Credit To @heavy-package For This Image.

Credit to @heavy-package for this image.

If you enjoy my work, please follow me here on tumblr and join my Patreon, so I can keep producing more of these scripts and stories full time. Just one to three dollars a month from each of you will go a long way to helping me pay expenses, so I can make more of the content you love on a regular basis.

Please, help me make this dream a reality. I really want to write full-time.

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WARNING: This is a hypnotic script designed to trigger a previous tranced state. If you wish this script to be effective, use the first induction. Then you can come back to follow my script here. Disclaimer: I am not a professional hypnotist. I take no responsibility for any potential effects this script may have on you. You read at your own risk. I design them to allow the reader to return to their original states and retain their free will, but it is up to each individual how they react to hypnosis and what prompts they may or may not choose to internalize and actualize in their day-to-day lives. DO NOT operate any heavy machinery or drive while you are in trance. That is incredibly dangerous. You have been warned.

This script is geared more toward adults. While there is no inappropriate content, I advise minors to be careful and avoid this until you’re older and more informed about hypnosis and its effects.

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Staycation (Beach Bum Fantasy Female Tanning + Male beach bro)

Well, hello again, and welcome back. I know you’ve probably been having a rough time lately. Being stuck indoors can be so boring after a while, I know. People long to go out, get some sun, take a walk, take a break.

Or maybe a vacation?

No need to fear. We all want to be able to bum around without having to worry about things like work or sickness or weather. Fortunately, you have me here to help you achieve that desire.

And you won’t even have to leave your home.

Would you like that, my friend?

Excellent. Then here’s what you need to do. I want you to find a place to sit back, relax, and just listen to my voice. Read the words as they scroll across your screen, and your eyes trace them left to right.

Left.

                                                                                                To right.

Left.

                                                                                                To right.

Back.

                                                                                                and forth.

Just....

                                                                                                like....

This....

And keep

                                                                                              that motion

going.

...

going....

...

                                                                                             going.

Just like that swell, that whorl in your brain that spreads the dizziness that even now is encroaching on you.

But you must...

                                                                                           keep...

reading.

Reading as the whorl ebbs and flows.

Ebbs.

                                                                                           And flows.

Just like...

                                                                                           The crashing...

foamy...

                                                                                           waves of the beach.

Imagine that warm sun

                                                                                          beating...

beating...

                                                                                           beating...

on your skin.

The tingle.

                                                    The pulsing.

                                                                                          The lulling....

                                                       Lulling...

Like the waves.

                                                      Rocking.

                                                                                           Crashing.

                                                      Pulling.

Seeping.

                                                      Seeping.

                                                                                           Seeping....

Seeping,

                                                                                        like my words.

Seeping...

Deeper...

                                                                                         And deeper....

Lower...

                                                                                          And lower....

Slower...

                                                                                          and...

slower....

...

...

...

You can almost feel it, can’t you?

...

That warm, relaxing tingle....

                                                                                      All over your body....

Spreading, like the gentle foam....

                                                                                      dragging...

pulling...

                                                                                     deeper and deeper...

into the sand.

                                                                                     The wet sand.

So relaxing...

                                                                                     Like a heavy

warm

                                                                                     blanket.

Sinking...

                                                                                      being....

There is no danger.

                                                                                      No fear.

Just pure

                                                 mindless

                                                                                    relaxation.

                                                 Slipping...

Seeping...

                                                Down and down.

                                                                                   Down and down.

                                               Down and down.

Ten.

                                      The waves washing over you.

                                                                                       So warm.

                                                       Nine.

Absorbing my words.

                                                 As they wash.

                                                                                      As they dig.

                                                  into the sand.

Eight.

                                                   Wet sand.

                                                                                     Heavy sand.

                                                  So heavy.

Like...

                                                      your...

                                                                                          mind.

                                                     Seven.

You can feel it.

                                                    Molding.

                                                                                      Imprinting.

                                                     So...

Impressionable....

                                                    Six.

                                                                                       Malleable.

                                                    Five.

Sculptable.....

                                              Needing more...

                                                                                     More...

                                              More to absorb.

More to seep.

                                    More to wash and drift away.

                                                                                      Drift...

Drifting...

                                                on the eddies.

                                                                                    The surging sea...

My voice....

                                                      Four.

                                                                                     My words.

                                                     Three.

Pulling...

                                                     Leading....

                                                                                    Deep into the sand.

                                                      Two.

The blanket of sand.

                                                      One.

                                                                                   One with the sand.

                                         The sand of your mind.

So full...

                                                    So heavy...

                                                                                       Waiting...

Ripe...

                                                     wanting....

You want...

                                                                                      My voice....

You know...

                                                                                      My voice....

Digging into your head....

                                           Digging into your mind....

                                                                                      Digging....

                                                    Massaging....

Sculpting....

                                   Because wet sand must be sculpted.

Wiggle those toes.

                                              You feel it, don’t you?

                                                                                    So heavy....

                                                     So dull....

So dense....

                                                 Sinking into it...

                                                                                   Part of it....

                                                    One with it....

                                      Absorbing every word I say.

                                                Trickling down....

                                                       Down....

                                                       Down....

                                                       Down.....

                                                      To ZERO

                                                          ...

                                                          ...

                                                          ...

                                OMNI SAYS IT’S TIME TO SCULPT.

Good. You responded well.

Your mind is mine to shape.

                                                   Mine to mold.

                                                                                      Mine to control.

Mind control....

                                                    Mind control....

                                                                                        MY control.

Now, listen closely. You remember the whorl. Remember the pull of those waves. 

Think back to them again.

Think back to that sensation of water dragging over your skin and feet.

Think back to a time of hot, hot summer sun.

Feel that heat.

Feel it on your skin. Not burning, but pleasant.

Not hurtful, but perfect to get that ideal tan.

Tan like the sand.

Rich...

Golden....

On your skin.

...

You feel that sun seeping into you. And it is good. You see waves. You hear the gulls calling in time, but you do not heed them. You only heed my voice, my words, the words that are the waves seeping into your mind, into the sand, into this world that we are crafting together.

This is to be your vacation.

And a beach as gorgeous as this, so warm, so perfect and peaceful, deserves a perfect match.

A perfect match...

A perfect match....

What could match better than a muscular, toned, tanned beach bum?

That is what people do at the beach.

They bum.

They enjoy the sun’s rays. They live for the surf, the swim, the sun.

The calming lull of the waves crashing and seeping and calling, commanding.

Commanding you to change.

Commanding you to fit.

You will fit this paradise.

Feel it now. As your clothes slowly disappear.

Fading...

Fading...

Evaporating in the sun’s rays.

Because the sun is meant for the skin.

Shining on your chest, your shoulders, your face....

Warm and peaceful. Waiting to help you.

Waiting to dry you off when I finish sculpting you.

Sculpting as your shirt finishes fading away to reveal your chest. If you are a girl, you will be wearing the appropriate swimwear. Either a bikini or a one-piece suit.

If you are a man, your chest will remain bared to the world, regardless of its state. And as your pants slowly begin to fade from the waist down, your upper body begins to change.

A perfect beach requires a perfect beach bod.

Fat is melting away.

Peeled.

Chiseled.

Carved.

Until there is only the ideal shape for you.

Whether it be thin or well-built.

Your body will be fit for the beach.

All cares of the outside world will fade.

Just ... enjoying the lull of the waves. The sun on your face.

Your skin tanning.

And all the while, more and more, a voice is niggling at the back of your mind.

My voice.

My waves.

Seeping.

And they are saying something that is becoming more and more true with each passing moment.

They are saying:

You are the perfect beach bum.

Women, enjoy the sunbathing as you bask in the warmth. Lay down somewhere soft. Soft, like the sand. And enjoy. Luxuriate. After all, why should you worry? Your body is perfect. More and more perfect. The perfect beach bum.

You deserve to enjoy the warmth as the heat bakes away your worries and cares, soothing aching joints and muscles. Relaxing knots and tension.

Relax.

And enjoy as the rest of your clothing is baked away to reveal your body in its full glory. With a beautiful swim suit. The calming sea breeze carrying that familiar scent that you have longed for. Relax in it. And enjoy it. You are on your vacation. This is your special place.

And you will relax and enjoy it as I turn to address the males, ready to hear and follow the moment I add you back again.

Now, men, I speak to you.

My waves are calling the same command.

The same order.

The same truth.

You are the perfect beach bum.

Feel your bodies toning as the fat disappears to be replaced. Your skin swollen with toned muscle.

And the more exposed you become to the sun, the faster your clothing disappears, until your pants are gone.

And what remains ... is a beautiful, comfortable speedo.

And the longer you stand in that sun’s exposure, you feel an urge rising.

An urge as inexorable as the waves of the ocean. Brushing your thighs. Your calves. Your back and torso in equal measure with the sun.

You cannot stop it.

You cannot resist it.

Not forever.

And why would you want to?

For this command, this urge, is instinctual in all beach bums.

You want to strut. You want to show off.

And you will.

You will start to now.

Even just walking or shuffling will suffice.

Because the more you do it, the more your bodies will build to reflect that perfect beach bum figure.

Swelling with muscle.

Swelling with tone.

Swelling with confidence.

Swelling to fit that perfect beach bum build.

Because you are the perfect beach bum.

Flex, beach bum.

Smile, beach bum.

Good beach bum.

...

A good male beach bum is comfortable with his body.

A good male beach bum is confident.

A good male beach bum follows what is expected of him.

Expected to act like a beach bum. Talk like a beach bum. To be a beach bum in all ways.

And that means being a bro.

Because a male beach bum is a beach bro.

Their bodies do the thinking.

Their bodies do the driving.

Their bodies driven by instinct.

Driven by my voice.

Directed by my voice.

As thinking gets fuzzy.

A perpetual haze of welling testosterone fit to overflowing.

Because a perfect beach bum has a perfect beach bulge.

Growing bigger and bigger.

Swelling in the crotch as your thoughts of stress, of worry, of work, dissipate.

They are consumed. Consumed by your beach bum bulge. Filling you with strength, with pleasure, with that need to just laugh and be a good beach bum, bro.

Be a beach bum, bro.

Tan, bro.

Swole, bro.

Hung and dumb, bro....

Enthusiastic.

Happy.

A party animal.

You welcome anyone to the party with open arms.

Always with the same greeting. Always welcoming a new bro to be a beach bum, just like you.

And you greet them by saying, “Waddup, bro?”

If you are excited to see the man you know, then you can use another variation, such as, “Bro!” or, “Welcome to the party, bro!” But there will always be bro somewhere in your address.

Because you are a perfect beach bum bro.

Tell me. What are you, bro?

...

How do you greet me, bro?

...

Why can’t you stop flexing and showing off, bro?

...

That’s right, beach bum. Good bro.

And when you laugh, that beach bum bulge will drop your voice deeper and deeper. Lower and lower. Until it’s nothing more than a dull, husky chuckle.

Huhuhuh....

Husky chuckle.

Huhuhuh....

Husky ... chuckle....

Good beach bum.

Good bro.

Let me hear it one more time.

Good.

Now, we tie it all together. Because a beach bum bro like you is so happy to enjoy the sunny beach. So happy to relax in this place that I made especially for you. It’s only right for you to thank me, isn’t it?

You forgot to?

Well, that’s okay. You can do it now. Silly bro.

Just say, “Waddup, bro? Thanks for making me a perfect beach bum, bro. I love being a big dumb beach bum bro, bro.” And then you will laugh that same laugh.

Like a good dumb beach bum bro.

Because at this time, in this place, that is what you are.

Relaxed.

Dumb.

Buff.

Carefree.

With no need to worry about any stresses out of this space.

Good beach bum.

Flex, beach bum.

Show off, beach bum.

And let the sun bake you into perfect form.

Baked and hardened into this perfect male beach bum bro.

Good bro.

...

Now, I speak to all of you beach bums, both male and female. Whether you’re tanning, building sand castles, swimming, or something else, I want you to listen.

Listen to me.

Listen to my voice.

You will remain in and enjoy this state for the next half hour, unless other duties in the real world are more important and call you away.

You know what those important things are, even in this state.

And you will address those important duties as your normal self.

Then, if you wish, you may return to this world, this state, again to finish your vacation as a perfect beach bum.

You will keep track of that time. Whether you use an alarm or a wristwatch or some other means is up to you, but you will keep track.

And when the half hour expires, you will return from your vacation on the beach.

