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Max’ Journey - Primeval
When Max came to, his surroundings had changed massively. No longer was he in the dusty archive cellar, but in bright sunlight in what appeared to be a forest. Several huge trees stood tall, their thick branches spreading far into the sky. Max raised his head and looked around. Not only was it bright, but there was also a warm breeze. It was also rather loud around him: Several birds were singing only to be interrupted occasionally by the sounds of unseen animals.
Max’s first reaction was confusion. He was in a forest, surrounded by nature, yet he wasn’t even wearing a t-shirt. It wasn’t that unusual for a scientist to work in his lab shirt, but he still wasn’t used to being shirtless in the middle of a forest. Even worse, he felt the cool, moist grass underneath his feet. He was completely naked! Max quickly put his hands over his privates and looked around. Luckily, nobody had seen him exposed like that!
Max let out a deep sigh. His clothes and the strange device were nowhere to be found. How had he lost them? And why? And when? He was suddenly very afraid. Max decided that the best thing he could do was to leave this place. He started walking towards the closest tree, hoping he could find his way back to the laboratory. He soon realized that wasn’t going to happen. As far as the eye could see, there were only plants, large ferns and birds. Everything looked so natural and untouched by human hands, that Max didn’t dare to approach any closer to one of the massive trees.
“Hello?” Max said, finally finding the courage to call out to somebody. He startled a bird, but other than that, he received no answer. Apparently, nobody was around. The only thing he heard was the chirping of the birds and the rustling of the leaves in the wind. Max decided to walk a bit further, hoping he would find some sign of civilization. Maybe someone would come along eventually and tell him where he was.
Walking with his hands on his privates was not exactly comfortable though. He often needed his hands to brush aside a fern or a branch, so after a few minutes of trying, he just sighed and didn’t try to cover himself up anymore. There was, after all, nobody here right now, he reasoned. So, it didn’t matter if he had his hands on his crotch. He shortly considered using some leaf as a sort of improvised loincloth, but since he had no string, he didn’t see any way to fashion clothing out of the foliage.
After another half hour of walking, his muscles ached, and his bare feet hurt. The forest hadn’t changed much, and the warm damp air made him sweat a lot. It wasn’t that hot, but it was humid and that made the sweat stick to his body. He desperately needed a shower, but there was still no sign of civilization anywhere to be seen. It was no use, he needed a rest.
After sitting down against one of the large trees for a bit, he continued his way. The sweat was still clinging to his body, and his naked dick and balls stuck to his legs every now and then. Worst of all, he started to feel thirsty. Although the air was humid, Max had not seen a source of water anywhere yet, so he was ecstatic when he heard the sounds of running water after a few more hours of walk. Max rushed to the sound and found, to his delight, a waterfall with a small pond beneath it, sourcing a stream that went off into the forest. Max took a refreshing drink from the cold water and washed his face. After a few moments of relaxing in the sun, he felt better, both physically and mentally. Since it was already late afternoon, Max decided to make camp here.
After checking out the pond and the waterfall, Max took inventory of himself. As expected and feared, walking through a forest naked had left Max dirty from head to toe. The water was ice cold, but Max still decided to take a quick bath in the pond to wash away the worst dirt. Having cleaned himself, Max had the chance to look at his dripping wet body. Amazingly enough, he didn’t appear to have hurt himself on his hike. However, something was off: His feet didn’t look like they belonged to him at all. They were rough and sturdy and looked bigger than he was used to. Now that he thought about it, he noticed that he didn’t feel any pain in his feet after his short break. Additionally, his feet and lower legs were quite hairy, which was odd: Max usually didn’t have any body hair at all. His chest, arms and legs were naturally hairless. But the short coarse hairs were there and firmly attached to his legs.
Max finished his bath and was about to get out, but noticed his dick was fully erect. He wasn’t quite sure how it happened, but he was completely hard. It was certainly not a situation he was used to, so he tried to hide it. He had a very low sex drive usually, almost asexual. However, now he was clearly sporting an erection. He pondered for a moment if he should stay inside the pond and wait it out, but finally concluded that there was still nobody around to see his indecency. With a sigh of resignation, he stood up and let his penis spring free. It was a little bit embarrassing, but it couldn’t be helped, he thought.
It got dark quickly, and Max was very tired from the walk, so he drifted to sleep quickly despite shivering from the wet cold against his naked skin. His dreams were incoherent and wild, with him running through the forest, hunting or being hunted by something or someone.
In the middle of the night, Max woke up. At first, he didn’t know why, and he could not see anything. It was completely dark around him and he could not see a single thing. Then, he felt his cock twitch and realized he had woken up from his own arousal. Max had never felt that horny in his entire life. Without thinking much, his right hand closed around his aching cock, and he started to stroke it slowly, enjoying the feeling. His hand glided up and down his shaft and the head of his dick felt like it was ready to explode. With every stroke, his breathing became heavier, and his cock throbbed more. His left hand went down his body through dense hair on his chest. Hair? He stopped shortly in his track, but his throbbing cock demanded attention. He continued his pumping and, after a short while, came with a loud cry all over his body. Almost immediately, he felt very tired again. He briefly wondered if he should clean himself but put that back to tomorrow. He wouldn’t see anything tonight anyway.
Max did not clean himself the next morning. His body changed a lot during the night: He was hairy all over and his dried up cum was sticking to his mat of chest hair. Above all else however, Max felt hungry - so he went out to find food. After a short while, he found a bush full of berries which he ate right there. Normally, he would have spent more thought about if the fruit might be poisonous, but he was feeling way too hungry for second thoughts. Besides he had a gut feeling, almost an instinctual knowledge that this berry would be fine. When he returned to his waterfall site, he noticed that he had developed a musky body smell. He sniffed his armpits and smelled a definite manly scent. He also noticed that his body had become slightly more muscular and his chest more pronounced. It was as if he had been transformed into some kind of more primitive, more primal man. And God, he was feeling horny again. Without any reservation, he grabbed his stiffening cock again and started jerking off, occasionally grunting in pleasure.
Over the next few days, Max’ changes continued. His body was becoming more muscular, and his senses sharpened. A thick layer of body hair covered his limbs and chest, and a beard grew in. At first, Max wanted to take note of his changes and deduct theories about what happened to him, but as his mind slipped away into a more primitive version of himself, he quickly forgot about it. His new instincts and faster reflexes helped him get by better and better - he soon began hunting and fashioned himself some sort of rag clothing from the fur he collected. More and more, his prior life began to fade and all that was left was Max, the cave man.
He would probably have continued his primitive life, only consisting of hunting, eating, sleeping and jerking off (a lot) and be content with it, wouldn’t it have been for a discovery the cave man made one night. He was, again, busy pumping his cock, when he saw a bright yellow light shine from between the trees. With a confused grunt, he stepped closer and saw a swirling portal of yellow light. He had seen this before, but he could not remember where… Regardless, he grabbed his spear and stepped through.
Confused about the setup? Don’t be! You can read the prologue here. You can also continue to the next episode
Max’ Journey - Prologue
It was one of the more boring days in Max’s lab. Maxwell Stone was a researcher at Infinite Horizons Laboratories, a cutting edge high-tech developer. Max was a bright young man, recently graduated from the countries best university with the highest grades - just what Infinite Horizons was looking for. He was currently researching ways to make the chips they produced even more powerful, when he stumbled upon an interesting entry in the company database. Apparently, there was a theory on nano-mechanics that could prove most useful for his research.
He sighed. Apparently, it wasn’t scanned yet and he had to get the actual book from the archive. It wasn’t that much work to go down to the archives, but Max found it always easier to do things digitally, if he had the chance. Besides, Max was a really clean guy and didn’t like to get dirty. But, no matter how hard he tried, he simply couldn’t avoid going to the archives every now and then.
The archives were located deep inside the laboratory complex, in a room that was separated by several layers of security systems. While the rest of the lab was very clean and organized, down there was chaos and dust. It was kind of like visiting the catacombs of some ancient civilization, where everything was buried in the dirt.
Max arrived in front of the door leading into the archives. His keycard opened the heavy door for him, and under the white ceiling light began his search for the book. Careful not to breathe in too much dust or getting his hands too dirty, he began to sift through the bookcases. It proved harder to find than Max originally hoped, sending him deeper and deeper into the labyrinth that was the archive. As he had reached the back wall, where, judging by the layers of dust, nobody had been in a quite a while, an item in one of the shelves caught his gaze. It looked like a black box, about 20 centimeters in size, without any visible chinks or screws. Where it not for the one singular green button on the top, the device would have looked like a smooth block of dark metal. There were two reasons that Max felt curious about it: First, it was completely dust-free, which was weird considering everything else here was covered by a dense layer of dust. And secondly, there was a post-it note attached to it. On it were just two words, written in unsteady handwriting, like someone who was writing with his left hand or a child that was trying their first letters. It said: “Please help!”
