A Hairy Remedy

A Hairy Remedy

Mark had been pacing back and forth all afternoon, waiting for the mail to arrive. He couldn’t focus on anything else, he’d been waiting weeks for this delivery and it was scheduled to arrive today. Every noise from outside had him rushing to the windows to peek through the blinds. Mark was nearly 30, yet looked barely 20. He’d endured a decade of people making fun of him for having a babyface or being too effeminate, and he’d had enough. After some research online he found some articles and testimonies about Rogaine, a hair growth cream aimed at guys who were balding. While that was the furthest thing from a problem for him, Mark found people on some forums that had used it elsewhere, who wanted to thicken up their beards and more. The before and after pictures he had seen had sold him, and he immediately went and ordered some online. 

He took a break from mindlessly pacing around to use the bathroom. His reflection in the mirror really illustrated how right his bullies had been. His skin was completely smooth, with barely any peach fuzz on his face. That would change soon, he thought, a beard would surely age him up a good bit. Not that he wanted to look old, but not being carded at every bar would be nice. The doorbell rang, and Mark tripped over himself trying to bolt to the front door. Yanking it open, he saw a small package on the mat, with the delivery van already speeding off. He quickly snatched up the box and slammed the door, giddy with excitement. Mark raced to the kitchen to grab the scissors, shredding the cardboard box open to reveal his prize. He held the tube of cream delicately in his palm like it was a newborn. This was it, his saving grace, he thought.

He quickly scanned the pamphlet that came with the cream, notably reading the line, “WARNING: This product has NOT been tested on areas outside of the scalp. We do not recommend usage anywhere besides the scalp, and cannot guarantee results.” Eh, he’d seen it work on guys online, it must be safe enough. Without further thought Mark dashed into the bathroom, staring at his pathetic reflection in the mirror. He felt a sense of power unlike anything before, knowing he held his fate in his hands. He nearly let out a comically evil laugh before realizing he was getting ahead of himself. It was just hair growth medication.

Mark opened the tube and squeezed some of the cream into his palm. Now was time for decisions. He probably should have thought this part through a little more, but no matter, he thought. He began to rub the cream into his face, making sure to stay in the lines of where a beard would grow. Starting with his upper lip, he massaged the cream into his bare skin, working from there down to his chin and then across his cheeks. The ointment was cool and tingled a little as he applied it. Despite his caution, while getting the underside of his jaw he heard a splatter. 

Looking down, he saw a white glob of the cream had fallen directly onto his chest. “Shit, that’s not good,” he cursed to himself. He grabbed a nearby towel before pausing. A smirk spread across Mark’s face as the thought dawned on him. Why not leave it? A little chest hair couldn’t hurt, he thought. The goal was to look a little older anyway. With a devious grin plastered on his face he started to rub the cream into his chest, most of it between his small pecs and spreading it out from there. Satisfied with the treatment he capped the tube and went back to the living room. Now came the hard part: waiting. He went back to check the package to see how long it would take.

“Four to six MONTHS?!” he wailed. He hadn’t bothered to look at a timeline or anything in his research, and this news was devastating to him. He’d expected it to take a while to work, but half a year? That was just too long. With an overwhelming amount of disappointment in his head, Mark collapsed onto the couch and turned on some TV. The rest of the day faded away as he tried to distract himself from how bummed he was. He turned in fairly early, it was Sunday anyway and he had to get up early for work the next morning. With one last glance in the mirror he confirmed that nothing had happened, and went to bed. 

The morning came in an instant, with Mark’s phone alarm wailing into the quiet sunrise until he rolled out of bed. He begrudgingly made his way to the bathroom and started getting his shower ready when he passed by the mirror and did a double take. He stared at his reflection, dropping his towel on the floor in shock. He had stubble. Not just a little peach fuzz, no, a decent layer of it all across his jaw. His hand slowly moved to touch it, to make sure it was real. His fingers grazed over the tips of the scratchy hairs, the prickly feeling sending shivers through his body. It had worked, overnight even! His grin widened as he looked down to see a dusting of hair on his chest where he’d rubbed the cream. He had chest hair! It wasn’t particularly dark or dense but that didn’t matter to him, he actually looked like he’d gone through puberty now. The hairs had sprouted in the center of his chest and spread out towards his nipples, growing long enough to start curling a little. 

With a renewed energy Mark hopped in the shower and continued getting ready for work. He was giddy with excitement, and couldn’t stop feeling the rough stubble on his face. He threw on his slacks and button down shirt and hopped in his car, nearly late from getting distracted so much. Thoughts were racing through his mind on the way to the office; what would people think? He walked in with a swagger he’d never felt at his job before, making his way to his desk and hoping someone would comment. It took until he and some coworkers left to get lunch for anyone to notice, however.

“Hey Mark, growing out a beard are you? I didn’t think you had it in you,” his coworker laughed. “It looks good so far!” he made sure to follow it up with. Mark beamed, someone had noticed! It was really happening. This may have been the best day of his life for all he could care. Anytime he was in private he would have one hand on his cheek and one on his chest, feeling the soft hairs. He could feel his cock jump at the sensation, pushing against his rather tight dress pants. Luckily no one could see that at his desk, he thought, moving one hand to rub down there. A couple other people commented on his new facial hair throughout the day, and Mark was ecstatic. This feeling was electric, addictive almost, he loved the attention and slight amount of respect the stubble seemed to have given him.