You will wake, and you will return to your original states, save for any anxiety or negative emotions and sensations you were harboring before. Those were let go of at the beach. You will have a clean slate to do with as you please. And a relaxed body and mind to go into whatever task or duty you may need to do.

If you wish to enter this state again, you need only say, “I need a vacation, Omni,” out loud, and you will return to beach bumming. This can only be performed once per day at most. You will not abuse it.

Now, before I go to let you enjoy this state, I need you to do something for me.

If you sincerely enjoyed this experience, you will like this post.

If you were tranced and want to share this with others, you will reblog this post.

When you reblog, if you are female, you will type, “I am a perfect beach bum” as a part of the post.

If you are male, you will type, “I’m a perfect beach bum, bro. Huhuhuh....” as part of your post.

If you are not following my blog already, and wish to of your own free will, then you will do so as soon as possible. If you do not have a tumblr account of your own, but still wish to follow me, you will get a tumblr account and do so, provided you are allowed to legally and have the means to do so.

Lastly, if you wish to see more of these hypnosis scripts and other content, and you can afford to do so, and sincerely wish to of your own free will without coercion or any influence induced by trance, you will pledge to my patreon.

With these orders given, it’s time for me to go.

Enjoy your vacation, my friends.

Rest assured, we will be seeing each other again soon.

On further review of the original photo, I felt it was too risky to show the whole thing. The image was still chaste in nature, but it did show a clear outline of what lay beneath the fabric, even to the extent of showing some veins against it. I wasn’t comfortable with that, so I cropped the image.

Credit goes to @musclecorps for the original image. Thanks for posting images that inspire me to write, man! :D

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Previous Chapter: https://omnitf.tumblr.com/post/181323718642/endemic-evolution-chapter-5-doctor-barton-sighed

Next Chapter: https://omnitf.tumblr.com/post/617475185126277120/credit-to-asianhunks-x-for-these-images

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Endemic Evolution Chapter 6

“That’s right, Rante. No shame in taking a selfie. You earned that body. Flaunt it, little bro.”

The camera shutter went off. A grin spread over Rante’s face. “Damn,” he swore.

“See? Told ya. Feels pretty good, don’t it?” Kyle’s deep bassoon carried from the bedroom.

“I ... I didn’t even notice,” Rante said as he stared at his phone’s screen.

“Kinda the point, bro,” Kyle pointed out. His blond hair glinted in the light from the room’s fixtures as a football game on demand played in the background. “The more ya get swole, the more your meat gets swole. Malloy said not to question it, so I don’t.”

“Uh ... question what?” Rante asked.

Kyle chuckled. “Exactly, bro. Feels good being so thick and heavy, don’t it?”

“Yeah ... good....”

Kyle sneered as he walked in behind the doctor. “We’ll have you in proper gear in no time, little bro.” Rante’s breathing caught, and his eyes rolled briefly as he felt the presence of the towering muscle behemoth that Kyle had become. The man stood a full head taller, and his broad shoulders were nearly as wide as the doorway. Thick, beefy white arms dwarfed Rante’s toned and shredded ones. The doctor’s core flexed almost instinctively.

“Easy, bro. You don’t gotta show off around me. I know how it feels tryin’ to grow.” He chuckled. “You’ll be just fine. You just need a little more time at the gym is all.”

“A little more time....” Rante echoed in a distant voice.

“That’s right, little bro. Gym’s the place to be. Malloy wants us to be there.”

Rante let out a low moan. “At ... the gym?” he asked dazedly.

“S’right, little bro. At the gym. The gym is where we belong.” Kyle’s hand clapped firmly on Rante’s shoulder.

“Where we belong....” The cell phone clattered to the floor. Rante’s pecs bounced back and forth, back and forth. His arms twitched and tensed. His pants finished falling to the floor as he turned and stepped out of them in nothing more than his boxers. “I must go the gym. The gym is where I belong.”

Kyle grinned. “C’mon, little bro. I’ll show you the way.”

Rante followed shamelessly behind. He strode past the doctors in their hazmat suits. He strode past muscle men and meatheads and jocks and whatever other names he had once called them. That didn’t matter anymore. They were all going to the same place, after all. He paused briefly to stare at a much smaller Asian man. Rante furrowed his brow at the sight. He looked ... familiar. More big men in suits stood around him, and they looked to be reaching for tasers. Rante shrugged. He didn’t care. He locked eyes with the man and spoke. “You comin’?”

The man shuddered, but shook his head wordlessly, albeit weakly.

Rante shrugged. “Suit yourself,” he grunted. Then he lumbered after Kyle like a wayward puppy. Gradually, the thump of his feet on the carpet was joined by another pair, and then another, and another. Muscle touched muscle. Meat pressed against meat. Men marched together as the familiar warmth flooded their bodies and a mind-numbing pleasure surged through their brains.

Two behemoths pulled open the doors to the facility. The air was filled with the grunts of hard labor and exertion. When they passed through, Kyle turned and grinned. “Welcome home, bros.”

Rante didn’t think, couldn’t think as the words passed from his lips, and he knew they were true. “The gym is my home. I belong in the gym.”

He wasn’t sure where it came from. He wasn’t sure who started it. All he knew was that his chest was heaving, and the room was suddenly echoing over and over with the sound of dull vacuous laughter. They crashed together like ice in a blender. Different tones, different pitches, different voices. But slowly, they homogenized. High voices dropped. Low voices extended the length of their guffaws. Once weak and timid laughter pressed effortlessly out the diaphragm as the men engaged their cores

...

And let the meat do the work.

The piles of muscle by the door grinned knowingly at Kyle. Kyle made no effort of hiding his response. “Come on, bros. Let’s work out.”

Appeal Update: I am Tired of Red Tape and Bureaucratic Copy/Paste Replies

Things were going great. The staff was helpful and kind. The people I spoke to were patient and understanding, wishing to assist me as I moved along with the appeal process. I was contacted by an employee named Elisabetta who asked for the pertinent information on the post in question, so that it could be forwarded to the moderators, who apparently are a branch called Tumblr Trust & Safety (didn’t know that before).

Even if the ruling came back to stand as it was, I was going to be okay with it, provided I could get a proper explanation for it.

...

Guess what I got, instead, despite my specific request when I linked said information in my reply to Elisabetta?

That’s right, folks, I won a whopping corporate email! A copy and paste standard draft to all users that has no explanation, no specifics, other than the direction to go right back to the guidelines and FAQ support post! It was going so well. I was talking to real people. I felt like I was being heard, understood, and given a chance to present my case. I even told them I wouldn’t be mad if the ruling still stood, so long as they could explain to me why.

I’m a stickler for rules. I don’t like breaking them. If I mess up, I try to do better. But I can’t be expected to do that if I don’t get an explanation for what was so wrong in the original post!

Here’s what Trust and Safety had to say:

Hello, We’ve reviewed your classification appeal. After careful review, we are unable to restore this content because it is considered adult under our Community Guidelines, located here: https://www.tumblr.com/policy/en/community. For more information about what is and isn’t adult, please see our FAQ support post or the Tumblr Help Center. Thank you, Tumblr Trust & Safety

So, yeah, I’m kinda pissed and tired. I’ve been trying to get an explanation from the very beginning, ever since it was marked adult in the first place. I’ve been patient as my ticket has run up the pipeline. I’ve been patient as they’ve reviewed and processed. And though it took a couple of days before the ticket could be picked up by the help desk, that’s perfectly understandable, given the number of users on Tumblr and the fact that we had the Coronavirus pandemic to worry about (and still do). The people I talked to leading up to the review were professional, helpful, and wanted me to feel heard.

And they did that right. I did feel heard. A little peeved once or twice, but heard, with a knowledge that they were doing their best to help me with my problem.

And I’m grateful they were willing to review the image again after the first appeal and how fast it was sent back to me. I really am.

But then, after specifically asking them to tell me what was wrong with the post, really wrong with it, in the event the ruling still stood, I got that piece of garbage up there!

I’m not a dunce. I’m not stupid. I’m a college graduate who majored in English. I can comprehend guidelines easily. What I can’t comprehend is the process and justification which the moderators used to lead to the ruling standing, because that’s not in the guidelines.

And I’ve let them know that in no uncertain terms with the reply email I just sent today. I just want someone to tell me what was wrong in the image, and how that wrong thing violated guidelines. If genitalia or breasts were showing, or a sexual act were being performed, I would understand, because that’s against the guidelines. It’s clearly stated to be against guidelines.

But I didn’t see that in my image at all. And if the piece that I think is responsible for the ruling is indeed the culprit, I’d like to hear it from the moderators directly for how it violated those guidelines. Where was the sex? Where was the nudity/exposed genitalia or breasts? Was this portion of the picture too borderline, and thus decided to be deemed adult for the sake of being safe, rather than sorry? (seriously, some decisions can really be that close, and I understand that and can respect it.)

Tell me, so I can learn and not repeat the mistake. That’s all I ask, @staff. I don’t think it’s asking too much.

Here’s hoping I can finally get that explanation in the next reply.

Credit to @asianhunks-x​ for these images.

Previous Chapter: https://omnitf.tumblr.com/post/617378326229762048/on-further-review-of-the-original-photo-i-felt-it

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Endemic Evolution Chapter 7

Lee breathed deeply as he stood in the pool and let the water lap over his body. The daily meditation allowed him a certain amount of peace as he dealt with the rapid rise in his libido and overall physical enhancement. He’d tried multiple things to slow the disease or whatever was at fault for the metamorphosis taking place. Burgers, fries, fried chicken, candy, gourmet desserts. No matter how greasy or fattening the food he ate, his body never once put on so much as an ounce of fat. No. What grew was far worse for his condition.

He braced himself as he brought his fists and thumbs together. The muscles in his arms and pectorals tensed. He forced the shudder back, using the cool waters in the pool to mitigate the effects of the increased blood flow he’d been facing. Unfortunately, the water was losing its edge of late. If anything, it felt more like his body was adapting to the cold, maybe even enjoying it. He hardly flinched when he entered the pool anymore.

Malloy had been more than accommodating when the doctors requested Lee be given permission to have exclusive use of the facility at certain times during the day. He was given three half hour intervals in which to use the facilities, meditate, and otherwise endeavor to calm his mind.

“Anything for my little bro,” Malloy had said.

Lee shook his head. “I’m not your little bro,” he muttered.

“Doctor Barton?”

Lee looked to the attending staff member and smiled tiredly. “Sorry. I was just thinking about Malloy.

“Sir, it’s best not to do that.”

“I know.” Lee shook his head. “Sometimes, the mind does things you don’t want it to, and you have to rebuke it like you would a child that pushed the rules too far.” He sighed. “How much longer do we have before we need to leave?”

“About another five minutes or so, Sir.”

Lee nodded. “Any more progress?”

“None that I’ve been told, Sir.”

“Frank, please stop calling me Sir. I’m not the head scientist here.”

“I’m sorry, Sir, but until you’re completely gone, you’re still technically one of our senior staff. Protocol dictates I address you as such.”

“Screw the protocols.” The waters churned as his legs thrust through them like oars breaking a current. He seized a proffered towel as he emerged. As usual, the fabric had been exposed to a variety of treatments to ensure it would kill or cleanse any foreign substances and bacteria. The speedo was easy to pat down, and he quickly transitioned to his arms, legs, and torso, rather than allow that particular piece of anatomy any potential edge in his struggle.

“I can’t, Sir.”

“Why?” Lee snarled. Heat surged through him almost instantly, and he swore.

“Because forming any sort of attachment to the patients may be an invitation to join them. I’m sorry, Sir. Really, I am. But this is an order from the top. Until we identify the culprit for this transformation, we have to keep as remote as we can.”

Lee was still angry, but he knew better than to allow that anger an outlet. He closed his eyes, concentrated, breathed, and pushed it into yet another box to store with the rest of the emotions he’d packed away. He couldn’t afford to let them out. Not if they exacerbated things. And from what he’d seen in the other patients, that’s exactly what would happen if he didn’t keep control. “Any results from our other tests? Nanoscopes, spectrometers, anything?”

His wet feet smacked heavily on the tile of the indoor portion of the pool as they strode to the exit and the waiting escort. A set of sound cancelling earplugs and muffs awaited him, along with a blindfold and a draping bathrobe to obscure his body and its changes. If the patients couldn’t see his changes, they often left him alone, rather than egging him on. The blindfold and sound tech were extra precautions.

“Nothing yet, Sir. I’m sorry. We’re still not any closer to finding out what causes this.”

He shrugged the robe into place and bound it. “Any effects on lab animals?”

