Devolution - Tumblr Posts
I just graduated at the top of my class, but I still don’t know what I want to do with my life. I hate all this pressure to “live up to my potential” or whatever. Sometimes, I sorta wish people expected less of me…
The genie sits down in front of you with a set of VR goggles in his hands. “Here you go,” he says, sliding them on over your head. “Take a look at a few alternate realities.”
You start flicking through, experiencing your life as it would be if you’d made slightly different choices. The first few are very similar. Summa cum laude. Honours degree. Lucrative startup. Six figure book deal. Stressful, high effort shit. You can feel each different you’s anxiety and impostor syndrome tearing their minds apart.
As you flick further, more of your past changes. Trade school, rather than a prestigious university. Being on the football team, instead of spending all your time in the computer lab. But it’s still not different enough. You still feel under intense pressure to succeed.
You’re passing through realities so fast they blur together. Then, you catch a glimpse of one and pause. High school dropout. Not because you weren’t smart, just because you got bored. You spend all your time lifting, eating, and fucking. Your parents long ago despaired of you being anything other than a cubby porn star, and you love it. You click “accept” to enter this new reality.
The stench of your manly body fills your nostrils. You feel powerful, manly, and so, so slutty. Your brain slows down, atrophied from years of disuse. Yeah, you think, lying back to show off your armpits to the camera. This is the life.
Another wish fulfilled.
Got a wish you need twisted? Send an ask! Remember to say “I wish” so the genie hears exactly what you’re wishing for.
Hey himbo maker, I'd really like to be made into a Tamil South Indian guy, the hairier the better. I would really just love to immerse myself into their culture.. can you help me with that?
You’re… occupied when the first Himbo Maker notification arrives, busy stroking your cock to pics of beefy, hirsute Tamil guys. The notifications appear on your phone’s lock screen, and even though you don’t turn to look, each chime causes changes.
Himbo_mkr: Bro, how’s India been treating you? I swear you’re going native over there.
The room around you shifts and changes. You came to Chennai for a study abroad semester a few years ago, and you loved it so much that you stayed. Your Tamil is so good now that people sometimes assume you’re a native speaker, and you feel out of place when you visit home. The downside is that now, every day, you see, smell, touch, practically taste sexy Tamil men, so you’re pretty much always boned up.
Himbo_mkr: You pretty much went through a second puberty when you returned to the Tamil homeland, right?
Your cock jumps in your hand, the skin darkening as a stream of Tamil precum runs down the shaft. The darkened skin rushes over your body, followed by a thick growth of long, curly body hair. A well groomed beard, moustache, and thick eyebrows compliment your dark, heavyset features. You bury your face in your sweaty armpit, inhaling the stench of sweat and cooking spices. You always loved men of your race, so you turn yourself on all the time.
Himbo_mkr: Man, I bet you go to all sorts of cultivated events and enjoy all kinds of bros.
There’s a knock at your door. “Come in,” you call, in your native Tamil. The door creaks open, and you immediately smell the spicy musk of a Tamil man who’s been out in the Chennai heat, sweating and basking in his own stench. You can't wait for your fantasy man to join you in bed for a perfect main event.
Want to chat with the Himbo Maker? He loves to twist your words, so be careful what you're asking for.
The Circus
YOUR HIRED!
It had been a serious night of partying for the gang. Celebrating Connors 21st was always going to be a huge deal for them. They’d been saving for a few months and had wasted no time with pre drinking at their flat before they even set foot into the carnival. It had been on their calendar for some time, posters had appeared weeks ago and being Connors birthday, it seemed like a no brainer that they all get drunk and go.
Now, several hours of shouting and making scenes throughout the small park. The three of them we blind drunk, and looking for their next ride. Connor, holding an empty plastic glass, threw it at a near by beer stand. “Bruv, gimme another one!” as he took out some cash and shoved towards him. The man half smiled as some other customers backed off slightly “Course, just let me serve these people first, then ill get to you” But the other two members of his little gang had other ideas. “Na, he’s a birthday boy so you do it alright!” The barman sighed as the man and woman he was serving both gestured to carry on, sympathizing. The barman turned “Ok then lads, beer comin up” as he grabbed the cans and plastic cups. “Anything else I can-“ “Yeah mate, fucking do one haha!” as They grabbed the beers and turned away, Zac holding his finger up, the barman looking equally angry and disgusted by them as they disappeared out of sight laughing like animals.
“Dude!” Rick began “Why’d ya gotta be such an animal!” as Connor continued to swig his beer. “Can’t help it if I’m the bigger man bruv!” and they bro fisted, loudly shouting as the approached a much darker looking building. “Oh my god lads-“ they all stopped, looking up at the unlit façade. FREAK SHOW was written in bulbs, all turned off. It was partly unpainted, the doors weren’t even on yet. Rick walked over to a fence and read out the sign pinned to it “FREAK SHOW is still looking for staff. Please come back soon” Connor punched the fence “For fu#ks sake!” before he noticed the large tents and cages behind the half finished building. A grin began to spread across his fresh 21 year old face. “How bout we have a look bros?” Rick and Zac both exchanged drunk glance “Won’t they just -hic- throw us out?” But Connor stood up straight and tapped the sign. “Says they need staff, can just blag it! Say we came to have a look at the job innit!” Connor always had a way with convincing the gang and in another few seconds of drunk nodding they were all in agreement. The three blokes walked slowly for the large wooden door, acting casual as they leaned against the front bellow the large unlit letters above. “Looks clear lads” Connor whispered laughing to himself. They all checked one by one, peering right and left for anyone who might see them before dashing inside under the wooden sign. ‘YOU ARE NOW ENTERING – THE FREAK SHOW!’
They found themselves inside a large tent, with one side joined to the buildings façade. There was a half build walkway that lead deeper. Its tall wooden walls painted with monsters and jungles made it hard to see far. “Oh damn it’s dark dude” Rick said under his breath as he bumped into Zac. Ahead, Connor had grabbed his phone and was using it to look around. “Woah” he gasped, pushing his grinning face into gaps and openings. The show was lined with cages and chains, they all seemed empty though as Connor pushed open a large cage door. It squeaked loudly as it swung open. Revealing the large space inside. Connor wasted no time walking inside reaching up. “Cant even reach the roof. What they got in here an elephant?” Rick and Zac stood by the large steel bars looking in as Connor paced the space. It was at least 10ft by 10ft box of steel bars and had a car tyer hanging from the celling.
Zac stepped forwards, rattling one of the solid steel bars from the outside “No idea, but I doubt they’ll find anything legally. This looks like a bear cage or sommit” Suddenly there was a loud squeak from the hinges and a crash of metal against metal as the huge gate swung back and slammed into position. The lock made a solid sounding ‘clunk’ as it hit. “What the-?!” Connor shouted, running back to the door and pulling. “Oh sh#t-it won’t open!” Zac and Rick both lept to the cage door and pulled hard. “It’s not budging!” Zac strained as a tough voice laughed at them from the dark. “Oh this is too perfect”
A bulky man, in a white vest and braces that seemed to be straining against his huge chest and broad shoulders, stepped out from the dark. He crossed his bulging arms and stood imposingly across from them. He had a rough face, a nose that looked like it had been broken once, and smiled at them. He didn’t look like he was a guy you wanted to piss off. “Er, sorry mate we just-hic-came to have a look about the jobs innit” Connor lied as Rick and Zac stood either side. The man pulled out a large joint and sparked it. “Job ay? Well I see you chose your position” tapping the steel bars and taking a long drag, then blowing it in his direction. The smoke began slowly swirling around him like it had a life of its own. “Yeah-just got lost heh- so er- you got the key?” Rick asked as the man laughed again standing upright. “I’m Gaz. I own this place. Been looking for some new workers, glad your three turned up when ya did” In one smooth action slid between Rick and Zac and threw his huge, heavy arms over their shoulders. Holding them close like a school bully, easily twice their size. “So what’s the plan lads? Make yaselves more a nuisance? Give more of my staff crap? Or maybe its breaking and entering?!” Rick and Zac’s faces drained, this guy was the owner? And he seemed to know about their night so far. Connor felt weird, coughing as more of the green smoke seemed to be getting in his lungs and eyes as he pleaded “Na for real-we just came in here -COUGH- This is kidnapping dude!” Zac tried to pull away but Gaz held them both him and Rick firmly in place. Biceps pressing against him. “Now now, You won’t wanna miss this” Connor meanwhile was breathing hard, his body was hot and sweat patches were appearing on his neck and pits as he backed away from the bars.
Rick gasped confused “W-what’s happening to him?!” Gaz smirked “I’ve decided to give you all jobs after all. Starting with ya Birthday boy here.” He leant over, speaking to Rick directly. “He WAS in the cage after all”
Connor finally fell forwards, clutching his chest as his shirt felt impossibly tight. It was almost soaked, he looked like he’d been in a gym all day and stank just as badly. “Arugh-this-this is insane!” Connor shouted through gritted teeth from the floor as his shirt started to tear along his back. Revealing a thin strip of slightly thicker, slightly darker skin bristling with tiny hairs. Zac and Rick watched in horror as their best friend kept growing. Soon his shirt bust open, showing off a large chest covered with thick black hairs that soon met the ones on his back. He was quickly carpeted and the black hairs started to look damp as sweat started to gather and soak into it.
He ran his huge fingers through the fur, it was thick, so wet with man sweat and stink it came away on his fingers. Gasping as his ass finally ripped a hole in his jeans, trying to keep up with his whole body’s steady expansion. The hole itself showed a thick meaty crack so covered in hair you couldn’t see it for stink and fur that was only getting thicker as it spread across his body.
“GRRRRAH! M-Make It Stop DUude! I’m SorrY!” as he felt the hairs spread up his neck, joining with a huge beard and sideburns to his head. Completing the single carpet of fur that linked around his wide pecs, belly, ass and legs. All slowly growing wider, bulkier and nastier by the second. His pecs were rounding out, nipples huge but soon even they were matted under his fur. His pits had gained special attention, for some reason the hair was longer and his larger frame stopped him from being able to close them. The stink wafted out with the hairs, the gap only getting larger as his gut, pecs and biceps grew.
Gaz laughed n reply to Connors remark, still smoking “Oh ok, so either of you two wanna take his place?“ Rick and Zac straight away shook their heads “N-Na mate, please” as Connor growled angrily. “You FUckerS!” His back cracked as what was left of his shirt, trousers and shoes tore off his expanding frame. His feet were now wider than bin lids and covered in thick black hairs longer than old head hair. “GuuAAHAH!” He boomed as he fell backwards, loosing his balance, landing flat on his ass in the tattered remains of his clothes. “OWWW! MA BAALLS-OOK!” He yelped as his huge legs twitched from the pain of nearly crushing the two bean bag sized nuts. Legs now spread apart wide by his huge rounded ball gut and a bulge so massive his boxers looked like an old hulk comic he finally stopped for breath. Sweat rolling off his entire body, like an anima he was covered hair from head to toe that looked like pubes, long, wiry, untamed and stinking.
“Oh…fu#k….” Zac mouthed from under the arm of Gaz as he and Rick could only watch as their best friend was transformed into some sort of monstrous freak right in front of them. Gaz laughed out loud “Oh damn bro, you stink” as the thick ripe smell reached the three of them, making the cage smell how it looked. The place somehow started to feel more complete Gaz thought. Connors huge gut, now easily taller than his old friends by itself and still pooling sweat under it, rumbled loudly. Connor raised his huge 2 feet wide hands to his gut, holding the massive alien flesh as it vibrated under them. Even to his new massive frame, all his body parts, feet, chest, belly and hands, were all comically oversized making him look stocky even for 14ft tall. “OOoooooo-GuT-HURT” he just managed to say as his ass finally released. His boxers must have taken the brunt of the damage as they immediately snapped from the back and sprang around him, leaving him finally naked. A huge, thick, sweaty sack large enough to sleep in, containing at least a fridges worth of cum in two truck tire sized nuts, with a girthy, fur covered 5 foot flaccid cock laying over them.
“FRRRRRRRTTTTTTTTRRTRTRTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT” It was loud, long, and wet. Like a slob builder on a night of beer and kebab times 1000. His gut rumbled again as Connor couldn’t stop himself burping this time, his hand lazily scratching his hairy gut as if on auto pilot. “BURRRRRPRPRRRRRRRRRPP-OooooFuOOCK!” he tried to stop it but again, he was struggling to resist.
“HELLOOOP MEOOOK” He tried to speak but new teeth were growing in and making it hard to make words, his head hurt and last but not least, Connor was starting to feel himself slipping away. He could still see and feel, but his control was giving in. He thumped the floor with huge hands angrily. His massive shoulders flexed as his biceps popped out into huge 5 foot wide balls of meat.