Max reached for the device, carefully avoiding the dust. He hesitated for a moment before curiosity got the better of him and he pressed the button. With a faint whirring noise, a crackle and flash of light filled the room. Right there, in front of him, a whirling vortex of yellow energy had formed in the air, around man-sized, although the size varied slightly. Being a gamer himself, his immediate first thought was: That was a portal. Was he supposed to step through? Or maybe, press the button again to close it?
“Uh… hi?” Max called out, feeling somewhat unsure of himself. Receiving no answer, he slowly approached the bright energy vortex. When he was within a few meters, he stopped. This was the strangest thing he had ever seen, and it did seem a little dangerous.
“Hello?” Max called out again. “I’m … trying to help.” He said, as he remembered the note. Still, no answer.
Max walked closer until he was standing right next to the portal. There was no way to look into it, but the glowing yellow energy seemed to be coming from all sides. He wondered where this thing led to. It was an invitation, so much was sure, but one ripped right from a science fiction novel.
“Hey! Can you hear me?” Max yelled again, trying to sound a little more commanding. Again, no answer. Max pondered for a moment. If he stepped through the portal, he would probably end up somewhere else. It was a risk, but… how often do you get a mysterious yellow energy portal right in front of you? He would hate himself forever, if he didn’t see this through, so with a gulp and a quick step, Max stepped right into the middle of the energy vortex.
Authors note: This is the prologue to a series (with lots of transformative content, but none in the prologue yet, sorry!)
Read the next part here
Hey, I’ve seen you change people and I had a request. I am so done with trying to find the one on apps like Grindr, nobody cares about an otter artist. I wish I was some kind of massive guy, you could mistake me for Bigfoot. If I can’t find the one, I’ll just get to hookup with everyone. I don’t care what it takes
Wow. Someone who actually wishes that they could be mistaken for big foot. Ok. Sure. Why not. I mean. Why not be some mythical creature since you are having a hard time finding a true love. Your feel the change happening in your souls but your not even sure what is going on until you look down and you seen copious amounts of hair spilling out from your socks. Traveling up your legs while you muscles begins to bulk. Sook. Your not even able to see skin under all the hair while you underwear drops in your shorts from the girth of your cock widening and lengthening and your balls beginning to swell with the new seen of mythic proportions. You soon begin to leak non stop as the your stomach pokes put slightly and becomes tangled in a mess of thick black hair. Your arms bulk up while your chest becomes covered in the same dark hair that the rest of your body is quickly becoming covered in. You hair begins to thin while what little skin is visible begins to darken from all the time you spend outside. A thick dark beard grows on your face as you finally change into a mythical big foot.
You take out your phone surprised that you have changed so much. You now have to have the body that all the guys on those apps are going to drool after. But there is one thing you made a mistake on. One you forgot about. You wished to be Bigfoot. Your souls continue to tingle and you look down. Your feet begin to cramp as they expand. Your able to toss your shoes off when the pain seems to much and you see your feet split your socks right before you eyes. And what’s even more. They are covered in the thickest darkest hair you have ever seen. You’ve never seen feet so hairy. And so large. They had to be at least a size 24 ! How was you going to walk around like this !!! But that worry didn’t last long. Your primal urges take over as you begin to think about taking anyone you want when you want. Just the animal you wished to be. And hairy grows thicker on your body as you embrace your true nature.
Pre-Homo Sapience
Devolution story at last! It's not everyone's cup of tea I imagine but I think this turned out quite well! Hair growth, mental corruption, muscle growth, and loss of self ahead!
Thanks to all who offered suggestions! Went back to a prompt from one of my older follower celebrations! This story came quite naturally, as it were, haha! Enjoy! -Occam
If they didn’t want him to touch the thing they shouldn’t have simply left it out in the open like that. Chris knows such instructions are typically a given in a museum, but staring at the cut on his hand he is indignant and wishes there was at least a sign up. Surely it should be in a case or something. Feeling the warm blood start to trickle down his palm he looks up at the artifact and almost feels it calling out for him to touch it again. He raises his non-cut hand as it is magnetically drawn to the prehistoric piece before shaking it off and going to get first aid.
Chris plays coy with the volunteers, not wanting to out himself as either a scofflaw or irresponsible dullard. His desire to prevent this from happening to another museum goer fades to the back, well behind his need to appear like a man who wouldn’t try to grab an object older than the written word. To that end he is desperately trying to convince himself that he wasn’t bizarrely drawn to the object, though as the stone shard graces his mind once more the desire to hold it in his hands returns.
After getting his cut bandaged up Chris opts to remain discrete and toss a note in their suggestion box. En route there however he passes the stone shiv and finds it encased in a glass box, one that the cut on his hand proves could not have been there minutes ago. He hand stings as he clenches it and he races up to inspect the display. There’s yet another drive by his hands to grab at the piece only to be met with a cold bump against the glass. Nearby a student eyes him suspiciously and Chris nervously laughs, embarrassment clear on his face.
He takes a picture to research the object later, hopefully to find the root to whatever weird compulsion is affecting him. As soon as he snaps the picture he feels a hot flash, his forehead suddenly burns as he is overcome by a harsh fever. Through the sudden headache and slight delirium from his still rising temperature he stumbles out of the museum and to his car. Chris’ body goes on autopilot as he barely maintains consciousness on the drive home. Slamming the door behind him he just makes it to the couch before passing out, the last image before an empty unconsciousness being the all too alluring artifact clutched in his bleeding hand.
Sun streams in through the windows alighting the clothes strewn about the floor having apparently been discarded while he was asleep. Chris stretches and loudly yawns as a sunbeam shifts to land on his face. Blocking the rays as he rubs his eyes and groans, he scratches at his stomach and looks down shocked to have slept in the nude. Covered in dried sweat he stumbles into the kitchen to get a glass of water, reaching for a pitcher he sees the bloody bandage on his hand and the events of yesterday afternoon come rushing back to him.
First Chris sets a thermometer going, fingers crossed he can call out. While that’s on he sets to remove the bandage, where he discovers that whatever oddities happened yesterday are not done with him yet. The cut is completely healed. Rubbing the spot where it should be he finds rougher skin, slightly darker than the rest of his pale palm. Quite the opposite of his standard experience with scars but hey he’s no doc. He grumbles to himself that he’d better not have gotten some ancient sickness from that stupid rock before starting his coffee brewing and sitting down to research said artifact before work.
Chris prides himself on the ease with which he usually scours the internet for information. Though to find anything concrete on this, by all accounts, indistinct piece of ancient detritus is a more difficult mission than he was prepared for. His eyes glaze over as he grows bored from staring at barely significant rocks and pottery sherds. He scratches at his jaw finding he could do with a shave before going to pour himself some coffee. He chews on his lip as his mind struggles to put any two thoughts together in his mind on the matter.
On the way back to the desk he takes a sip of his coffee. Chris immediately gags as the coffee tastes stronger and far more bitter than any brew he has suffered before. He can’t help but spit it onto the floor as he stands there still unclothed. It splashes onto his feet and he grunts in pain, his arms raise in rage though finding no target he limps to sit down and check his burns. His brow furrowing at how he could have messed up his coffee to such a degree. Looking back it tasted like it always has? Just stronger, more intense.
He shakes off his contemplation as he brings his coffee stained foot up into his lap. The skin is obviously red from the light burns but there seems to be no long-lasting damage. His eyes drift from his feet to his hands however as he notices something the most bizarre occurrence yet, there is hair on the back of his hands? He doesn’t know how he’s possibly missed it, there are dark brown hairs spreading out from his wrists, down his forearms and towards his long fingers. He’d almost swear his eyes are playing tricks on him as the hair on his right hand, once bandaged if not cut, looks thicker and darker than that on its pair.
Chris ponders on how unaware he must have been lately to miss the hair on his arms growing at such a prodigious rate. Muttering to himself about not doing enough self-reflection he remains unaware of more drastic changes happening across his body. Perhaps if his hands and feet were not observed at the same time he would notice as all four extremities are larger than when he fell asleep the day before. His wider palms briefly struggled to maintain grace on the keyboard earlier but the lengthened fingers found their marks with enough ease to bury the lede. His feet cover more of the floor than they ever have before and, much like his hands, hair is sneaking down from his ankles and creating a hobbit-esqe patch on the top of them, while stray hairs curl out further on each toe.