Frank shook his head. The hazmat suit crinkled as his torso twisted ever so slightly.

“So that means either this disease effects only humans or it’s not a disease, as I postulated in the first place.” He frowned. “Have you considered a low-level EMP? If this is caused by something mechanical rather than biological, it might neutralize the effects on me and provide a means for us to treat the initial stages, if not the latter ones.

“I’ll take your suggestion into account, but it’s going to take some doing to convince any of the higher ups to use that kind of tech when we haven’t found any evidence to back it up.”

“We haven’t found a biological one either,” Lee pointed out. “And we’ve run almost every test we can think of. Occam’s Razor seems the best bet. If it’s not biological in nature, then there has to be a mechanical aspect somewhere. We just need to find it.”

“And if it’s not there?”

“Then the worst case scenario is I get exposed to harmless radiation. I’m healthier than I’ve ever been right now, despite my efforts not to be. I’m pretty sure I can take it.”

The blindfold was placed, the sound gear applied, and Lee was led back to his room, as he had been for the last several weeks. When he had been safely conducted, he removed each to face his team once again. “Do your best to get approval, Frank. Time is of the essence.”

Frank nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.” He frowned behind his face shield. “You should get some rest. Your eyes are getting baggy again, and the irritation is back.”

Lee sighed. “I guess you’re not the only one who has to see what he can do.”

“Insomnia again?”

“The price of resistance.” Lee chuckled. “I’ll be okay, Frank. Don’t worry. I’ll sleep tonight. You just focus on getting that approval. And report back to me in the morning.”

“If you’re sure....”

“I am, Frank. Thank you. All of you.” He handed the gear back to the men. “I’ll see you all in the morning for the next round of examinations and results.”

Then he closed his door and strode to his bathroom. True to Frank’s word, his eyes were puffy, and red veins of irritation scrabbled in intricate cracks along his sclerae. He sighed in resignation and turned to the shower. It was more of a short rinse with shampoo to lather up his hair and clear out the chlorine, followed by a quick shave. He knew what he needed to do. He just really hated to do it.

He turned off the water and toweled down, then strode into the bedroom to change into a new pair of underwear. Then he flopped onto his bed and pulled out his laptop. The light of his lamps filled the room with a cheerful warmth that raised goosebumps on his skin after the cold shower he’d taken.

“All right, I’ll let you have this round,” he said to his invisible opponent as he settled onto his bed and leaned against the pillows and cushioned headboard. The familiar tone of the computer booting up met him, and his fingers flew across the keyboard as he cued up the website on the hotel’s wi-fi.

His heart thundered as he typed in the address and was met with the familiar sight of a broad football field banner with two goal posts on either side.

Fantasy Football: Build Your League. Place Your Bets.

His fingers clacked rhythmically over the keyboard as he reviewed the stats of his roster and assigned the various players their roles for the duration of the season.

His typing gradually slowed. His eyelids finally began to droop. His head lolled. Occasionally, the phantom of music soundtracks would drift through his ears, as though some video were playing. Yet he found none, neither ad nor recap video.

As the darkness encroached beyond his ability to push it back, Rante’s deep bass lowed through his consciousness.

You comin’?

Suit yourself...

You comin’?

Suit yourself...

You comin’?

Suit yourself...

The familiar call of the quarterback from the last game he’d watched on demand rang through his skull.

Hike-hike!

Suit yourself...

You comin’?

Just before he lost all consciousness, a new voice emerged with a final edict.

Suit up, bro....

A low groan escaped Lee’s lips as he drifted, finally, into blissful slumber with the ghost of a fully uniformed football player hovering under his eyelids, the final shutter click of the night. “Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh....”

He never noticed the stubble growing back.

The School of Buff Jocks Part 3

For those who are joining the story late, here’s the link to Part 1

This series is brought to you  by @muscle-jock-bro. Send him some love.

If you enjoy this story, I’m open for commissions. Just PM me here on tumblr or email me at [email protected]. You can also help support my writing by joining my patreon or buying me a ko-fi.

Thanks for your patronage, and please like and re-blog.

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The gym was practically full to bursting when Kyle pulled me in after him. The weight of his arm around my shoulders was basically the equivalent of a headlock. To be honest, I almost dropped my gym bag. He was a lot heavier than I’d thought. Jim’s constant praises echoed through the air as he complimented or corrected the lifters.

“Remind me why I’m here again?” I asked.

“Because I needed a lifting buddy and you needed a break from school.”

“I usually game for that.”

“I know. But this is something different. Besides, you know how much smarter a person can be when they actually balance fitness with their schoolwork? Seriously, it’s incredible stuff.”

“I still can’t believe you roped me into this.”

“Don’t you mean strongarmed?” He smirked.

“Ha-ha-ha,” I said slowly.

Kyle’s smirk widened as he deliberately pitched his voice lower and duller as he tried to make his eyes lose focus. “Nah, bro. You got it wrong. It’s huhuhuh.” He scratched his crotch with his free hand and led me on.

I rolled my eyes. “Careful, ‘bro.’ Keep acting the part, and soon you’ll be it.”

Kyle shrugged his broad shoulders. “Honestly, I don’t think I’d mind if I did. Do I really look like the kind of guy who’d be a jerk just because he’s got big muscles?”

“And the dumb part?”

Kyle shrugged again. “Don’t feel stupid yet. Honestly, it’s more like a culture than anything else.”

This time, I smirked. “Can’t have culture without a cult.”

Kyle laughed and gave me a gentle bump to the shoulder with his fist. “Smartass.”

“Right back at you, dumbass.”

“Did we just come up with nicknames for each other?”

“Don’t push it.” He looked at me expectantly, and I sighed in defeat. “Dumbass.”

Kyle grinned as he leaned in closer. “Let’s get to work, little bro.”

 ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

“What team?”

“Stonewall Riders!”

“What team?”

“Stonewall Riders!”

“What do we do?”

“Charge!”

“Now get out there and make those Gunners run!”

The stampede out of the locker room shook my whole body as cleated foot after cleated foot trampled across the tile. The whole team was built like tanks, and this was just the Junior Varsity! Half of them were already nearly as tall as I was, and they still had a couple of years to grow. I hefted the bottles of sports drink in their carrying cases, and Andrews held the door open for me as he had for his team.

“Thanks for helping me out, DJ.”

I shrugged. “No sweat. Fair’s fair. If this’ll help speed us closer to getting our campaign going again, you bet I’m going to help.”

“We really do appreciate it, though,” Andrews said. “The team needs boys like you, too.”

I scoffed. “Yeah, pretty sure they don’t.”

“I think you’d be surprised.” Andrews smiled gently. “By the way, is that a little growth I see in that bicep, or am I just seeing things?”

“Totally imagining. You should probably go see Doctor Stone, get your head checked.” I smiled playfully at him.

His smile tightened. “Yes. Maybe I should. Think you might have a few minutes to talk after the game?”

“I’m pretty sure I can spare the time.” I frowned. “What’s wrong?”

Andrews shook his head. “Later,” he insisted. And then I felt his broad hand shoving me out the door. “We’ve got a game to play.”

Andrews transformed into another person on the football field. His gaze was intent, his bearing cool and calculating. I felt like I was dealing with a military commander, rather than the teacher who had been my friend. The coordination between the offense and defense left them functioning like a well-oiled machine.

And I was the one providing the lubricant. Seriously, I felt like I was running the whole time to keep up with all the guzzling the players were doing with the drinks. Bright green streams poured into their mouths and down their bobbing throats. And the sheer aggression they showed left me cringing as I relived some of my worse moments from growing up.

By the time the game was over, I was a sweaty mess that matched the team. I had to steal a couple of swigs, myself, from time to time as I raced to restock the water coolers and bottles for the team. We slaughtered the opposing team, allowing them only one touchdown for the duration of the game, while we scored seven.

The team was showering and getting changed while I worked to clean out the coolers and bottles. I noticed Andrews approaching out of the corner of my eye, but he got intercepted by Stone before he could reach me.

“Excellent game, Tobias. As usual, you’ve performed very well. Congratulations.” The big man squeezed Andrews’ hand in a tight grip as he clapped Andrews’ arm with his free hand. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to have a word with you before you go.”

“Mister Stone, I appreciate the need, but my team—”

“Can finish cleaning up just fine. They know the routine by heart, and this really is very important.”

Andrews sighed. “Can I trust you to finish cleaning up, DJ? Coach Dale will help you get everything where it needs to go.”

I nodded. I wasn’t looking forward to the extra time I’d waste, but like I said before, I owed him, and Andrews doesn’t ask favors lightly.

The jocks were actually really helpful. They didn’t expect me to pick up their slack. They cleaned up their towels and other gear, put them in the proper hampers, and even went so far as to help move the baskets to the washroom. When everyone was finished and dressed in their regular clothes, we shared an order of pizza, compliments of Coach Stone for a job well done. When I sat down on the wooden benches, my arms and legs felt almost swollen in a way. They twitched with energy, and for once, I was ravenous. Meat lovers and supreme both fell to the powers of my jaws. And rather than criticize me for it, the team actually cheered, like it was all some sort of game.

“Damn, bro, did you see this guy hustle?” Kenny Yates was the biggest player on the team, with a voice to match. “Bet he could put Patters to shame.”

I shook my head at the praise, first because it didn’t suit me, and secondly to save my bacon, in case Kenny’s comment offended Ryan Patterson, the wide receiver. “I’m not really the sportsy type. I’m just doing this for Coach Andrews, because he asked me to.”

The whole team smiled knowingly, and I started to fear for my life. The only reason I was able to stay calm was because Dale was watching us so closely. “See? Already running plays for him.” A hefty arm wrapped itself around me and wedged me against Kenny’s bulky frame. The guy could’ve been his own personal space heater. “Just gotta bulk up a little, and you’re ready to charge.” My head swam at the attention. The action reminded me only too well of Kyle and his happy-go-lucky attitude.

“Damn, Kenny, let him breathe. You’re gonna choke him,” one of the others hollered, which prompted a round robin of laughter that spread like a chain. Or maybe a circuit? I guess either could work for an analogy.

Kenny was actually blushing when he took his arm off me. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s … it’s okay. I’m fine.”

I’d said it to be polite, but … I was surprised to find I actually meant it.

 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 

The blowback from the work was remedied with the aid of Kyle’s drinks. That stuff is seriously some of the best I’ve ever tried. I don’t know what’s in it, but I perk up hard core when I drink it. I gave some to Slater and Jackson to help them out, too, since they’d been called to help with some of the other sports events that day.

Kyle took one look at them after the fact and said those fatal words. “Okay, bros. That’s it. You’re coming to the gym with me.”

“Why?” Slater had asked.

“First, because you clearly need training if you’re hurting that badly after helping out. Secondly, because it’s relaxing. And third, because it gives us a chance to hang out in more than just D&D or gaming.” He smirked. “When I’m done with you, they really will call you Slayer.”

“I don’t know….”

“Bro, trust me. One month, and the gym’s gonna feel like your home away from home.” He smirked. “And you’re going to love every second of it after.”

“Wanna bet?”

Kyle smirked. “Sure. If I get you over 240 by the end of a month, you talk with Andrews about joining the wrestling team.”

“And if I win, you have to break that strict routine of yours and spend a day marathoning anime with us. Unhealthy snacks included.”

Kyle grinned. “You’re on.” Next, he turned to Jackson. “You wanna get in on this?”

Jackson shook his head. “Someone’s got to be there to referee.”

“Good. You can work on dumbbell curls while you watch.”

I chuckled. “Kyle, you’re incorrigible.”

Kyle smirked, then let his face go slack as he gaped at me and pitched his voice low. “Uhhh, what’s incorrigible mean?”

That earned him a pillow to the face. “Quit it, dumbass,” I said playfully.

He smirked as he pulled the pillow away. “Take it easy, smartass.” He pulled back his arms and bared his teeth menacingly. “Let me show you the benefits of working out at the gym personally, little bros.”

The combination pillow wrestling match was the stuff of legends.

Naturally, the dumbass slaughtered us all.

 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

I stood in front of Andrews as he leaned back on his roller chair in the Coaches’ joint office. I hadn’t been in there since Kyle brought me back after that first workout session went overtime. The traffic running through the locker room felt more like rush hour on the freeway when I weaved through the crowd. Boys waited patiently by the shower stalls or passed one another on the way in and out.

“Busy out there today, isn’t it?” I asked.

Andrews nodded. “It’s becoming an almost daily occurrence.” Then he smiled. “It’s good to see so many boys dedicated to getting fit.”