Zac stepped forwards slowly, unable to process what he was seeing or smelling. Gaz let him slip from under his arm. “That’s-That’s insane-“ he uttered slowly, watching Connor try to both beg for help and scratch every new part of himself. “C-can’t you turn him back?” He turned to Gaz, now sparking up a new green smoked joint. “Oh sure I can-bit I ain’t gonna do that” Rick looked at him. “But you’ve fu#ked him. You’ve made him into a monster-y-your a damned monster!” as he pushed Gaz away from him. The two now stood by the cage as Gaz just grinned. “You gave me the idea by the way rick” Gaz grinned. “Didn’t you say and I quote -Why’d ya gotta be such an animal- huh? Seems like you did this to your selves. Or Rick did this to you anyway ay birthday boy” He leered, making eye contact with the new hulking ape through the bars.
Inside Connor knew his mates didn’t do this to him, he tried to shout for help again, tell them to run. Instead, he growled. Gut heavy he slowly pulled himself up onto his thick knuckles. Balls scraping the dirty floor as he stood up. Wet with sweat as he paused to get his balance. He was hunched over, his face pressing forwards and his ears were stuck out 90’ angles. He looked dumber and dumber by the second, while his old mind fell into a back seat. ‘Let me out! I’m sorry! I fu#king stink! Ow its horrible man! Make it stop ill do anything!” but his huge body ignored him and just ooked. Lashing out as he punched the cage wall, now focused on stinking, eating and being as disgusting as he could be. “ME WANT-“ He almost said before he caught a sniff of something. He slowly looked under his thick arm, and followed the black wet hair to the long pit hair than hung down about a meter under each arm. Thick with sweat and musk. “Oh god no! Please, uh, I’m gonna be sick!” he screamed internally as his body licked, he loved it. He stuck his nose in, it wrapped over his face and he used his arm other arm to lift his pit more to get his head in deeper. He rolled onto his back. His ball twitched as his rod began to react to the sensory overload.
“Zac…oh fu#k check out his dick dude” Rick pointed but Zac was already staring in horror and shock, even some jealously as his 5 foot rod became 6 foot, then 7. It pushed up to 8 long and wide feet in length, before its own mass made it drop slowly to the floor with his balls. His massive hand lept down without any hesitation and began to pump. His head still in his pit. But one hand wasn’t big enough. It was too wide even for him. He lower his arm and began to beat off with both hands. But without the stink of his pits it started to go soft, he lifted his arm again “OOOoOOOOH! OOK! SO GUD OOOK” Dumb words slipping though as he went from whacking off to sniffing himself as he was left, rolling around like an animal in his stinking den.
Gaz waved a hand as the joint smoke wafted up over Zac and Ricks heads to create a long sign that attached to the roof of the cage. “THE GREAT APE! THE UNTAMED ANIMAL!” Gaz sounded out “Nice ring to it ay lads, and oh yeah” he snapped his fingers, before several lights appeared and the door seemed to fix and repair around them. Soon music began to play as Connor sat back, slightly confused by the noises. “Now the freak shows open, at last am I right-“ he grabbed Rick and Zac under his arms again as he pulled them away from their old friend. “Come back! Please don’t leave me like this!” He shouted out, but all they heard as they were led away was a loud burp, followed by frantic ooks as huis balls clenched and finally his shaft stood rock solid as it gushed gallons of thick ropes of jizz all over his cage and himself. Sealing his transformation into the Freak Ape Man forever as he shouted and struggled in silence to escape inside his stinking, musk prison.
“Don’t worry bout him” Gaz said with a husky reassuring voice as he manhandled them out the tent. They couldn’t help but want him back, Zac had always followed what Connor had said since they met, this had all been for HIS birthday and now… Even Rick walked dazed and shocked, his eyes wide as he realized they were probably Next, but at least they weren’t in the freak show they both thought. Gaz meanwhile, pulled them between the caravans of workers and ‘behind the scenes’ of his carnival as guests began to flow into the new Freak show. Grinning like a thug as he pushed them towards the other broken rides. “So many jobs to fill lads-“ he took a long drag on his cigar like joint, talking out the side of his mouth “-What ARE we gonna do with you two then ay”
Zac and Ricks Story will Continue in Part 2…
Lemme know what ya thought of the part 1 lads. Only gets worse for the lads from here on…
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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.
A Burly Bargain
Connor had finally decided to dedicate a day to updating his aging wardrobe. An embarrassing amount of his clothes were still from high school, despite being a college grad now. He decided to check out a thrift store he’d driven past a number of times, a quaint little building called ‘New You Thrift’. There were always plenty of cars outside so he figured it had to be a decent place to try to find something new. He pulled into an open spot right in front of the door and hopped out of his car.
Upon entering he found that the outside was deceptively small; the store was massive, with aisles of every type of clothing he could think of stretching into the distance. With no one to greet him, Connor began wandering around displays and racks, unsure of what he was actually looking for. He figured he’d know when he saw something he liked, but as five, ten, fifteen minutes passed he started to stress out. That was, at least, until he stumbled upon a rack with a big sign labeled ‘Bulked Up Deals: 80% off!’. He couldn’t pass up a deal like that, he thought to himself, as he browsed the offerings. There was a lot of junk, but he found a cute short sleeve button up shirt, and some comfy looking shorts that he thought he’d at least try on. Pulling his gaze from the endless racks of clothing he saw a bright neon sign on the wall for dressing rooms, and began to make his way in that direction.
Connor drew the curtain of the room closed and looked at himself in the mirror. He was a cute guy, he thought to himself, with a slim build and a little bit of scruff on his face. The old t-shirt and gym shorts look wasn’t doing him any favors though. The shirt was faded and he was pretty sure it had a hole somewhere on his back, and the shorts were too long and baggy. He stripped them off before pulling the new shorts up his legs, then slipped the shirt on and buttoned it up, leaving one open at the top. Connor took a step back and looked at himself in the mirror. Objectively it was a cute summer outfit, but it looked off to him. Maybe he was just too used to seeing himself in baggy t-shirts, he thought. As he looked over himself in the mirror something caught his eye; there was a speck of something dark right above his shirt collar. Concerned, he leaned in towards the mirror to look closely. It was… hair? Connor squinted at his reflection to confirm what he was seeing. Sure enough, there was a long dark hair poking out from his shirt.
Connor reached a hand up to feel for this hair, and his hand found plenty more just beneath the collar waiting to pop out and join it. He paused, thoughts racing, unsure of what to make of this revelation, when suddenly his whole body seemed to cramp up in an instant. Connor buckled to his knees, his entire body contorting as muscle began to push out of his slim frame. Two large pecs raised themselves like mountains from the flat plane of his chest. His abs enlarged and dug themselves a deep shredded valley between. His shoulders grew into boulders as the size traveled down his arms, biceps and triceps inflating with years of muscle. Connor’s back tightened as his lats and traps doubled in size, widening his upper body considerably. His thighs swelled, pushing against the new shorts as his legs strengthened. A groan slipped out of Connor’s mouth as he hunched over in front of the mirror, finally looking up at his reflection. The man who stared back was shockingly different, a shredded jock stretching the thrift shop clothes to the limit.
Connor finally managed to get back to his feet when a strange itching sensation arose in parts of his body. For a moment he thought it was a reaction to the fabric he was now tightly pressed against, but the feeling was far too concentrated. Within moments it reached a breaking point in his pits, where under his skin tight shirt hundreds of hairs had started to push out. The soft wispy hairs that had occupied his pits before were overwhelmed by new, dark, thick armpit hairs. The hairs sprouted and curled together as a thick rug took root in both his pits, already slick with sweat. He could feel the hairs continue to push out, growing longer and thicker as testosterone soaked the follicles, adding more hairs to the muscled cavities under his arms.
Connor couldn’t help but try and scratch at his pits, hair flourishing from inside his shirt. He instead felt the sweat-soaked fabric as his pits had gone into overdrive, muscle still slowly building in his arms and shoulders. He took a deep breath, trying to still the overwhelming sensation. Instead, the top button of his shirt popped off, exposing his still-growing pecs. In his surprise he inhaled sharply, popping another button off. The blank canvas of his massive chest was revealed, graced solely by the scant few hairs he’d felt earlier at the base of his collarbone. Those few hairs began to spread like wildfire with thick hairs cropping up across his chest. They spread outward, first engulfing his collarbone before racing south, hairs coating his pecs and multiplying in the valley between them. The hairs also traveled upwards unbroken, creating a solid path of fur from his chest up his neck. The wispy scruff that grew on Connor’s upper lip and chin was engulfed by a wave of dark stubble. It stretched from his neck over his jaw and up his cheeks, hairs filling in between others, leaving him with an extremely dense layer of hair, though still short. His chest itched as the fur coat grew thicker, hairs tangling and curling together as his testosterone fueled carpet continued to expand, stretching out to mingle with the bushes in his pits. The wave of hairs continued downwards, his newly defined abs vanishing beneath a thick rug of curly hairs.
Connor, unable to make sense of what was happening, scratched at the newly grown pelt on his chest. He pulled through the dense mat, hairs curling around his fingers as whorls of hair were stretched and pulled longer from his chest. Upon pulling his hand back he thought dozens of hairs had been pulled free, stuck in his hand. In reality, his knuckles had started to sprout the same dark hairs as the rest of him. Patches of thick hairs were popping out across the backs of his hands, the dark fur surging up his forearms. His upper arms succumbed to the hairs, becoming buried beneath a constantly growing and shifting rug. The hairs traced over his shoulders, sprouting like weeds across the open expanse of his delts and traps, circling back to connect to the ever thickening carpet of hair on his chest.
The hair on his collarbone tufted out slightly more, that same growth racing up to his face, where his thick stubble slowly began to push outwards from his face. The shadow across his cheeks lengthened into a dense beard, hairs weaving together into a solid mass of masculinity. The last vestiges of his original peach fuzz were erased as dark hairs erupted across his upper lip into a solid curtain of hair. Connor felt an itch on his back as hairs shot up across his shoulder blades, patches of hair that grew fuzzier as they spread outwards. He could feel it as the hairs began pushing against the tight shirt hugging his back, the growing forest of hair puffing out as it raced down towards his ass.
The explosive hair growth shot down Connor’s back til it reached the small of his back where it blossomed into a field of dark hairs that rested above his waistline. His ass was next up, his plump cheeks slowly darkening as hairs dusted themselves across the globes before the shadow pushed out into a curly rug. He could feel his ass inflating too, stretching the fabric of the shorts even more as hairs squirmed out between. Between the cheeks was even worse, with thick wiry hairs erupting from his crack and hiding his hole beneath a forest of dark fur. The itch of sprouting hair was unbearable as Connor tried in vain to relieve himself, but the changes beneath his shorts had only just started.
Connor’s cock, pressed between his ever tightening shorts and his body, began to twitch. Blood raced into it, engorging his member to its full five and a half inches, throbbing against the fabric. The same itching sensation appeared in his groin moments later. Connor stifled another groan as he could feel thick, wiry hairs pushing out above his cock. His wispy bush quickly darkened, becoming a thicket of curls as hair after hair pushed out. His balls swelled up to twice their original size before flooding his body with even more testosterone. Hormone fueled follicles went into overdrive, thick hairs erupting across his balls as his bush crept outward, engulfing more and more territory beneath a jungle of sweaty hair. His cock lurched, feeling harder than it ever had before as it stretched out, growing thicker and longer. It pushed out, six, seven, eight inches creating a solid imprint in his shorts as hairs began to crawl up his shaft. His bush at last escaped the confines of his shorts, hairs blazing up to his navel and blending with the rug on his stomach. Connor looked down to watch helplessly as dark hairs popped up across his meaty thighs, at first just a handful but within moments they were sprouting across the entire surface. The carpet descended his legs, thick hairs tangling together as the growth never ceased. His feet pulsed with pain before his shoes split open, revealing his newly size 15 feet only to have them coated with hair in seconds, dusting even his toes with dark curls.
Connor groaned as his whole body felt like it was bloated. Any movement he made brought the sounds of tearing seams as his body tested the limits of the fabric. His stomach gurgled as his newly defined abs slowly vanished beneath a growing layer of fat. His eyes went wide as more buttons popped off his shirt, his growing belly making itself known. He could feel the rest of him putting on more mass, softening as defined muscles were buried. His fingers thickened and hands grew calloused as more hairs continued to push out. The open shirt revealed the muscle gut’s growing rug as hairs filled in between others and curled together across his meaty torso. His face itched once more as his beard grew dense and longer, hairs crawling up higher on his cheeks. His face grew more square as his jaw widened beneath the increasingly wild beard. His brow thickened and eyebrows grew darker. Connor saw the hair on his head start to retreat, the testosterone flooding his body giving him a more mature hairline as the hair migrated south.