His mind is torn whether to get back to researching the artifact or to call a doctor. Before either side wins however he takes a step and promptly steps in the coffee sprayed on the floor. He grimaces in shock that he didn’t clean that earlier, it’s unlike him to make such a mess and not immediately clean it up. He groans and rubs his hands on his face, blaming his befuddlement on the fever while ignoring how his whole wider palm now matches the should-be scar. Both hands are darker and rougher on his face as they scratch against his increasingly thicker stubble and harsher brow. As soon as Chris tosses a towel down onto the mess his alarm goes off and he sees it’s time to head to work.
The man rushes for the door and almost exits before looking down to find he’s only clad in a surprisingly tight pair of briefs. He blushes, embarrassed that he almost left the house nigh-nude. The shock of it all hides how darker hairs curl up from his strained briefs as well as his package bulging out further than ever before. Throwing on whatever is easily grabable in his wardrobe with no thought spared on consistency or fashion he makes excellent time throwing on clothes. He doesn't worry about how much sloppier he looks in the mirror, it’s just stress. He pointedly ignores how his arms inch out further from his long sleeves or how his pants bunch at his ankles as they’ve never done before. He skips socks as his feet fit far too snugly in his oxfords for some reason. No time to shave stubble that even since waking up has spread further up his cheeks and down his neck as he again races to his car.
The drive seems to take longer than usual, though the clock on his dash would disagree. Not usually prone to road rage Chris finds every delay due to traffic far more irritating than usual. His brows hand thick over his eyes, casting shadows that can display nothing but contempt as it almost seems like a ridge is beginning to bulge on his forehead. He grunts and clutches at the wheel as the car in front of him hesitates to go on a green. His jaw cramps from how hard he’s clenching it as he avoids blaring on the horn. Underneath his shirt veins bulge down his forearms as hair begins to grow even thicker underneath them as they begin to put on weight and grow in strength.
He scratches at his chest as his clothes feel only increasingly itchy and tight, “God what is up with me today!” He takes a centering breath as his usually then chest pushes against his button up. With a sign he resolves to stay calm the rest of the drive. Having chilled out at all Chris realizes his hand that’s not on the wheel has strayed and is scratching at his crotch. He bites at his lip as he feels a burning itch there as his pants feel far too tight on his waist and in his crotch. He pretends not to see his cock bulging down a pant leg as he’s stopped at another light. He sighs as he maintains his composure and starts to watch passersby to help the light pass quicker.
Staring out the window Chris’ eyes are immediately drawn to a massive man jogging down the road. His mouth waters as he stares at the man’s muscular body shifts with each step, perfectly bouncing in the air. His mouth is not the only thing to water as he grunts and his cock forces into even more of a bulge as it starts to produce pre-cum in a manner it has never done before. His lust changes to envy as he imagines the freedom of the man, shirtless under the sun as his chest itches once more against his wretched garment. The car behind him honks as the light above him changes to green and Chris sees red, his arms again flex and the top button of his shirt pops open as something new burns in his chest. His foot accidently presses harder on the brake before shifting over as he speedily jets off.
Arriving at work just on time he rushes in the door, unfortunately unaware of the sweat-stains under his pits or the unmissable spot of precum in his pants were anyone to study his massive bulge. Rushing in the elevator he bumps into a coworker, Jake, who almost bursts out laughing in shock, “Hah! God Chris you look fucking awful!” He grabs at Chris’ arm lift to poke fun at his too-short sleeves, raising his arm and exposing the pit; he instead bats at the air and exhales, “Pwoh dude, you absolutely reek!?” He shifts to look at Chris’ unshaven face and sloppy hair and his expression drops slightly, concern tinting his eyes. “You are alright, right Chris?”
“Uhhh yeah. Little uh, fever.” For some reason Chris was almost struggling to keep up with his friend’s words. The speed at which he moved from observing aspects of Chris’ appearance was simply hard to follow, as soon as he put his mind to inspecting his own arm as his coworker called it out he was laughing at the next thing. Probably for the best, lest anxiety build in his chest and he cause a scene. As his arm is raised Chris smells his own body odor in a way he’s never been able to do before. The idea that you shouldn’t smell your own armpit mid-conversation does not occur to Chris as the scent briefly drives him crazy. He shoves his own head in his pit and takes a few deep sniffs. His mouth opens as if he’s wanting to lick as his beard scratches against his tighter shirt.
His friend smiles and backs away, “Chris?” Hearing his name Chris snaps out of it, shaking his head a few times to get his bearings he sniffs the air a few times and is shocked as his sense of smell has clearly increased beyond what he would have deemed possible. He smells the cafeteria as the elevator passes it on the ascent. Less appealing than his own musk he can smell Jake’s cologne and beneath that something bizarre. Chris can smell fear coming from the man as readily as he can read it on his face. Chris’ back hunches as his shoulders grow weighter and his upper body bulges larger as he leans in to inspect Jake more closely.
Jake backs into the corner of the elevator seeing something shift in Chris’ eyes. Not so much crazed as curious. Jake’s own curiosity would be piqued were this whole situation not bizarre and nightmarish. Standing almost a foot shorter with his hunch Chris sees Jake cower and he does his best to calm his friend down. Something in his gut compels him to do a wide toothy smile, that it’s the quickest way to appeasement. He raises his arms and backs away from his scared friend and there’s a tear as his clothes rip from the sudden movement.
Jake chuckles uncomfortably and eyes the button for the elevator doors, reaching for one to allow him a quick escape. Chris nervously goes into damage control, everything in his mind screams at him to act normal but the concept of normality seems increasingly alien to him. He waves his larger arms in the air and clears his throat to try and speak, “Jake. Me- I am sick, yes?” Jake covers his mouth with a handkerchief and stops the elevator on the next floor. Talking through his kerchief he agrees, “Yeah, you should work from home today Chris. You’re clearly, um, out of sorts.”
The doors begin to close and Chris’ eyes light on the control panel. He blinks hard a few times trying to make out which one will keep the doors open so he can talk with his friend. Just before they close he grunts and he shoves out a meaty fist, causing Jake to flinch, “Yes. I go home and work, uhh, there. Good idea. You bring-” Jake steps back and nods fervently, “Yes, yes. I’ll drop off whatever you need just, go get some rest.”
Chris offers another toothy smile and grunts in agreement as he lets the doors close. He scratches at his head as he again looks at the panel in confusion. Distress fills his mind and anxiety his chest as he stares at the panel knowing this should be a beyond simple matter. Before he touches a button the machine begins moving down and every muscle in his body tenses. More tears shoot down the back of his shirt as he flies into the corner of the tiny room. Hair pokes out from every button in the front as he pants in fear of the sudden movement. Body tight with fear muscle continues to grow heavier on his body, undefined and powerful as he unknowingly nears the ground floor.
Arriving at the ground floor the doors open and he rushes out falling on his hands in front of the elevator. His eyes are focused and expression clueless as he breathes through his mouth and pushes past a woman about to step into the elevator before she smells the stink inside and recoils, scoffing at the man. Eying the torn clothes she grimaces at Chris, “God are you an animal?!” Chris’ thick brow furrows and he grunts at her, “Me- I- ugh!” With that he sprints as fast as he can away from the business and to what he can only just remember as his car. He kicks off his shoes as they grow painfully tight, his harrier feet race across the concrete as his soles feel increasingly suited to stomping across matted earth.
He pauses at his car’s door for a second hesitating at the method of entry before hopping in and slamming the door behind him. Everything laid in front of him is impossibly familiar, he’s been at this wheel thousands of times. He moves his hands across the leather wheel and tries to force it to turn, grunting as it stays firm. He wrenches at it with all the might he has, sure this is how it must go. He knows how to drive after all. He’s not stupid. His brow grows even heavier over his eyes as his beard thickens with every grunt. His biceps put on the mass of a weightlifter as the wheel jolts and his car alarm begins to go off.
His car blaring he has no recourse but to punch at the wheel as anxiety grows. His chest heaves with nervous breaths. He scratches at his chest and feels the hair beneath it thicken and curls as it spreads towards his shoulders and up towards his messy beard. His wild eyes still as he sees another man jogging down the street shirtless as he too rips off the tattered remains of his button up. Grimacing at his confined thighs he tears at his torn pants as well, fighting the urge not to bend down and gnaw them off. Hairy thighs unveiled, his hands try to reach and tear off his impossibly tight briefs as well before his chest pangs and his head wrenches back. He can’t do that. He needs to keep them. He twists in discomfort as two impulses vie to this end. His face grows red under his still thickening beard as he is barely able to retain this smallest shred of dignity.