I eyed his chest. The shirt he wore was straining heavily. I could actually see the jutting of his pectorals and the ridges of his six pack. The tension of the sleeves over his biceps looked like they could give at any moment. “And teachers?”

Andrews laughed. “And teachers. So, what was it you wanted to talk with me about?”

“What you wanted to talk with me about. You said you wanted to talk after the game, but you didn’t leave the office when everyone cleared out.”

“Oh, that.” Andrews rose to his full height and laid a hand over my shoulder. I couldn’t help but wonder. Had he always been so tall? “Don’t worry about it. I had some concerns over your meetings with Stone is all. He cleared things up for me after our talk. This school couldn’t be in better hands.” He smiled. “But since you’re here, how about you join me for a little workout? I want to run some ideas by you for a campaign I’m cooking up, and I think best when my body is working out.”

I felt that familiar itch building again. The nurse had explained it was just a part of puberty that all men had to bear. That didn’t mean I liked it. And it was so hard to pay attention when an episode came on. Stone’s words came back to haunt me.

I want you to be comfortable.

That was at Stone’s office. I didn’t know what to think of him yet.

Want.

But this wasn’t Stone’s place. This was Andrews’.

Be comfortable.

Andrews knew me.

Want.

I wanted to scratch so badly.

Be comfortable.

Andrews dealt with boys before. He was a coach. It was normal for him.

Want.

He wouldn’t mind, right?

Be comfortable.

He was a friend. He’d understand. “I, uh….” My fingers twitched.

Want.

I wanted him to understand. I wanted not to be judged. I wanted not to have to ask to go to the bathroom every other period, just because of this stupid fucking itch!

Be comfortable.

A quick adjustment. Nothing lewd. Just a necessity.

Want.

One wasn’t enough. Locker room was full. No bathrooms. No privacy.

Be comfortable.

Screw it. I scratched. My cheeks burned with embarrassment, but it was worth it!

“So, that’s why you’ve been running off to the bathroom so much.” His voice was soft as he looked down on me.

Be comfortable.

I averted my eyes. “Yeah, it’s….”

“Nothing to be ashamed of.” Andrews shrugged. “You’re teenagers, and you have needs. Stop worrying so much about what other people think. If you need to scratch, you’re not about to be sent to the headmaster’s office.” He smiled.

Comfortable.

“I … thanks.” My cheeks were still flushed, but at least the heat was receding.

“Any time.” He led me toward the locker room door. “Now, let’s get to that session, so I can discuss my idea.”

Comfortable.

My back straightened. My shirt stretched just a little as my chest inflated with air. I smiled. “Yeah, I think I have some time.”

The clack of weights and the rhythmic thump of heavy feet on treadmills struck in time to the music that played over the speakers when we finally entered the gym.

“There’s always time for a workout.”

Andrews grinned at me. And, honestly, I couldn’t help but grin back. I just felt so…

Comfortable.

“Yeah.” The chuckle was more of a hiccup than a proper laugh, a sort of a catch, like you get just before you sneeze, only in reverse. It felt weird, but … also kind of good, like I was pushing out all the anxiety I’d had balled up in my chest. I stopped, frowned, tried again, and I felt even better after. A giddy sort of high settled in, and I could hear the rhythmic whirring of the blood rushing through my ears and body. If this was the reason why jocks laughed the way they did, I was sold. I would never make fun of them for it again. This time, when I scratched, there was no fear, only reward as I finished my reply. “I guess there is.”

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The rhythmic chunk of the throwing arm was quickly answered by the reverberation of metal or the heavy popping thwack that resounded as a bad throw from the machine struck the ground or the back of the batting cage. Things were warming up at last, and the sheer motion of the sequence was, well, mechanical. Kind of should’ve expected that, since there was a literal machine at work for the practice. A stonewall baseball cap on our heads kept the sun out of each of our eyes as we sat on the bleachers and worked on our respective homework assignments.

“Ivan Petrovich Pavlov is one of the psychological giants of the nineteenth century. Thanks to his research, humanity came to understand the scientific and psychiatric principle of the art known today as conditioning,” Jim explained in a chipper voice. “He is, in fact, the twenty-fourth most cited psychologist of the twentieth century. This theory has been applied in a variety of means and places, including educational classrooms, phobias, and various behavioral therapies.”

“Remind me why we’re out here again?” I asked as Jim droned on through the module.

Jackson shrugged. “It helps me concentrate.”

“How?”

Whirr. Ka-chunk. Ping.

“Dunno. It just does.”

Whirr. Ka-chunk. Thwack!

“Guess I just—”

Whirr. Ka-chunk. Ping!

“—Like the sound of it.”

“The batting cages?”

“Yeah. The ball, the bat, the vibrations, the sun on your face.” He leaned back and spread his legs to emphasize his point. “It just feels … better, you know? Sort of like a dance. It just beats stuff into your head.”

Kyle grinned. “I can totally relate. I feel the same way when I’m lifting weights. If I have a problem, I go to the gym. A good workout always helps me, well, work my problems out.” He smiled and flexed one of his arms to show off the swollen bicep. “Good for the bod, too.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Slater rolled his eyes. “We get it. The gym is your happy place.”

“You’re just mad because you’re sore,” Kyle retorted. “If you’d just drink those shakes I gave you, you wouldn’t have this problem in the first place.”

“Shut up,” he grumbled.

“I’m not the one who agreed to the bet,” Kyle pointed out, then chuckled. “Don’t worry. I’ll make a meathead of you yet.”

“In your dreams, ‘bro,’” Slater sassed.

“That’s big bro to you,” Kyle countered.

Jackson continued eying the cages. Jim was long since forgotten by all of us. Or rather, none of us were paying attention to him. If he were alive, I’d probably have felt bad about it, but since he was just some computer program, we just let him run his mouth. We could go over the module again later. After all, if you have a problem, go to Jim, right?

“You know, you could always just go and try one,” I noted. “It’s not like they’re the sole property of the baseball team.”

“I don’t know….”

I grabbed his arm and pulled him off the bleachers. He stumbled but managed to catch himself as I dragged him behind. I guess you could say since overcoming that one hurdle, it felt easier to do things like this and not be afraid of a bad outcome. “Come on. I’ll start up the machine. You get a bat and helmet.

The first impact was enough to jar the bat out of Jackson’s hands. He looked like a living tuning fork the way he shook after he took the shot.

“Maybe try turning down the speed a little?” he asked as he nursed his hands.

“Rookie mistake.” I turned in surprise. I hadn’t heard the player approach. His shoulders were broad, his arms swollen and pumped after what I assumed was a session in one of the other cages. Bro had a blunt face with a thick brow and smooth dark skin that shone under the sun. “Your arms aren’t built to handle that kind of blowback yet.” He nudged me aside and shoved his fingers over the console. The whirr of the belts lessened as their speed slowed. “Try it now.”

The difference was night and day. Jackson started landing hits. He managed a few good pop flies, though most of them were fouls. The player shook his head in disgust and stomped into the cage after the cycle wound down.

“You’ve got it all wrong. Wrong stance, wrong grip, and definitely the wrong break.” He wrapped his arms around Jackson like a father would his son and adjusted Jackson’s grip and stance. “Follow through. Don’t break your wrists until the last possible second.” He nodded to me to start the next round of shots.

Crack went the bat.

“Feel the rhythm.”

Crack!

“Make it sing.”

Ring!

“Eye on the ball.”

Smack!

“Just the ball.”

The bat rang again as Jackson struck a solid blow that arced into the netting above.

“That’s it, bro. Read it. Follow it.”

Smack!

He let go of Jackson’s hands and whispered in his ear. “Crush it.”

Jackson was a tuning fork again. Only this time, he didn’t drop the bat. The ball drove straight for the machine with a resounding crack! Fortunately, the machine was heavy duty metal, so it could take some blows, and the netting took care of the rest. His mouth dropped open at the result, then broadened into a manic sort of grin. “I … I did it.” He laughed. “I did it!” The exultant whoop carried far over the school grounds.

“Not bad.” The player smiled and nodded as he folded his arms. “You’ve got potential. But if you really want to beat that ball up—” He raised both arms in a double bicep flex. “—You’ve gotta get jacked, son. Huhuhuh.”

Jackson scratched his crotch and stared almost hungrily at the player’s arms.

He smirked. “If you want to be more than just the water boy, meet me here after school tomorrow. I’ll make a player of you yet.” He hefted a bottle and guzzled its contents. A small stream of green liquid dribbled down the side of his cheek, and he wiped it after. “Come dressed for the gym and ready to sweat. Understand?” His gaze hardened. “Be ready.”

Jackson nodded. His mouth hung slightly open as he breathed. The jock chuckled and clapped one of his massive hands on Jackson’s arm.

“Name’s Barry. My bros call me Bruiser.”

“J-Jackson,” he replied.

Barry smirked again. “Good name, bro. See you soon.”

“Yeah….”

The jock walked away with a measured swaggering sort of gait that showed off just how taut the muscle was around his legs. It was evident he could do a lot more than just crack a ball open. His whole body was built for the field, whether it be running, throwing, or hitting.

When my friend didn’t move, I finally walked over to check on him. “You okay, Jackson?”

“Yeah,” he repeated again in that same faraway tone, then shook his head. His gaze came back into focus as he concentrated on me. “Yeah. I’m fine. Let’s get back to that homework.” He rubbed the bicep Barry had touched as I shut the pitching machine down and returned the gear. Then we walked back to the bleachers. We’d put off our assignment long enough. It was time to go back to Jim.

Howl’s Persona(l) Pred-dominance

This is a commission for an anonymous donor. I am open for more commissions, if people would like them. Just send me a message here on tumblr or email me a [email protected] with the subject header: Commission Inquiry. I also have a patreon and Ko-Fi. If you want unique content you won’t see anywhere else for muscles, jocks, hypno, or other modes of tf, feel free to peruse the tiers and select what fits best for you. Or just donate to help me in my desire to write and create for you full time. Thanks! And now for the story. -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Greetings to the both of you, and welcome to my humble establishment.” The creature that stood before the men grinned, baring sharpened fangs and curling back surprisingly realistic artificial lips. His three tails swished behind him as his red eyes pulsed a fluorescent bloody red. His fur was predominantly black with bright red accents, and he wore a smart red vest over his torso as he addressed the pair. “I am Ronoc, One of this store’s main proprietors.” His lips curled into a sinister sneer. “How may I help you today?”

Both men shuddered as the fursuiter shook their hands.

“Uh, thanks,” Jason murmured. He cleared his throat. “We were looking for something for Halloween.”

“Hmm. A little late to be shopping, isn’t it, gentlemen? Most stores are out of the good stuff by now, and you never can tell what quality you’ll get when you order online.”

“Yeah, we know, but the invite sort of came last minute.” Jackson chuckled nervously as he ran a hand through his dark hair. The thick curls bounced back the moment he passed them.

“Naturally, naturally.” The man chuckled as his tails swished behind him.

“You wouldn’t happen to have anything in stock, would you?” Jason asked. His green eyes flickered briefly under the lights overhead.

“I have something for every occasion, Sir. It’s simply a matter of finding what you need.” He looked intently at the two, and the pair suddenly felt very small. “Choose well, gentlemen. Halloween has a way of changing people. And you know what they say about clothes and men.” He chuckled and turned aside. “Go on. Have a look. I’ll be waiting.”

“Um, where exactly are the costumes?” Jason asked. But when he turned, Ronoc had already disappeared.

Jackson rolled his eyes. “Come on, Jason.” He seized his friend by the jacket and pulled him down an aisle. “We’ll find what we need ourselves.”

Potions, swords, bows, accessories, wigs, vials, knickknacks, and even a funhouse mirror all flashed by. And then, at long last, the shelves gave way to the meat of the matter. Row upon row of masks, heads, shrouds, cloaks, mail, armor, and more gazed back at them.

Jackson grinned. “Jackpot.”

“‘Only one costume is allowed to be tried at a time per person. Please return your costumes to their place before you try another,’” Jason read. “‘Take your time. Omnistore wants you to feel comfortable in your new skin.’”

“New skin, huh?” Jackson smirked as he pulled a bulky costume off the rack. Its chest piece was loaded with padded inserts that simulated muscle mass. Two thick tusks jutted out from the lower jaw to frame the broad, flat face of the mask’s headpiece. He chuckled as he draped the frame in front of him and pitched his voice as deep as he could take it. “Berklug like. Berklug make strong warrior for party. Me take prize. Berklug will conquer.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Put it back, barbarian. It’s not like you’ll fit in it, anyway.”

