture needles were used alongside the massage he was giving himself. The hair kept going down, firstly making his bush fuller and poking through the hem of his shorts, until reaching his legs, leaving the tree trunks covered in soft fuzzy hair that anyone would love to stroke.

But focused on his body, Ben didn't even notice the changed that had happened on his face. And as he brought his hands up to his chin, he was gladly surprised to be met with a trimmed but dense beard, denser than he could have ever imagined before that day.

And as he stroked his newly found beard, he noticed a familiar figure getting closer, wearing nothing but swimwear that did close to nothing to hide his sizeable hard-on.

"Well," the bartender started with lust visible in his gaze, "I assume you liked the cocktail?"

"How about you come find that answer yourself, pretty boy?"

[bearforcecaptions]

The fence should have stopped him. It was old, sagging in places, a rusted barbed afterthought nailed between sun-bleached posts — but Brett, cocky and flush with frat bravado, didn’t hesitate. He swung a leg over, narrowly missing the wire snagging his khaki shorts, and dropped to the dusty ground on the other side with a grunt. His tank top clung to him with sweat, neon pink and obnoxious under the Arizona sun. He was sunburned, thirsty, and pissed. Kyle and Ricky had convinced him to take this shortcut, and then promptly ditched him with a dead phone and two useless directions: “Head toward the big windmill and you’ll hit the road.”

The “big windmill” was nowhere in sight. Just rolling golden scrubland, a broken water trough in the distance, and a barn that looked ready to collapse under the weight of its own memories.

He didn’t hear the man approach until the voice came, slow and low, cutting through the hot wind like steel dragging on gravel.

“You’re a long way from where you oughta be.”

Brett spun. A figure stood near the barn, his silhouette cut clean against the setting sun. As the man stepped into view, Brett’s breath caught.

He looked young and strapping and stern — like the land had simply grown itself a guardian. The man wore a sleeveless ribbed wife beater tucked into worn jeans, the fabric stretched over a chest that had never missed a day of labor. His arms were thick with muscle and forearms dusted with dark hair. His jeans were sun-faded, tucked into brown work boots dulled by years of use.

A wide-brimmed brown cowboy hat sat firmly atop his head, casting a shadow over a face that was both weathered and commanding. His jaw was square, his cheeks lean, and his most defining feature — a thick, big beard, grown there with purpose. His dark brown hair peeked out from under the hat, close-cropped and practical. His eyes were a sharp steel-blue, and they scanned Brett with calm, unflinching weight.

Brett lifted his hands automatically. “Hey, I wasn’t trying to cause trouble. Just passing through — I got lost, alright? My friends—”

The man didn’t blink. “You trespassed. Ain’t no ‘just’ about it.”

Brett tried to grin, to charm. “C’mon, man, I’m just a college guy. Big misunderstanding. I’ll be gone in two seconds.”

The man stepped forward and pulled something from his back pocket. Not a gun — a coin. It shimmered faintly in the dying light, etched with strange, swirling patterns that hurt Brett’s eyes if he looked too long.

“’Fraid that ain’t how this works.”

And then he flicked it.

The coin hit Brett square in the chest.

Everything cracked.

The air around him warped like a mirage. Heat surged through his skin and down to the bone. He stumbled, gasping, as a prickling fire spread through every nerve. His tank top burned away into curling black threads, which rewove themselves into something heavier, coarser — a button-down shirt, sky blue, thickly stitched and sun-dried. Pearlescent snaps popped into place across a swelling chest.

His shoulders pushed outward with a jolt, followed by his arms bulking rapidly, his biceps swelling beneath the sleeves. His traps rose, neck thickening, torso reshaping itself into the dense, square build of a working man in his prime. Not a gym body — something real, something earned.

The hair on his chest and arms darkened and thickened in waves. His skin bronzed, sun-kissed and rough. His hands itched and flexed — the fingers grew broader, his palms callusing over, knuckles gnarling slightly with age and strength. Dirt seemed to settle into his skin like it belonged there.

His shorts crumbled away, threads separating into dust as denim climbed up his legs — thick, faded jeans that hugged powerful thighs and stretched over solid calves. His waist widened, belt threading itself into place, complete with a big square silver buckle etched with the initials W.C. His shoes split apart as his feet grew and shifted. The leather boots formed up from the ground, climbing to his shins with weathered grace.