He pushes open the door with his newfound power, only accidentally getting at the handle before down the street. The weight of his upper body, and the apparent shorter length of his legs, puts the idea in his head that his arms could well help him run faster. His heavy knuckles hang low and he barely maintains his mind as he sprints as a man does and makes a better time back than he ever could in that stupid car. He exhales in pride as he gets to the door of his house. It was thankfully left open by his thoroughly less scatterbrained morning self. This time as he worms his way in he leaves it consciously ajar.
His stomach rumbles with hunger and he sniffs to find a suitable quarry. He squints as he smells food behind cabinets, opening them he finds packages of processed snacks and containers unrecognizable as food. Chris grunts as he knocks a few of them off the shelves onto the floor, grumbling as he grows hungrier by the second. After knocking a glass bottle to the floor, the shattering sound returns awareness to Chris’ eyes, grunting out a “Wha-”
Seeing the mess he’s apparently made he stands back in shock, looking down at his hairy body and thick arms. His cock finally outgrows his tight briefs and his heavy balls hang low underneath a bush hairier than any human should be able to grow. He searches for his cell before realizing he must have discarded it with his pants, “fuck!” he shouts, clenching at his thick throat as his voice resounds a deep bass.
Standing in his kitchen his mind slowly crawls to find any idea worth pursuing as concepts and meaning begin to fall from his mind never to return. His train of thought is interrupted before he can even realize that he doesn’t know his own name anymore. Language begins to fall by the wayside, another thing not worth knowing as his need for food continues to grow. Every groaned word grows thicker and slower in between grunts as his mind dulls and his senses continue to grow more sensitive, “Me… Hungry…” Barely understanding what a fridge is he grabs and pulls at the door and uncovers a packaged pound of raw meat.
Chris’ mouth immediately waters as he rips into the package and begins forcing it into his mouth with a speed that would make one think he’s never eaten before. Eating is not a ritual but an act of survival. Not nearly full he continues tearing into anything that is obviously food in the fridge. Handfuls of lettuce and fruit follow a jug of milk and at last the man is sated. What was intended to be hamburgers later this week litter the floor around him as milk trails down his sweaty body. Seeing ground beef stuck under his nails and lettuce caught in his dense beard something deep inside Chris screams before it is buried beneath the powerful will of a creature who has yet to develop the ability to understand.
The ultimate task of survival currently conquered, Chris sniffs the air and sets to tackle the next challenge presenting itself. His cock bulges out and his balls pulse with the same primal hunger that rings from his stomach. He grabs at his cock and has a eureka moment more profound than when his kind discovered fire as he feels more pleasure in the moment than in his whole life preceding.
He falls to the floor and immediately begins masturbating, his balls bouncing with every movement, his hips can't help but rut the air as his brain was hard wired to do. Drool drips into his beard from his open mouth as his eyes again glaze over from the sheer pleasure invoked by his mindless pleasure seeking. After finishing he languishes in the less-than cerebral pleasure, feeling every inch of his powerful body before his cock begins to rise again and in short order he looses another load onto his own hairy torso.
Sniffing the air he has an urge to scoop his own cum into his mouth. Thankfully, for whatever mute anemic shred of Chris’ humanity remains, he is interrupted. His laptop left open from his flight early this morning chimes and his attention is firmly drawn to the mysterious object. The screen displays mysterious characters that he couldn’t hope to read ‘From: Jake omw.’ beside the enigmatic symbols his attention is drawn to the centerpiece of the screen, finally something he can recognize. Smack dab in the middle of the laptop is the stone shiv from the Natural History Museum. Chris’ exhales with interest and fury as he knows beyond a doubt that the artifact is his.
Chris’ dull eyes shift as he struggles to make even the most rudimentary plan towards retrieving his shiv. He grunts in irritation as he finds the gears of his mind turning impossibly slowly, at the edges of whatever consciousness is to him he suddenly remembers that he saw it yesterday. He knows where it is, he just needs to go get it. His chest burns with excitement and he is filled with the desire to beat at his chest and cheer. He looks around for any tools that could help in his foolhardy mission before impatiently grunting and turning towards the door.
Outside Jake is approaching, blissfully unaware of what impossible horrors await inside besides an unusually slovenly and sick Chris. Seeing the entrance ajar he hastens and drops the paperwork he brought as concern trumps whatever busywork he brought his friend. “Oh Fuck! Chris!? Are you okay!?” Crossing the threshold his nose wrinkles as he smells odors that men have not produced for hundreds of thousands of years. The scene almost stuns him as he sees a creature that has barely a similarity with the man who woke up on the couch this morning. The fridge door lies on its hinges next to a pile of food waste. There are globs of inhuman cum staining the walls as what was once Chris beats his chest now opposed to Jake.
The office worker can’t use the one advantage he has over the behemoth. Freezing up as his mind goes blank Jake whispers, “God, you look like a fucking caveman.” Jake stands in the door frame, scared and unsure of what could possibly be going on. Chris quickly jumps down to meet him, sniffing him to find a familiar, if not friendly, scent; he attempts to push him gently out of the way. Unaware of the frailty of modern man he instead bowls him over and sprints off into the distance, unconcerned with the man he’s barrelled past or any of the other weird submissive beings covered in mysterious cloth just as he was. He’s got a mission and more than anything he needs to feel his shiv in his hands once more.
Lightly concussed Jake later awakens to find his clothes stained with Chris’ bountiful dinner and, worse than that, his seed. He grimaces and takes off his button up then in there before heading inside to inspect his friend's domicile. Each step within sharpens his senses and dulls caution as his friends' pheromones draw him further in. while initially beyond repulsive it becomes more alluring by the second. Why should Jake be concerned by the sudden itchiness rising across his form. The rising pressure in his crotch as he takes deep breaths is far more compelling. Clothes feeling uncomfortable and constricting, he rips them off and pays no mind to hair darkening and spreading wide, his mind too dull to recognize how he too is changing like Chris.
Wandering out of the house he smells a fading trail of Chris’ pheromones going off towards the museum, his cock bobs larger in his pants as it takes everything in his mind to stop from sprinting after him then and there. Shaking off the lust, sensibility returns to Jake’s mind as the breeze cools his almost entirely nude body. He writes off his phone and clothes, sure that reentering would spell his doom he instead sprints for his car. Before any further action though the wind delivers the beyond pleasurable smell of Chris’ approaching.
What was once Chris barrels down a field ambling between charging on his legs and all fours, slightly scratched from breaking glass with a stone shiv in hand. Having regained his artifact his body has grown in every possible manner. Jake can’t help but lustfully stare as the massive man approaches and his decaying mind has no ability to prevent him from following his desires. He discards whatever remains of his plan to fly and instead bounds towards the brute, with each step his body devolves. Growing hairier as his mind prioritizes only survival and the seeking of sexual pleasure. His cock surging as he nears his friend, his superior, nothing ever to grace his conscious again besides the desire to fuck and be fucked.
As a kid, I watched a film that had these big cavemen tie a nerd to a pole before he was saved by his archaeologist friends. Since then, the idea of a bunch of cavemen taking a nerd to physically turn him into one of them while forcefully dumbing him down makes me so aroused. Too bad it didn't even happen in the movie, let alone real life...
‘Neanderthals!’ has been one of Terrance’s favorite movies since he was a kid, which made most of his friends very confused. A lot of them couldn’t figure out why he liked it so much. Terrance was the founder, president, and only member of his high school's movie club, the volunteer movie reviewer for his college newspaper, and generally the biggest movie buff that most people ever got to meet, but his favorite movie, out of all of the choices, was a C-list kids movie where a bunch of teen archeologist unfreeze three real cavemen who were stuck in an iceberg, and have to deal with their shenanigans. It was nothing special, just a lame kids movie that wasn’t even bad enough to be funny. None of his fellow movie buffs could figure out why you loved it so much, but the answer was surprisingly simple: that movie was Terrence’s sexual awakening. Watching the trio of muscular, hairy cavemen tie up a 15 year old nerd (who was played by a 19 year old actor for some reason) and dance around him ritually woke something up inside of him. He seriously thought for a moment that he was going to watch the nerd be turned into a caveman, and that fleeting thought has stuck in his mind for years like an itch he couldn’t scratch. He became fascinated with the idea of caveman transformations, and had watched the movie dozens of times over the years. Terrance had seen it so much he thought he knew everything about his favorite movie at this point, that he had every scene, every fact memorized. Until he heard about the missing scenes.