Jackson sighed as he returned the costume to its rack. “A man can dream.” The eyes on the costume flashed red briefly, and Jackson frowned. “Man, they even light up….”

“Let it go, Jackson.”

Jackson sighed. “Fine.” He gingerly took his hand off the hanger and strode farther down the aisle. “But admit it, I would’ve rocked that character.”

“I’m sure you would have. Now let’s find a costume that works.”

“No elves,” Jackson growled.

“You really think I’d make you wear something so stereotypical?”

Jackson smirked. “You should be more worried about what I might make you wear.”

“I swear, if you try to stuff me into that sheep costume again….”

“Please, if I wanted to pull that stunt again, we wouldn’t be here in the first place.”

“May I help you gentlemen with something?” The hellhound that stood behind them grinned as his polished curled horns glinted in the light.

A whole shelf nearly collapsed under the sudden impact of Jackson’s body. “You mean aside from not sneaking up on someone?”

The hellhound shrugged. “What can I say? I like a silent scare sometimes. Now, then, I believe the two of you were looking for the right costume, yes?” He grinned, baring all his teeth. “One might say these characters have a life of their own. I suggest finding one that suits your desires.” He raised a mask from a pedestal. “Take this, for example. The mighty werewolf: confident, brusque, dominant, powerful. He takes what he wants when he wants it, and he doesn’t care what other people might think or say.” He handed the mask to Jackson. Its insides were still warm as he placed his hands in it. “I think you’ll like being Howl.”

“And what about me?” Jackson asked.

The hellhound stroked his chin. “You strike me as one who’s a real party animal. You enjoy having a laugh and showing off your personality, but you’re not necessarily a jerk about it. Well, except maybe for when you’re drunk. Then you might be a little more … free with your expressions and opinions. You enjoy being with others in a crowd, a herd of sorts.” He sneered. “Yes, I think I know just the one for you.” He pulled another costume of the rack. This one carried bulky football pads and guards. The headpiece was an intricate creation coated with artificial fur that bristled and scraped like a deck of cards being shuffled. Murky brown irises seeped into the broad rectangular pupils. A box filled with clever inserts designed to mimic hooves was soon opened and revealed to Jackson’s gaze. “His name is Jack, an Italian from IPDB.”

“And what’s that supposed to be?” Jackson asked.

“Il Paese dei Balocchi. He works there in his time off, hanging with his bros, helping the herd. It’s a real tourist attraction. You know it better as Pleasure Island.”

A bray carried out the donkey’s gray muzzle.

“And it comes complete with sound effects and a unique throat spray designed to help modulate your voice to fit the character at no extra charge. On a temporary basis, of course.”

“I don’t know if a frat jock is really my thing.”

The hellhound grinned. “You won’t know until you try, now will you?”

“What’s your name?” Jackson asked suspiciously.

The hellhound bowed. “Judas Scarymutt at your service. I’m a ruthless retailer with a flare for making lucrative transactions.”

“And contracts are your specialty?” Jackson rolled his eyes.

“He catches on quickly, doesn’t he?” Judas asked Jason as he shoved the costume at Jackson. “Now go on, try them on. I think you’ll both be surprised at how well they fit.”

Jason was the first to emerge from the dressing room. His nose and mouth were slightly disfigured, having pushed outward while the nostrils became upturned and black. A hint of white stubble had grown in over his cheeks and jaw while his upper torso was mostly bare, save for some dustings of thicker silvery hairs over the shoulders, the back, his chest, and parts of his arms. The green in his eyes has lightened and pierced with the same intensity as the hellhound, albeit without the glowing to accompany it. His nails had lengthened ever so slightly, and callouses had begun to form on his hands. Two wolf ears poked up and swiveled in the higher portions of his head.

“There. Now what did I tell you? You and Howl are getting along swimmingly.”

“What did you do to me?” Jason finally managed to say.

Judas rolled his eyes. “Always with the drama. I didn’t do anything to you, boy.” He reached over and yanked Jason’s ears. Jason winced, but with a sudden pop, Judas was holding the mask again, and Jason was fully clothed. “There. See? Nothing wrong. You’re perfectly normal.”

Jason groped at his face and hair. No beard, no fur, round ears firmly situated on the side of the head, and no signs of claws or a muzzle.

“I guarantee you won’t find any costumes more real than the ones you buy here.” Scarymutt grinned. “Our customers usually prefer to keep them after. I can’t say that I blame them. Being something else for a while is very relaxing, especially if you have a friend to do it with.” He smirked. “Howl warmed up to you the minute he saw you. Take good care of him and he’ll take good care of you.”

Jason gaped at the canid as he grinned and his tail wagged behind him.

“Scared yet, human?”

The steady clop of hooves on the floor drew their attention away before Jason could answer. The door to the changing room creaked open to reveal a hulking form. The broad muzzle stretched forward as those same brown eyes stared blankly, surrounded by a rim of white fur. His shoulders grazed the sides of the entry as he passed into the costume department. His jaw was thick and firmly cut with rigid rectangular angles. A bristly mohawk stretched from the top of his head down his neck and back. Two large ears ringed with black and filled with white on the inside swiveled back and forth. His nostrils flared as his chest heaved inside the costume. A long ropey tail with a rigid tassel swung idly behind him and occasionally flicked at the air.

It stood there for a time, breathing deeply as it stared at the pair. Then its lips pulled back to reveal broader, flatter teeth. He still had his canines, but the rest of his mouth had altered to suit his more equine nature. His voice rolled over the pair as he opened his mouth. “Bro….”

Judas raised a skeptical brow. “Really? That’s what you chose to say first?”

Laughter rocked his frame as Jackson’s much altered voice reverberated, occasionally punctuated by a high-pitched bray. “I didn’t think it’d work, but damn, it fits like a glove.”

“A little effort often gives you the better quality in the end. Is it cumbersome? Perhaps,” Judas acknowledged. “But it is well worth it in the end. Wouldn’t you agree, Mister…?”

When Jason didn’t respond, Jackson took the responsibility on himself. “Jason Pettigrew. And I’m Jackson Morris. How are you guys still in stock when you have such amazing stuff?”

Judas shrugged. “You might say we’re more of a niche market. We only take certain clients. You two just happened to make the cut this year.”

“And how long is this stuff supposed to last again?” Jackson asked as he raised a small white bottle with a donkey’s head on the label.

“It varies. A few sprays should cover you for at least an hour or two.”

“That long?” He whistled. Jason wasn’t sure how the mouth moved to replicate the sound, but the noise came loud and clear, all the same. “So, I’m gonna be talking like this for a while, no matter what.” He sighed. “Great.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Judas assured him. “In fact, you might grow to like it.” He chuckled. “I can’t begin to tell you the number of customers we’ve had asking after just the spray, because they want to sound more masculine.” He clapped his hands. “But that’s beside the point, isn’t it? How do you like the costume?

“Fits a lot better than I thought it would.” He flexed a bulging arm and watched the spandex rise and fall with it. “Good feel to it, and realistic motion for the packaging, too. Has a great range of motion.”

“Naturally. You’re supposed to be a sports star, after all,” Judas said. “Among other things.”

“And heir to a fortune?”

“Certainly to a position of authority. A man has to lead and protect his own, now doesn’t he?” The hellhound smirked. “And you’re certainly fit enough to lead a herd, wouldn’t you say?”

The costume’s eyes rolled. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, bro.”

“I’d say we’ve found our winners.” Judas grinned. “Let’s get things settled, so you two can be on your way.”

“But I didn’t—”

“Believe you me, I know a thing or two about these sorts of things. You don’t have to say you want it for me to know you do. Desire is one of many things I can detect very easily. And I can tell by how you keep feeling up the costume that you desire it very much, indeed.”

“Well, I mean, I don’t think—”

“I’ll ring you up.”

 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 

Jackson avoided eye contact with Jason as the two hailed a cab. They arrived home, and Jason was swift to expel himself from the costume.  After all that time spent with the much taller and broader shape, Jason felt a strange sense of disparity, seeing his roommate stride out of his room in regular clothes. Pale skin, dark hair, no mane, no fur, no hooves or football gloves. And no muzzle jabbing into the air.

No muzzle.

Jason shuddered as he thought back to that moment at the store. The heightened scents and sounds, the confusing sensation of his own ears twitching and shifting. Surely, it couldn’t have been real. Surely, it was some form of illusion, maybe a feverish dream prodded by his overexcitement?

“Scared yet, human?”

He barely suppressed the urge to shudder. Judas had played his role perfectly, perhaps a little too well. He could almost swear he’d smelled sulfur around that man. The swish of his tail, the many directions if flowed. That was too intricate to be randomly caused by a machine. And yet, the idea of magic being real, of actually taking over his body, turning it into something else. It was ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous!

“Stop thinking about it,” he muttered to himself.

“Thinking about what?” Jackson asked. The effects of the spray still hadn’t worn off yet. It would take at least another half hour. That was the one thing that remained different about his friend. The rest was familiar and well-grounded in reality. His bright eyes and spherical pupils. His curly dark hair springing naturally atop his head. The distinct location of his ears to either side of his head behind the temples. These were real. These were fact. The rest could not be.

“It’s nothing.” Jason shook his head. “Just got a little freaked out by that store clerk is all.”

Jason nodded in sympathy. “He was kind of a creep, wasn’t he?”

“He just got a little too into character for me, called me human, asked if I was scared. It shouldn’t have bothered me, but….”

“It did?”

Jason nodded.

“Aren’t you at least going to show me what you look like in your costume?”

“Maybe later.” Jason shook his head. “Right now, I just want to relax a little, de-stress.”

Jackson chuckled. “I hear you, man.” Jackson hopped onto the couch and flipped on the TV. A few minutes later, ESPN was commenting on the brilliant footwork of a running back that had busted past the blockade to break for the goal post.

“Seriously?” Jason asked.

Jackson shrugged. “What? Might as well study up to get into character. Besides, I happen to like the Colts.”

“They’re going to lose.”

“Now why do you have to be such a downer? Have a little faith, bro.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe you just did that to me.”

Jackson smirked. “Better get used to it. We’ve got a party to prep for.”

 -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The evening air was cold and bitter as the two friends strode into the night. A well-toned six-pack stood out prominently from Jason’s abdominals as they walked, and his shoulders seemed a little broader. The hair was thicker than it had been when he first put the mask on, and the way it spread in such a way as to emphasize and accentuate the size of his muscles. The tattered remains of a shirt draped from his waist over a tight pair of jeans as a long flowing tail curved between his legs. His ears drooped low as he trod the cement on bare feet. The skin rippled over his bones with every shift, and the casual observer could easily note the darkening soles. Whether it was dirt or actual padding, however, would be up for debate.

“You sure you haven’t been working out behind my back, little bro?” Jackson asked. The addition of his hoof inserts had given him another three inches of height, projecting the illusion of a taller, brawnier equine. The throat spray rested in a fleece-lined fanny pack that jutted in front of his torso.

“Cut the crap, Jack. I’m not in the mood.” Jason reached back and touched his new appendage gingerly. He barely suppressed the shudder as new nerves told him just how very real the addition was.

“Aw, come on. I thought I sounded pretty good.”

“Yes, and everyone is going to be so impressed at how well you mimic a big dumb jock.” Jason rolled his eyes.

The lips on the headpiece drew down into a frown as Jackson laid his gloved hand on Jason’s shoulder and pulled him to a stop. “Okay, what’s wrong?”

A low whine slipped out of Jason’s throat, and tears welled beneath his eyes as he shuddered. His chest hitched as he struggled to control his breathing, exposing his ribs with every intake. “I’m scared, Jackson,” he finally managed to say. “All this?” He motioned to himself. “This didn’t come in the package. I didn’t buy it separately or get it mailed. This is me, but … not me. Hell, this tail wasn’t even part of me when I tried the thing on at the store! At this rate, I’m of scared for how I’ll look by the end of tonight. I’m … I’m scared I won’t even be able to take it off.”

A startled yip escaped Jason’s throat as Jackson flicked one of his ears. “Then pull it off, bro.”

“What?”

“I said pull off the mask. Show me for a minute.”