With a final tearing sound, his body relaxed, having overpowered the flimsy outfit and grown into its full glory. The man who looked back at Connor in the mirror was the most masculine, virile figure he’d ever seen. Built like a truck and every exposed inch covered in thick hair, it was an unreal sight. He felt like he should be angry, disgusted, shocked, anything at all, but instead he felt content. The itchiness and growing pain subsided as a newfound confidence washed over him.Sure, he couldn’t close this shirt, but he looked damn good showing off his body in it. Perfect for the Bear Night he’d seen advertised at a local bar. He decided he’d ask the cashier if he could wear his new fit out, and with that he left his old clothes, and old life behind.
Thanks for sticking around y'all! I know it took a while to get a new story out, I hope you enjoy :)
If you do like my work and want to support me, I put a link in my profile where you can!
Brett Mitchell
Tim was a quiet and unassuming individual who kept to himself. One day, while reading in the college library, Tim received a message from someone he didn’t recognise - a guy named ‘Brett Mitchell’. Brett was the opposite of Tim. Brett was muscular while Tim was scrawny. Brett was confident where Tim was insecure. Brett was alpha while Tim was beta.
Being the curious individual he was, Tim decided to open the message. The message read:
“Hey bro! Saw your profile and thought you’d be perfect for our frat house. Click the link below to find out more, my dude.”
Without thinking, Tim clicked the link. As soon as he did, he felt a strange sensation wash over him. Suddenly, Tim's body began to change. His once unassuming frame began to bulge and grow as muscle mass accumulated at an alarming rate. His hair grew wild and unkempt, and his face became distorted, taking on ape-like features. His whole body had grown to massive proportions, causing him to burst out of his clothing.
Suddenly, you felt massive hands grab you from behind. “What’s up brother? What the hell is the dumbest boy on campus doing in the library?” He ran his hands along Tim’s new fat pecs as he grunted like an ape.
Tim barely had enough brain power to piece it together, but he had just become an obnoxious, smelly alpha - frat brother of the almighty Brett Mitchell. And that man who was groping him is Brett, admiring his work.
Tim, now known as "Udder Boy," became the life of the party. He could feel the overwhelming need to party and dominate others, and that's exactly what he did. He could drink more beer than anyone else and could out-party anyone. But with his new-found alpha status came a new set of problems. He constantly picked fights and belittled others, and his body odor became unbearable. No one wanted to be around him, but he didn't care, he was Udder Boy and he could do whatever he wanted.
As time went on, Tim realized that the spell had not just changed his physical appearance, but his personality as well. He didn't want to be this person anymore, but he didn't know how to reverse the spell. He spent the rest of his days as the obnoxious, smelly, alpha frat boy, wishing that he hadn’t clicked on that stupid little link.
Just look at him now, posing and goofing around in front of the mirror with Brett - the frat bro who cursed him to live as a big dumb ape of a man… forever.
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!**
Welcome to Dr Salvaje's devolution machine
Hello, I'm Dr Salvaje (not an actual doctor) and this is my glorious and cringy blog, also known as the devolution machine where everyone can discuss the topic of neanderthal/caveman TFs but sometimes we can also discuss things that aren't related to neanderthal TFs like for example our hobbies or favorite food but before you can all go crazy and wild there are some rules you need to follow
Rule 1. Be kind to everyone and no bullying or harrasing, please. It can ruin the fun and can make people feel unsafe.
Rule 2. Please keep it PG because this is meant to be a safe place for everyone who would like to discuss this topic and should be kept sfw around here at all times and not be sexualized in anyway, shape or form.
Rule 3. I know everyone should know this right now, but follow the tumblr community guidelines.
Project N.O.W.: Neanderthalization Of the World.
Human test trial 1
Dr Salvaje Asks series
Who is Dr Salvaje?
What prehistoric plant would Salvaje eat/does the machine work on other living things?
Tag Directory
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TOPIC A-G
age progression age regression armpits arms ass baseball beard body hair bottom bottom to top chest hair chinstrap college conservative contagious cucking dick fanfic football ftm gay to straight glasses goatee gym
TOPIC H-R
Harry Potter haircut hair growth height change iq drain iq gain jock to nerd man bun Marvel masculinization memory change military muscle drain muscle growth nerd to jock pecs piercings race change romance
TOPIC S-Z
sex straight to gay stubble suburban swap tattoos top to bottom voice change weight gain workplace world change
CHARACTER A-F
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TF SOURCE
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AUTHORS
aardvarkia chickenpaddy Choose Your Own Change craftsman dumb-and-jocked galao Gay Spiral Stories Ninja_Badger rozza22365 salmonskinroll
Full Body Devo
“Are you sure this is a good idea, Dustin?” the tubby black angus asked as he shifted his hooves nervously and looked up at the gym sign again. The words CRO-MAGNON DEVO flickered red and yellow in the evening light. “I’m not really that big of a lifter. You know that. And I really don’t need another round of slights thrown my way for my horn size.” The shoulder strap on his gym bag creaked as he wrung it, and another puff of dust rose from the old burlap as it smacked against his waist.
“Charles, if we don’t, we may never find out what happened to Ben in the first place,” Dustin replied. His pale white skin was evidence of the lack of outdoor activity in his life, but he’d managed to at least maintain a certain amount of fitness with a lean figure and well-toned muscle. A slightly darker shade of blue switched with lighter tones in intermittent stripes that stretched like rungs down his shirt, highlighting the definition he’d put into his pectorals. A pair of simple black shorts complemented the shirt and rounded out the overall gym look he was going for. A mop of voluminous brown hair framed his young face, giving him an almost boyish appearance. The blue in his shirt contrasted with the hazel in his eyes, which seemed almost to glow with determination as he glared at the gym. “I can teach you the basics. And besides that, Ben invited us here. He still likes us on some level. Otherwise, he would have cut ties altogether. And if he still likes us, then he won’t take anyone making fun of you either.” He reached up and patted the broad-shouldered bull comfortingly on the back.
“Let’s just … get this over with,” Charles said. He snorted nervously as he raised his bag over a shoulder. His dress shirt strained against his stomach as they passed through the door, and his dress slacks raised more than a few skeptical eyebrows from exiting patrons.
The two friends suddenly found themselves positively crushed by two titanic arms as a deep voice growled out in an exultant laugh. “Guys, you made it!”
“Grip … too tight,” Dustin gasped.
“Can’t … breathe,” Charles finished in a greeting as old as their friendship.
The arms released their grip and the laughter rumbled through the two friends as they stared at a towering tan-furred cat with a thick lantern jaw and scruffy hair that seemed almost to blend in with his fur coat. The feline was bare-chested with a set of tight-fitting compression shorts to help wick away any sweat from below. Two frigid ice-blue eyes stared them down, even as Ben smiled warmly, exposing his sharp canines. “Man, did I miss that sass,” he boomed as he curled an arm around either friend’s shoulder. “These guys are fun enough to lift with, but it’s just not the same without someone you really know, ya know?”
“Yo, Ben!” A massive Bengal tiger in a tight-fitting forest-green singlet thudded up to the trio. “Get your ass back on the floor. Class is about to start!”
“In a minute, Pad! I’ve gotta get my friends settled in first.”
The Bengal eyed the pair and licked his lips. “New meat, hmm?”
“I told you I’d bring some new blood, didn’t I?” For a moment, Ben’s smile flickered into a wicked sneer and Pad smirked.
“We’ll see if they have what it takes.”
Ben smacked his forehead and the flicker was gone. “Man, I can’t believe I’m so stupid! Guys, this here’s Padaavanati. You can see why we just call him Pad.”
The tiger shrugged. “It’s simpler that way, and I like simple.”
“Pad here’s the gym’s owner, and one of the best damned trainers a man could ask for.”
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Pad said. Dustin shuddered at the slight prick from the feline’s claws as Pad seized his hand in his much larger mitt. The tiger’s eyes seemed inquiring, almost probing. He held that gaze for a few moments as he searched Dustin’s face. Then Pad bore his fangs in an unsettling grin. “Yes, I think we’ll get along very well.”
Charles did his best to maintain a neutral expression as he took the tiger’s hand in his own. The two were somewhat closer in height, but the sheer predatory presence was enough to get the bull’s heart racing. His nostrils flared instinctively as he took in the tiger’s scent. He squeezed. “We’re looking forward to seeing how you work. If you could do that much to Ben, I wonder what you could do for me.”
“Well, we’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we?” The tiger’s smile was smug as he tightened his grip on Charles’ hand. Surprisingly enough, the bull didn’t let go, despite the shaking in his arm.
“Yes, we will.” Charles furrowed his brow as he glared up at the tiger.
Ben coughed uncomfortably. “He’ll be needing that hand, Pad.”
Pad let go, albeit reluctantly, and Charles nursed his hand as he worked out the pain.
“You’ll find the lockers through those doors over there. We can talk paperwork after your sessions. I like to give my customers a taste of their future, before they sign on.” Pad sneered again. “I haven’t had a refusal yet.”
“You go ahead and get changed, Charles. I’ll take Dustin to the floor for class. You just have to follow the markers. Rentals are in the back.” Ben leaned over to wrap his arm around Dustin’s shoulder. “Man, you’re gonna have a blast here, I’m telling you….” he said as he led Dustin over towards the main floor.
“Will you require any assistance, Charles?” Pad asked with that same infuriating smirk.
“No, thank you,” Charles said coldly as he turned aside. A large water fountain stood next to a massive entry hall divided by two guiding lines, one setting out a path in bright green, the other in a deep scarlet. He took the left entrance, only to smack into a much taller and well-built elephant with thick eyebrows and a dusting of hairs along his body. A tight white tank top and massive pair of workout shorts held firmly to his sculpted waist and jutting pectorals.
“Watch where you’re going!” he snarled. “This is the exit, newbie. Follow the lines.” He shoved Charles unapologetically, then sounded a loud trumpet through his trunk to vent his frustration. A muffled conversation followed that sounded more like grunts and growls than it did a proper discussion. Then the ground shook with the elephant’s angry steps as Pad stepped around the corner to pull the bull up.
“I was about to say you should stick to the green. You can see why. My more … passionate patrons are a little rough around the edges. Follow the track to the back of the locker room. You’ll see the kiosk there for key dispersal. Just follow the lines and obey the instructions to the letter. You’ll be all right.”
Charles glared at the tiger for a short while, then let out a grudging, “Thanks,” as he turned and entered the locker room.
Padaavanati chuckled as he turned to walk towards the gym’s main floor and the waiting class. “Don’t thank me just yet, little bull.” He licked his lips as his eyes flashed and his hands cracked slightly as they expanded with muscle and sinew. His claws shot out, and he cracked his neck as he bore sharper, thicker teeth in a feral grin. “Not yet.”
“Here.” Ben tossed a bottle to Dustin. “The workouts here can get pretty intense. Better to run on a full tank.” Then he pulled out his own bottle and started squirting a brown liquid into his mouth.
“What is this stuff?” Dustin asked.
“New pre-workout mix. It’s good stuff, really helps prime the pump. I found it just before I switched gyms.”
“Did Padaa–pa–pa–”
“Dude, it’s just Pad. Trust me, it’s a lot easier that way,” Ben chuckled, then took another drag from his bottle.
“Well, did he turn you onto it?”
“Nah. Found it on my own.” He shrugged. “You know how into keeping fit I am. The supplement seemed legit, I tried it, and here I am. It’s not the only thing that helped me bulk up, but it sure was a factor.” He chuckled as he planted his bottle on a bench and smacked his free hand against a tensed bicep. “And I can’t really argue with the results. Nah. I think it was really the gym change that started things for me.” He shrugged again. “That is why you guys came here, isn’t it?”
Dustin blushed. “That obvious?”
“You, I could understand coming, but I know Charles. That man wouldn’t go anywhere near a gym, if his life depended on it. Too many body image issues. I’m a construction worker, Dustin, not stupid.” Then he smiled softly. “I really appreciate the concern, though. I meant it, when I said I missed you guys.”
“What happened to you there, anyways? You used to be one of the best accountants in the business. Why’d you shift to manual?”