Before he knew it the work day was over and Mark scrambled to pack up his belongings to try and beat the rush. In the elevator down he scratched at his face, another grin plastered across his face. He had the classic 5 o’clock shadow for the first time, he thought to himself with a chuckle. A hardworking businessman he was now. He got entirely caught up in the rush hour traffic, but even that couldn’t put a damper on his day. An hour later he was home, walking through the kitchen and dumping his coat and bag. He entered the bathroom to wash his hands and splash some water on his face when he spotted the tube of Rogaine still sitting on the vanity. Mark stared at it, the elated feelings of the day still fresh in his mind. A thought began creeping up from the back of his mind, one that scared him, but also made his cock lurch in his pants.

What if I put on a little more? 

That was the end of it. The idea consumed him, and within seconds he’d torn off his dress shirt and was squeezing more cream into his hands. He spread a thick layer of it across his upper lip, feeling the stubbly hairs that now dotted the area. He then spread more out across his cheeks, which had a decent shadow of stubble across them. Next up was his chest. In the morning he’d been thrilled by the amount of hair now adorning the area, but now he craved more. He pushed more cream from the tube and spread it over a much wider area, from his nipples all the way up to his collarbone, and everything in between. Finishing that up, he realized he’d gotten some extra cream all over his hands, which he rubbed in without a thought. 

The feeling of mania slowly dwindled as he put the cream away and carried on with his night. As he ate dinner he began to worry that he’d gone too far, maybe he should have just waited. It was too late now, though, so he bottled up that worry and watched some TV before getting ready for bed. 

Mark bolted upright when the alarm sounded the next morning. He tore off his sheets and ran to the mirror to take a look at himself.

It had worked again! His stubble was thicker now, with a more pronounced mustache. The hairs on his upper lip were denser and longer, though the rest of his facial hair had also filled in somewhat even if it was still short. But the real showstopper was his chest. The hairs had spread far from the day before, crawling up his pecs all the way where he spread the cream. The hair was thicker, denser, and made him feel exceedingly masculine. He couldn’t believe it. He ran a hand over the more prominent chest hair, the soft hairs tingling under his fingers. His cock rose to attention in his boxers as he lost himself briefly in the moment, unconsciously rubbing his nipple with the other hand. Control slipping away from him, Mark began to moan as he pinched his nipple, feeling the stubble and chest fur that had sprouted. Moments later a rush filled his body, his cock shooting rope after rope of cum onto the mirror. 

“Fuuuuuck,” he groaned, coming back to his senses. What the hell was that? It had felt amazing, but it was as if a primal instinct had taken over him. He watched the cum slide down the mirror for a minute before snapping fully back to reality; he had to get to work! He quickly wiped as much cum off the glass as he could before hopping in the shower and getting dressed. He bolted out the door without eating breakfast, having realized how late he was. Just how long had he been feeling himself in there? 

He parked and scrambled to an elevator inside. In his haste he’d forgotten to button his shirt up all the way, but he noticed in the mirror that some of his new chest hair peeked out of the top. It looked masculine, virile even. He played with a couple of the hairs before the door opened on his floor and he had to act natural. The day was fairly uneventful, other than a couple different coworkers commenting on his stubble and mustache. Mark felt even more confident today than he had yesterday, despite the chaotic morning. As afternoon rolled around, he even unbuttoned his shirt a little more, letting the newly grown hairs breathe. He lounged at his desk getting some of his work done but mostly basking in his newfound masculinity, occasionally sneaking a rub of his chest hair.

Soon enough the day was over again, and Mark made his way home. He was thrilled with how he was looking, but somehow he’d gotten less attention today than before. That didn’t sit right with him. While stuck in traffic he tried to figure it out, going through scenarios and situations from the day. Maybe… he thought he was making progress but in the eyes of others he looked the same. Frustrated, he barged through the door of his house and grabbed a beer from the fridge before landing on the couch. He turned on the TV and cracked it open, slowly sipping away at it as the light outside faded into dusk. Finishing that beer, he went for another, nursing it and watching some mediocre movies. Eventually the beers caught up to him, and having to pee badly he hopped up and went to the bathroom. There, on the counter, was the tube of Rogaine.

It seemed to burn a hole in his vision, everything else fading away. The feelings of the last day flooded back to him; the confidence of being hairy, the frustration of it not being enough, the pleasure of cumming to his own hairy body. Mark felt the same devilish thought clawing back into his head, but no longer as a question. It was a desire.

I need more.

He opened the tube again, squirting the cream directly onto his chest this time, slathering it all across his pecs and down over his stomach. He rubbed the cream deep into his already decently hairy chest, before taking more and coating his face with another layer. Mark was spreading far too much cream on, and from his jaw it began dripping down his neck. He couldn’t care less. His logical self had taken a backseat, his body being driven by a deep seated need, a desire he’d been unaware of. Mark stripped off the rest of his work clothes and kept at it. He continued to smear the cream across his torso, spreading it from his chest up and over his collarbone onto his shoulders. He was so engrossed in rubbing the cream into his skin that he was oblivious to the slight itch that began cropping up under the thick paste.