Pulling the mask left his skull feeling almost like clay as he braced himself and pulled against his ears. It hurt briefly, but then the sculptor went to work pushing, massaging, and molding the snout back into a human face that slowly emerged from the rubber. The mask felt more like a second skin as he pulled it off. He could almost feel a heartbeat as he held the thing in his hands and shuddered. The sidewalk was much colder on his bare human feet, and the wind swept over his diminished frame without mercy. He looked up at his friend and was shocked to find that he looked even taller now than when they’d first left the apartment.

Glassy eyes stared intently for a time, first to the mask, then to his friend. Finally, he spoke. “You feel any different now than when you had the mask on?”

Jason shook his head.

“Did it hurt taking it off?”

Jason averted his gaze. “Just when I grabbed the ears to start it.”

“And did you like it?”

“What?”

The burst of a sigh escaped as a snort through the equine nostrils as Jackson doubtless rolled his eyes beneath the headpiece. “Did you like it? The mass, the fur, the tail, you know. Everything?”

“I … don’t really know?”

Jackson shrugged. “Then find out. Wear it for the night. Worst case scenario, you can take it off in the bathroom or something if you need a breather.” The lips curved into a smile. “Now come on. Put that mask back on. I wanna try something.”

The mask settled back into place again, and just like before, the artist squeezed and molded. Jason’s face pulled forward, his teeth sharpened, the thickening hairs returned, as did the ears and tail.

And then mindless bliss. Thick hoof-like nails dragged, rubbed, and massaged his scalp. His shoulders slumped, the world melted, and by the time he came back to reality, his tongue was hanging over his mouth as he panted. Jackson hunched over to whisper in his ear.

“Keep it on all night, and I might just do that for you again after we leave.”

Jason looked at his wagging tail in horror, then to his friend. “What did you just do?”

“Scratched your scalp. Most dogs enjoy it. Humans, too, actually. We’ve got a lot of nerves on there that send pleasure, if you know the right spots to touch.” He shrugged, and the shoulder pads rose along his artificially broad neck. “Now come on, doggo. We’ve got a party to get to.”

Surprisingly, Jason felt a flicker of anger at the nickname. “If you’re not going to call me by name, at least use the costume’s,” he groused, even as he avoided eye contact.

Jackson chuckled. “Sure thing, Howl. Whatever you say, bro.”

 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sun bleeding through the blinds finally woke Jason from his slumber. He groaned and stretched in bed. The last night had been a bit of a blur, but he remembered having fun, at least. He curved an arm idly behind his head and peered at the dresser across the way. The mask rested on its display stand. Its hollow eye sockets seemed almost to stare back at him as he yawned and scratched his stomach. “Morning, Howl.”

Naturally, the mask didn’t respond. Jason got out of bed and stretched again as he strode toward the bathroom in their shared apartment. The sight that greeted him at the mirror was his usual self. He scratched the stubble on his face and played with the wisps of hair that had grown on his chest. Once he’d brushed his teeth, he turned to the side and took another look at his body. The stubble helped to accentuate some of his more masculine features, and his black briefs hugged in all the right places. A hint of a smile pulled at his lips. “I’m looking good this morning.”

The first thing to strike his senses was the sizzle, followed shortly by the sharp and luscious scent of fat cooking off for that oh so crisp and salty joy that was, “Bacon….” Jason had to swallow back the tsunami of saliva that rose in response to that olfactory earthquake. He raced back to his room and quickly jumped into some pants and a shirt, then strode back into the kitchen, doing his best to avoid looking eager.

Jason was already at the stove, turning the food over with a set of tongs. His long black curls pushed angrily at the cap that even now held them in check, with only a few that broke free at the font of his head through the gap above the backstrap. The duck bill of the hat stretched out behind at a jaunty angle, and he grinned as he turned to face his friend bare-chested. “So, the wolf emerges at last from his den. Welcome back to the land of the living, bro.”

“You know, you’re not in costume. You don’t need to keep saying that.”

Jason shrugged. “It’s fun. Besides, it’s not like I’m bothering anyone with it.” He motioned to the table. “Take a seat, bro. Breakfast’ll be ready soon. I hope you like oatmeal.”

“At this point, I’d settle for leather, if I could get it now. I’m starving.” His stomach growled its hearty agreement.

Jackson smirked. “I could get you a rawhide bone, if you like.”

Jason rolled his eyes as he took his chair and scratched himself absently. “Not my kind of bone,” he muttered, then paused. Where had that come from?

“What’d you say, bro?”

Jason shook his head. “Nothing. We going to have eggs, too, or just the goop?”

Jackson gasped. “Excuse me, sir. I’ll have you know that my oatmeal is the finest in the land, thank you very much.”

“Yeah, because instant oatmeal is so hard to make.”

“It is when you add your own secret ingredients.” Jackson smirked.

“You’re not going to try to poison me again, are you?”

“As I recall, the poison in question that you’re so worried about coincided with a very nasty stomach virus that your own doctor verified as such. Don’t blame the cook for your body’s poor performance. Speaking of which.” He tossed an orange, and Jason was surprised to find he caught it almost immediately. “Eat up. You need more Vitamin C in your diet, you carnivore.”

Jason sniffed disdainfully. “You make it sound like such a bad thing.”

“It is when you’re about to get a heart attack from it.”

“Hasn’t happened yet.”

“Doesn’t mean it won’t.”

Jason rolled his eyes and smirked. “Oh, shut up, jackass.”

Jackson turned and quirked his eyebrow. “What was that?”

“You’re the donkey. You tell me.”

“Ah,” he said as understanding dawned. “I’d be more careful about those kinds of jokes if I were you. This jackass might not always be around to save your sorry hide otherwise.” He smirked. “But I’ll let it pass this once. And only for the small price of one of your pieces of bacon. Isn’t that a bargain?”

Something in Jason’s chest lurched, and he could almost feel a physical pain at the declaration. “How could you be so cruel?” he asked forlornly.

Jackson shielded his eyes, as though they’d been struck by the sun directly. “Since when did you use puppy-dog eyes?”

Jason raised his brow in surprise. “Since never?”

“My heart would beg to disagree. I almost had a cute attack. Seriously, dude, turn those things off!”

“Okay, now I know you’re just pulling my leg,” Jason groused. “Come on, man, the fun’s over.” He sniffed the air. “And more importantly, the bacon’s about to burn. Flip it over.”

Jackson cursed as he whipped back to the stovetop to literally save his bacon.

 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The heavy thump of music pulsed through the night air as the two friends strode into the dark. With every passing streetlamp, the wolf man changed. Skin was gradually consumed by a lush coat of silver fur that seemed almost to glow as he strode forward. Silent, padded feet were soon replaced by thick bestial paws that clacked on the cement as they walked. His face contorted into a full bestial muzzle as they carried on. His furry ears swiveled to home in on the heavy clunk of Jackson’s new cleats. The equine hadn’t worn them to the first party in favor of adjusting to the new hooves instead. Now, he’d grown even taller with the help of the spikes embedded into the special shoes that had been designed with an insert specifically for hooves.

“Looking good there, little bro,” Jackson praised.

“It’s getting worse,” Jason noted. “I thought I was just supposed to be a partial werewolf. This is—”

“Cool.” He let out a brief husky chuckle. “Jase, you’re supposed to be big, snarly, and fierce. Own it. Don’t shy away.”

“Maybe,” Jason admitted as they passed into another pool of light. He paused a moment to flex his new muscle. The tension of his claws against the pads in his hands as the muscle pulsed and the blood surged filled him with a strange sensation. It wasn’t entirely pleasure, but not really painful either. More … anticipatory.

The pop of the pant seams in the dark heralded the next stage of Jason’s metamorphosis, and Jackson couldn’t help but let out a deep guffaw at the sight under the next street lamp. “Damn, bro. Somebody’s packing.” Jackson continued to bassoon as he smacked his padded thigh.

Jason had lost the tell of a blush, but canines are an expressive species by nature, and wolves are no different. His ears dropped low as a growl reverberated from his throat. “Look who’s talking, jock boy.”

“Hey! Don’t diss the Jack, bro.”

“Well, isn’t that what your character is supposed to be?”

Jackson grinned. “Bro, you wish you knew what I got up to on that island.”

“You mean what Jack got up to on the island.”

Jackson shrugged. “Gotta get in character. Shouldn’t you, too?” They passed through another gap. When they emerged in the light, a loin cloth had replaced the tattered remains of Jason’s clothes. “Your costume sure seems to think so.” He chuckled again. “How you feeling?”

“Honestly?”

Jackson nodded enthusiastically.

“Energetic and….”

“And?”

The growl that followed was deeper, and Jason’s voice soon followed as his chest barreled out and his neck thickened with muscle. “Swear you won’t laugh.”

“I swear.”

The hairs on Jason’s rapidly developing mane flared as he flushed with embarrassment. “… Aroused.”

Jackson grinned as he wrapped a huge arm around Jason’s shoulders. It was only too clear how much he struggled to hold back. “Alpha bod like that, I ain’t surprised, bro. Sounds to me like Howl needs to go on the prowl, if you know what I’m saying.”

Jason’s eyes couldn’t help but fall on the artificial padding at the donkey costume’s crotch. With each flash of light, it seemed … bigger than before. The compression gear was tighter over his thighs, and the padding in the arms gave a little too easily to be the typical foam or air insert. His nose twitched, and he detected hay, cologne, a hint of sweat. It was new, different, and yet … familiar. Was he turning, too? Was Jackson merging with Jack the same way Howl was merging with him? Was that … okay?

They’d stopped moving. Jackson was staring at him. The two were now much closer in height, maybe a couple of inches’ worth of difference. “Bro, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. We’re bros. We’re supposed to be horny. Just gotta channel it in the right place. If someone wants to judge for it, screw them.” He squeezed Jason’s shoulders gently. “Bros gotta stick together, am I right?”

Jason’s mouth suddenly felt dry as the loin cloth tightened. He looked down past his still-developing chest.

The cloth hadn’t shrunk.

“Uh….”

“Come on. A good walk will help work it off,” Jackson promised. “We’ve still got time before the party.”

 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Jason’s eyes roved over the gathering as he drank his punch. The first party had been spent alone to the side. He didn’t really need people to comment on his costume then. It was frightening enough just dealing with all the stares. Now, he was staring at them.

Before, it had been out of curiosity, a mere study of the costumes and interaction. This time felt more … purposeful. The loud thump of the music in his ears left him wanting to snarl, but he bore it with dignity as the rest of the partygoers reveled. It wasn’t their fault they had such poor hearing. It was sort of pathetic, in a way. Jackson was the only other one who seemed to understand. His ears swiveled like great satellite dishes, struggling to home in on the next sound. And yet, he seemed perfectly at ease. The social cues and interactions left many smiling or whispering after he left. The music was too loud to focus on trying to hear them. Jason could only hope they were speaking good things. If they weren’t….

It took him a moment to realize he was growling. His lips had pulled back to expose his fangs and sharper teeth. A good deterrent, but he didn’t want to deter. The whole point of this party was that he was supposed to be social and have fun. It was Halloween, for crying out loud! Or at least it would be soon enough.

The werewolf rose to his full height and sampled the air discreetly. He wasn’t quite sure what he was looking for. It just felt right to do. He shoved awkwardly through the gathering, still not used to the mass he’d accumulated. Every brush against his fur, every bump on his side, every thump of his tail against someone’s leg struck him with new and strange sensory input. For a time, apologies flowed easily from his lips, but after enough rude comments and judgmental stares, his hackles began to rise. If people were going to be rude, he had no reason to give them respect.

They should show respect to him.

The anger should have clouded his judgement. Instead, it granted clarity. He could see clearly across the room. Cleopatra, Dionysus, mummies, dragons, centurions, and many more sorted through the space. Some were dancing with partners. Others sat to cool off or enjoy refreshments. Others still socialized with friends or built new acquaintances.

“Hey there, Mister Wolf. Care for a dance with Little Red?”

This Riding Hood was anything but little. Her red cloak shimmered in the light and cascaded like water down her back. Her hair was long and lush with vivacious curls and an artful smile that hinted at a primal hunger, one that the werewolf could sympathize with very well, indeed. Her dress was far from the simple village outfit most red riding hoods are associated with. One could say it came closer to the Scarlet Witch in its design with sparkles woven throughout the fabric that glinted with every motion she took. The tight bodice emphasized the curves at her waist and near her chest. Instead of a skirt, a pale translucent body suit colored to look like skin stretched down to a pair of high scarlet heels. All she needed was a crown to complete the ensemble.

“Last I checked, the wolf was the last one Red would want to see,” he countered.

“Fortunately, this Red isn’t a little girl.”

Jason sighed. “One dance,” he allowed.