Ben shrugged. “I was tired of crunching numbers all the time. It’s mind-numbing work, Dustin. I felt too cooped up. And besides that, it was tough balancing between the hours at work and my personal life. Now I’ve got union protections, all the sun I could ask for, and a body that would make most of my fellow coworkers jealous. Sure, I’ll take the occasional booking request from time to time, but this actually makes me happier.” He shrugged. “Don’t really know why. It just … does. I guess it’s just … simpler. No office politics, no throwing people under the bus, no managers breathing down my neck. I work, talk with the guys about whatever’s on our minds, and we all get the job done. It’s sort of like a pack, I guess, or a pride.” He shrugged again. “That’s just how it is.”
“And you don’t mind it?”
“Not in the slightest.” He chuckled again. “I guess you could say I’m living the dream. Being a barbarian in real life is kinda sweet,” he said with a mischievous wink. “You should try it.”
“Ha ha. Very funny, Ben.” Dustin rolled his eyes. “But seriously, man, you’ve been way too distant with us lately. You hardly answer our calls, you’ve flaked on most of our campaigns. You’re basically like a ghost. You really expect us not to worry about you, after that?”
“I’m not that bad, am I?”
“Five months of no contact, followed by an out of the blue invitation to join you at the gym. Yeah, totally not bad at all.”
“I was away at another site. What did you expect me to do, book a roundtrip ticket back here for the night, then fly back out as soon as we finished?”
“You could’ve at least texted us.”
“I was in another time zone. I didn’t want to risk waking you guys up.”
Dustin sighed as he took a few swigs from his bottle. “I guess some things never change.”
Ben smacked Dustin on the back and smiled apologetically as Dustin winced from the force of the blow. “Come on. Class is about to start.”
The gym had grown surprisingly quiet. The heavy clank of weights and familiar grunts had died away to leave only the sound of heavy breathing and the occasional grunt or jab between friends as they stood on the main floor on a set of mats in front of a big set of studio mirrors.
“Does everyone stop for these classes?” Dustin asked.
“Yeah.” Ben grunted as he stretched his back and torso, before shifting to his legs. “Don’t know why it works, but it does. I was making less gains on my own. Then, when I started with the rest of the guys here, BANG!” he smacked his hands together, “plateaus shattered.” He grinned and rumbled in anticipation. “Trust me. You’ll see.”
And then Pad was on the scene. He strode confidently to the front of the class as his corded muscles strained beneath his fur and singlet. A sort of hardness had replaced the kindlier demeanor he’d carried before. His low growl rumbled through the room and everyone went quiet. “All right, time to get started. We’ve got some newbies here, so we’re going to simplify today’s course and go back to basics.
Out of the corner of his eye, Dustin could see Ben shudder as he bore his teeth in a grin. That shudder spread like a wave over the rest of the class, and Dustin felt a certain sense of revulsion as he noted the tents starting to form in some of the attendees’ crotches. He caught a flicker of movement, and his gaze darted to the side, where he saw a still-grinning Ben reach down to scratch at his own crotch without even so much as a hint of shame. Pad reached over to grab a remote and pressed a button. Music poured out from the speakers, filled with chanting voices and the familiar instruments of the middle east.
“All right, boys, let’s get started. Cardio first. Let’s move those legs!”
As Pad had promised, the session proved to be pretty basic. The steady drum beats rolled sweetly with the sitar and a reedy woodwind that swam effortlessly through the air. While it wasn’t his track of choice, Dustin had to admit the tune was catchy, and it was easy to fall into the rhythm the track set. Pushups and crunches rolled by easily, followed by a few basic exercises using lighter weights to work the muscle groups and warm them up for the bigger workouts to come later.
Pad clapped his hands together. “All right, water break. Get moving, boys. We don’t want to lose that pump,” he barked.
“A water break?” Dustin asked in surprise. It hadn’t been that long, had it? But … his throat did feel surprisingly parched.
“Gotta stay hydrated,” Ben replied gruffly. Sweat matted his fur as he turned and strode towards one of the many fountains that dotted the gym. His steps seemed heavier as he moved, and his upper lip pulled up into a sort of snarl as he approached to drink deeply.
The gym was mostly quiet as the gym goers each took their turns in line. Dustin did his best to keep his face neutral as he noted how most of the men scratched at their privates either just before or just after drinking. He knew gymgoers could be more casual about things, but that was just plain old unsanitary.
“One side.”
Dustin suddenly found himself looking up from the floor at a heavily built elephant with massive tusks and a thick coating of body hair. His hip ached from the impact, even as a feral snarl tore across the otherwise peaceful music. And then Ben was there. His legs spread out as his whole body tensed. His tail whipped wildly behind him as he curled his hands and sharpened claws shot out from his fingers. His broad shoulders heaved in indignation as the hackles rose on his back and the deltoids along the top of his shoulders tensed, seeming almost to expand as he glared the pachyderm down.
He turned his head briefly to look at Dustin. “You all right?”
Dustin nodded, at a loss for words at the sudden change in his friend.
“Apologize,” Ben growled as he bore his teeth in a snarl.
“Make me, pussy cat,” the elephant said as he glared down at Ben. His trunk was raised high and his muscles rippled as he tensed. This was a man itching for a fight.
“Is there a problem here, gentlemen?” Dustin hadn’t even noticed Pad’s arrival. The tiger took one look at the scene and sighed. “We’ve talked about this before, Wooly.” He picked Dustin up easily and placed him back on his feet. “No roughhousing, unless it’s in your own class. Dustin here is a guest, and you’re reflecting very poorly on my gym.” His eyes glinted dangerously. “That’s strike two.”
“But he–.”
“Was in line first,” Padaavanti cut him off with a raised hand. “I let the locker incident slide, because the patron didn’t stop to listen to my explanation, but you know better than this.” He shook his head and sighed. “Take a few minutes to cool off in the rest area. You know the place.”
“But–.”
“Or did you want me to suspend your membership right now?”
“But–.”
“Go, Wooly,” Pad said sternly as he pointed back to the locker room.
Wooly’s shoulders slumped in defeat as he pounded off the floor.
Pad turned and stared apologetically at the human. “I’m so sorry about that, Dustin. Wally was such a good egg when he first started here.”
“Wally? I thought his name was Wooly.”
“A joke we use here at the gym. Everyone gives each other a nickname of sorts. Since Wally was so hairy, people decided he looked more like his ancestors, and named him accordingly.” He clasped Dustin’s hand firmly as he looked sincerely into the man’s eyes. “I promise it won’t happen again.” He smiled weakly. “Well, not unless you want it to.”
“Why the heck would I want something like that?”
Pad shrugged. “Many of my patrons do, once they’ve had the chance to grow enough. I have a place set aside for such disputes, where I won’t have to worry about collateral damage. Ben’s actually a bit of a rising star in that regard.”
Ben winced. “Did you really have to mention that?”
“First rule of fight club doesn’t apply to me,” Pad said cheekily.
Ben rolled his eyes. “It’s a boxing ring,” he explained. “If we have any problems, we go there to settle them. Pad’s got a lot of trainers there to teach proper form and keep things fair.”
“It gives patrons a chance to indulge their more … primal sides. Honestly, that’s what sets this gym apart from most others, I think.” Pad shrugged. “Anyways, carry on. The fountain’s all yours.” He turned to face the rest of the patrons. “And I expect the rest of you to be on your best behavior.” The men shrank back visibly from Pad’s gaze and Pad nodded in response.
Dustin took his drink and rubbed his side gingerly. “Haven’t taken a hit like that since that time I took a swan dive off the front steps back in high school.” He chuckled. “So, what now?”
Ben smirked. “Now the fun part starts.”
“Fun part?”
“Free exercise, of course.” Ben wrapped a shaggy arm around Dustin’s shoulders. “Come on. I’ll show you the ropes. This place literally has everything you could think of.”
“Um, Ben?”
“Yeah?”
“Where’s Charles?”
“Probably somewhere else on the floor.” Ben shrugged. “It’s a big gym.”
“So why didn’t he come over when we were in trouble?”
Ben let out a confused grunt.
“Charles. He’s our friend, right? So why didn’t he come, after what happened with Wooly?”
Ben shrugged. “Maybe he got an emergency call from the pharmacy. You know how he gets when something comes up. And it’s not like you’ve got a cell on you, if he had to go.”
“Are you s–?”
“Relax, Dustin. You worry too much. It’ll make you tense. You know that’s not good for working out.”
Dustin coughed uncomfortably as a bout of lightheadedness struck him. “Getting a little bit fragrant there, Ben.”
Ben just laughed. “Said the pot to the kettle.”
Dustin rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s just get to work already.”
Ben rumbled in pleasure. “Work good,” he said as he thumped his chest with his free fist, then grinned teasingly at his companion.
“Okay, now you’re pushing it,” Dustin laughed as he shoved his friend aside, not that he managed to push him very far. Ben’s muscle was too dense.
“Bet you can’t beat my record,” Ben challenged.
“Watch me.”
Dustin groaned as he strained through his tenth rep. Blood surged through his ears and a heavy sweat had left his hair hanging limply against the bench press. Any time he tried talking, Ben would cut him off with a teasing barb, and Dustin would return to work with gritted teeth and greater focus. His arms tingled as he strained to push through the next thrust up, and he let out a shout, despite himself.
Ben grinned down at him as he continued to spot. “Almost there.”
“How remarkable,” Pad mused as he lowered a cup and straw. “Here. Take a sip.”
Dustin did so gratefully, then exhaled explosively as he finished another press. His head was starting to spin, but he wasn’t about to quit yet. He roared as he blasted through the last of the set, then slammed the weights down on their rest. He rose shakily to sit up, then guzzled down the rest of the cup. “What a rush,” he panted.
“Oh, but you’ve only just begun. Squats are next.” Pad smirked. “Unless you don’t think you’re up to the task.”
Blood rushed through Dustin’s ears. “What did you say?” he growled. A thick hand squeezed his shoulder, and he looked up at an equally scowling Ben. The cat’s lip had curled back again, exposing fuller lips and his thick canines.
“He has what it takes,” Ben said gruffly.
“Prove it,” Pad countered. “I only take the committed ones, you know.”
Dustin locked eyes with Padaavanati and something snapped. He rose to his full height, and thrust out his chest. “Show me the weights,” he said huskily. He felt a tingling rush throughout his system as he stared the tiger down. So focused was he that he barely noticed the sudden wisps of hair sprouting out from the collar of his shirt by his chest or how the shirt now clung to his pectorals.
Padaavanati smiled. “Right this way.” He gestured smoothly to an open squat rack.
Dustin walked past, brushing shoulders with the gym’s owner as he made his way single-mindedly to the next exercise. His brow furrowed in a scowl as his pride burned. He wouldn’t take this lying down. He would prove he was strong, prove he was better, prove he was alpha.
Padaavanti smirked as he watched hair after hair sprout along Dustin’s brow ridge, until a thick unibrow was all that remained. The music continued its inexorable, repetitive march, and Dustin lifted in time, after Ben had laid the appropriate weight. The tiger nodded his approval, his eyes flashed, and Ben shuddered as his upper canines thickened and began to grow down, out of his mouth, forcing his lip to rise.
Dustin grunted as he glared into those eyes. He dipped and rose flawlessly. After all, this was an exercise he was quite familiar with. Squat down. Rise up. Keep form. Hold the bar. Stare. Repeat. Blood surged through his core and legs, causing a familiar stirring below, but Dustin didn’t care about that. He had a point to prove. He was strong. Strong … stronger … strong and … and … and ….
Padaavanti winked at Dustin and Dustin growled in response. That tiger was mocking him. He would show. He would prove. Sweat ran down his face and soaked his clothes. He didn’t care. He didn’t care when he heard the twin pops and the cool air brushed against his toes. He didn’t care when he heard the protesting creak of elastic at its limit. A thick, meaty paw of a hand with wicked claws thrust something in his face. He sniffed at it once, but nothing seemed odd about it, so he locked his mouth around it and sucked.
Fire burned through his muscles as the haze of anger thickened, pushing against the insides of his skull. He let out a gruff grunt in reluctant thanks for the refreshment as his nostrils flared and he took in the scent of the one who’d helped him. It was … familiar. Sweat coursed down his hairy arms and chest, and the material on his shirt began to tug uncomfortably as he continued to press. A loud tearing nearly broke his concentration, but he wouldn’t let it. Cool air brushed against his meaty thighs, but the heat within him would not be subdued so easily. He hooted just once, grunted gruffly as he grit his teeth, and kept on going.
“Mmmm … yes,” Padaavanti purred in delight. “I haven’t had one of your kind in my gym before. He licked his lips. “Delicious….” He took a deep breath, and as he did so, a horrendous crunch emanated from Dustin’s chest as his ribcage expanded. “Such aggression, such singlemindedness, such pride.” He bore his fangs in a sneer. “Perfect.”