His face was last. His jaw widened, cheekbones sharpening. His brow thickened, nose growing broader. A thick mustache burst across his upper lip, dark and commanding, with streaks of gray. His chin remained clean-shaven. His hair retreated slightly, dark brown and flecked with silver, cropped short beneath the now-familiar white cowboy hat that settled on his head like it had always been there.

His features deepened with age — late fifties, strong, steady, weather-tested. No panic now. Just a long, grounding breath.

He didn’t remember being Brett. There was another name that fit better now. The one that was on his flashy belt buckle: Wade Carver.

“Pops?”

The voice came from behind, casual and close.

“You headin’ to the west pasture, or should I hitch the trailer?”

He turned toward the voice.

A young man — broad-shouldered, tan, late twenties maybe — approached with a water bottle in hand and a baseball cap pulled low. His plaid shirt was tied around his waist, jeans smeared with grease from some forgotten chore. He walked like someone who knew the land, but hadn’t yet been broken by it.

Wade — Pops — nodded. “West pasture,” he said, adjusting the brim of his white hat. “We’ll ride the fenceline. Coyotes’ve been bold lately.”

His son grinned, already heading toward the truck.

Wade took a moment. He looked out over the horizon, where the scrub met the sky and the wind moved like something alive. The barn still needed fixing. The south fence needed another post. He flexed his hands, feeling the leather of his gloves.

There was no memory of neon. No dorms, no frat boys, no Brett.

Only sun, soil, and sweat.

And his son, waiting by the truck like he always had.

As Wade climbed into the passenger seat, boots scraping the floorboard, he felt the steady thrum of the land settle in his chest. The truck rumbled to life beneath him. He tugged the hat a little lower, smiled just faintly.

Everything was exactly as it should be.

Everything had always been.

[bearforcecaptions]

It’s my cologne.

That’s where it begins for most of them — but especially for him.

The scent hits first. It always does. Leather and smoke, with warm notes of aged cedar, worn tobacco, musk that clings to the lungs like memory. But under it all — beneath the rich, masculine perfume I distilled over years of trial and private experimentation — there’s something that doesn’t come from any bottle. Something that wraps around the mind like a warm fog. Gentle. Heady. Opening.

I don’t need to touch. I don’t need to command. All I need to do is be there — and breathe.

He was straight when I met him. The real kind. The kind that walks around with a cocky grin, a worn baseball cap, and no real awareness of how much of his identity is just noise. His voice was always a little too loud. He always looked like he was performing for someone, though I don’t think he ever figured out who. Confident in the way young men are when no one’s ever made them doubt themselves — yet.

That gym was full of them. Shaved chests, neon tanks, cold stares. They glanced at me sometimes — older, heavier, hairier — then looked away like they hadn’t. He was no different. The first few times, anyway.

Until he caught my scent.

I was sitting on the bench near the back corner, toweling off, the cologne still fresh on my beard and chest. I saw him walk past, mid-conversation with a friend, mid-laugh. Then I saw him stop. A beat too long. Just a breath. That’s all it took. His laugh cracked. His eyes flicked to me, puzzled. I didn’t even smile. Just met his gaze. Let the scent do its work.

He wouldn’t remember that moment. I made sure of it. It would dissolve into the background of his day, like a skipped beat — like forgetting why you walked into a room. But his body remembered. His brain learned something, in ways his conscious mind couldn’t grasp.

That’s the trick of it. The cologne doesn’t shove. It seeps. It convinces.

He started changing his schedule. I didn’t ask him to. He just started arriving when I was there. He told himself it was coincidence. That he liked the quieter hours. But I watched him — how he lingered near me, how he seemed distracted, a little more uncertain around me than anyone else. That cocky smile softened when he talked to me. He forgot to perform.

He asked about my cologne on the third week.

“What is that stuff you wear?” he said, with a nervous chuckle. “Smells… I don’t know. Good. Strong.”

I just said, “Something I make myself.” And that was enough.

He didn’t notice the way his breathing changed when he got close to me. How his body leaned in. How his shoulders dropped a little. He didn’t question why he started listening to me more — why when I gave advice, he followed it, even when it contradicted everything he’d done before.

I told him he’d look better with a beard.