“We’ll see.” She smirked as the two entered the dance floor. Jason was far from graceful, but the girl more than made up for it. And beside that, he soon found himself adapting to the pattern as they waltzed. He still couldn’t control his tail well, but the couple were able to dance well enough. Those who attempted to complain were met with an angry snarl.

“And what should I call you?” Red asked.

“Howl,” Jason said brusquely. He didn’t know this woman, and he liked her even less. She was being too forward, and her body language read differently than someone looking for a good time. When the dance came to an end, he stepped away. A soft hand grabbed his. “I said one dance,” he reminded her.

“And I can’t treat you to a drink?”

Jason deliberately reached to the woman’s hand and carefully dislodged it. “No,” he said simply. And then he left. It didn’t take long to locate Jackson. He was busy chatting it up with some of the other more serious costumers. The wolf in him always kept track. Was it worry that caused him to keep such a close eye, or something else? Frankly, he wasn’t sure.

He settled down next to the bar and ordered a drink. The bartender’s face was painted to replicate a skeleton, and his hands were coated in gloves with a similar skeletal design. His shirt and vest highlighted a svelt figure, and Jason couldn’t help but notice the tone that pressed lightly against the shirt. This tender was modest, but he was clearly well built.

“Having fun?” the tender asked.

Jason shrugged. “Could be better.” He shook his head. “No date.”

The tender nodded sagely. “That’s always tough. There are a lot of people here, though. You could probably find someone, if you really wanted to look.” He shook the blend, then poured it into a glass and passed it down. “Careful. This is strong stuff.”

“I think I can handle it.”

The tender chuckled. “I’ll tell you what. You drink that and don’t get buzzed, and the next one’s on the house.”

“Won’t that take a half hour, at least?”

The tender shrugged. “I don’t mind waiting. It’s not like I have much else to do.”

Jason took a deep breath. The sterilization of alcohol and other products was strong here, but mingled with it came the smell of aftershave, a hint of spice, and something else that set his heart to pounding. The loin cloth tightened under the counter, but no one could see it, so Jason did his best not to draw attention to it. Surprisingly enough, his consciousness seemed to listen, and he leaned on the counter with both elbows. “I suppose I can spare a while.”

The bartender grinned. “What’s your name, stranger?”

“Call me Howl.”

“Then I guess you can call me bones.”

“Bones, huh?” His mouth pulled into a grin, baring his teeth. “I like bones.”

The skeleton smirked as he pushed the glass toward the wolf, drawing the big clawed hand over to the stem. There was no fear or judgement in those eyes, only an invitation, a desperation, a hunger. “I think you’ll like this even more. Let me know what you think.”

Both men licked their lips. Jason raised his glass. His eyes drifted again over that frame. Again, that surge flowed through him, and a giddy sort of high came with it before he even took a sip. His tail wagged. His teeth flashed. He’d found something. Something important. And he wasn’t going to let it go, whatever it was. “I will,” he said as he downed the concoction.

Howl needs to go on the prowl. That’s what Jackson had said. Perhaps, perhaps Howl had found what he was looking for.

Bones grinned. “Now comes the fun part.”

Howl grinned in turn.

There wasn’t much thinking left to do by the end of the night.

Only taking.

 ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

As he had a week before, Jason rose from his bed. His head was groggy, but surprisingly, no headache followed. He felt … good, full, … satisfied? This time, he brushed the fur of the mask. “I don’t know what we did last night, but damn do I feel good.”

He grinned at himself in the mirror. Beautiful white teeth and sharp canines bared back at him as he brushed his teeth and attended to the morning queue. He lingered in the shower, relishing in the sensation of the warm muscles, the pump they seemed to generate. Whatever was in those drinks last night must have done wonders. He laughed as he left the shower and stood in front of the mirror again. The stubble had thickened into a proper short beard. His jaw looked sharper, his eyes brighter, and the sight of his chest rising and falling was practically mesmerizing in and of itself.

The cry of a sportscaster shouting, “Touchdown!” over the television speakers in the living room pulled him back out of his trance.

“Aw, hell, yeah!”

Jason lumbered into the television room out of curiosity. A man with broad shoulders and a black Under Armour compression shirt hooted from the couch. The sides of his head were shaved down to stubble, with a long black strip running down the middle. There wasn’t a single sign of a curl to be seen.

“Jackson?”

Jackson grinned when he turned to face Jason. His face was broader, his forehead more prominent. His neck had filled with muscle, and his arms were pumped from a morning workout. “Well, look who finally woke up.” He chuckled. “Finished resting on the laurels of your conquests, Your Majesty?”

“My … what?” Jason blinked in surprise.

“You were a fucking beast last night,” he crowed. “The girls were all over you, and you snuffed every last one of ’em. You’re gonna be infamous!” He chuckled. “And it gave me plenty of time to comfort a few of them after you let them down.” The compression gear he wore highlighted bulky thighs and held the bulge that pressed there. While not so large as Jason remembered from last night, he knew this wasn’t normal for Jackson.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Jackson?”

“Never been better.” He strode to his roommate and smacked him on the back. “And call me Jack, bro. I told you before, it’s easier.” He transferred the hand to Jason’s head and rubbed furiously.

The whole world melted under that touch, and Jason’s shoulders slumped in ecstasy. Jackson’s laugh brought him around again.

“You go get dressed. I’ll prep you something to eat. An alpha’s got to take care of himself, right?”

“Uh … yeah….” Jason blinked and broke the contact. “I’ll, uh, see you in a few.”

Jack waved dismissively. “Take your time, bro. The food won’t be in a hurry to cook itself.”

Jason nodded slowly and stumbled back to his room. He patted his head, then shook it to try to disperse the sensation. He closed the door and got dressed. The pants felt oddly constricting, and his skin almost itched when he pulled on a shirt. Finally, he flung it to the ground and stalked up to the mask. “What did you do to me?” he snarled. “What did you do to Jackson?”

Naturally, there was no response. The mask remained silent. That didn’t stop him from imagining what it might say, though.

I gave you what you wanted. Confidence, power, strength, the ability to take what you want without fear, without worry, without consequence. And you did. You may not remember it clearly, but you did, and you loved every minute of it.

Conquest.

The brush of lips against his snout.

Control.

Snatching a stray body onto the dance floor.

Dominance.

Scrawling a number. Adding to contacts.

Compulsion.

Hot breath over a soft neck. A sharp nose near the ear. The whispered command. “Call me….”

Presence.

Jackson’s words reverberated in his skull. He would be infamous. Snuffing the girls. Every one of them. But … then who had he asked to call? Whose lips did he touch? Who … who brought out the beast?

You know. You just don’t want to admit it.

Admission. Admission of what?

The night flashed again. The bulging crotch in Jack’s costume. The tone on the barkeep’s build. The resistance to his grip as he pulled the man onto the floor. The smooth, deep voice that sent goosebumps up his flesh at the mere recollection—

…

The man.

…

It was a man.

They were all men.

“Oh, god,” he swore. A sympathetic tingle rose in his crotch. This time, when he looked at the mask, he could swear it was smiling.

His appetite was gone. The dry mouth that followed came from shock, rather than lust. His phone went off. He checked the screen.

A wall of text bubbles cascaded down the screen.

Hey. You told me to text you, so … yeah. This is Jim.

John here. Had a great time last night. What’s your Facebook info?

Phil checking in. You doing okay, man? You looked sort of out of it on the way out of the party.

Jason wanted to be sick.

He wanted to be, but he wasn’t. Instead, his body betrayed him as blood surged and a familiar tightness rose in his crotch.

Passing faces. Eyes, ears, necks. Bits and pieces and parts of wholes, each associated with the names flashing by on his screen, like a collection or a trophy rack or a, a—

His eyes widened in horror as he looked back at the mask. “A pack,” he rasped.

The mask didn’t move. It didn’t need to, even if it could.

“I’m not gay. I’m not. I’m not. I’m not!” Jason shook his head violently as he fell back onto his bed. “Get out!” he ordered. But his brain wouldn’t listen. Like a barely lucid dream, he had no control. He could only watch as piece after horrifying piece fell into place in the weave of his memory.

His chest tightened. His breathing came faster. The sheets felt suddenly cool as his rapidly beating heart pumped hot blood through his flesh. Heat for denial, and for arousal.

“I like girls,” he cast into the air. Whether he was talking to himself, the mask, or both, he wasn’t sure. “I’ve dated them loads of times. Hell, I’ve had sex with them and enjoyed it!”

Yet now, when he thought back on those times, the blood flow lessened. His body calmed. He barely got a twitch.

“This isn’t right,” he said softly as he shook his head.

The phone went off again. This time, his whole body tensed. The hairs along his arms stood on end and thickened as he looked over the words. His breathing sped.

Hey, I’ve been thinking about that invite you gave me. If you’re still okay with it, I’ll be glad to come with you next week. Just text me the address.

~Bones

Bones had texted him, just like the rest.

The scent of old spice, licorice, and those beautiful blue eyes that seemed almost to glow under the blacklight in the bar. So intoxicating, so inviting, so … much … want.

The pressure against his legs forced him to spread them. He watched in horror as the bulge pressed against his crotch. It wasn’t obscene, but it was prominent. And it was his, not Howl’s, his.

But … Howl may have used it. Why else would he be this way now? Why would he be feeling these feelings? Why would he go after those handsome men and … and…?

A donkey’s bray snapped his attention back to reality.

Jason bolted toward the source. The door burst open in his haste to reveal Jackson’s room. The donkey head was still on its stand, right next to the pads and gear. Jackson turned in surprise to look at his friend. The sprayer was in his hand, the plunger already depressed. “You okay, bro?”

Jason trembled. “Jack, what’re you doing?”

“Testing the costume. Some idiot knocked me upside the head last night. I just wanted to make sure everything still worked.” He pressed a button in one of the gloves, and the braying sounded again.

“Jack, I … I don’t think we should keep wearing the costumes.” Cold. It felt so cold. Why was it so cold all of a sudden?

Jack furrowed his brow. “You don’t look so good, bro. Maybe you should get back in bed.”

The room spun. Jason leaned on the door frame for support. “I … I get the need for testing the suit, but … why the spray?”

Jack blushed as he hastily put the cap back on. “I … I just like it, okay bro? I like sounding like this. I like playing the big bro. I just feel … better like this. Like—”

“Like another person,” Jason said bluntly.

Jackson looked like a child whose hand had been caught in the cookie jar. “Well, yeah, I guess. It’s just … I kinda like it.” He popped a flex. “I mean, look at me. Look at us, bro.” He chuckled, and his eyes rolled as his chest heaved against the fabric. “Fuck,” he swore. And then he did it again. “Huhuhuh….” He triggered the mechanism. “Huhuhuh-HAWWWWW!”

Mask and costume spun around the man with the whorl of Jason’s rushing heartbeat, Jackson’s laughter, and the donkey Jack’s. The ghostly apparitions seemed almost to fuse as the world faded into a blur, and then came the darkness and merciful silence.

The scent of sausage, cheese, tomatoes, and spices pulled him around. He found himself laying in his own bed. Before he could even think, the tasty treat was already in his mouth. Gooey cheese blended with seasoned hash browns and tangy salsa. He chewed. He swallowed. The world cleared.

“Jason. You okay, man?”

Jackson was there. His broad frame blocked most of the window as he stood up with foil-wrapped breakfast burrito in hand. His voice had returned mostly to normal, though there was a definite timbre that pulled to the lower registers of his regular voice.

There was only one logical conclusion to make as Jason drew himself up in the bed. Jackson must have carried him in. “How long was I out?”

“Long enough.” Jackson frowned. “I didn’t think a costume could get you so worked up. If I’d know, I wouldn’t have … I don’t know, I would’ve done something different. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Jason’s stomach growled. “I will be after I get that burrito down.”

Jackson smiled weakly. “Well, at least your appetite’s not affected.”

“Appetite’s probably the only thing.” Jason frowned as he took his burrito and tore another chunk out of it. “Jack, something’s wrong with me.”

“We talking doctor wrong or—?”

“I’m talking me wrong, like my body, my head, I … I don’t know, not like hospital bad, but I’m just … I’m messed up and I’m freaking out because of what’s been going on.” Tears welled in his eyes and coursed down his cheeks as he took another heavy bite, tearing part of the wrapper with it. He fished it out of his mouth, then chewed and swallowed the rest.

Jackson took a seat on the side of the bed and laid a supportive hand on Jason’s knee. “Tell me.”