“Strong,” Dustin puffed huskily as he tensed his upper body. The sleeves on his shirt shredded open to reveal long hairy arms with thickly corded muscle. He grunted as he adjusted his hands on the bar to fit proper form again. So quick was the adjustment, he didn’t even notice how the skin had thickened into dark, leathery hide.
“Yes. Strong, bulky, husky, virile. You’ll do very nicely here, I think.” Padaavanti strode around Dustin and took another long breath inward, this time through his mouth. As he sucked, Dustin’s jaw cracked, and the top of his skull began to rise into a dome-like crown. The man’s thick curly locks retracted into short, straight wisps that draped only slightly from the top as their color drained to be replaced with brilliant silver.
“Strong. Me … strong,” Dustin grated through his new mouth as his lips puffed up and out to form a sort of muzzle that merged with his widening snout. His eyes sunk into the rapidly building ridges on his face. The hazel in his eyes darkened, almost merging with his pupils as his newly reformed face looked out in a perpetual scowl. He hooted absently as the music bounced around in his brain, mingling with the tiger’s whispers.
“Mmm … yes, you are. You both are, aren’t you?” Padaavanti asked as he strolled back into sight, this time with a bulky creature with two long, sharp fangs that draped down over his lower jaw. It towered over the tiger, but Padaavanti simply caressed its huge, blocky muzzle, and it nuzzled back affectionately. Its shorts barely fit over its trunk-like legs, and a massive bulge pressed against the crotch, pulling the waistband down enough to expose the lower parts of his chiseled core. “And it feels so good to be strong, doesn’t it?”
Dustin grunted as he nodded and kept squatting.
Padaavanti chuckled. “You see, my friend, there’s a funny little secret about my name. When you translate it into your language, it essentially means to downgrade, demote, revert, … regress.” He smirked then. “I’ve found over the years that, if you really want to be stronger, sometimes, you have to be willing to take a few steps back. You do want to be stronger, don’t you, Dustin?”
Dustin grunted as he nodded and bore his teeth.
“Then it’s time for you to step back, isn’t it? Step back and join your friend at my gym. Step back into that simple role of the barbarian, a primal creature craving power, craving strength, craving dominance,” he whispered, and his voice seemed almost to echo through the gym.
“Back….” Dustin slurred slowly in his deep, gravelly voice. He rose up from his squat and stood on thick, hand-like feet. The light in his eyes dimmed. His waistband snapped.
Padaavanti sneered as his eyes glowed like golden flames. “That’s right, my little ape man.” He strode forward, and as he did, his body swelled until he stood a full three feet taller than anyone else in the room. His claws were like sickles, his mouth filled with fangs, his muscles bunched and ready to pounce. A powerful musk filled the room as the steady clanking of weights stopped. The ground trembled as every gym goer dropped to his knees. Padaavanti’s sneer widened. “Now, let’s keep things … simple. After all, you like simple now, don’t you? So here is your simple order: finish your journey back and submit to me.”
Dustin’s eyes reflected the same gold as he easily lowered the bar with one massive hand to rest on the floor. Then he hunched over as his spine adjusted and walked naturally on his knuckled hands to approach the tiger. He hooted gently, before lowering his head and sitting meekly.
Padaavanti reached down and stroked Dustin along his back. As he did so, the thick black hairs turned silver and the former man’s frame expanded to the point where he was a good ten feet tall. Dustin let out a deep, rumbling sigh as his eyes rolled back in his head and a puff of silvery mist flowed out from his nose and mouth. Padaavanti smiled then as he took a deep breath and sucked the little cloud up. “There. That wasn’t so bad, was it?” The giant ape nuzzled the tiger’s arm, and Padaavanti chuckled. “Welcome to my gym, Dust.”
The massive sabretooth cat approached and rumbled welcomingly as he sniffed at the gorilla, then brushed against him multiple times in affection. When the newly named Dust finally reciprocated, the big cat turned his eyes on Padaavanti and let out a questioning growl.
“Oh, he’s around here somewhere,” Padaavanti replied with a knowing smirk as he shrank back down to his original size. “Follow me.”
They crossed the gym’s floor, passing all manner of creatures: raptors, T-rexes, strange scaled birds with a rainbow of colors for feathers, aerosteons, massive piranhas, monstrous whales, gigantic snakes, and so many more. “Go on. Back to work, all of you,” Padaavanti ordered. The creatures obeyed. The trio passed through a pair of double doors to a massive arena. The room was filled with the roars, screeches, and cries of beasts cheering excitedly at the match taking place below.
A titanic wooly mammoth flailed wildly in the air above a thick, powerfully built creature. His black fur glinted in the light and his eyes burned with unreasoning rage. Blood dripped slowly from a few minor cuts along his arms and head. His brow was thick and overexaggerated, his muzzle chiseled and blocky. His massive chest heaved as he snorted in rage. Titanic muscles rippled cleanly like thick slabs of meat. They shone like polished marble under the lights mounted to the ceiling. A long ropey tail whipped violently behind him, and he let loose a powerful bellow. The trio watched as the bull’s tiny horns suddenly surged out, growing longer and thicker, until they were nigh on three feet long and a good half a foot in diameter. The rounded parts at the top of his head crunched down under the new weight, complementing the sharp angles of his jaw and muzzle and giving the casual observer the impression of a literal blockhead.
He pawed at the stage with his thick hooved feet as a tiny bulge swelled to the point of obscenity in the last remains of a pair of navy briefs with red accents. The stage was littered with the tattered remnants of his other clothing. The beast bellowed again as his body surged with growth to match the flood of testosterone and other hormones that now pumped rapidly through his body. His neck thickened into a pyramid that held his massive head aloft. Muscles expanded to the size of bowling balls as he grew taller and broader to accommodate the increase in muscle mass. The beast’s waistband snapped, letting everything hang freely as he cried his dominance once again.
It’s not entirely clear who started the chant. The room was filled with a mass of devolved beasts, but they had demonstrated the occasional spurt of speech from time to time, when excited enough and unable to express in their usual fashion. This was such a time, and in a manner as old as the ring, as old as packs or prides, perhaps as old as time itself, one voice became many, and the many exerted their will on the combatants.
“Chuck!” they cried over and over again. Padaavanti sneered as he watched his two followers join the motley cry. His glowing eyes locked with the raging beast, and the creature’s eyes also flashed gold as a thick red cloud rushed from the rafters to the waiting tiger. Padaavanti inhaled it all and shuddered in pleasure, then bore his fangs in a grin. “Well, go on. Don’t keep them waiting, Chuck.”
There was no way for the bull to have heard the command, but the beast stiffened all the same, then bellowed one last time, before his muscles tensed and he threw the mammoth out of the ring to crash into the padded floor. The black behemoth smashed his chest with his fists and bellowed at the crowd, and the crowd responded with cries of adulation. The new auroch stopped cold, however, when Padaavanti stepped onto the ring. He approached the titan, and the room was suddenly silent.
“Do you know me?” Padaavanti asked.
The auroch crashed onto his knees and bent his head. “Master,” he lowed deeply, slowly.
Padaavanti smiled then, and ran his hand over the creature’s short, bristly mane. “That is right. And what is your name?”
“Chuck,” he snorted.
“Does Chuck like his new body?”
The auroch mooed gently and nodded.
“Will Chuck join Master’s gym?”
“Yes.”
Padaavanti smirked. “Good boy.”
“That was incredible!” Dustin cried as the trio left the gym’s doors. “I haven’t felt this good of a pump in ages!” His long curly hair flopped weakly after the shower and quick towel down he’d gone through before they left. A brand new shirt and shorts, each with the gym’s logo sewn or dyed in, spoke proudly to the world that he had chosen to join.
“I, um … never really liked weight lifting, but … that was actually kind of nice. The guys at the gym seemed pretty supportive.”
“I still can’t believe you stood up to that elephant, though,” Dustin jibed as he nudged his friend in the ribs.
Charles winced. “I can’t really, either.” He chuckled. “I guess a guy can only take so much, before he snaps. You … don’t think he’ll try to get back at me later, do you?” he asked nervously.
Ben chuckled as he laid his arms about either friends’ shoulders, the gym’s logo straining against his massive pecs. “Not a chance. And if he does, we’ll be there to stop him.”
“The three musketeers ride again!” Dustin cried exultantly.
“All for one,” Ben started.
“And one for all!” they finished together, then laughed.
“So, what do you say we move our game nights over to the gym?” Ben asked. “I’m sure Pad won’t mind too much. It might be a good way for some hot heads to cool off.”
“A-are you sure that’s a good idea?” Charles asked.
“One way to find out. Meet up to ask him tomorrow?”
“Bit quick on the draw there, big guy. We’re not that far into bodybuilding yet,” Dustin laughed. “How about the next day?”
“Th-that’s good for me. That is, if you two really want to,” Charles said sheepishly.
Ben bore his teeth in a huge grin. “Saturday it is.”
“You know, I’ve got a real hankering for a banana smoothie. You guys wanna come with? My treat.” Dustin smiled at the pair.
“Hmm … go home and sit alone or spend more time with my two best friends. Let me think about it for a minute,” Ben snarked.
Dustin chuckled as he shoved Ben into Charles. “Jerk.”
“Guilty as charged. What is your sentence, your honor?”
“It is the judgement of the court that you be sentenced to drink one super chugger whole without leaving the premises of the smoothie shop.”
Ben gasped. “The horror!”
Charles smiled silently at his friends’ antics. It was good to be back together again, even if it did mean he had to deal with a little roughhousing. He scratched covertly at his crotch as the two exchanged blows in their battle of sarcasm. An odd tingling sensation that wasn’t entirely unpleasant had taken root there, and his head itched near the base of his horns. As he reached up to scratch the spot again, he sighed in contentment. Perhaps this new gym thing wouldn’t be such a bad thing, after all.
Padaavanti smiled as he watched the trio depart, then meandered over to the locker room, where two newly engraved plaques had been set up on either side of another, each reading Chuck, Brawn, and Dust. “I’ll see you three again soon.” He purred in contentment as he moved on to a trio of doors, each with the same names engraved.
He opened the left one and a blast of warm moist air blew in his face. The floor was mostly bare and coated in rich soil. A few small saplings and ferns had begun to sprout, but nothing of any great note. The space beyond was mostly blank, with no end in sight. Padaavanti nodded approvingly, then closed the door and made his way to the one on the right.
A large wooden stall stood before him. The rich scent of hay and pasture wafted to his nose, and he noted a seam starting to form in the back portion of the stall. He investigated it briefly, took a quick whiff at the corner, and nodded approvingly as the moist scent of wet grass caressed his nose. He knew better than to rush construction. When the pair were far enough along, the rooms would be prepared, with all the amenities their primitive little brains could desire. He was certain Chuck would appreciate a pasture to roam around in, especially if he found a mate there. And as for Dust, well, silverbacks liked to live alone at first, anyways. He was confident the boy would build a troop of his own in due time, once the forest was ready to greet him.
Lastly, Padaavanti opened the middle door to expose a thick stone cave complete with crackling fire, a bed of animal skins, and crude hunting materials. A long red stain had been included on the floor near the fire, and the tiger nodded approvingly at the clear signs of spatter from the meat being carried to the flames. Another spatter stain lay by the bed of furs, and he sneered at the sight. He chuckled to himself as he shut this final door, then licked his lips. “Just a matter of time.”
Jungle Games
This is a story I wrote, inspired by a pair of pictures by an artist named Sarvak on Furaffintiy.net. I’ll include the links below for you to view the art and descriptions that go along with it, if you wish. I hope you all enjoy. :D
https://www.furaffinity.net/view/19036299/
https://www.furaffinity.net/view/19117182/
“Hello, and welcome to the jungle.”
You cry out in surprise as you stare at the hunched figure standing in front of you. A ragged blue hoodie clings to his wiry frame, while the tattered remains of a pair of shorts brush against a pair of toned, hairy legs. A thick, brushy unibrow juts up at you from heavily tanned skin. His blue eyes seemed almost to sparkle beneath the filtered light of the canopy above.
“My, my. No need for such a startled reaction. I mean, I know I was ugly when I was born, but I never made people scream before.”
You gulp, and take a step back from the stranger as you note the swishing mass that shouldn’t exist wagging behind him.
Oh, would you relax? It was a joke. I take it you’re here to visit Lord Sarvak, yes?”
You nod your head dumbly, unable to really say much other than that, considering the oddness of the … creature that stands before you.
“I thought so,” he says, smiling smugly as he casually scratches an itch at his side. Right this way.”
“I, um … didn’t think he’d be expecting me,” you mutter.
Oh, a lot of people come to see him, actually. He’s a rather popular monkey,” the … man … monkey … thing responds.
“So you’re his doormonkey?” you ask.