Mark wiped the excess cream onto his forearms and stared into the mirror, breaths ragged. He’d worked himself into a sweat. The droplets streamed down his skin, pulling the cream with it. His eyes surveyed his wet, ointment covered skin for anything. That was when he noticed the itch. It had grown stronger, more prevalent over his chest as the skin began reacting to the heavy dose of cream laid on. Hairs started to push out of his chest, darker and thicker than the ones before. They grew longer as more and more filled in the spaces between. Mark’s cock grew harder as he watched the hairs sprout, feeling them coming in between his fingers. The hairs thickened into a dark rug, completely coating his chest and crawling upward, thick whorls of hair overtaking his collarbone. His neck, which had been bare until now, began darkening as the shadow of hair crept up over it. Long strands erupted from the base, continuing the chest hair up onto his neck; no collar would ever hide these dark hairs. His stubble crept down from his jaw to meet in the middle, growing darker and pushing out farther from his face. His nicely trimmed stubble was quickly becoming a scruffy mess, with the wiry beard hairs erupting all over his face. Mark used his tongue to feel the longer hairs pushing out of his upper lip, curling over and spreading over his cheeks. He was really tenting his boxers now.

The hairs began moving south, down from his chest in a line towards his navel. The thick line of fur blossomed outward across his belly, darkening the area with long tangled hairs that blotted out the skin. Mark rubbed his hand over the growing fur, groaning from the stimulation of the hairs under his hand. Without thinking he reached back for the tube of Rogaine, pushing more out into his hands before absolutely coating his pits in the stuff. He scratched and scratched as the itch spread from his chest there, looking like a monkey as near instantly thick black hairs shot out of his bare underarms. One after another they pressed out, his fingers clawing through a denser and denser bush. Soon enough they’d overwhelmed the area with a thick tuft of tangled hair, spreading even further to connect with the rug on his chest. Mark was overcome by the tingling feeling of hairs bursting from his skin, surrendering himself even more to what was happening. 

When he finally pulled his hands out of his pits they didn’t escape unscathed. The backs of his hands were coated with thick hairs, and as he pulled one up to his face to look closer he could see more worming their way out of his knuckles. The sight alone was enough for a glob of precum to shoot into his boxers. The hairs didn’t end there, however. They surged up his forearms, a tangled forest of black hairs erupting and growing dense. The same followed on his upper arms, connecting seamlessly to the dense fur coating his shoulders. He felt the signature itch of the hair growth spread from his shoulders down across his back. Turning in the mirror, he saw thousands of dark spots appear across his shoulder blade and race down towards his ass. Seconds later every spot erupted into thick curly hair, follicles pushing them out longer and longer. The mat thickened over his back as hairs curled and tangled together, especially right above his waistband. 

His body wasn’t done yet. Mark felt an intense prickling under his boxers and quickly pulled them down, scratching relentlessly at his inflating ass. He could feel as the prickles turned into wiry hairs, pushing out across his cheeks. He groaned as the feeling of thick hairs growing like fur in his crack was too much, shoving his hands in there to feel the thick pelt erupting from his skin. His eyes nearly rolled back as he felt up his tight hole surrounded by a jungle of hair, his cock harder than he’d ever felt it before and leaking like a faucet. The fog he had felt absorbed in just that morning was returning, his body acting on its own in search of masculinity and pleasure. The hair growth only served to fuel that fire, spreading from his ass down his legs in a thick carpet over his thighs. The curls popped up from the skin, thickening as they pressed out from his skin into a fuzzy coating all the way to his feet.

Mark slid further and further into the recesses of his mind, intoxicated from testosterone as his body continued to change. His self-indulgence reached a crescendo as every other desire slipped away, flushed out of him through the faucet that was his dripping cock. 

More hair.

His hand reached for the tube again, emptying the last of it into his palm before reaching to grasp his rock hard cock. He slid his hand up and down, coating it in the cream and letting the rest drip all over his groin. A moan slipped out as he continued to pump his member, it slowly growing thicker and longer as it absorbed the cream. More drops of cream splattered into his sparse bush, Fertilizing the ground for what was next. Dark hairs began popping out of his skin, dark and thick. They pushed out longer than his old hairs, filling in the space between them rapidly. 

More hair.

His pubes erupted in mere minutes, a dense triangle of fur filling out his crotch, tangling and curling together as the scent of musk and ointment grew stronger. The hairs continued their conquest, reaching up to his stomach and out over his thighs. His balls swelled larger before becoming enshrouded in a carpet of their own. His cock continued pushing out longer as Mark pumped away, groaning as it grew thicker and more sensitive. 

He wasn’t done yet, as more and more hairs filled in all over, rugs connecting into a massive carpet of body hair. The hairs were ever crawling up the shaft of his massive cock thanks to the cream. Mark’s breathing had grown intense, groaning nonstop as instinct took over completely. One hand rubbing through his thick fur and the other edging him closer and closer to climax. He could feel the tingle as the hairs lengthened and thickened, coarse hairs rubbing against each other as they matted together.

He roared as everything finally peaked, his cock erupting with rope after rope of cum. It went everywhere, getting tangled in all his new grown fur. He continued pumping load after load out, an unbelievable amount of cum poured out of him onto his hairy body. He gasped as every pump of his cock sent immense waves of pleasure through him, squeezing every last drop of cum out. He let go of his softening member and moved his hands to his chest, feeling the sticky cum in all the hair. 

“Fuuuuuck yes…” he groaned as he rubbed the cum into his fur just as he’d done with the cream earlier. His bush was completely soaked with cum, and he could feel the hairs thickening as he massaged the area. All over his body, the cum served only to encourage even more growth, and quicker than the Rogaine ever had. Dark hairs pressed out between previous ones, covering him in a dense pelt that hid his skin beneath. Cum slowly dribbled out of his cock as the pleasure swept through his system. The fog in his head slowly dissipated, and Mark was brought back to the forefront of his brain. The primal instincts that had control for the past hour gave up their hold. He stared at himself in the mirror for a minute. Black fur coated his whole body, cum dripped from patches all over him. His cock was now dangling at eight inches soft. He slowly moved his arms to feel the hair growing all over him, trying to process his reality. He only managed to get two words out.