Like many small movies, the fanbase for it was incredibly small, but dedicated. It had one small reddit page, with about 7 people who regularly posted on it regularly, Terrance among them. Things were usually pretty calm there, until one day a newcomer to the forum reported that they had found a copy of the movie with deleted scenes. At first Terrance thought it had to be a scam, but the anonymous fan claimed he’d send a copy of the deleted scenes in the mail, for free, and Terrance accepted. He doubted the guy was trying to hack him with a DVD or something, so even though Terrance wasn’t expecting much, he gave the stranger his address (the address of a PO box. He wouldn’t give your address to a stranger, he was horny not crazy). He was shocked when he actually got the DVD as promised, and even more surprised when He put it on. As it blared to life, he immediately recognized the opening! It really was ‘Neanderthals!’ Or at least a version of it! The sender seemed to have cut out most of the scenes that were the same, leaving only the missing scenes and the opening left. Terrance watched in awe, laughing at the bloopers and making notes on the different scenes that were left out. Then, finally, they got to the scene you had been hoping for.
It started out mostly the same as it did in the original movie, with one of the teen archeologists, Hal the stereotypical nerd, being kidnapped by the three cavemen, who danced around a fire as he was tied to a nearby pole. But soon the scene changed, and unlike in the original, the cavemen turned their attention to their captive. One of the cavemen, the one who gets redeemed toward the end of the movie and marries one of the main character Moms (like I said this was a weird movie), went up to Hal and rubbed some colored mud on his face, making distinct ritualistic markings. Terrance felt warm excitement come over him as he watched the three cavemen chant and dance wildly, and watched as what he always wanted to happen happened. Hal’s skin tanned slightly and his hair grew longer, wilder and dirtier. Terrance watched, entranced, as his muscles grew beefy and defined, practically able to feel the warmth coming from the fire as you did. He could see the actor's eyes glaze over as his brain seemed to melt and devolve, and could practically feel the dumb guffaw he made echo in your ears as his face became more gruff and his intelligence drained. This was exactly what Terrance had always wanted, what Terrance had been dreaming of seeing for years! Terrance’s itch was finally being scratched, and it felt so good. Terrance felt so good. Terrance felt great! Terrance felt… horny! He practically tore off his clothing, struggling with the buttons for some reason, and began to pull at his cock. He felt himself laugh dumbly and began to mutter.
“Terry is so… horny… Terry wants… pussy!” Terrance said, despite having been gay mere moments before. He laughed dumbly as the remains of his clothing magically transformed, becoming a loincloth. Terry continued to jerk his now growing cock as his changes finalized. Terrance was gone, replaced with Terry, a dumb, buff caveman, and all Terry wanted to do was to find a cave girl to plow.
**hey there! First time doing a caveman TF. Found it very hot (but also hard to find pictures for). Hope you guys liked it!**
Pre-Homo Sapience
Devolution story at last! It's not everyone's cup of tea I imagine but I think this turned out quite well! Hair growth, mental corruption, muscle growth, and loss of self ahead!
Thanks to all who offered suggestions! Went back to a prompt from one of my older follower celebrations! This story came quite naturally, as it were, haha! Enjoy! -Occam
If they didn’t want him to touch the thing they shouldn’t have simply left it out in the open like that. Chris knows such instructions are typically a given in a museum, but staring at the cut on his hand he is indignant and wishes there was at least a sign up. Surely it should be in a case or something. Feeling the warm blood start to trickle down his palm he looks up at the artifact and almost feels it calling out for him to touch it again. He raises his non-cut hand as it is magnetically drawn to the prehistoric piece before shaking it off and going to get first aid.
Chris plays coy with the volunteers, not wanting to out himself as either a scofflaw or irresponsible dullard. His desire to prevent this from happening to another museum goer fades to the back, well behind his need to appear like a man who wouldn’t try to grab an object older than the written word. To that end he is desperately trying to convince himself that he wasn’t bizarrely drawn to the object, though as the stone shard graces his mind once more the desire to hold it in his hands returns.
After getting his cut bandaged up Chris opts to remain discrete and toss a note in their suggestion box. En route there however he passes the stone shiv and finds it encased in a glass box, one that the cut on his hand proves could not have been there minutes ago. He hand stings as he clenches it and he races up to inspect the display. There’s yet another drive by his hands to grab at the piece only to be met with a cold bump against the glass. Nearby a student eyes him suspiciously and Chris nervously laughs, embarrassment clear on his face.
He takes a picture to research the object later, hopefully to find the root to whatever weird compulsion is affecting him. As soon as he snaps the picture he feels a hot flash, his forehead suddenly burns as he is overcome by a harsh fever. Through the sudden headache and slight delirium from his still rising temperature he stumbles out of the museum and to his car. Chris’ body goes on autopilot as he barely maintains consciousness on the drive home. Slamming the door behind him he just makes it to the couch before passing out, the last image before an empty unconsciousness being the all too alluring artifact clutched in his bleeding hand.
Sun streams in through the windows alighting the clothes strewn about the floor having apparently been discarded while he was asleep. Chris stretches and loudly yawns as a sunbeam shifts to land on his face. Blocking the rays as he rubs his eyes and groans, he scratches at his stomach and looks down shocked to have slept in the nude. Covered in dried sweat he stumbles into the kitchen to get a glass of water, reaching for a pitcher he sees the bloody bandage on his hand and the events of yesterday afternoon come rushing back to him.
First Chris sets a thermometer going, fingers crossed he can call out. While that’s on he sets to remove the bandage, where he discovers that whatever oddities happened yesterday are not done with him yet. The cut is completely healed. Rubbing the spot where it should be he finds rougher skin, slightly darker than the rest of his pale palm. Quite the opposite of his standard experience with scars but hey he’s no doc. He grumbles to himself that he’d better not have gotten some ancient sickness from that stupid rock before starting his coffee brewing and sitting down to research said artifact before work.
Chris prides himself on the ease with which he usually scours the internet for information. Though to find anything concrete on this, by all accounts, indistinct piece of ancient detritus is a more difficult mission than he was prepared for. His eyes glaze over as he grows bored from staring at barely significant rocks and pottery sherds. He scratches at his jaw finding he could do with a shave before going to pour himself some coffee. He chews on his lip as his mind struggles to put any two thoughts together in his mind on the matter.
On the way back to the desk he takes a sip of his coffee. Chris immediately gags as the coffee tastes stronger and far more bitter than any brew he has suffered before. He can’t help but spit it onto the floor as he stands there still unclothed. It splashes onto his feet and he grunts in pain, his arms raise in rage though finding no target he limps to sit down and check his burns. His brow furrowing at how he could have messed up his coffee to such a degree. Looking back it tasted like it always has? Just stronger, more intense.
He shakes off his contemplation as he brings his coffee stained foot up into his lap. The skin is obviously red from the light burns but there seems to be no long-lasting damage. His eyes drift from his feet to his hands however as he notices something the most bizarre occurrence yet, there is hair on the back of his hands? He doesn’t know how he’s possibly missed it, there are dark brown hairs spreading out from his wrists, down his forearms and towards his long fingers. He’d almost swear his eyes are playing tricks on him as the hair on his right hand, once bandaged if not cut, looks thicker and darker than that on its pair.
Chris ponders on how unaware he must have been lately to miss the hair on his arms growing at such a prodigious rate. Muttering to himself about not doing enough self-reflection he remains unaware of more drastic changes happening across his body. Perhaps if his hands and feet were not observed at the same time he would notice as all four extremities are larger than when he fell asleep the day before. His wider palms briefly struggled to maintain grace on the keyboard earlier but the lengthened fingers found their marks with enough ease to bury the lede. His feet cover more of the floor than they ever have before and, much like his hands, hair is sneaking down from his ankles and creating a hobbit-esqe patch on the top of them, while stray hairs curl out further on each toe.
His mind is torn whether to get back to researching the artifact or to call a doctor. Before either side wins however he takes a step and promptly steps in the coffee sprayed on the floor. He grimaces in shock that he didn’t clean that earlier, it’s unlike him to make such a mess and not immediately clean it up. He groans and rubs his hands on his face, blaming his befuddlement on the fever while ignoring how his whole wider palm now matches the should-be scar. Both hands are darker and rougher on his face as they scratch against his increasingly thicker stubble and harsher brow. As soon as Chris tosses a towel down onto the mess his alarm goes off and he sees it’s time to head to work.
The man rushes for the door and almost exits before looking down to find he’s only clad in a surprisingly tight pair of briefs. He blushes, embarrassed that he almost left the house nigh-nude. The shock of it all hides how darker hairs curl up from his strained briefs as well as his package bulging out further than ever before. Throwing on whatever is easily grabable in his wardrobe with no thought spared on consistency or fashion he makes excellent time throwing on clothes. He doesn't worry about how much sloppier he looks in the mirror, it’s just stress. He pointedly ignores how his arms inch out further from his long sleeves or how his pants bunch at his ankles as they’ve never done before. He skips socks as his feet fit far too snugly in his oxfords for some reason. No time to shave stubble that even since waking up has spread further up his cheeks and down his neck as he again races to his car.