“Jackson—”

“Jack,” he corrected gently.

“Can we please not start with that right now?”

“All right, man. But tell me what’s going on.”

Jason averted his gaze. “I … I don’t know how. I don’t know why. But somehow, someway, I … I’m….”

“Yes?”

“I’m turning gay, man!”

Jackson blinked silently a few times. “Is that all?”

“Is that all? My entire sexual orientation is pulling a one-eighty and—oh, god damn it,” he swore as his cheeks flushed with anger and embarrassment in equal measure. A tent had formed under the sheets. He quickly moved to cover it with his hands.

Jackson shrugged. “Bro, I’m bi. I just slept at other peoples’ places so it wouldn’t get awkward, you know?” He shrugged. “Maybe this is just a side of yourself you’ve been holding back on.”

“I would know if I was gay before, Jackson. I’m not some homophobe, but this is seriously unsettling for me! I mean, put it in your perspective. What if you went from bisexual to asexual overnight? No attractions, no way to get little Jack there to buck. Wouldn’t that freak you out?”

Jackson frowned. “Maybe a little,” he allowed.

“Exactly! I don’t hate gay people, but I don’t want to be gay, man! I liked liking girls! It’s who I was—am.”

“It’s part of who you are,” Jack corrected seriously. “A small part.” He stood up and flexed. “Look at me, Jason.”

Jason looked away guiltily.

“I said look at me, bro.”

Jason kept staring at the sheets. Two hands seized his head and twisted it.

“I said look at me, little bro.”

Jason suddenly felt breathless. The blunt face, the rugged features, the deep, low voice. And this time, he didn’t need the spray. Was it a residue, was something else altering it, was it just a figment of a wild imagination? Either way, he shuddered. The rush flowed again. Heat. Swelling. Manhood.

Dominance.

Jason’s hands seized Jackson’s wrists and squeezed. “Don’t touch me,” he growled. “If I want to do something, I’ll do it. I won’t have someone do it for me.” Despite the lack of mass, he held his own against Jackson. Or maybe Jackson was holding back. He didn’t know, and part of him didn’t seem to care either way.

Jackson smirked. “Make me, bro.”

The two wrestled like Spartans over the bed. The sheets were tangled and then kicked aside as they rolled and kicked and kneed and elbowed. Back and forth, blow for blow.

“That’s it, bro,” Jackson said with a cocky smirk. He nearly had Jason pinned. “Work it out.” Then he sneered. “Or would you rather beat it out?”

Jason snarled at the lewd reference and broke the hold with renewed strength. They continued to grapple for the next five minutes. Neither gave ground. In the end, however, Jason finally found himself straddling a heaving chest. The sleek black material glinted in the room’s light, further highlighting the hard muscle that lay underneath. The blocky features and broad nose were pulled by a grin.

“Fuck, bro. I didn’t think you had it in you,” Jackson panted.

Jason hovered over Jackson’s face. His breath mingled with that of his conquest. “I didn’t either,” he admitted.

“So, what’re you going to do now?”

“I … don’t know,” Jason admitted. “Maybe just … stay here a while?”

Jackson’s smile was warm and gentle as he looked up at his friend. “I’m good with that.”

The two laid there together, both chests heaving, both pumped full of blood and testosterone. And though they hadn’t lain in the biblical sense, the two had been joined on a different, almost instinctual level.

Jason finally rolled off his roommate and panted. Jackson’s hand interlocked with his. He didn’t pull away this time.

“See, bro?” Jackson asked. “It’s not so bad.”

Jason’s head lolled to the side. The mask and its stand had been knocked off the dresser. Its empty sockets stared into his eyes. Once more, things felt heavier, thicker, tighter below. But for once, he didn’t care. He was high on the victory. So very high. And so damn tired. Too tired to focus on denial.

“Yeah, … I guess so, … Jack.”

“Huhuh. That’s my bro.”

“Shut up and let me enjoy this.”

“Is that an order from the Alpha?”

The pleasure doubled. His vision of the room cleared. He had dominated. He had won. And he had just received acknowledgement of that victory. His voice was deeper when next he spoke. “Yes, Jack. Yes, it is.”

 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

The two friends strode confidently down the street. The cold air didn’t bother them, nor did the noise of the city. Their ears had long since adjusted. The equine had guzzled the rest of the voice treating bottle in one go, and the effects were far from disappointing. A thick adam’s apple jutted from a heavily muscled neck. Jack’s gear strained against burgeoning muscles he definitely didn’t have last weekend. His thick brow and wide forehead emphasized the bestial features of his “mask.” White buck teeth were bared in a witless, giddy grin. A water bottle sloshed at his side, connected by a strap to his waist.

“What are you planning, Jack?” Jason growled suspiciously. His thick meaty paws were silent as he prowled along the sidewalk with his friend. Unlike the previous weekend, the costume hadn’t felt the need to have a loin cloth. The moon shone brightly on them, and with every step, Jason felt more powerful and confident than ever before.

“Just a little fun, bro.” Jack smirked.

“What’s in the bottle?” The question rang with the tone of command.

“Just a little something I brought from home for just such an occasion.”

“Home?”

“Good old IPDB. Bro’s gotta have a herd to hang with, ya know?”

“What, I’m not good enough?”

Jack punched him lightly on the shoulder. “Nah, you know it’s not that, Howl. It’s just … sort of a need, you know? You need a pack, and I need a herd. Don’t tell me you’re not planning on making a few new wolves tonight.”

“That’s my affair.” He sighed. “All right. How many bowls are you planning to spike?”

Jack grinned wider.

“You’re not going to spike all of them,” he snarled. “I like you, Jack, but if you touch any of my claims….”

“Whoa, whoa, chill, bro.” Jack raised his gloved hands placatingly. “I may be a dumbass, but I’m not suicidal.”

“Good. I’d hate to lose one of my favorite chew toys.”

Jack smirked. “Glad to see you’re getting into character, Howl.”

“I liked it better when you called me bro.”

Jack’s brown eyes dulled as he guffawed. “Huhuhuh. Whatever you say, bro.”

“Because…?”

A bray passed into the night as the bulge in Jack’s crotch swelled. “You’re the alpha, bro.”

“Good donkey.” The werewolf leaned closer to his companion and chuffed in his ear before he whispered, “And don’t you forget it.”

The entrance to the conference center was flooded with people. More than half the city had to be assembled or be assembling for the gathering. Jason was worried about finding Bones in the crowd. Howl, however, remembered his scent well. The pair shoved the other partygoers aside as they approached an alcove to the side of the main entrance. There he was, in full costume. His bones seemed almost to glow in the moonlight. Howl slavered at the sight. Jason kept the alpha in check, albeit only just. It wasn’t time yet.

…

Whatever that meant.

“That’s quite an entrance,” Bones noted.

“I like to make an impression,” he responded.

“Is that so?” Bones smirked. “Who’s your friend?”

“This is Jack, my roommate.”

“Sup, bro?”

Bones raised a curious brow.

“Believe it or not, he talks like that all the time.”

Jack shrugged. “I like to KISS.”

“Well, that’s … pretty up front.”

The werewolf rolled his eyes. “It’s one of his jokes. KISS: Keep it Simple, Stupid.”

Jack grinned. “You know you like it.”

He let out a longsuffering sigh. “Oh, the burdens one bears to have a roommate.”

A light punch to his shoulder was followed by a quick guffawing bray. “Shut up.”

“Well, you two look cozy,” Bones noted.

Howl wrapped his arm around the man and pulled him close. “Nah. This is cozy.”

“Oh, my.”

Jack laughed again. “Okay, Takei. I’m gonna let you two love birds have some fun. Catch you later, bros!”

Dancing, chatting, games, laughing. In the matters of physical prowess, Jason left it to Howl. In the matters of social interaction, Howl left it to Jason, barring certain interlopers who might want to interrupt the evening. The more time passed, the more difficult it became to differentiate between the two. Was it Jason who pulled Bones for another dance or Howl? Did Howl bare his teeth at interlopers, or was that Jason not wanting to let go of the fun from the evening? Who swept Bones out of the way when a waiter was about to crash into him? Whose mouth watered at the chicken salad Bones heaped on a plate? Who shoved the food into a gaping maw with both hands, then licked the food after?

…

Who dragged Bones to the bathroom with a paw over his face and teeth near his throat?

“Quiet,” he whispered. “Let me explain. I won’t hurt you.”

The loud brays and guffaws from Jack drew the attention of much of the crowd as he challenged foes to arm wrestling contests and other forms of entertainment. The revelers high on the donk’s special concoction probably helped, too. Howl knew he’d owe the lug big time for that distraction.

The handicapped stall was the only option that would work, given his size.

“I’m going to take my hands off you now.” He grit his teeth. “I’m … asking you not to scream.” The face paint was smudged when the werewolf finally removed his hand. He backed away and squatted on his haunches, though his whole body was tense. It was easy to read how much Bones wanted to run, and he had to be ready to prevent that. “Please don’t try diving under the stalls. I really don’t want to have to pull you back. I just need you to calm down.”

“What…?”

“I’m still the same wolf you met last weekend. Same personality, same allure, same confidence.” He looked away. “… Same attraction.”

“Attraction,” Bones repeated almost disbelievingly.

“I’m a wolf, not a monster.” His tail drooped. “And I’m still a man. Others, I could take in a heartbeat. I’d wrestle them, hold them, make them mine. That’s what I’m supposed to do as the alpha. But you, you’re … different.”

“How?”

“Look, I can’t put it into words, okay? You’re just … different!” A low growl rose in his throat. He bit it off quickly. “If you were like me, I could explain it a lot easier.”

“Like you?”

“Yes, like me! I’m a wolf, damn it! We speak with our bodies a lot better than our words. Hell, I thought you read me just fine last weekend.”

This time, Bones looked away. “And are you always, well, … you know?”

He shrugged. “I’m a wolf, Bones. My mother named me Howl after Howl’s Moving Castle, not because of our species. Does it even matter? I’m still a man, whether I’m like this or furless.”

“How do you deal with … everything?”

The werewolf shrugged. “One day at a time. It helps having a pack to fall back on. And there are a few allies who help keep things relatively secret. But … I don’t think they matter to me right now.”

“Because?”

He lunged, Howl and Jason together. Both pinned Bones to the stall. Both breathed on his neck. Both felt the heat between their bodies, and it was electric. “Because I want you, damn it. I want to be with you. I want for there to be an us.” He pulled back slightly, and his wide eyes glistened under the fluorescent lights. “Don’t you, too?”

“I…”

“Please, Bones.”

“I … I don’t—” His body began to shake.

“Join my pack. Join me.” Both breathed heavily as Howl stooped closer. “Barring that,” he whispered. “Just kiss me.”

“… Oh, god,” Bones rasped. Then arms wrapped around the wolf’s neck and pulled. Black lips touched black and white. The stalls rocked.

 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Two wolves strode confidently out of the bathroom holding hands. One wore only his fur, the other the tatters of his dress shirt and casual slacks. The loudspeakers carried over as a familiar figure with curling dark horns chortled on the stage.

“The witching hour has come at last. Let revelers play and spirits dance. Set all those human cares aside. It’s time to dance on the wild side.” He chortled, then broke into a familiar crooning song. “I put a spell on you … and now you’re mine….”

Jack brayed in delight as men and women tore through their clothes to reveal familiar crosses developing on their backs and broad blocky muzzles. The more he brayed, the faster the changes went.

Not to be outdone, the wolf raised its head and howled as the clouds parted through the skylights above to let the moonlight filter down on the dance floor. Officers shredded out of their uniforms. Snarling men clawed their suits apart as their chests expanded with muscle and their faces gradually extended into sharp-toothed maws. Fur and tooth and hoof and claw replaced the skin and delicate features of the creatures that had once inhabited the dance floor.

By the time the song reached its final refrain, everyone was dancing.

“So, do you regret your decision, Bones?” Howl asked as he stared into his mate’s eyes.

“If you treat me like that every night? Not in a million years.”

Howl chuckled. “That’s my Bones.”

“Bout time, bro!” Jack hooted his approval and pumped his fist as he danced past with a jenny in one arm and a swelling jack pulling the pumping fist in question around his shoulders for the other.

Jason and Jackson were both long gone. Or perhaps it is more accurate to say they evolved into something more, something they wanted, or perhaps needed. Regardless of the case, Howl and Jack were both very satisfied customers, and things were about to get very interesting, indeed, in this city. Judas sneered as he continued to croon.

“I put a spell on you, and now you’re gone….”