Two weeks later, he stopped shaving. He told me it was just laziness. He said it offhandedly, as if he barely noticed. But I saw him stroking it while we talked, tugging the edges while his eyes flicked toward mine, waiting for approval. When I reached out and touched his cheek — thickening with scruff — he didn’t flinch. He just smiled. Nervous. Flushed. Obedient.

He still thought he was straight. That was important.

He still dated girls for a while. Still posted their pictures, still made the occasional comment about “getting laid.” But there was something hollow in it. The way someone sings along to lyrics they don’t understand. He was going through the motions, but the heat was gone. The hunger.

Meanwhile, I was in his dreams.

He wouldn’t tell me at first. But it leaked out, slowly, as it always does. The confusion. The vividness. The way he could feel the heat of my body, smell my chest hair, the weight of it — heavy, masculine, real. He said it like he was confessing something. I just smiled and rubbed his shoulder.

He stayed longer each night. Claimed he lost track of time. We’d sit on the couch, shoulder to shoulder, his breathing slower when I was near. Sometimes his head would tilt, just barely, until it touched me. He never apologized. Never pulled away. And I never said a word.

By then, the changes were more than social. His clothes shifted. He stopped wearing flashy brand names. He bought flannel. Heavier jeans. Real boots. He told me he was “trying a new look.” He didn’t remember where the idea came from. I did.

I helped him cut his hair shorter, rougher. Said it brought out his jaw. It did. He looked good. He always had. He just hadn’t known how to be seen before.

He stopped waxing his chest. That was my rule. I wanted him natural. I wanted him mine. The first time he stripped off his shirt and I saw the new growth — darker, denser, thicker — he blushed. I stepped forward, placed a hand on his chest, and said softly, “Good.”

He didn’t speak. But he stood a little straighter.

He sleeps in my bed now.

I never told him to. He just… started. A few nights a week, at first. Then every night. His old apartment’s still out there somewhere, but it doesn’t matter anymore. He has a toothbrush here. A drawer. A place by my side. And in his mind, this has always been the way it was going to be.

He calls me “Daddy” now. Not with a wink or a smirk. Not in some playful, performative way. He says it like it’s my name. Says it softly when I brush past him. Whispers it when he wraps his arms around me at night, burying his face in my chest hair, breathing me in like he needs it to sleep.

And he does.

When he’s away from me too long, he gets restless. Fidgety. He doesn’t know why. Can’t explain it. But when I pull him in and press his face to my beard, I feel the tension leave his body. Like exhaling after holding your breath for too long.

He never questions it.

Never wonders why his old self feels like a stranger now. Never wonders when exactly he stopped wanting women, or why the thought of obeying me feels so right, so natural. Why hearing “good boy” makes him close his eyes and smile.

Because he doesn’t remember who he was.

He thinks he’s always been this way — mine. Submissive. Devoted. Gay. In love with his big, hairy Daddybear.

And he is. Because I made him that way.

All it took was a little patience. A slow hand. A warm embrace. And a scent that slipped into every crack of his mind, filling the spaces he didn’t know were empty.

It’s my cologne.

And he’s mine.

Now. Always.

[bigification]

Click

The four of you squeeze into the small bathroom to snap a photo before jumping in the hot tub. You and your boyfriend, Pete, snuggle up on the right side of the frame while your two other friends fill out the left side of the frame, Rick behind and Matt in front. Though the four of you are not afraid of squeezing together for the photo, you've all been much closer than that.

*click*

The sound rings from your phone as you take a picture.

Steam builds up in the tiny bathroom as your bodies heat the room. It usually doesn't get like that until things get hot between the four of you, but you like to save that for after the hot tub.

You stumble out of the bathroom and towards the cottage's back door, where the hot tub awaits. You all spare no time jumping into the relaxing, if not slightly cramped hot tub.

"What stereotype would I be?" You ask out of nowhere.

"What?" Rick questions.

"Like, every person fills out a stereotype in the group. I'm wondering which one I would be." You continue.

"Do you even have to ask?" Matt laughs.

"What does that mean?" You ask.

"You're obviously the stoner of the group." Rick cuts in.

"Is it that obvious!?"

"You have a stache of weed at your cottage, I'm honestly surprised you're not smoking right now." Matt explains.

"Now that you mention it, I meant to grab some before coming out here." You say.

"Exactly!" Matt shouts.

The whole group gets a good laugh out of it.