“Oh, fuck.”

Beary Blast

What better follow up to a smooth surfer TF than a vape triggered bearification-

Also thank you to everyone who voted in my 1,500 follower poll, probably going to go ahead and get the top two stories out next week! Best and Enjoy! -Occam

Jeremiah was a delivery driver currently on the way to his last stop of the day. He got permission to just head straight on home afterwards so he can get up early and open tomorrow, which is to say he’s looking forward to what little hours he can get to himself before returning to the endless grind once more. The last customer was in the ritzy part of town, some guy who put his name down as “Mr. A,” Jerry just rolled his eyes hoping it’ll just be an in and out job, knowing how richies can go either way.

Parking his truck on the curb Jeremiah made his way to the door, walking up a manicured sidewalk past a porch swing to knock on the door. No bell or anything, just a door knocker shaped like a bear, Jerry shakes his head and slightly grimaces before using the knocker. After almost no time at all there is a massive shadow behind the door and it promptly opens, standing there is the largest man Jerry has ever seen. In every sense of the word. Jerry’s not short but as he looks up to the behemoth of the man he’s never felt smaller. He would be beyond intimidated were it not for the unmistakable kindness in his eyes peeking out above his beyond dense beard.

Jerry can’t help but stare for a few seconds before remembering himself, “uuuh Delivery?” He then tackles on a quick and quiet apology for gawking, “so sorry” Mr. A puts his large hands on his waist letting loose a deep laugh. The bass vibrates in Jerry’s bones as he makes a point not to stare once more at the hair peeking out the neckline of the robe as it hugs his large powerful curves. He holds out the pizza, hands shaking slightly from meekness at standing opposite this titanic man. Mr. A grabs for it, neglecting to hold his robe as it spills open, letting Jerry see the tight boxers previously hidden, and the package barely concealed within. 

Jeremiah wasn’t gay but this isn’t the first time he’s been moved by a man. Though by the near total loss of function in the face of Mr. A, perhaps it’s time to reconsider a thing or two. For the first time the bear of a man speaks up, “Thank ya kid. OH! Y’know what I’ve got somethin’ for ya, tips on the card but, do you vape?” Jerry sheepishly nods as the man turns to rummage for something in a desk, blasting a smell of expensive cologne and cigar smoke out the door as his robe flies behind him. Jerry’s almost shocked at the speed with which the mammoth moves, though he strains not to think too much of the man lest he totally lose composure. 

Within a minute Mr. A returns, robe now cinched and hugging his form, which causes no less a blush on the delivery driver’s face. He holds out his hand with what must be a vape completely hidden in his meaty palm. Jerry reaches out, getting within an inch of the hairy mitt and retrieves the vape, not a brand he’s familiar with though he certainly is not one to complain at any act of kindness, let alone one from this, uh, hunk. Mr. A beams down as he explains the frankly bizarre handoff, “Yeah one of my, uh, cubs gave it to me. Must’ve thought it was cute that it’s ‘Beary Blast’ flavored, hah! But I stick to cigars, don’t wanna go crazy with the stuff y’know,” 

Jerry finds himself politely nodding along in agreement, keeping mum, unaware of just how submissive his eyes are as they stare up at the man. After exchanging a few more pleasantries Jerry remembers that he’s off the clock now and bids farewell before struggles to walk without making it obvious that he had started chubbing from his all too short time spent at Mr. A’s doorstep. The bear watches to ensure he makes it to his car with no trouble and nods before heading back inside.

Jeremiah rubs his face hard for a few full seconds, shocked and a little uncomfortable at how totally absorbed he was by the bear. Opening his eyes to see the gifted vape in his lap he immediately takes a massive hit, he isn’t all that much of a vaper, but even more so he’s not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. The horse metaphor brings his  mind reeling back to seeing Mr. A’s cock through his boxers as he continues drawing on the vape until it blinks and he no longer can. He sits and exhales, releasing burning cool fumes of Beary Blast that immediately fill the car as if he were hot boxing. The clouds dissipate quickly enough but the fumes continue to stick around, every ongoing breath just a wisp of Beary Blast infuses itself into his lungs.

Even so, Jerry finds the taste far too alluring to persist on whatever dregs remain in the air, what with the source so readily available. The nigh obsession he had felt standing in the shadow of Mr. A fades from his mind as nothing is, nor perhaps ever has been, more singularly important than chain hitting this vape. Really he shouldn’t be driving given how difficult it is to focus on anything besides the buzz, the pleasure, that each breath of this ichorous vape holds. Minutes pass as he drives towards his home and just after yielding to temperance to put the vape down, he notices a strange itch in his crotch as he pulls up to a stop light.

His mother always tried to hammer into his head to never scratch an itch, but in the privacy of his own car how could he not. He nervously double checks that no other driver has a sightline before stuffing his hand in his work pants and scratching like a dog. Jerry does a double take as he immediately finds that his pubes seem to have grown at a far faster rate than they usually do. He’s not seeing anyone at the moment, but he usually keeps it smooth down there in case any chicks call him up, at the moment though it feels like he hasn’t shaved in a week or two? He furrows his brow trying to remember how it looked down there this morning, continuing to scratch he doesn’t notice as they begin to grow even thicker. Before the stoplight even turns green his once clean shaven crotch now holds a bush that looks as if it hadn’t been groomed since it first started to grow.