The drive seems to take longer than usual, though the clock on his dash would disagree. Not usually prone to road rage Chris finds every delay due to traffic far more irritating than usual. His brows hand thick over his eyes, casting shadows that can display nothing but contempt as it almost seems like a ridge is beginning to bulge on his forehead. He grunts and clutches at the wheel as the car in front of him hesitates to go on a green. His jaw cramps from how hard he’s clenching it as he avoids blaring on the horn. Underneath his shirt veins bulge down his forearms as hair begins to grow even thicker underneath them as they begin to put on weight and grow in strength.
He scratches at his chest as his clothes feel only increasingly itchy and tight, “God what is up with me today!” He takes a centering breath as his usually then chest pushes against his button up. With a sign he resolves to stay calm the rest of the drive. Having chilled out at all Chris realizes his hand that’s not on the wheel has strayed and is scratching at his crotch. He bites at his lip as he feels a burning itch there as his pants feel far too tight on his waist and in his crotch. He pretends not to see his cock bulging down a pant leg as he’s stopped at another light. He sighs as he maintains his composure and starts to watch passersby to help the light pass quicker.
Staring out the window Chris’ eyes are immediately drawn to a massive man jogging down the road. His mouth waters as he stares at the man’s muscular body shifts with each step, perfectly bouncing in the air. His mouth is not the only thing to water as he grunts and his cock forces into even more of a bulge as it starts to produce pre-cum in a manner it has never done before. His lust changes to envy as he imagines the freedom of the man, shirtless under the sun as his chest itches once more against his wretched garment. The car behind him honks as the light above him changes to green and Chris sees red, his arms again flex and the top button of his shirt pops open as something new burns in his chest. His foot accidently presses harder on the brake before shifting over as he speedily jets off.
Arriving at work just on time he rushes in the door, unfortunately unaware of the sweat-stains under his pits or the unmissable spot of precum in his pants were anyone to study his massive bulge. Rushing in the elevator he bumps into a coworker, Jake, who almost bursts out laughing in shock, “Hah! God Chris you look fucking awful!” He grabs at Chris’ arm lift to poke fun at his too-short sleeves, raising his arm and exposing the pit; he instead bats at the air and exhales, “Pwoh dude, you absolutely reek!?” He shifts to look at Chris’ unshaven face and sloppy hair and his expression drops slightly, concern tinting his eyes. “You are alright, right Chris?”
“Uhhh yeah. Little uh, fever.” For some reason Chris was almost struggling to keep up with his friend’s words. The speed at which he moved from observing aspects of Chris’ appearance was simply hard to follow, as soon as he put his mind to inspecting his own arm as his coworker called it out he was laughing at the next thing. Probably for the best, lest anxiety build in his chest and he cause a scene. As his arm is raised Chris smells his own body odor in a way he’s never been able to do before. The idea that you shouldn’t smell your own armpit mid-conversation does not occur to Chris as the scent briefly drives him crazy. He shoves his own head in his pit and takes a few deep sniffs. His mouth opens as if he’s wanting to lick as his beard scratches against his tighter shirt.
His friend smiles and backs away, “Chris?” Hearing his name Chris snaps out of it, shaking his head a few times to get his bearings he sniffs the air a few times and is shocked as his sense of smell has clearly increased beyond what he would have deemed possible. He smells the cafeteria as the elevator passes it on the ascent. Less appealing than his own musk he can smell Jake’s cologne and beneath that something bizarre. Chris can smell fear coming from the man as readily as he can read it on his face. Chris’ back hunches as his shoulders grow weighter and his upper body bulges larger as he leans in to inspect Jake more closely.
Jake backs into the corner of the elevator seeing something shift in Chris’ eyes. Not so much crazed as curious. Jake’s own curiosity would be piqued were this whole situation not bizarre and nightmarish. Standing almost a foot shorter with his hunch Chris sees Jake cower and he does his best to calm his friend down. Something in his gut compels him to do a wide toothy smile, that it’s the quickest way to appeasement. He raises his arms and backs away from his scared friend and there’s a tear as his clothes rip from the sudden movement.
Jake chuckles uncomfortably and eyes the button for the elevator doors, reaching for one to allow him a quick escape. Chris nervously goes into damage control, everything in his mind screams at him to act normal but the concept of normality seems increasingly alien to him. He waves his larger arms in the air and clears his throat to try and speak, “Jake. Me- I am sick, yes?” Jake covers his mouth with a handkerchief and stops the elevator on the next floor. Talking through his kerchief he agrees, “Yeah, you should work from home today Chris. You’re clearly, um, out of sorts.”
The doors begin to close and Chris’ eyes light on the control panel. He blinks hard a few times trying to make out which one will keep the doors open so he can talk with his friend. Just before they close he grunts and he shoves out a meaty fist, causing Jake to flinch, “Yes. I go home and work, uhh, there. Good idea. You bring-” Jake steps back and nods fervently, “Yes, yes. I’ll drop off whatever you need just, go get some rest.”
Chris offers another toothy smile and grunts in agreement as he lets the doors close. He scratches at his head as he again looks at the panel in confusion. Distress fills his mind and anxiety his chest as he stares at the panel knowing this should be a beyond simple matter. Before he touches a button the machine begins moving down and every muscle in his body tenses. More tears shoot down the back of his shirt as he flies into the corner of the tiny room. Hair pokes out from every button in the front as he pants in fear of the sudden movement. Body tight with fear muscle continues to grow heavier on his body, undefined and powerful as he unknowingly nears the ground floor.
Arriving at the ground floor the doors open and he rushes out falling on his hands in front of the elevator. His eyes are focused and expression clueless as he breathes through his mouth and pushes past a woman about to step into the elevator before she smells the stink inside and recoils, scoffing at the man. Eying the torn clothes she grimaces at Chris, “God are you an animal?!” Chris’ thick brow furrows and he grunts at her, “Me- I- ugh!” With that he sprints as fast as he can away from the business and to what he can only just remember as his car. He kicks off his shoes as they grow painfully tight, his harrier feet race across the concrete as his soles feel increasingly suited to stomping across matted earth.
He pauses at his car’s door for a second hesitating at the method of entry before hopping in and slamming the door behind him. Everything laid in front of him is impossibly familiar, he’s been at this wheel thousands of times. He moves his hands across the leather wheel and tries to force it to turn, grunting as it stays firm. He wrenches at it with all the might he has, sure this is how it must go. He knows how to drive after all. He’s not stupid. His brow grows even heavier over his eyes as his beard thickens with every grunt. His biceps put on the mass of a weightlifter as the wheel jolts and his car alarm begins to go off.
His car blaring he has no recourse but to punch at the wheel as anxiety grows. His chest heaves with nervous breaths. He scratches at his chest and feels the hair beneath it thicken and curls as it spreads towards his shoulders and up towards his messy beard. His wild eyes still as he sees another man jogging down the street shirtless as he too rips off the tattered remains of his button up. Grimacing at his confined thighs he tears at his torn pants as well, fighting the urge not to bend down and gnaw them off. Hairy thighs unveiled, his hands try to reach and tear off his impossibly tight briefs as well before his chest pangs and his head wrenches back. He can’t do that. He needs to keep them. He twists in discomfort as two impulses vie to this end. His face grows red under his still thickening beard as he is barely able to retain this smallest shred of dignity.
He pushes open the door with his newfound power, only accidentally getting at the handle before down the street. The weight of his upper body, and the apparent shorter length of his legs, puts the idea in his head that his arms could well help him run faster. His heavy knuckles hang low and he barely maintains his mind as he sprints as a man does and makes a better time back than he ever could in that stupid car. He exhales in pride as he gets to the door of his house. It was thankfully left open by his thoroughly less scatterbrained morning self. This time as he worms his way in he leaves it consciously ajar.
His stomach rumbles with hunger and he sniffs to find a suitable quarry. He squints as he smells food behind cabinets, opening them he finds packages of processed snacks and containers unrecognizable as food. Chris grunts as he knocks a few of them off the shelves onto the floor, grumbling as he grows hungrier by the second. After knocking a glass bottle to the floor, the shattering sound returns awareness to Chris’ eyes, grunting out a “Wha-”
Seeing the mess he’s apparently made he stands back in shock, looking down at his hairy body and thick arms. His cock finally outgrows his tight briefs and his heavy balls hang low underneath a bush hairier than any human should be able to grow. He searches for his cell before realizing he must have discarded it with his pants, “fuck!” he shouts, clenching at his thick throat as his voice resounds a deep bass.