“Well … yes, I suppose you could say I’m the footman for now.”
“For now?” you ask as you raise a quizzical eyebrow.
“Yes, for now,” he glowers back at you. “Lord Sarvak likes to play games, you see. I was once a visitor, like yourself. I wanted to get rich, to feel fulfilled, have fun, not have to work all day at a job that numbs my brain, the usual sorts of desires that draw people to him. Well, that, and I have a few debts I’d like to pay off.” He chuckles as he begins to guide you through the damp rainforest. There isn’t that much of a path, per se, but it seems the area had been walked enough to make a sort of a trail. “I assume you came to him for similar reasons. He’s willing to grant those wishes, and more besides, but he wants to have his fun with the process. So, rather than give a free ticket, he plays games with his petitioners. In my case, we made a bet. I get to be his servant for half a year, and if I’m still my same old self by the end of it, he’ll make me a very wealthy man, and even provide me the means to return home whole and hearty.” He hunches forward, and tenses his muscles, then jumps upwards to snatch a fruit off a low-lying branch, before taking a big juicy bite out of it, exposing his sharper canines as he eats greedily.
“Um … no offense, but you don’t exactly look too human,” you say pointedly.
Well, of course I’m not looking very human. What did you expect in the simian court? Master Sarvak had to make some … adjustments, so I could fit in my role better. That doesn’t mean I’ve changed up here or in here,” he said, pointing to his head and heart with a free hand.
You’d rather not risk upsetting your only guide in a potentially dangerous jungle further, so you decide to change the subject. “So what’s it like? Meeting Sarvak, I mean.”
Your guide furrows his brow as you walk, pondering the question. “It is … ook ook … difficult to describe. The first time I stood in his presence, I knew immediately how wonderful and merciful a simian he was.”
“How so?”
He breaks into a high-pitched sort of laugh that scratches through his vocals, until it becomes more like a screech. “Oh, you’re funny. Master Sarvak has taken very good care of me in his employ. All the bananas I could ask for, a tree to swing around in, the distinct pleasure of being his servant….”
“And what about your home?”
He taps his lightly bearded chin with a leathery finger. “My home? Well, it’s not much to look at by your standards. I get a lovely tree house, a never-ending stalk of bananas, fresh juice every morning and night, a hammock and bed to swing around or sleep in as I choose, and all the vines I could ever want to swing around on. It’s especially fun when you’re harvesting fruits from the trees. They’re so tender, so juicy and sweet. It makes my tail wag just thinking about them!”
You do your best to dodge the appendage, while still remaining courteous. “That’s … not exactly what I meant,” you explain.
“Hmm? Oh, you meant my human home. Well … I don’t know if there’s much to say about it, really. It was just a studio apartment. I remember … four walls, and a magic screen to look out into the world. Master Sarvak has something similar, only he calls it a scrying glass. I remember a fire stick I used to start a woodless fire, and it would keep burning, until I was finished. Now that really was something.” He paused a moment as a dazed expression passed over his face. “Funny … I can’t quite … recall the name for it. It’s been so long since I thought about that place. So … very long. Actually … what did my home … look like? How … how long has it actually been?” He lets out an animalistic grunt, and scratches at his side as he struggles to break through the haze. “I … I, uh … suppose it doesn’t matter.” The scratching becomes more rhythmic, relaxed, and a smile pulls at his face, expanding into a grin that exposes sharper canines and thicker incisors. “Yes … doesn’t … doesn’t matter at all.” He lets out few more simian hoots. “Must attend my duties.”
He clearly seems lost in his own world, and you’d rather not get lost with him, so you do the only think you can think to do. You tap him on the shoulder to gain his attention. “Um, are you okay?” you ask.
“Hm?” He looks at you, and the fog in his eyes clears a little. He shakes his head. “Sorry. That happens sometimes when I think of the master. It’s good to think about the master.” The scratching has risen somewhat on his hairy body, and suddenly he stops, and plucks something off his skin. “Yes … good.” You watch as he sticks it in his mouth, and starts to chew. You can’t believe what you’ve just witnessed as the crunching of an exoskeleton echoes in the quiet jungle air.
You gape silently at his actions, and he looks back at your face, and rolls his eyes.
“Well excuse me. I’m hungry. The bugs make for a tasty snack. Puts hair on your chest, sharpens your teeth for the ladies.” His eyes burn suddenly with an unreasoning anger, and he beats his chest with curled fists as he unleashes a series of territorial screeches. “AH HAH AH HAH AHHH!” He coughed afterwards, and cleared his throat as he regained control of himself. “Forgive me. That behavior was … uncalled for.”
“Do you need me to–?” you start.
He raises a halting hand. “No, no. Don’t worry. It comes with the territory. The form comes with the instincts, including the need to display dominance.
You watch with some surprise as his ears twitch, and then start to stretch, becoming larger and rounder. “Um….”
“Yes?” he asks as he turns to face you.
“Your ears.”
“Yes? What about my ears?”
“They just grew. Isn’t that bad for your bet?”
He looks at you like you’ve just grown a second head. “What are you talking about? They’ve always been this big.”
“Always been….” Your heartrate is starting to rise.
“Yes, always.”
Sweat begins to bead at your forehead, and you feel the hairs rising on the back of your neck. Perhaps coming here wasn’t the best idea, after all. “Um … how long have you been working here now, then?”
“Oh, I’d say about a month or so,” he answers.
“And … what happens to you, if you lose this bet of yours?”
“If I lose? Why … Master would … he would…. Something about a … runner-up prize…. Why can’t I…?” He claps both hands over his head for a moment, and scrunches his eyes shut in intense concentration. Or was it pain? You couldn’t quite tell. Then a cool breeze shakes the branches, and the soft tone of bells rings in the air. His nostrils flare as he takes a deep breath, and then sighs. He stops, and you watch as his tail seems to wrap around his ankle, and rub it. His foot changes before your eyes, the skin taking on a glossy sheen as it thickens to a leathery consistency, and the big toe lengthens to become a thumb-like appendage, while the toes shift to become just like fingers. The second foot joins in a matter of seconds, and soon he turns to face you again. “Come,” he almost seems to drone, “Master is waiting. Mustn’t keep Master waiting.” He lets out a few gentle simian ooks as his sideburns thicken, and lengthen down the sides of his face and jaw to form a sort of furry mane.
“Um, you seem to be … well, that is to say….” You find yourself at a loss for words for a moment, then finally out and say it. “Something’s wrong with your face.”
He reaches up with his hands, and starts feeling over his cheeks, his nose, his brow, even the inside of his mouth. As he does so, you watch as his nostrils become more pronounced, and his mouth seems to pull out with his hand, forming a sort of semi-muzzle. “What are you talking about? What’s wrong with my muzzle?”
“For one, you didn’t have it a few seconds ago.”
Your guide furrows his brow, and you watch as it thickens. The ridge stretches out like a clay pulled by a sculptor’s hand, before it compacts and swells, spreading like roots down the sides of his face to form a sort of natural hollow for the eyes to sink within.
“And now your brow is changing!”
He folds his arms, and rolls his eyes. “Well, a thick brow is part of the package. I’m a monkey servant, remember? … Monkey … just … monkey. Yes.” His gaze became distant again as the whites of his eyes began to disappear. “Hmm?” He sees your expression, and shakes his head to try to clear it. “Sorry. I’ve been feeling … scattered lately.”
You definitely don’t like where this is going. “Why don’t you tell me your name? You never did introduce yourself.”
“My name?” He shakes his head. “Master made me promise not to speak it, while I serve him. A proper challenge for a proper servant, he said. You may call me Domaap. It is the name Master told me to use.” He smiles dazedly at you.
“Um … why are you grinning like that?” you ask. “It’s sort of creepy.”
“Because I’ve come to enjoy hearing the name,” he explains as you reach a hill of roots. He begins climbing, and you have no choice but to follow. Naturally, given his simian anatomy, it comes more easily to him than it does for you. “It fills me with pleasure. The other monkeys think it’s a joke of some sort. I don’t understand how it is, myself.”
“You’re telling me he made you his servant, and you still can’t understand monkey speak?” you ask, surprised. You’ve worked up a good sweat by now as you continue to climb.
“Well, of course I speak simian. When you live in a jungle where the main population is monkeys who are bound in service to an even larger, more powerful magical monkey, you kind of have to know how to speak the language. It’s just a proper name, from what I can tell. I understand the speech. That doesn’t mean I have the meaning of every name memorized,” he pointed out logically as he reached the top and extended a hand down. You take it, and he pulls you up the rest of the way. “I can teach you some of it later, if you’d like. It’s actually quite simple to learn, more a matter of simplifying thought patterns mixed with body language and the occasional exclamation.”
“Like cursing?”
“More like hoots and screeching. It’s actually rather fun, once you get past the initial embarrassment. It’s far more entertaining to listen to them, once you get the knack for it. They’re simple, but passionate, and all dedicated to the master.”
“Why do you keep referring to this monkey as Master?”
Domaap shrugs as you continue to walk along the top of the natural wall. “I call him Master, because he is the master here. Everyone knows it, and everyone lives according to that fact. He gives us our jungle, grants us a home, rules us fairly.”
“Us?”
“Well, yes, us. I am a simian right now, so that means I fall under his rule, too. Any time we obey him, pleasure is our reward. I still remember when I first grew my tail and hung from the trees with it. It was such a rush. Master gave it to me as a reward for such speedy and efficient service when dealing with petitioners. Sure, it took me a while to learn how to climb properly, but once I had that down, the sky was the limit, quite literally. I could go anywhere in the canopy, swing from limb to limb like it was nothing. Back and forth, and back and forth, and back … and back … and … back….” He slumps further forward as a crack sounds from his spine. You watch as he swings his arms freely, and they lengthen. Soon enough, the sound of his knuckles scraping the ground reach your ears, and you watch as the skin around them cracks and darkens, while they swell larger. His fingers stretch out, and curve naturally as he alters his stride completely to match his new form of locomotion.
“Domaap?”
He turns his head back to face you, and grunts questioningly.
“Um … was part of your deal becoming a complete monkey?”
He grins, exposing his sharper canines as his lips fold outwards. “Mon-key … Master,” he grates out slowly, then slams his hands on the ground a few times, jumping excitedly on the forest floor, while his fur, because that’s basically what it is now, thickens into a proper coat. “Good … ha–ppy.” He leaps into the air, grabbing one of the low-lying branches, and starts swinging as he hoots out what you think is a simian equivalent of a laugh. The trees shake and tremble around you as that laughter echoes, and returns. It redoubles as the boughs in the higher parts of the trees shake with movement. You swallow forcefully as you realize you’ve been shadowed the whole way. There had to be hundreds of them.
You feel a sharp pain, and smack the back of your neck, pulling back to reveal the bloated remains of one of the biggest insects you’ve ever laid eyes on. Domaap hoots excitedly, and leaps down from his branch to take what remains he can with his fingers, then shoves them in his mouth. When he looks up at you again, the whites in his eyes have all but been consumed, leaving a sort of golden hazel iris to stare back at you.
…
But they had been blue.
“Domaap, how many people have actually won Sarvak’s games?”
His shoulders shake as he hoots gently in what you assume to be the simian equivalent of a chuckle. “No … know,” he grated out. You watch with a rising sense of horror as a forest of hair sprouts and spreads up his shoulders and neck, thickening along the way. “Just … serve Master.” He thumped his chest with a fist, then motioned towards you. “Come.”
The humid jungle air soon leaves you covered in sweat, and a low-lying fog begins to stream around your ankles as you follow your guide. Your hidden followers peek curiously out from the tree boughs. Some are completely feral, including in size. Others still maintain some small semblance of their humanity, namely in the form of tattered clothes.
You stop at the foot of a massive tree, where a curious plant is growing with a single broad, sturdy green leaf the size of a platter. A pool of rainwater has collected inside, and your host reaches in with a cupped hand to sip. He smiles at you then, and leans forward on his knuckles, before motioning to the leaf. “Drink,” he grunts. “Help … talk to Master.” His brow furrowed further, as though he were struggling to recall the words. “Speak … sim … sim–ian.”
“And if I don’t?”
He shook his head. “No … see … Master. No … talk … Domaap. No talk. No … no ….” He groaned out the last word, then hooted as he slapped his leathery palms onto the forest floor. The trees came alive with screeches, hoots, and hollers that pealed like laughter as he pulled off his shirt to reveal a fur-covered chest. He beat against it a few times, then grinned, and hooted excitedly as he watched the fur spread down his arms to thicken into a proper coat.
“Domaap?” you ask hesitantly.