As the light changes he jolts in his seat and starts the drive once more, gritting his teeth slightly as the itch begins to travel up above his waistline. He rolls his eyes hearing a voice in his head repeat that scratching only makes it worse, though as the itching begins to turn to a slight burn as it spreads up to his belly button and beyond he wonders if there is any other option. He takes another massive hit of the Beary Blast vape before reaching under his shirt to get at the expanding itch rising across his stomach. 

His body physically jerks in shock as he feels the tickle of hairs over his abs. Not a day in his life has he been able to grow any body hair, no one in his family can. As he rubs his stomach, dragging his nails across it’s tight skin, longing to find the smooth torso he has always had, the treasure trail inching up from his pubes is impossible to deny. Adrenaline begins to rise in his chest from the shock and his heart races, his fingers trace up to his chest and he finds hair beginning to prickle in the center of his chest. Jeremiah pulls over to the side of the road, concerned that he might be losing his mind, putting his car in park however the only thought able to overcome the din, is ‘fuck, I need another hit.”

Jerry shoves his hand back in his pants as looks for where he threw the vape in his car amidst whatever this episode is. He feels his pubes thicken and curl as he scans the floorboard, pointedly not noticing as hair starts to spread beyond the center of his chest and towards his nipples. Nor is he aware of the weight that is slowly starting to amass on his arms and pecs. He’s always been fit, though not one to go out of his way to put on muscle. As he searches his dash the pecs he is impossibly starting to develop suggest otherwise. Jeremiah does notice the uniform starting to pull on his chest in a new fashion as he squirms about the driver's seat looking for the gift bestowed by Mr. A. 

His right hand is still planted in his crotch digging through a jungle before he moves lower and he starts to scratch at his balls, causing two revelations at once. His eyes dart down as without a doubt in his mind he knows they are larger than they should be. He shifts his weight to confirm, moving to cup them which sends a surge of pleasure through him as both his balls and his cock surge larger in his pants, straining his already tight underwear.

Moaning to himself from the impossible pleasure of this moment, his surging cock pushes his hand into the second conclusion, the vape had been resting squarely under his package. Jeremiah stretches his neck to look past his chest, still not noticing its growth as his nipples make themselves apparent in the tight shirt and his free hand lances past the weightier crotch for the vape. Without a second thought it is in his mouth once more, the hard plastic carries a scent from its short time hiding beneath his balls, though it is nothing compared to the sheer captivation of his vape as he indeed takes another hit.

Before this sleepless nightmare his underarms had always been carefully groomed as one of the two places it was even possible for him to grow body hair. As he continues inhaling though, his thin trimmed bushes of put hair burst beyond the boundaries where they have always been contained. Hair stretches long and far out of his pits and it becomes clear that its expansion is not to stop here. Similarly he feels a tickle on his face, causing him to smirk as he continues to inhale, as for the first time in his life, he’s finally able to grow a beard. A mustache bursts out of his upper lip and he drops the vape once more as he rubs his face to feel stubble quickly shadow and encompass the entire lower half of his face. Pleasure begins to overwhelm him as between the beyond 5’oclock shadow and the still expanding bulge there are some definite upside in whatever impossible horror is happening to him.

As he starts to paw at his crotch over his work pants his hand bumps the wheel and dream or not he decides he cannot just masturbate in public. He shifts to drive away as his body continues to demand attention and grow larger. He discards his shirt as he hears the first tear of his sleeves alert him to just how tight his uniform has become. His biceps grow to a size that require constant time at the gym as hair begins to pepper them, thickening from his wrists up the whole of his forearm before crossing his elbows and launching a campaign towards his shoulders. The hair from his pits grows towards the hair on his chest as it blasts past his nipples. The thick trail on his chest discontented with remaining so confined spreads to encompass the whole of his stomach creating a rug that would evermore hide his abs. Though as his pecs and arms continue to grow he notices not as his stomach begins to press into his seatbelt, his strength similarly expands as muscle and fat begin to pile onto his waist.

His hands flex on the steering wheel as pressure continues to build in his balls, demanding immediate satisfaction. He struggles to keep attention on the road as his thighs begin to grow to strain his work pants. He adjusts in his seat to absolve the tightness in his crotch, only causing it to grow more intense as his ass takes this chance to fill out the seat of his pants. This leaves him sitting higher despite gaining no height as his ass expands into a cushion that would fill any top with desire. He shakes his head as he speeds down the road, unsure why such an idea popped into his head, and after what feels like an eternity in his mind he arrives at his apartment, gritting his teeth not to just lose it right there as he stumbles out of his car.

Jeremiah pockets the vape, unaware as it too begins to change, lengthening as the hard plastic gives way to expensive tobacco leaf as the fluid within returns to a less synthetic form. Each step towards his door grows heavier as the weight he carries continues to pile on, muscles expand, his grunts grow deeper, his stomach bloats outward now free from its confines, and his cock grows thicker as he struggles to put one foot in front of the other. The friction of his pants struggling to hold it together almost makes him cum right there, so close to the finish line. Barely scraping past this ultimate trial he reaches out towards the door handle as hair trickles further down his hand and he turns the knob before falling inside and slamming it shut.

Inside his home he rips at his pants eager to free his cock from the confines, as in the open air of his home all the hair on his body grows darker and thicker. Hair growing on his ass tickles the floor as it expands up his back and crests over his shoulders to meet the blanket of chest hair as it races towards his neck. The hair in his pits spreads likewise to create a hemisphere of hair around his nipples, as his body wants nothing more than to display just how virile, how powerfully masculine he is. The hair on his face leaves the idea of stubble behind as it thickens and expands into an impressive beard that juts well beyond his jaw as weight makes itself evident on his face.