"What about me?" Pete asks.

The stops for a moment, everyone trying to think of a box that he could easily fit in. It took a while of thinking, but eventually Rick thought of something.

"I got it. You're the ex Jock." He says confidently.

"What do you mean ex Jock?" Pete snaps back.

"You used to be one of the star players on the football team. Now you just kinda play video games all the time." Rick replies.

"Ya but I'm not fat."

"Not yet." Matt butts in.

"Shut up." Pete laughs, punching Matt on his shoulder. "What about you, let's see how you feel."

Rick wastes no time in giving an answer. "He's definitely the blue collar guy."

"What does that mean?" Matt asks.

"It means you work on your little farm with your daddy." Rick taunts.

"I barely work with him, besides, I'm trying to move to the city as soon as possible." Matt says.

"Once a farm boy, always a farm boy." You taunt.

"Okay, okay, I get it. Can we move on."

Everyone looks at Rick, the last one to be judged. And the answer seems pretty obvious.

"Gym rat." All three of you say in unison.

"Is it really that obvious?" Rick asks.

"Yes!" Matt says as he looks down at Rick's muscled and hairless physique.

"You know what, I'll take that."

The conversation quiets down after that, with all four of you leaning back and enjoying the beautiful weather from the warmth of the hot tub.

After an hour or so of relaxing, you call it quits. The four of you start drying off as you walk back inside the cottage. You throw on a black shirt and immediately make your way to the living room. A shitty romcom always sets the mood for later in the night.

You pick up the remote, but just as you're about to turn the tv on, you notice something strange. The remote is not the same as it usually is, it's a weird oval shaped blue remote. You think nothing of it, figuring your dad just bought a new one.

You turn on the tv like normal, but it's in the middle of an ad break. You quickly find the fast forward button on the new remote and press it, but the tv doesn't fast forward. You press the button a few more times, but the tv doesn't react. Something seems to have changed though, you feel different than you did moments ago.

An intense feeling of nausea makes you feel dizzy, making you lose your balance. You manage to grab onto the back of the couch and steady yourself. You've already broken a sweat as you take a deep breath in and out, letting your gut hang loose as you breathe out.

Wait what?

You look down in horror as you watch your previously flat stomach swell with fat, making your shirt look skin tight. You try to suck it in but it doesn't change, all it does is make it grow even larger once you finally let it go.

Within moments, a massive ball gut is threatening to rip through your tiny shirt, and it's still growing. You panic, you don't want your friends to see you like this, let alone your boyfriend. Sure you've never been the most ripped in the group, but your pride won't let you be seen like this. You charge to the bathroom, stumbling and bumping into everything as you're still getting used to your growing body.

You slam the door behind you and rush to the mirror. Just when you thought it couldn't get worse, your heart sinks as you see a much older man staring back at you in the mirror. Your beard looks untamed, it's bushy and nearly entirely gray. And your hairline is receding slightly, with grey hairs starting to take over your head as well. That's not even mentioning the wrinkles forming in your face, you look older than your dad.

*RIIIIIIIPPPPPP*

The unmistakable sound of fabric ripping. In unison, your shirt and shorts rip open in dramatic fashion, falling the floor and leaving you in nothing but skin tight underwear.

You stare at the obese old man in the mirror, somehow looking even fatter than before. Your posture has shifted backwards to compensate for the immense weight of your gut, only made worse by the thick pair of man tits that hang above it. Looking at your reflection closer, you start to notice how fat has inflated every part of your body. Your hands have doubled in size, your ass has expanded with fat, and even your legs look like thick stumps.

The more you over analyze, the more you relax. Your shoulders loosen up and you let your gut hang loose rather than trying in vain to suck it in. As your body ages in front of you, a sort of wisdom takes over your mind. Not only an acceptance of this body, but a confidence you have never felt before. You feel your dick harden as you slowly rub your hand across your swollen belly.

You walk back out into the living room to regroup with your friends. First you find Pete. He's wearing a set of gym clothes that are way too small for him. On that note, he seems to have filled out a lot. He turns to you, revealing a thick muscle gut riding his shirt up to his swollen pecs. The fear on his face turns to confusion as he sees you, nearly unrecognizable from the man you were moments ago. He seems too preoccupied with his own transformation to say anything though.