The new monkey rises up onto his two feet, and stares uncomprehendingly at you. His tail sways behind him as he points to the leaf, and mimes drinking one more time, then leaps up onto a tree trunk to climb onto a low-hanging branch and hang upside down with his tail. He folds his arms, and looks expectantly at you.
You look back the way you’ve come. The fog has all but eliminated any sign of the track you’ve taken. Even if you could manage to stumble back the way you came, it was highly likely a predator of some sort would find you, before you managed to escape the forest’s boundaries. Domaap continues to stare at you, cocking his head left and right as he scratches his scalp with a finger. The familiarity seems to have faded from his expression, and all you can see in those eyes now is a strange sort of curiosity, as if you were the first human he had ever laid eyes on.
At this point, it’s rather clear. You have no choice but to do as he suggested, or else risk being lost in this jungle for the rest of your days. You brace yourself, then walk resolutely to the leaf. The water is still, completely undisturbed as you peer over the leaf’s edge. You can just make out the shadow of your face, but nothing else. A single drop falls from the tree above to ripple the surface, and you cup your hands nervously, before reaching out to take the liquid.
The cold water raises goosebumps on your skin as the excess runs down your arms, while you tip your hands up to slurp at the water. Your throat tingles for a moment, and you clear it forcibly to relieve the sensation. Then you look up at the monkey again, take a deep breath, and sigh. ‘Here goes,’ you think to yourself. “Domaap?”
The monkey looks your way. “About time you took the hint,” he groused as he dropped to the jungle floor. He smoothed back his messy hair, then hunched forward to lean on his knuckles again. “If you’re that hesitant, there’s no way you’ll be able to face the master and win.”
“What … was that? I mean, I assume we’re talking monkey, but it all sounds like English to me.”
Domaap shrugged. “The water is mixed with nectar from blossoms on the tree. The nectar drops when the pool is ready, sort of like the tree already knows. You’re lucky. You got a fresh dose. That means you’ll be able to speak with and understand us a lot longer than most.”
“And what happens when there’s more nectar than water?”
Domaap grinned, baring his sharper incisors. “Then the forest really likes you,” he said mysteriously. Then he turned, and waved his hand behind him. “Come on. Master Sarvak won’t wait forever, and he’ll have my tail, if I don’t get you to him soon.”
You walk nervously behind him as the creaking of tree boughs and the occasional whisper rushes past your ears. The longer you travel, the more prominent the voices seem to become.
“Fifty bananas says the newbie doesn’t even make it to the game,” one says.
“Twenty on chickening out,” another clamors.
You blush as you hear another voice ask whether you’re single.
“Pay no attention to them,” Domaap suggested as he looked to the trees.
“So, bananas are currency here?” you ask, desperate to change the subject and follow his advice.
Domaap shrugged. “Bananas, other fruits, sometimes tools or services. It varies. After all, what’s a game without a little betting on the side, eh?”
“How many have you bet on?”
“Oh, a few,” he said modestly as he brushed his knuckles over his chest. “I understand you humans better than most. It gives me an advantage. Honestly, though, what I’d like to do is explore the forest more. Being Master’s servant is fulfilling, and I am happy to do it, but I can’t go very far, unless I’m bringing new guests to him. The others tell me about all these places in the forest, and I can’t go, because Master needs me. It’s how most of the others get back at me for winning.”
“And how long did you say you’d been serving him again?”
“As long as I’ve been in this forest, so pretty much all my life,” Domaap said. The air seemed to waver around him momentarily as the fog swept over his shorts. You blink in surprise to try to ease the strange sense of strain that’s suddenly assailed your eyes. A few moments and one eye rub later, you open your eyes to see an emerald-green loin cloth wrapped tightly around his waist and nether region. It pops brightly against his dark fur, leaving little to the imagination. “Master has been very kind.”
“I … see that,” you say as the pit in your stomach sinks even lower. Desperate to take your mind away from that foreboding sensation, you decide to change the course of the conversation. “The trees here are so large. The forest must be very old.”
Domaap chuckles as he leaps onto a low-lying branch, and swings lazily, before somersaulting in the air, and landing perfectly back on the forest floor again. “Master made it himself, long ago. No woodcutters here, no developers. The forest protects itself, protects us. Master called it … alchemy, I think.”
“He made all this with alchemy?” You look up at the thick trunks, the spidering boughs, the heavy green vegetation casting the forest in an unearthly light. You take another breath of the mist, and a hint of something floral catches your senses, almost like a pollen.
“Yup. He helped the forest grow, develop ways to protect itself, even communicate sometimes. You could say … she’s sort of like a mother to us.” Domaap pauses at that, and rubs a hand appreciatively against one of the massive trunks. The boughs rustle, and the perfume becomes stronger for a few moments. Then you look up to see a blossom floating gently down. Its petals are a fiery orange tinged with licks of yellow and red near the edges.
A mischievous breeze stirs the mist, directing the flower’s course, until it lands in the monkey’s cupped hands. Beads of moisture shone like jewels along the flower’s petals as the two of you stare. Then Domaap lifts the flower up to his nose, and takes a deep breath. You watch in utter disbelief as the dark fur around his face begins to shift. It’s subtle at first, but like a ripple in a pond, a wave of color suddenly rushes out, consuming his head fur, then rolling over the rest of him. Fiery red blazed down his back with golden streaks and the occasional cinder-like orange. The fur around his torso shone like sunlight as the gold became more pronounced. The gold, orange, and red coursed down his tail, merging into a brilliant band, before fading off to streaks of gray, black, and white at the very end. The very visage of the flower became etched on either bicep just below the shoulder in black, not unlike the core from whence the stamen in the flower rose.
Your body feels tense, after seeing this latest transformation. Domaap looks at you in turn with a bashful smile. “That was … I suppose what you would call a kiss,” he says as he takes the blossom and mounts it by his ear, then clears his throat. “I’ll place it next to my hammock later. For now, it’s time you met Master. It won’t be much farther now. Come, come,” he waves as the two of you press on together.
The path isn’t nearly so difficult now, but your anxiety has reached a new level. Every shake of a bough, every stray breeze, every twig snap makes your heart hammer faster against your chest. You start to feel lightheaded, and you wonder if it’s you or the forest. “Does … does the forest ever … do things to people?”
“It wouldn’t be able to defend itself, if it couldn’t, now would it?” Domaap asked with a mischievous wink. “Don’t worry. You’re a guest. She won’t do anything to you, if you behave.”
“… Behave. Right….”
“She had fun with the last developers that came through here. They made good additions to the forest. You know, saplings, fungus, maybe a couple of predators.” He shrugged. “They don’t hunt us, of course. She won’t let them.”
“Predators….” You can hardly believe it.
“Well, that is what alchemy is, after all, isn’t it, changing the nature of one thing to make it another? Does it really matter whether it’s lead or a creature?”
“I suppose not,” you finally say. “It’s … not painful, though, is it?”
Domaap shrugged. “It depends on the visitor. If they deserve the pain, they’ll have pain. If they don’t, they won’t.”
“And … how do they know, the forest and Sarvak, I mean?”
“A little magic, a little alchemy, and maybe a game.” He grins at you. “Everyone loves games here.”
“And … if I meet your master, he’ll make me play a game with him.”
“Yup!” Domaap’s grin widens. “Don’t worry, his games are fun. He won’t let anybody hurt you.”
“It’s not getting hurt that I’m worried about,” you mutter back.
Domaap suddenly stops, and shoves out an arm to hold you back. A thick layer of leaves and brush stands before you, and the mist writhes out from the barrier. “We’re here. Make sure to mind your manners. We don’t take kindly to people who disrespect Master,” he warns. Then he reaches out to the leaves, and brushes them gently.
The foliage moves aside, rustling almost warningly as it parts. The fog washes over you in a wave, causing you to shudder, despite the warmer climate. You feel the strong leathery grip of a hand clasping yours firmly, and suddenly you find yourself stumbling through the curtain of fog into a massive clearing. Sunlight sparkles through the mist, causing the moist earth beneath your feet to emerge from hiding. Tiny specks of light dot the trees above you in boughs, where a series of vines and boughs appear to have grown together to form a series of shelters. These doubtless were the treehouses Domaap had mentioned earlier. Bamboo shoots and other forms of grass stuck up at various locations near the bases of the trees, stretching like fences to guard against intruders. There, in the center of the clearing, a tall, well-toned monkey balances on a gnarled wooden staff with one foot mounted on the top, while a second supported further down where the wood of the staff spiraled outwards, before tightening back up again in its downward course. His eyes are closed, but his fiery orange fur blazes in the misty clearing. His tail swishes idly behind him, its end a bright golden tassel that seems to trail sparks in the strange half-light of the clearing. Or was that just fireflies?
You blink a few times just to be sure, before returning your attention to the monkey man. His dark-chocolate-brown skin only served to further emphasize the brightness of his fur. You note how his ear twitches, and his lips curl up into a smile. He opens his eyes to expose playful golden orbs hemmed by red along the edges. His pupils are dark and probing as he peers up and down.
“So, this is our new arrival, hmm?” he asks as he looks you over. “Interesting.” He leaps up, performs a triple front flip, and lands gracefully on his hands and feet, before rising back onto his legs again. You do your best to keep your gaze away from the rather prominent bulge pressing against a blue loin cloth as he approaches you. “I’m guessing Domaap here has already explained the rules of our little home to you, yes?”
You gulp, and nod gently.
“Good. That will make this much easier. Domaap?”
Domaap steps forward and bows to Sarvak. “Yes, Master?”
“I want you to go join the others and harvest a couple of bushels of golden bananas.”
“Wh-what?” Domaap balks.
“You heard me. I want to have the prize ready for our guest. After all, one must be able to show an offering of good faith to one so brave.”
“But Master….”
“Now, Domaap.”
Domaap’s eyes grow unfocused for a moment. “Yes, Master. I’ll leave at once,” he says dazedly.
Sarvak reaches out, and pats Domaap on the head. “Good monkey. Treat yourself to a banana on your way back.
Domaap looks up adoringly at Sarvak. “Oh yes, Master. Thank you, Master!” He grins, baring his teeth, and exposing his sharp canines.
“Off you go, now. I want to play this game alone.”
You watch as Domaap scurries off with a few excited hoots of joy. He leaps onto a nearby tree, and the boughs shake as he jumps with practiced ease from branch to branch. If you hadn’t met him earlier, you’d have sworn he was a native.
“And score another one for me,” Sarvak says with a smirk, then chuckles. “I do so enjoy watching humans. They’re such funny little creatures, so assured in their own sense of superiority as the ‘dominant species,’” he says as he performs a set of air quotes for your benefit. “Give them a few changes, though, a little push here, a tiny nudge there, and … well, they don’t seem to care about being human anymore. Most of them rewrite their memories of their own accord.” He chuckles again, sighs, then shakes his head. “Humanity is overrated, anyway. You people are so focused on things like industrialization, a concept of money as power, boxing every little part of the world into your own standards and definitions, dismissing things like magic and potions with a contemptuous wave of the hand. After all, mankind is too advanced to believe in such things anymore,” he scoffs. “And they call us the ignorant savages.”
You gulp as the crushing realization of just how far in over your head you’ve gone practically shatters your psyche. Your body begins to shake, and you struggle to keep yourself together.
Sarvak takes one look at you, then sighs, and shakes his head as he clicks his tongue chidingly. “One of those, are you?” He’s by you faster than you can blink, and you feel his strong arm around your shoulders. His fur tickles where it brushes your neck and cheeks, but it feels warm enough, and … surprisingly, he doesn’t stink. “Look, I’m not some power-hungry spirit determined to take over the world, okay? And I’m not here to destroy humanity. Everything has its place in the world, even humans.” He shrugs as he leads you to a high-backed swing made from interwoven vines you’re certain wasn’t there when you first walked in. “I guess you could say I’m just the bookkeeper. I watch over my forest, take care of my charges, make sure they’re well fed and sheltered, maybe play a few pranks on visitors, if I feel like it. If anything, I’m more like an overprotective father than I am a ‘master.’” He chuckles at the wavering warble he added at the end, and despite yourself, you find your heartrate starting to slow. The shaking eases. He turns to smile at you, and you don’t see a hint of malice. If anything, you see … pity?
“Where exactly is this place, anyways?” you finally manage to say as he guides you to the vines and presses you firmly into the swing. He’s surprisingly strong. Then again, he’s a monkey. They’re supposed to be strong.
“Somewhere in some jungle in the world.” He shrugs. “The forest likes to move around from time to time.” He leans back, and a surge of spongy flora suddenly rises from the ground to meet him as he seats in an organic equivalent of an easy chair.
“This … is weird,” you finally admit, “and freaky.”