Jeremiah lays there, convulsing his impossibly warm body  on the cold floor, struggling to take in all the pleasure that this new body holds. Scratching up and down his torso and feeling the power and appeal within. He humps the air as he loses control without even touching his cock, staring at it as with each pulse he feels more himself than he ever has before. He watches as his pubes extend onto his thighs and darken them with forests that soon stain the entirety of his legs. Across his form his pelt thickens enough to completely hide the skin beneath. He gasps lying in the aftershock of the first of many releases he shall enjoy in the new life he is suddenly resolved to live. Reposing in the small entrance of his apartment as behind him it changes to erase the life once lived of this pizza delivery man, he sees in the pocket of his discarded pants where there once was a vape there now lies a large cigar.

Before the image reaches his conscious mind he is already reaching for the stogie to light it up. Neglecting to care about smoking inside, he sets it aflame and gives the cigar a large puff. The feeling of the large stogie in his mouth brings him an inner warmth that swiftly spreads throughout his body. He feels the pleasure of the smoke in his mouth glide through him as his body continues to grow. His stomach bloats large enough that his pecs don’t hang out so  much as rest on his powerful gut. His massive arms lose a tad of the apparently hard earned definition but grow strength that he never dreamed he could have attained. While the massive beard on his face surges even further out making it evident the powerful jaw beneath will never see the light again  as a few white hairs begin to pepper it.

Jeremiah moves off the floor, grunting with the effort of getting his drastically larger form off the floor and grumbling under his breath as he continues to mouth the cigar. The smell of smoke alongside his own sweaty body odor quickly brings his focus back to his cock as it stands to attention in its own way. He smirks as his eyes drift between the cigar lolling in his mouth and his cock as it continues bob larger in the air. Before he’s able to act on his ever-demanding cock he hears his phone chime. He grunts and his voice deepens even further as he reaches to see who’s calling, though as he sees the ID he smirks and answers, “Yello there boss.” He rumbles out in a voice that would drive any twink to their knees.

Who else could respond but the man who started this chain of events. Back in his home Mr. A is pawing his own crotch at the sound of Jeremiah’s voice, just picturing the growth that must have occurred. The man grunts as he responds, “Hey there ki- urgh, not quite a kid any more are ya,” loosing a large guffaw before continuing, “know you just up and left my place Jer, would ya mind comin’ on back now though? Got a proposition that you’d hate to miss out on if ya know what I mean.” For his part Jeremiah is already on his way back to the car, throwing on an expensive robe and nothing else as he breaks out the door. Though he remembers not the life he once lived it would be impossible to forget the mark on his psyche from standing there completely dwarfed by Mr. A, though this time something inside of him suggests that he will not be nearly as sheepish in his lust. In fact he’s got something in mind that will ensure that both of them walk away with a limp as he smirks and starts his way back to that place where he truly became a man.

A guy using his roommate's beard oil, not realizing it wasn't a face lotion till after he applies it to his face. Moments after his clean shaven face darkens with stubble growth. Making his face itch as the bristles of hair grow thicker and form into a dense beard with his mustache especially growing thicker.

The hair growth spreads from their, his body erupting with dark brown hair, while his lean and small body type expands in size to turn the young man into a thick hairy bear.

Actually, They're Called Tetrominoes

Been holding out on some kinda Video Game trigger, here's a bit of an odd Russian cultural/racial TF, enjoy! -Occam

Michael could stand to be a more pleasant person. Day to day he is a pretty run of the mill head-down kinda guy, amicable but never really goes out his way to chat or make friends. Instead he finds his free time often used to prowl the internet looking for people to torment online in whatever way he finds funny at the moment. Born too late to be a goon on SomethingAwful he typically pages through Reddit threads and communities looking for someone sensitive or cartoonishly argumentative.

This is precisely where he finds himself tonight, being a pedant on some video game thread that he doesn’t truly care about. Some presumably Russian user, u/ZandrIvnov, seems to be quite proud of Tetris which Michael finds incredibly amusing. As an American he too takes pride in many of the cultural exports and ideas that his nation has sent into the world, including many of the deeply entrenched ideas about the Russian and Soviet people taught in world history. It takes especially little for him to decide to start taunting and baiting this man sitting at his keyboard a world away.

Michael launches petty taunts at the Russian, poking fun at his nationality and Eastern Europe at large, stopping short at making fun of the man’s less than perfect English, for now at least. Michael switches between accounts to upvote his responses and even add additional dunks on the Tetris-fan as needed. Try as he might though to get the conversation away from the ancient game and get some more personal and profane digs in there he finds it difficult to find any truly satisfying or clever insults.

Getting tired of hearing this man assert Russian superiority he prepares to pull the ripcord and move on before he sees the Russian misstep talking about the game he’s so invested in, as probably the only fun fact he has on deck comes to mind. After the Russian so eloquently compares Michael’s head to a Tetris piece Michael immediately replies, “okay lol big fan huh they’re actually called tetrominoes” and then moves on to find some other doofus to bully on the internet.

On the other side of the screen Sasha seethes at the man, so juvenile in his mockery “Проклятые американцы. (Fucking Americans.)” He takes to his own keyboard messaging Michael directly as his arrogant messages dry up in the thread proper, Sasha was going to have him put his money where his mouth was. He offers a challenge, “u americans are so proud da? how about we see whos country rly is the best”

Michael felt his pulse rise in excitement at how much he has truly bothered this man. Smug smile on his face as he types his response, “what did u have in mind, Zander?”