His hair starts falling out, soon leaving him completely bald as his beard starts to become grey. His cheeks fatten and his nose widens as, similar to you, wrinkles form all across his face.

Just as fast as Pete's body is swelling with fat, he seems to be filling out with muscle as well. His biceps grow larger than a football and his hands grow thick enough to wrap around an entire football. It even becomes obvious how much muscle is growing on his thighs, underneath all the fat of course.

As his transformation seems to slow down, his expression goes from confusion to comfort as he makes eye contact with you.

"Hey babe." He says in a deep buttery voice.

"Hey..." You respond, clearly distracted.

He approaches you, holding your gut in his thick man hands. He tries to get your attention by rubbing your belly as it continues to grow, but you remain distracted.

"What's wrong?" He asks.

"Look..." You respond, pointing at Rick.

He's leaning against the couch, grunting in pain. His muscles seem to be cramping, sending ripples down his body. But it quickly becomes obvious that his muscles are growing. His biceps grow to the size of his head as defined muscles surface all along his arms. Though unlike Pete, Rick's arms keep their definition, avoiding the soft fat that envelopes Pete's arms.

His shoulders broaden as his traps thicken, making his neck look a lot larger. He stands up straight, allowing you to see his modest pecs expand into two thick slabs of meat. His back quickly followed suit, growing strong muscles that create ripples all across his back. And his stomach tightened as washboard abs formed alongside a sharp V shape on his hips.

He let out a deep groan as his transformation continued, leaning back into the couch for support. As he does so, his unimpressive ass seems to come to life, growing two perky cheeks that threaten to burst through his tight gym shorts. Even his thighs thicken with rock hard muscle, further straining his shorts.

Rick looks back up at you, his face drenched in sweat as it begins to change. His stubble grows out, forming a perfectly groomed beard as the hair on his head falls out. His beard starts to go grey as his face matures, though he seems to age much more gracefully than you and Pete.

As the transformation slows down, he throws a baseball cap over his shiny head. He turns and makes eye contact with you. He smirks as he strikes a pose, perfectly showing off his sweaty muscles to you and Pete.

"Looks like you outgrew another shirt, fatass." Rick says to you, his voice was deep and raspy.

His eyes dart down towards your gut, causing you to also look down. You seem to be wearing a completely new set of clothes, a blue button up and grey sweatpants. The button is missing all of its buttons due to your ever growing gut, the shirt probably stopped fitting you 100 pounds ago but you still wear it because it does a good job of showing off your gut.

As you're checking yourself out, you're distracted by a loud noise coming from behind Rick. It's Matt, he seems to have stumbled back outside. You follow as quickly as your fatass can. Looking outside, you see that he's fallen into an excavator where the hot tub used to be, though you fail to realize that anything has changed. You even fail to notice that Matt is wearing completely different clothes. He's now wearing jeans and a plaid shirt over a wife beater, though the clothes are clearly too large on him, for now.

As he's sitting there, his skin quickly starts to tan, becoming a deep bronze colour. The tan only a hard working labourer could get. At the same time, he starts to rapidly age. His beard trims down while his mustache becomes bushier, all while a few patches of hair become grey. His nose and ears grow as his cheeks fill out, this along with his bushier eyebrows and slightly wrinkled skin make him look just like his father.

At the same time, Matt starts to quickly fill out his clothes. His arms grow thick and strong from all the manual labour he's been doing on his farm, even his hands thicken as callouses cover his palms. His flat stomach swells into a small pot belly that is impossible to miss under his right wife beater. Even his pecs sag slightly, creating a clear outline on his shirt despite still looking strong.

His jeans tightened as his legs expanded with both fat and muscle. Even his growing ass threatened to burst through his belt, causing his crack to show everyone he bends down. Not that you guys are complaining.

Just as the transformation is coming to an end, a thick pelt of black hair sprouts all over his body. Especially on his chest, which he proudly shows off above his wife beater.

"You okay?" You ask in a raspy cigar ridden voice.

"Of course, I just lost my balance." Matt responds in a thick middle eastern accent, just like his father.

"Good."

You pull out a fat cigar and a lighter from your pocket and hobble over to a nearby chair. Sitting down, the chair perfectly fits your fat ass, as if you'd been sitting in it for decades. You light your cigar and lean back, letting your gut spill out into your lap.