Standing in his kitchen his mind slowly crawls to find any idea worth pursuing as concepts and meaning begin to fall from his mind never to return. His train of thought is interrupted before he can even realize that he doesn’t know his own name anymore. Language begins to fall by the wayside, another thing not worth knowing as his need for food continues to grow. Every groaned word grows thicker and slower in between grunts as his mind dulls and his senses continue to grow more sensitive, “Me… Hungry…” Barely understanding what a fridge is he grabs and pulls at the door and uncovers a packaged pound of raw meat.
Chris’ mouth immediately waters as he rips into the package and begins forcing it into his mouth with a speed that would make one think he’s never eaten before. Eating is not a ritual but an act of survival. Not nearly full he continues tearing into anything that is obviously food in the fridge. Handfuls of lettuce and fruit follow a jug of milk and at last the man is sated. What was intended to be hamburgers later this week litter the floor around him as milk trails down his sweaty body. Seeing ground beef stuck under his nails and lettuce caught in his dense beard something deep inside Chris screams before it is buried beneath the powerful will of a creature who has yet to develop the ability to understand.
The ultimate task of survival currently conquered, Chris sniffs the air and sets to tackle the next challenge presenting itself. His cock bulges out and his balls pulse with the same primal hunger that rings from his stomach. He grabs at his cock and has a eureka moment more profound than when his kind discovered fire as he feels more pleasure in the moment than in his whole life preceding.
He falls to the floor and immediately begins masturbating, his balls bouncing with every movement, his hips can't help but rut the air as his brain was hard wired to do. Drool drips into his beard from his open mouth as his eyes again glaze over from the sheer pleasure invoked by his mindless pleasure seeking. After finishing he languishes in the less-than cerebral pleasure, feeling every inch of his powerful body before his cock begins to rise again and in short order he looses another load onto his own hairy torso.
Sniffing the air he has an urge to scoop his own cum into his mouth. Thankfully, for whatever mute anemic shred of Chris’ humanity remains, he is interrupted. His laptop left open from his flight early this morning chimes and his attention is firmly drawn to the mysterious object. The screen displays mysterious characters that he couldn’t hope to read ‘From: Jake omw.’ beside the enigmatic symbols his attention is drawn to the centerpiece of the screen, finally something he can recognize. Smack dab in the middle of the laptop is the stone shiv from the Natural History Museum. Chris’ exhales with interest and fury as he knows beyond a doubt that the artifact is his.
Chris’ dull eyes shift as he struggles to make even the most rudimentary plan towards retrieving his shiv. He grunts in irritation as he finds the gears of his mind turning impossibly slowly, at the edges of whatever consciousness is to him he suddenly remembers that he saw it yesterday. He knows where it is, he just needs to go get it. His chest burns with excitement and he is filled with the desire to beat at his chest and cheer. He looks around for any tools that could help in his foolhardy mission before impatiently grunting and turning towards the door.
Outside Jake is approaching, blissfully unaware of what impossible horrors await inside besides an unusually slovenly and sick Chris. Seeing the entrance ajar he hastens and drops the paperwork he brought as concern trumps whatever busywork he brought his friend. “Oh Fuck! Chris!? Are you okay!?” Crossing the threshold his nose wrinkles as he smells odors that men have not produced for hundreds of thousands of years. The scene almost stuns him as he sees a creature that has barely a similarity with the man who woke up on the couch this morning. The fridge door lies on its hinges next to a pile of food waste. There are globs of inhuman cum staining the walls as what was once Chris beats his chest now opposed to Jake.
The office worker can’t use the one advantage he has over the behemoth. Freezing up as his mind goes blank Jake whispers, “God, you look like a fucking caveman.” Jake stands in the door frame, scared and unsure of what could possibly be going on. Chris quickly jumps down to meet him, sniffing him to find a familiar, if not friendly, scent; he attempts to push him gently out of the way. Unaware of the frailty of modern man he instead bowls him over and sprints off into the distance, unconcerned with the man he’s barrelled past or any of the other weird submissive beings covered in mysterious cloth just as he was. He’s got a mission and more than anything he needs to feel his shiv in his hands once more.
Lightly concussed Jake later awakens to find his clothes stained with Chris’ bountiful dinner and, worse than that, his seed. He grimaces and takes off his button up then in there before heading inside to inspect his friend's domicile. Each step within sharpens his senses and dulls caution as his friends' pheromones draw him further in. while initially beyond repulsive it becomes more alluring by the second. Why should Jake be concerned by the sudden itchiness rising across his form. The rising pressure in his crotch as he takes deep breaths is far more compelling. Clothes feeling uncomfortable and constricting, he rips them off and pays no mind to hair darkening and spreading wide, his mind too dull to recognize how he too is changing like Chris.
Wandering out of the house he smells a fading trail of Chris’ pheromones going off towards the museum, his cock bobs larger in his pants as it takes everything in his mind to stop from sprinting after him then and there. Shaking off the lust, sensibility returns to Jake’s mind as the breeze cools his almost entirely nude body. He writes off his phone and clothes, sure that reentering would spell his doom he instead sprints for his car. Before any further action though the wind delivers the beyond pleasurable smell of Chris’ approaching.
What was once Chris barrels down a field ambling between charging on his legs and all fours, slightly scratched from breaking glass with a stone shiv in hand. Having regained his artifact his body has grown in every possible manner. Jake can’t help but lustfully stare as the massive man approaches and his decaying mind has no ability to prevent him from following his desires. He discards whatever remains of his plan to fly and instead bounds towards the brute, with each step his body devolves. Growing hairier as his mind prioritizes only survival and the seeking of sexual pleasure. His cock surging as he nears his friend, his superior, nothing ever to grace his conscious again besides the desire to fuck and be fucked.
Melorius's shop: Mankind History
The night started like any other for Lucas: hunched over his desk, flipping through textbooks, trying to finish the assignments that always consumed his evenings. It wasn’t a choice, really, if he didn’t focus on his studies, he knew the fraternity jocks from Alpha Sigma Sigma would make his life even more miserable than it already was. But tonight, Lucas wasn’t aware that things were about to get much worse.
At that very moment, Chad and his pack of frat brothers were making their way through an old costume shop downtown. They were looking for outfits for the big Halloween "Trick or Dick Party" they were throwing, each one of them trying to outdo the other in finding the most absurd or outrageous costume. Chad, their leader, wore his usual cocky grin as he sifted through racks of cheesy superhero outfits, typical roman warriors and inflatable dinosaur suits.
“Guys, over here,” Chad called, spotting a strange, dusty section in the back of the shop. There, hanging alone on a rusted hook, was a skimpy caveman outfit. It was nothing more than a ragged loincloth made of rough cheap fabric looking like some cheap joke. Chad's eyes gleamed with mischief. “Check it out. This would be perfect for Lucas.”
The guys gathered around, laughing at the thought of Lucas, the scrawny nerd they loved bullying, dressed in such a humiliating costume. Chad grabbed the outfit, spinning it around in his hands. “Imagine him in this, his small thin pathetic body exposed to everyone, walking around on all four. He’d make the perfect mascot for the frat!”
The other boys nodded eagerly, their imaginations already running wild. "Let’s take it. Screw paying for it. This old men over here won't notice one missing." Chad stuffed the caveman outfit into his underwear and padded it a bit. His musky dick scrubbing the loincloth of the costume. The group laughed looking at their leader hiding the costume and then decided to get out before someone could find them, not even taking the time to grab costumes for themselves and deciding they would wear their Football uniforms tonight. ___
Hours passed, and Lucas eventually gave in to exhaustion, deeply falling asleep as the next-door frat boy party was about to begin in an hour or two. He didn’t hear the creak of his bedroom door opening, nor the hushed whispers and giggles of the frat boys as they snuck inside. Chad led the way, pulling the caveman outfit from his jockstrap while the others grabbed Lucas by the arms and legs, pinning him to the bed.
Lucas stirred, eyes fluttering open, confusion spreading across his face. “What the…” he started, but before he could protest, Chad ripped the covers off him, leaving him exposed in nothing but his underwear.
“Rise and shine, nerd!” Chad sneered, pulling the waistband of Lucas’s boxers down to his knees. Lucas squirmed in panic, but the boys held him down. His heart raced with humiliation as they laughed and jeered, treating him like some plaything. His face burned with shame, and he felt powerless as Chad held the caveman loincloth in front of him.