“Саша(Sasha) is my name. since u are so smart about tetris, why not see who is actual master of game da?” Sasha offers, knowing already that the troll is sure to accept out of pride alone. Michael wasn’t all that much of a gamer but surely he could show this dweeb what’s what yeah? He starts looking up tips to win Tetris as he replies “sure whatever dude, what are u thinkin”

Sasha smirks as he has Michael right where he wants him, “loser agrees with winner about national superiority? should not be problem if you americans are so good at every thing” Michael was already eager to give it a go and Sasha’s taunt only makes him all the more raring to go. Before he can even pause his meager attempt to study strategy, Sasha sends over a link to the game and Michael clicks over to play, leaving the cheat sheet open on a second monitor. 

Michael types his name into the game and finds himself looking at a familiar screen. He’s never played the game competitively but it’s a pretty simple game right? He just needs to keep his cool once the pieces start flying in. He gets the cheeky idea to check the cheat sheet in between pieces. That’s that good-old red white and blue ingenuity, Michael thinks. Unaware that these are of course also of the Russian flag. There’s a ping from the board as Sasha uses the in game chat to ask “u understand the rules da”

Michael sends back a thumbs up and Sasha sets the game going. It is predictably uneventful at the beginning, neither man making any particularly interesting plays. Michael continues to skim how to best cheat the game while Sasha waits for the perfect moment to fuck him over. Michael finds himself enjoying the game more than he thought he would as he hears the familiar tune, it is awfully catchy isn’t it? He’s gotta hand it to the soviets for that. His gameplay slows down as he tries to speedread the page on his other monitor. Instead of forcing pieces quickly he instead lets them drift slowly while his board is relatively clear. Sasha sees this and decides to go in for the kill.

Suddenly as Michael’s eyes wander away from the game for just a second too long there is an unfamiliar sound. He darts his attention back only to see the floor of his Tetris board rocket up in response to Sasha doing an impossibly well timed combo of lines. Michael’s heartbeat increases at a shocking rate in response as losing becomes a very real possibility. Why is he so upset? His face grows red as he realizes just how outclassed he is. Obviously this is no big deal right? Just a game. But Michael cannot help but feel physically uncomfortable as the tides start to turn so swiftly. 

There is suddenly a crick in his neck that he stretches to avail but only exacerbates as a soreness begins to spread further across his body. Man is he tensing up too much? It’s just, it’s just a game right? Trying to calm down he is hit with the thought as if it were a shot of adrenaline that he absolutely cannot lose this game. His eyebrows furrow as they begin to square and thicken, casting dark shadows over his rage-filled eyes. His limbs take turns cramping as he clenches his neck and jaw to distract from the pane, not noticing as the structure of his face begins to change. 

His chest grows to join the chorus of muscle spasms as Michael struggles to keep up with even Sasha’s slower gameplay. Across the seas Sasha takes his time, knowing victory is in the bag, and savoring what he knows must be happening to his little troll Michael right now. He smirks as he imagines the discomfort in Michael’s changing body as he feels warmth grow in his own chest, and crotch, as he decides just how much he wants to play with his food. 

Back in the states Michael finds the heat, the sweat, the tightness of his clothes increasingly unbearable. As he continues to mash buttons on his remote he is too intent on the game to notice as hair begins to darken around his forearms and begin to snake its way towards his hands. He rubs them each down to placate the tickle on his growing arms. This is absolutely nothing to the creeping itch that is starting to encompass the entirety of his rapidly expansive legs. He shifts his heavier thighs trying to soothe the discomfort, making a loud sound as they pull away from the sweat sticking them to the chair but not allaying the soreness or itch in the slightest.

He grunts and notices not how his voice has grown both deeper and gruffer in his throat. Michael struggles to keep the remote from slipping out of his hands as sweat trickles down from his hairy arms and into his palms. Before it becomes a problem however Michael takes advantage of the lull in Sasha’s gameplay and tries to quickly remove his far too strained shirt. It should be a simple task after all, just put the remote down for a second, slide it off, and then back to the game. He does a brief check in to ensure he has even that and after believing he does Michael starts to try and remove the shirt strained and sticking to his skin.

He has precious little time as the pieces continue to fall at their set pace in game. He gets one hand under the hem of his shirt and tries to wrench it while keeping his other hand on the controller, this lets in a breeze of cold air sending quivers of pleasure across his pulsating muscle, as well as igniting a burning ache in his chest and torso. His upper body grows even further, finally overfilling his shirt as the sound of tears ring out in his bedroom alongside the same repetitive folk song he knows well. The idea that this shirt was loose fitting when he threw it on this morning or that he just identified the Tetris theme as a folk song rather than an 8-bit annoyance don’t have a chance to come to mind as he struggles to remain focused on not losing the game.

He pulls the shirt up to his chest before it gets uncomfortably stuck “Ach, bog uh- god damnit.” He scratches at his chest as the soreness and growing muscle makes way for a fiery prickling as the few chest hairs he has been a tad ashamed of begin to thicken and darken on his chest. Swirling out from his nipples and inching higher on his chest with each breath, he continues to struggle to remove himself mindlessly. Finding his shirt caught on his expansive pecs he rubs his hand underneath it across his sweaty chest, and finding it pleasurably drag through more hair on his pecs than he would’ve sworn he had in his pubes, he resolves to remove the shirt however he can. 