Rick and Pete follow you into the back yard with a couple six packs of beer. Pete sits beside you in a similarly perfect chair and rests his hand on your thigh, increasing the size of your already obvious bulge.

Rick saddles up next to Matt, wrapping one arm around his shoulder to pull him in close while the other pinches Matt's belly fat.

"Let's get some more beer in ya, big guy. You'll need energy for all that hard work you do when you get back." Rick says as he raises a beer to Matt's mouth.

Rick has never been subtle with what he wants, in or out of bed. His effects on your body are undeniable, and he's starting to get at Pete and Matt too. If it weren't for the fact that you only meet at the cabin on weekends, the three of you would be much fatter than you already are. But Rick is a stubborn old man who works hard for what he wants, and what he wants is three fat men in bed with him every weekend.

[bearforcecaptions]

The rain had stopped, leaving a faint sheen on the café window that caught the warm light of the streetlamps outside. Eric Caldwell’s phone buzzed faintly in his hand, drawing his gaze downward. His thumb twitched, and the spiral icon glimmered faintly on the screen, as though alive. He hadn’t downloaded it. He was sure of that. Yet, there it was. Beneath it, a single word pulsed faintly in elegant lettering: "Focus."

Something about the design—the subtle movement of the spiral, the soft, golden glow—held him in place. His rational mind said to ignore it, to swipe away and get on with whatever he’d been doing, but his finger hesitated. His chest felt tight, like a string had been pulled, drawing him forward. Without thinking, he tapped the icon.

The screen went black for a moment before a soft, rhythmic light began to pulse—golden, warm, alive. His phone vibrated gently, sending small waves up his arm. A low, steady hum began to resonate, deep and rich, more felt than heard. Eric leaned back in his chair, his breath catching slightly. His surroundings seemed to soften, the edges of the café blurring, the chatter of nearby patrons fading to a distant murmur. The world narrowed to the glow of the screen and the rhythmic pull of its light.

Words appeared, simple and deliberate, as though written just for him: "Each step builds upon the last. Breathe. Watch. Allow."

Eric exhaled slowly, his breath syncing with the rhythm. The words weren’t commands—they were suggestions, gentle and enticing. He felt himself relaxing, the tension in his shoulders melting away as the warmth from the phone seemed to spread into his hand. It was subtle at first, a faint tingling that wrapped around his fingers like a glove, then deeper, richer, sinking into the tendons and bones. His hand felt… larger. Stronger.

He lifted it slightly, frowning as the light caught the back of his hand. The skin was different—darker, richer in tone, with faint lines that hadn’t been there before. Coarse black hairs were beginning to sprout along the edges, soft at first but thickening with every pulse of the screen. His fingers flexed instinctively, the joints cracking faintly as they grew thicker, heavier. He turned his hand over, his palm rougher now, calloused, as though it had spent years gripping knives, tools, anything that required strength and precision.

The cryptic messages continued: "Foundation first. Strength follows. Breathe deeply."

His forearm began to shift, the tingling warmth spreading upward. The fabric of his shirt strained as muscle filled out beneath the skin, thickening with a slow, deliberate force. The hair spread like wildfire, coarse and dark, wrapping around his arm in a dense, untamed pattern. The sight should have alarmed him, but Eric felt only calm curiosity. His arm didn’t feel alien; it felt right, as though it had always been this way.

The sensation rolled into his shoulders, the muscles there knotting and pulling as his narrow frame began to broaden. His shirt, once loose and unassuming, stretched tight across his chest and upper back. The fabric shifted, growing finer, the dull polyester weave replaced by a crisp, dark cotton blend. His collar opened slightly, revealing the beginnings of a thick, dark thatch of chest hair spilling outward, coarse and unapologetic. Eric’s breath hitched as the hum deepened, resonating now in his very bones.

“Command your space. Command your presence.”

His neck thickened, the sinews tightening as his Adam’s apple became more pronounced. His jawline, once soft and unremarkable, began to harden, the angles sharpening with deliberate precision. Eric raised his hand to his face, his roughened fingers brushing against his chin. He felt stubble at first, then more—a dense, wiry beard blooming across his jawline, heavy and rich. It spread upward, framing his mouth and climbing his cheeks until it connected seamlessly with the growing shadow of hair on his chest.