“N-no, please,” Lucas whimpered, “Let me go! I did everything you asked for! Just… let me go, please!” Lucas was shaking his head, but Chad only grinned wider.
“Time to become a real man, Lucas,” Chad mocked as he yanked the loincloth up Lucas’s legs, forcing the scratchy musky fabric around his waist.
The moment the costume touched Lucas’s skin, he felt a strange heat radiate through his body. At first, it was just an uncomfortable warmth, but then it started to burn. His muscles twitched uncontrollably, his body jerking beneath the frat boys’ grip. All of them looked at each other in fear that Lucas was having a seizure or something. But when they saw his biceps contract and starting to grow, they all looked at each other knowing that something great could come out of this, and they would have a laugh along the go.
“W-what’s happening to me?” Lucas gasped, his eyes wide with panic.
The frat boys leaned further in, watching in fascination as Lucas’s body began to change. His once-thin arms started to swell, muscles expanding, veins bulging beneath his skin. His bones cracked and lengthened, his fingers thickening into meaty, rough hands. The pain was unbearable, and Lucas groaned in agony, trying to fight it, but his body kept transforming against his will.
“Holy shit, look at him!” one of the boys exclaimed, watching as Lucas’s chest began to push outward, thick pecs growing where his once-flat chest had been. Dark hair sprouted all over his body, thick tufts covering his chest, arms, pits and pubes. Some of the frat boys were starting to really question what was happening and if they should just let him go and maybe ask for help, but Chad, always to confident and really wanting to push the humiliation on Lucas, forced them to stay in place. Lucas was feeling the millions of hair follicles piercing his skin. It was like he was getting tattooed on his whole body and it was a pain like he never felt before. But what really triggered his fear is when he tilted his head down to see the pubes climbing up his thickening abs just before his growing pecs totally blocked his vision. He hears Chad laughed followed by the others and the next thing he felt was the pain in his nostrils as a new musk was getting more and more pungent. Something musky, manly, earthy. Chad laughed again realizing it smelt like him after a training in the locker room. “Hahaha, looks like you smell like me now bro. That’s what a real man smells like!” Lucas opened his eyes realizing that his body was now creating this manly Chady musk. Tears started to roll down his cheeks as the boys kept laughing while gripping him.
Lucas could barely think through the pain as his muscles bulged bigger and stronger. His thighs thickened, splitting his legs apart with their sheer size. His feet stretched, growing massive, hairy, and ape-like, the toes becoming thick and nimble, almost like hands looking feet. He tried to scream, to beg them to stop, but all that came out were pitiful grunts.
“Hah, look at him,” Chad taunted, slapping Lucas’s newly muscled chest. “The nerd’s turning into a goddamn caveman!”
Lucas’s cock, which had always been embarrassingly small, now swelled in size. His groin already transformed in a forest of thick, coarse hair started to pulse with a weird energy as his dick grew longer, thicker, throbbing painfully against the loincloth. The humiliation of it all was overwhelming, and yet, Lucas felt something else, something primal, rising inside him. His dick kept growing longer and longer, thicker and thicker. The outline was really visible through the loincloth and you could see his heart beat making the cloth spasm. He hated what they were doing to him, hated how they were watching him, but he couldn’t stop the arousal that built with every passing second. Out of nowhere, Lucas started to feel a new intrusive sensation on his now huge 10 inches cock. It felt like something was growing on it, something tight and kind of arousing. All of a sudden, Lucas heard the boys starting to laugh as they Chad said in a manly voice. “Looks like the ape is uncut now!” Lucas was terrified. His foreskin just grew back and he could feel his cock head become more and more sensitive as precum started to leak out of his cock and stay trapped inside his new enclosure.
Lucas felt the grip on his right arm started to loosen up. With a fast movement, he freed his arm. But instead of trying to fight, he felt the stamina rise in him and his arm started to venture to his new dick. His hand moved on its own, reaching down to touch his growing cock, loosening up the loincloth along the way. “N-no, I don’t want this!” Lucas groaned, trying to pull his hand away, but his new body had other ideas. His fingers wrapped around his shaft, and the moment he made contact, a jolt of pleasure shot through him. He gasped, his body arching off the bed as he began to stroke himself.
The frat boys roared with laughter, watching as Lucas jerked himself off right in front of them, his eyes wild with fear and confusion. “Oh my god, he’s loving it!” Chad howled. “Look at him go!”
Lucas’s mind was trapped in horror, unable to control his own actions as his body gave in to its primal urges. His strokes became faster, more desperate, and within moments, he felt his cock pulse violently. “No, no, no!” he groaned, but it was too late. His hips bucked, and he exploded, thick ropes of cum splattering across his hairy chest. The orgasm was intense, overwhelming, and left him gasping for breath, his entire body trembling.
But it didn’t stop. His cock throbbed again, and even though he had just cum, the need built up inside him once more. “Oh god,” Lucas whimpered, feeling his cock harden again almost immediately. His hand resumed its stroking, faster this time, more frantic.
“Holy shit, he’s gonna blow again!” one of the boys laughed, pointing as Lucas’s cock spasmed, another wave of cum shooting out of him. His hairy groin was slick with it, and the frat boys looked on, wide-eyed, as Lucas came a second time, his body jerking uncontrollably.
Minutes passed, but Lucas couldn’t stop. He came again. And again. His cock was so sensitive now, every touch sending shockwaves of pleasure through him. His mind was reeling, horrified by what was happening, but his body craved it, needed it. Each orgasm was more intense than the last, his cum splattering everywhere, coating his chest, stomach, and the bed beneath him. With every orgasm he released, Lucas’s face was changing. Becoming manlier, more rugged. His nose broadens, his lip getting thicker. Stubble started to grow on his chicks and chin, his eyebrows turned bushier, his eyes going from a light grey to deep chocolate brown, his tongue growing thicker and longer, but most importantly, his hair started to grow longer and longer, thicker and thicker, curlier and curlier until they were touching his new muscled shoulders. He looked like a total cavemen now, his eyes were now the reflection of an animal only thinking about eating and fucking.
The frat boys stood back, letting him writhe on the bed, jerking off uncontrollably. “Jesus, he’s like an animal,” Chad muttered, watching as Lucas’s mind slipped further into primal madness.
Lucas could feel his mind slipping. The more he came, the less control he had. His brain felt foggy, overwhelmed by the pleasure, the musk, and the feral instincts that were taking over. His thoughts became simpler, his vocabulary shrinking, replaced by grunts and growls.
Chad smirked, realizing what had happened. “Well, boys, looks like we’ve got ourselves a new mascot.”
With that, they grabbed Lucas, who now moved in a mix of all four positions and standing ones, his massive feet gripping the floor like hands, and led him out of his dorm room. His body was no longer his own, and his mind was trapped, helpless to stop what was happening. He followed the frat boys without question, his cock still leaking with every scrub of the rough musky loincloth he was wearing, leaving a trail of cum behind him as they led him back to the frat house.
At the Halloween party that night, Lucas, now fully transformed into a feral caveman, was the center of attention. The frat boys paraded him around, showing him off to the guests. He walked on all fours, his huge, hairy body covered in musky cum, his cock still hard and throbbing. The girls screamed, the guys laughed, and Lucas’s mind could only watch in horror as his body followed its primal urges.
He couldn’t stop touching himself, couldn’t stop cumming. Every few minutes, he’d grunt and spasm, another load shooting out of him, covering the floor as he crawled around like an animal. His once-sharp mind was now reduced to nothing but basic instincts, driven by pleasure and the commands of the frat boys.
And as midnight arrived, Lucas came again one last time as he forgot who he was. From now on, he was their caveman, their obedient, cum-dripping mascot, his body and mind forever trapped in primal chaos.
In his shop, Mister Melorius was doing his inventory when he realized he couldn’t find one of his costumes. He looked for it everywhere but couldn’t put his hand on it. He snapped his fingers and saw in front of him an orb of sparkling light appears. In it, the vision of Chad laughing as he was put the cavemen loincloth inside his jock and scrubbing his dick before exiting his shop. “Hope you had a good laugh Chad, because now I’m coming for you …”
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Hey guys!
Sorry for the lack of posts lately. I’ll try my best to post more often in the future.
I hope you liked this story! It was inspired by a prompt from an anonymous sender:
"How about a group of jocks stealing a costume from a shop and forcing a nerd to wear it? Maybe it could be a caveman or a foreign construction worker uniform."
If you sent this to me, I hope you enjoyed it!
As always, feel free to reach out if you want to chat or send me a prompt—whether related to this event or any other stories you’d like me to write.
See you soon!