As soon as he finishes a line Michael tosses the remote down and goes to raise his shirt above his head, his thicker arms struggling as they adjust to their new range of motion. He wrests the tight shirt above his head, his chest bursting large once more, freed from the garment as the breeze tickles the sweat covered chest hair and forces his enlarged nipples to harden. Having overcome his suddenly massive pecs the neckline is now caught on his chin, his arms raised high above his head expose his pits to the cold open air. He feels the air con blow against his recently shaved pits as the hair begins to grow back. It starts to catch as the hair begins to grow thicker and longer than it had ever done before, curling together as new hairs begin to push out and form a bush thick enough to never see the skin beneath again.

This also brings his attention to new development in his body, with his face shoved into his shirt it would be impossible not to notice the unbecoming amount of sweat soaking it. Arms raised though he finally notices that he has an altogether far more powerful scent, on par with a macro-obsessed body builder or hygiene-phobic wild man. Michael feels a beard start to push out into the shirt still hugging his face. Shaving once a month was more than enough to keep him clean shaven but now he knew deep in his mind that he would never have a day again where his face would be smooth. It’s that Ru- That American blood in him, right?

He begins to feel himself lost in the scent as his mind begins to grow distracted, attention fading from the game despite the looping tune filling his mind. He turns his head to smell his pits through his shirt which is when he hears the dreaded sound of Sasha making a combo once more, “Gah! Nyo, I can’t lose” he shouts, not noticing as his rough tone begins to develop a slight accent. Ending the long-standing struggle against his shirt he simply rips it off and jumps for the controller, ashamed at how foolish and lustful he has suddenly found himself in the middle of this all-important competition.

He needs to make his people proud! He cannot let Amerika down, ya? His focus and vision return to the game as he stumbles through one more line before all the pieces fall from view and the game declares Sasha the winner. Mikael reflexively pounds his table shouting, “Ny- no! I, this!” struggling to find any words to make his loss okay. Unable to notice just how bizarre this game has affected him, though sure that something grave has occurred. He scrambles to the chat box where he sees Sasha has yet again beaten him to the punch, “gg Брат(brother) yes?”

Mikael’s eyes don’t even notice the language switch in the message as he quickly races to demand a rematch. Punching keys slower than the career-cyberbully is accustomed to, almost as if he would be more comfortable with a different keyboard format, slowly he punches his response “one more best dva out of tri ya?” Sasha laughs out loud seeing Mikael suddenly typing out anglicized Russian. He smirks and squeezes his crotch in excitement at just how far this American brat has fallen into his hands. Sasha responds in full Russian knowing that Mikael may as well already be his countryman. “конечно, почему бы и нет, брат (sure why not, brother)”

Mikael smiles as he prepares for yet another go against Sasha, he’s eager to learn from his, uh? Suddenly he can’t quite remember how he knows Sasha exactly as his memories of his persistent pathetic history of being a troll begins to fade from his mind. As the Tetris theme starts once more with the game Mikael finds himself singing along as the words to the folk song it is based on, blushing at the vulgarity therein.

The race is on once more and though he was sure this was a competition against his friend, no, his брат(brother), Sasha, He can’t help but feel a giddiness as the game progresses. He feels a warmth in his chest just from playing a game of his childhood, of his country? No he’s a born and bred statesman da? He’s from, uh Moscow is a city in one of the states too da? Though he finds himself distracted his body continues to expertly control the game subconsciously.

He blushes as he struggles to remember where he grew up, it was a smaller town for sure. Somewhere very far North for sure, after all why else would he grow so hairy! He launches into a hearty laugh as body hair continues to push out from every pore in his body, sure to be peaking out from every shirt collar on both sides. He scratches at his pubes as it becomes clear that even besides his massive package there will evermore be a bulge in his pants from this unkept jungle as well. 

His eyes continue to follow the pieces up and down as they slowly begin to lighten and bleach themselves an icy blue. The itchiness that has made itself at home through the whole of its body is replaced with a burning pleasure as he thinks oh his home. Full days where there is only sun, long treks into the city to visit St. Basil’s, helping his mother fry pirozhki. The hair atop his head bleaches itself a sandy blonde while still thickening and pulling itself short as a lightbulb goes off in his head his voice rumbles in his chest as he reflexively speaks in what must be his mother tongue, “Конечно! я спрошу у Саши (Of course! I’ll just ask Sasha).” 

He goes to pause the game as he now knows he can do and types to Sasha in chat, “hey брат, wher am i от again?” Sasha smirks at just how easy this was stopping short from fully masturbating as he thinks of his new massive countryman living a world away as he replies, “недалеко от Москвы, Миша (just outside of Moscow, Misha).”

Misha’s eyes glaze over as he reads this, the room around him changes, American flags familiar patterns shift into the Russian tricolor. Any writing within the room shifts from English to the cyrillic alphabet and Misha sits there with a smile as he recalls his home. Long winters working alongside his best friend Sasha. His neck thickens and his waist expands as he thinks of long nights drinking alongside his friends to abate the cold. The game of Tetris continues on and he again feels a warmth in his chest at the chance to play with his dearest Друг(friend) Sasha.

For the life of him he can’t quite remember why he has moved to Америки though he is sure that Sasha will know. Sasha always knows the right thing to do. One thing is for sure though, he is going to do his Motherland proud.

Can you write a story about a beer than turns a jock into a huge hairy muscle bear? Like the more you drink, the bigger and hairier you get.

I've written a story like this in the past! Here's a link if you haven't seen it. I should really make some kind of story index for my writing I'm realizing. It's a hot concept though... might warrant a revisiting sometime in the future.

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The Bear Brew

Jake was the star player of his university’s hockey team, and with two successful championships under his belt he was captain for this next