He blinked, his reflection faintly visible in the darkened screen of his phone. His face was changing. His hairline crept back slightly, forming a strong widow’s peak that gave him an air of rugged maturity. His once-boyish features were gone, replaced by the weathered, confident face of a man who had spent years in the thick of life, leading, creating, commanding.

The phone buzzed again, the messages now fragmentary, tantalizing: "Refine. Master. Expand."

His torso broadened, the fabric of his shirt shifting again, its texture smoother, more tailored. His arms hung heavily at his sides, thick and powerful, the kind of arms that belonged to a man who didn’t just run a business but built it with his own hands. His stomach tightened, not flat but solid, a foundation of strength beneath a layer of comfortable bulk. His legs followed, the seams of his pants stretching as his thighs thickened, his calves rounding out with muscle that spoke of long hours spent on his feet, moving, doing, living.

The café around him was changing too. The muted tones of the walls grew warmer, richer, as though they were reflecting the shift in him. The tables were no longer scattered haphazardly; they were deliberate, polished, each one perfectly set. The faint scent of coffee gave way to something deeper—garlic, olive oil, the unmistakable aroma of freshly baked bread.

Eric—or was it still Eric?—placed his phone on the table, his thick fingers resting heavily against the smooth wood. The screen glowed faintly, now displaying what looked like a schedule: meetings, deliveries, staff rotations. His eyes scanned it, and a slow smirk crept across his face. It all felt familiar, as though he’d gone over it a thousand times before.

A soft voice interrupted his thoughts. “Everything’s ready, Marco,” a young server said, her tone deferential but warm.

Marco. The name fit perfectly, slipping into place like a puzzle piece. He nodded, his beard brushing against the collar of his shirt as he stood. The chair creaked slightly under his weight, but he moved with ease, his broad frame commanding the space around him. His phone buzzed one final time as he picked it up, the words simple, cryptic, and perfect: "The Renaissance begins with you."

The room was his now, the soft hum of voices and the clatter of silverware a symphony beneath his calm, commanding presence. Marco De Santis strode toward the kitchen, his heavy, booted steps a testament to the man he had always been: owner, leader, Renaissance man.

[bearforcecaptions]

Jack had never liked the beach. The sand, the heat, the noise—it all felt like a sensory overload. But here he was, reluctantly dragged along by his friends who insisted he needed to "loosen up." Clad in a plain navy-blue pair of swim trunks and a baseball cap, he trudged along the shoreline with a towel slung over his shoulder. His lithe frame and reserved demeanor made him look like an outsider among the crowds of carefree beachgoers.

As he walked aimlessly, he noticed a group of men gathered near the water. They were laughing loudly, their voices carrying over the sound of the waves. Jack couldn't help but glance over. They were all older, heavier-set, and covered in thick body hair. Their boisterous energy and camaraderie stood in stark contrast to Jack's solitary mood. He looked away quickly, not wanting to seem rude, but he could feel their eyes on him.

“Hey, buddy!” one of them called out. Jack hesitated, then turned to see a large, bearded man waving him over. His bright red swim trunks and broad, hairy chest made him impossible to ignore. “Come join us!”

“Oh, no, I’m just passing through,” Jack said, raising a hand dismissively.

“Nonsense,” the man insisted, his grin wide and inviting. “You look like you could use a little fun. Come on, we don’t bite.”

Against his better judgment, Jack found himself walking toward them. The group welcomed him warmly, pulling him into their circle. They introduced themselves one by one, their names blending together in Jack’s head. Russ, Greg, Carl…they all seemed so comfortable in their own skin, exuding a confidence Jack couldn’t comprehend.

“So, what brings you here?” Russ, the man who had called him over, asked.

“My friends dragged me out. They said I needed to relax more,” Jack admitted with an awkward chuckle.

“Relaxation is key,” Greg said, his voice deep and soothing. “But you’ve got to do it right. Let go of all that tension. Stop trying to fit into someone else’s idea of who you should be.”

“Exactly,” Carl added. “Happiness comes when you embrace who you really are.”

Before Jack could respond, the group began speaking in unison. Their voices harmonized in a rhythmic chant: “Old, fat, and hairy. Old, fat, and happy. That’s the life worth living.”

Jack’s laugh came out shaky, but the chant grew louder, their words swirling around him like a hypnotic melody. He tried to speak, to protest, but his voice faltered. The words seemed to take root in his mind, growing more insistent. “Old, fat, and hairy. Old, fat, and happy,” he found himself whispering, his voice trembling with confusion.