Sarvak shrugs. “Things like this always are for you humans. It’s par for the course, really. Anything else you wanted to talk about?”
You swallow nervously, then look back over to him. “Domaap said … the forest protects itself. It’s sentient, then?”
“I’d say closer to sapient, but yes. As you can see, she’s most considerate.” He smiles and pats the chair appreciatively. “Though she hasn’t exactly spoken yet, so it’s not entirely certain where she stands on that scale we mentioned earlier.”
“And people have tried to hurt her before?” You wince as you feel the vines tighten somewhat beneath you.
“Yes, they have,” Sarvak says softly. “Humans are always creating new ways to develop, or harvesting new ingredients for their medicine. I can’t fault them on the harvesting, but the destruction they bring about to do it sometimes borders on the ludicrous.” He shakes his head, then sighs. “So yes, we’ve had to defend ourselves a few times before. You could say that’s where the memories go, in part, when humans lose my games. The forest needs to know what advances man has made, so she can counter them in the event of an attack.”
“And how do humans find their way here?”
“How did you?”
“I … read a book.”
“Correction. You read a portion of a book, one you found on … the internet, I believe it’s called, isn’t it? You’re not even sure how you found it, but you read it, and here you are, waiting to get some easy money.”
You squirm under his knowing gaze. “Life’s been a little rough to me,” you say weakly.
“Go on,” he urges. “Tell me about it.”
You try to avoid his gaze.
“Eyes on me, please. It’s rude not to hold contact with a host,” he points out.
You fiddle with your hands, squirm a bit, but ultimately, little by little, you raise your head to face him.
“That’s better. Now, come along. Tell me the truth.”
You’re suddenly struck by a strange sense of vertigo, and you lean back in your makeshift swing for support. “I … I, uh….” And then you start. It comes haltingly at first. You want to obscure the details, leave your life your own, but the more you talk, the harder it is to keep your lies straight. You furrow your brow in confusion as you talk about dropping out of high school to live on your own. How was he doing this?
“Easy now. I won’t judge,” Sarvak promised. “I just like to hear the stories. Come now; tell me more. No more guilt. No more worries. No more fears. Just relax.” You hear the gentle creek of the vines in your seat, and you wonder idly when you’d started swinging. “Just look at me and relax. Let it all out. You’ll feel so much better, if you do. It’s always better to tell the truth, you know, don’t you agree?”
“I, uh … suppose so.” A sweet scent fills your nostrils, and you feel the gentle tickle of blossoms against your skin. “Mmm … smells … nice.” A light tingling rushes over your body, and you shudder as you feel the tension start to leave your muscles.
“See? You’re feeling better already. Come. Tell me more.”
And you do tell him more. You’re not sure how long you’ve been talking, when you suddenly see a rough wrinkled hand shoving something long and yellow in your face.
“Banana?” a familiar voice asks.
You break your contact with Sarvak for just a moment to stare up into the simian face. You feel dazed, thirsty. Your stomach growls.
“Thank you, Domaap. You can leave the bananas there,” Sarvak says casually. “And could you fetch our guest something to drink?”
Domaap grunts his acknowledgement and walks off into the underbrush again. You’re surprised to find yourself holding the proffered banana in your hand, already peeled.
“Go on. Eat,” Sarvak prods as he takes one from his own stalk. “I guarantee this will taste better than anything you’ve ever tasted out there before.” He bites it, swallows, then smiles as he stares at you. “Well, go on,” he prompts.
You look down at the banana. It almost seems to glow, but you’re sure that’s just a trick of your eyes. You sniff it, and smell a strong, sweet scent. A moment later, you’re staring bemusedly at an empty peel. A strong, fruity taste hangs in your mouth, and you look confusedly at the monkey across the way.
“Well, go on, big nose. There’s plenty more where that came from,” Sarvak presses. “Eat.”
And eat you do. Your nostrils flare, and you chomp down on banana after banana.
“That’s it. I told you they were better than anything else, didn’t I?” he asks.
“Yesh,” you acknowledge through puffed lips. Your jaw is working like a pair of pistons, but you don’t care. You don’t stop. You have to eat.
“To use a phrase one of my brethren were so keen on using, before he joined us, ‘it’ll put hair on your chest.’” He chuckled. “Among other places.”
You hold back after a time, and slouch into your seat. The vines are creaking more heavily now, and you blink your eyes sleepily as you brush some of your hair out of your face. You scratch at your stomach, and grunt at the strange pulling sensation you’re getting from your clothes. It’s rather uncomfortable. But then you’ve got a coconut cup shoved in your face, and you’re drinking something thick, smooth, and creamy. You forget about the strange sensation.
“Drink it all up,” Sarvak says. You do, and the strange bloating sensation you felt before is relieved, though not the tug of the clothing on your skin. Your brow furrows again, and you look up at the strange protrusion over your eyes. It’s bushy and thick, like a bunch of stray eyebrow hairs, but you don’t understand how that could be. You knead and pull at it, but that doesn’t seem to help. If anything, it seems to make it worse.
“Leave it,” Sarvak instructs, and you do so without a second thought.
“Time to talk again?” you ask. Your vocal chords feel strained. The itching sensation has increased, and things feel … almost swollen as you swallow again. You reach up to scratch an itch at the top of your head, and a thrill of pleasure flows down your body as you continue the action. You’re hardly aware of the strange pushing sensation against your kneading fingers. Indeed, you’re too enthralled in pleasure to be much aware of anything.
“That’s right,” Sarvak says gently. “But first, you need to relax more. Kick off those shoes. Stay a while. I think we’re close enough now to be past formalities, wouldn’t you say?”
You nod and grunt, since your mouth is too full of banana right now to respond properly. In a matter of seconds, your shoes are flying through the air, and land on either side of Sarvak’s chair. You wriggle your toes in your socks, and sigh.
“That’s better, isn’t it?”
“Yes….”
“So much better without those pesky shoes.”
Your brow furrows. “Stupid things,” you grumble. Then the pleasure washes over you again, and you sigh as you lean back in the vines and stretch your feet on the clearing’s floor.
“That’s right. Now, where were we?”
And so you resume, and you look gladly, almost eagerly into his eyes this time. You’re struck by the occasional lightheadedness, but when that happens, you just grunt, and scratch yourself a little to give you time. You think Sarvak knows, but he’s so nice, just lets you do what you want, and smiles. He doesn’t even blink an eyelash when your clothes start to rip. He’s such a great guy. You really do like him, and he’s giving you all the bananas you could ask for. What a gracious host. You smile as you chew, and your swollen jaw shifts in proportion with the muscle strain. You hardly even notice the twin pops as your socks burst open, like the seams in your pants, to reveal rough, leathery feet. In a matter of seconds, you find yourself peeling bananas with your toes, then passing them up to your hands to chew.
“So there it is. I was just … tired, I guess,” you finally say from your spot on the ground. You twirl your last banana idly between your fingers as you readjust the remains of the vines into a nest, shoving the fragments of cloth in with some spare leaves growing within reach to form the extra padding. “Tired, and,” you yawn, “waiting … for someone like you.”
“And I’ve been waiting for someone like you,” Sarvak said intently. His eyes were so pretty. They seemed almost to glow as you stared into them. You felt so safe. “Domaap is an excellent servant, and he loves his duty, but he gets tired of being by my side so often, and he wants to explore the forest. I can’t say I blame him. She has much to offer, and she does so love surprising her children.” He sips from his own cup as he eyes you. “I don’t need more servants pampering me hand and foot.” He rises from his chair suddenly, and walks over to you. It’s … funny. You don’t remember him being so short before. He barely comes to your chest. “I need someone strong to support me, to protect me when people come with ill intent. Some come to steal from me sometimes. Others … others try to kill me.”
A guttural snarl rises naturally from your throat. “Why?” you demand harshly. Your eyes narrow. Your free hand clenches into a meaty fist as you bear your teeth. A tingling sensation runs over your jaw, and you’re hardly aware of how your canines have lengthened somewhat and your mouth has shoved forward with your new snout to form a sort of proto-muzzle as you snort angrily.
“Money, power, land, ingredients, reagents, fear, take your pick,” he sighed with a shrug. “The point is that I need someone to guard me, to protect me in the event someone tries when they get close. My little monkeys would be lost without me. And well, if I die….” He left it hanging in the air.
You struggle for a few minutes as you try to catch the monkey’s meaning. You know Sarvak wants you to finish it, but you’re not sure how. Then, slowly, a tiny bubble of memory bursts its way to the surface of your thoughts. He was the bookkeeper. He’d said that. Keeps earth’s books balanced, or … something like that. “Earth dies, too,” you finish gruffly.
“Exactly. Very good.”
You grin at his praise and puff out your chest proudly as you strike it with your fist. “I’m smart,” you grunt.
“Yes, very smart for such a big ape,” he agreed.
That … didn’t sound right … did it? But … Sarvak said to tell the truth, and … he was telling the truth, too, right? So … that means … you had to be an ape. But … but….
“Shhh….” He hushes you gently as he pulls your head down to stare at him again. “Our game is nearly over, my massive friend.”
Those eyes….
“Very nearly over, over the edge, over your old life, over humanity.”
“O … ver….” You can’t look away. You hoot gently, meekly, to voice that small piece of concern, so very small compared to the bulk you now feel in your body, that raw brute strength.
“But here’s where the game gets interesting. See, I’m going to take a risk, my friend. I’m going to give you a choice. True, it’s only fifty-fifty, but it’s a gamble all the same, which makes it such a wonderful game. You can go back to that old life of yours with a dead-end job and nowhere to go. I’d even be willing to part with some of my valuables to send you on your way, let you live the life you always wanted over there: comfortable, peaceful, rich. Of course, you’d likely end up living in some city high rise with all those noisy cars and rowdy neighbors, and you’d be doing everything in your power to protect the valuables in the first place. Honestly, it’s far too stressful, in my opinion.”
His tail flicks over your vision, and the bright lights make your head feel all funny and fuzzy as he taps the edge on the banana in your hand. The peel starts to glow with a gentle golden light, just like the tail. It feels warm, and a light tingle passes from it into your much larger hand. “The other option, my friend, is quite simple, and you like simple, don’t you?”
You feel your head nodding. Simple was good. You liked simple.
“All you have to do is eat that banana. Do that, and you can stay here, where it’s simple, calm, peaceful. You’ll have all the fruits you could ever want, including our long yellow friends there,” he added with a wink. “You can be my guard, someone to watch my back, intimidate any people who get the wrong idea about their visits here. You know, the ones who want to hurt me.”
You growl again as the haze of anger descends.
“You can teach them a lesson, make them understand how wrong they are. I can show you how.” The tail caresses under your chin. “How to be dominant. How to lead them. How to reform them. Or, if you prefer, well, you can do it the other way, I suppose.”
“Other … way?” you hoot, confused.
“Oh, you know, like when you break a twig. I don’t like killing, but if it comes down to it, sometimes you have to.” He shrugged. “That would be completely up to you, of course. But there’s no need to think about that right now. No need to think at all.” He’s staring at you gain, and your eyes are locked with his. “Thinking is over now. You don’t think much now anyway, do you? You prefer to act.”
“A-a-aaahhhhct….” Eyes … so pretty … so … nice…. Thinking over. No think.
“So act. Eat or don’t eat. Choose now, you silly ape.”
For just a moment, images flash through your mind. You see the small apartment you rent, the abusive manager, the cursing roommates, the mocking “friends.” You look at the banana, and your mind clears as the full impact of what that choice would mean blazes through the fog like a comet. Then you look down at Sarvak, those glowing eyes, that sultry voice. He was kind, hospitable, friendly, and he was offering you a new life in a place where you would be well taken care of, where you could decide your fate without other people to boss you around, well, except for Sarvak. He would technically be your boss, since you’d be his guard, but that was beside the point. It was beautiful here, beautiful like those eyes. So … beautiful.
And just like that, the comet passes, and the darkness rushes in to fill its place. Funny words like choose, ape, and simple echo over and over in the caverns of your mind, and they keep getting louder the longer you stare at the banana. You scratch at the ridge on top of your head, and the pleasure calms you. The darkness thickens. The caverns expand. Somewhere, deep down, you feel something give. You grunt. You hoot. You peel the banana, and as you raise it to your dimming eyes, you fumble for the words that will seal your fate. “I’m just a big, dumb ape.”
You take the bite, and Master Sarvak smirks as you polish off the banana and toss the peel aside with the last vestiges of your humanity. You shudder in pleasure as Master Sarvak speaks, “Yes, you are, Pumbavu. Yes, you are.”
You are Pumbavu.
You are a dumb ape.
And you are happy to serve your new master until THE END.