“Say it with us,” Russ encouraged, his voice smooth and commanding.

Jack’s lips moved involuntarily, his voice faltering at first but gradually gaining strength. “Old… fat… and hairy. Old… fat… and happy.” His speech slowed, each word pronounced with mechanical precision, his voice deepening as if pulled from somewhere far older and wiser.

“That’s it,” Greg said, his hand resting heavily on Jack’s shoulder. “Let it sink in. Let the truth reshape you.”

Jack’s eyes glazed over, his voice steadying into a slow, deep cadence. “Old. Fat. And hairy. Old. Fat. And happy.” Each repetition seemed to reverberate through his body, his tone growing more resonant, more commanding. His breathing slowed, his body relaxing entirely as he surrendered to the rhythm of the chant.

The changes began almost imperceptibly. His stomach churned, and a soft layer of fat began to form, pushing gently against his swim trunks. With each repetition of the mantra, his belly grew heavier and rounder, sagging slightly as it expanded into a massive gut that hung proudly over the waistband of his swim trunks. His chest swelled, the muscle softening and rounding out into thick, heavy slabs. Coarse hair began to sprout across his chest, swirling outward and growing darker and denser until his torso was covered in a forest of wiry hair that shimmered slightly in the sunlight.

“Old. Fat. And hairy,” Jack murmured, his voice now slow and hypnotic. He scratched absently at his chest, feeling the coarse texture of his new hair as it spread to his shoulders and down his back. His arms thickened, the lean muscle giving way to a padded, sturdy frame, and his legs followed suit, their size and strength matching his expanding form. His skin took on a warm, sun-kissed hue, veins vanishing beneath the growing layers of fat.

His face began to change, the sharp angles softening into rounder, more rugged features. His jawline blurred and his cheeks filled out, his face now radiating a confident, mature warmth. A thick beard sprouted almost instantly, salt-and-pepper gray, framing his face perfectly. His dark hair receded slightly at the temples, streaks of silver blending into the black to give him an air of distinguished masculinity.

Jack’s voice grew deeper with each chant, now a rich, resonant bass. “Old. Fat. And hairy. Old. Fat. And happy.” The words rolled off his tongue naturally, as though they had always belonged to him. His swim trunks strained against his expanding thighs and waist before reshaping themselves into a snug pair of bright red shorts, identical to the ones Russ was wearing. His baseball cap tilted slightly, now looking perfectly at home atop his larger, rounder head. A sturdy silver watch materialized on his wrist, glinting in the sunlight. In his hand, flip-flops appeared, their worn soles suggesting years of familiar use.

“Old. Fat. And hairy. Old. Fat. And happy,” he repeated, his voice filled with conviction. His memories of being Jack grew fainter, replaced by vivid recollections of barbecues, road trips, and countless sun-drenched afternoons spent with these men. He remembered being Jim now—a 58-year-old retired contractor with a booming laugh and an unshakable bond with his beach buddies.

“Welcome back, Jim,” Russ said, clapping him on the back.

Jim grinned, his earlier hesitation completely forgotten. He adjusted his red shorts, his massive belly swaying slightly as he moved, and leaned back in his chair. Greg handed him a beer, and he cracked it open with a satisfying hiss. The group erupted into laughter as Carl told a joke, and Jim joined in, his deep, hearty laugh blending seamlessly with theirs.

For hours, they basked in the sun, sharing stories and enjoying each other’s company. Jim felt a profound sense of belonging, a joy he’d never known as Jack.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Jim stretched and let out a contented sigh. But as he gazed at the darkening sky, a strange feeling washed over him. For a fleeting moment, he remembered being someone else—a younger, thinner man with a different name. The thought vanished as quickly as it came, leaving only a faint echo in his mind.

Jim shook his head, chuckling softly. “Must’ve had one beer too many,” he muttered.

“What’s that, Jim?” Russ asked.

“Nothing,” Jim replied, smiling. “Just thinking how lucky I am to have you guys.”

“Right back at ya,” Greg said, raising his beer in a toast.

And with that, Jim settled back into his chair, his huge gut resting comfortably on his lap, the happiest he’d ever been, completely unaware he had ever been anyone else.