Setting aside the morning’s frustrations, Pete rolled out of bed and fixed himself some breakfast. All the better to take his mind off things.

He’d already called in sick to work by the time he sat down to eat. He’d had a sudden hankering for something heavier than he usually had: heaps of bacon, a couple of fried eggs, and some toast.

By then, he wasn’t even surprised. He figured it had to do with the curse. If it was changing his body, it stood to reason it might change his habits too.

Not that he was complaining too much. The breakfast was outright indulgent by his usual standards—a rare treat reserved for special occasions. It was, if not a welcome one, then at least a not-unpleasant departure from his routine.

He would also typically go out for a run before breakfast but he didn’t think he could bear to go out looking the way he did. He was afraid he might get mistaken for a bear.

More seriously, there was every chance he might get arrested. The neighborhood had plenty enough nosy Karens it was a non-zero risk.

Going out for his daily run was the least of his problems, though. For the foreseeable future, he was going to have to go shirtless. He didn’t have a choice if he wanted to delay the curse as much as possible.

It wouldn’t have been such a problem if he wasn’t an adult with responsibilities. He couldn’t very well turn up to work looking like a neanderthal with nipple piercings straight out of Folsom and no shirt.

Wait. Folsom? he asked himself.

Pete was pretty sure he’d never heard the term before and yet somehow it had become part of his vocabulary. That one was definitely the curse.

The breakfast could be reasonably attributed to his being stressed out by the curse, but the curse being the reason he now knew the name and nature of a gay convention was indisputable.

Fuck, he said. He had to lean back in his seat to process the gravity of it all. He’d already known the curse would alter his mind and thought patterns but it was another thing entirely to realize it was happening.

He shuddered and set the thought aside. There wasn’t anything he could do about it besides keep away from his nipples so there was no point dwelling on it.

Pete had one thing he needed to figure out: what he was going to do to minimize the risk of advancing the curse. After thinking about it for a minute or so, the answer was clear: nothing. He had to do absolutely nothing.

It was the only way. Doing literally anything else came with a risk. He didn’t like that his only option was to loaf around but if he was being honest, he didn’t really feel like doing much of anything, anyway.

He just felt numb. Lost. Uncertain about what the future held for him. It was the perfect time to spend all day on the couch watching TV.

---

Except it wasn’t.

Pete got bored half an hour into loafing on the couch. He just wasn’t used to sitting around twiddling his thumbs. He had a body that needed to be active and that had been true even before the curse.

He got up. His nipple rings swung but he was starting to get used to them. Not that the sensations were any less intense, he was just learning to live with them and the way they made his cock twitch.

Normally, he’d wait a couple of hours if he’d had a meal before working out but he was itching to do something physical. Besides, he was feeling hungry again and he figured that was a good enough sign he was done digesting the heavy breakfast.

A workout was probably his best option. It would keep his body moving and it was mindless enough that he could just focus on the motions and sensations without having to think about what was happening to him.

Yeah, he thought to himself. A workout sounded like just the thing he needed.

He went over to the spare room he’d turned into a home gym-slash-office and looked around. According to his routine, today was supposed to be leg day but he didn’t have any of the fancy equipment he would typically use at the gym.

Maybe a lighter workout was in order. Things were weird. He was feeling stronger but he had no idea how his body might react. Maybe taking it slow was the best choice. And besides, he had to be careful not to accidentally touch his nipples while working out.

The last thing he needed was to trigger the curse halfway through working out. He hadn’t the faintest idea what might happen and it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility he might get distracted and end up hurt.

"Alright," he said, rubbing his hands together as he walked into the room. He did a quick warmup though oddly enough, despite having done nothing but laze around on a couch for the last half hour, he felt pretty limber and light even before he did anything.

---

Pete started with some crunches. After one set of twenty reps, he realized body-weight crunches weren’t enough to get the burn he craved.

He had to use a kettlebell—the heaviest one he owned—and even then, it wasn’t quite enough. He did two more sets than he usually did and by the time he finished, there was a sheen of sweat on his skin and a pleasant ache in his abs.

The way the crunches made his nipple rings swing added an extra dimension of intensity Pete didn’t expect. It felt oddly good despite his reservations and had him horned up through the workout.

More, Pete thought to himself as he took stock of everything that had happened. He’d always been a bit of a workout fiend but now he felt almost compelled.

It was one of the better parts of the curse, he supposed. His whole body was brimming with energy. Loath as he was to admit it, he felt he could take over the world.

He continued his workout. He focused on his core first, really feeling the burn in his abs as he churned through the reps with growing enthusiasm.

Pete had never been the kind of guy to make noise while working out but this time, it only felt natural. He grunted and groaned as he worked his body and pumped his muscles. It felt good. Cathartic, almost.

"Ugh. Hnngh. Fuck," he growled under his breath as he moved on to work on his butt and thighs.

He’d have preferred to do his squats with a barbell but he didn’t have that kind of money. He had to settle with his heaviest kettlebell and more reps. It felt great, even though he had to be careful not to accidentally graze his nipples with his biceps.

It didn’t take long for him to work up a sweat. He felt it beading on his brow, dripping down the sides of his face.

The growing scent of male musk in the air didn’t escape his attention. The more he worked out, the more he reeked. And the weird thing was, he didn’t find it offensive at all.

The odor wafting off him was thick and pungent. There wasn’t anything pansy or effete about it. One whiff and it was abundantly clear: this was the scent of a man working out.

The scent was thicker and headier than Pete was used to—the curse’s doing, no doubt. As much as he hated to admit it, part of him enjoyed the smell.

It made him feel big. Strong. Manly.

Sure, it might have been the curse fucking with his head again but he didn’t really care. The musk smelled good and every lungful only inspired him to work out even harder.

Between the scent and the swinging nipple rings, it didn’t take long before he was boned up doing his reps. The arousal burned in the back of his mind, kept just at bay by the exercise.

He was even starting to come around on the whole fur thing. He felt an almost perverse pleasure as he drew his fingers through the coarse hair, matted down with his sweat, in between sets.

It felt good to be hairy. No matter how hard he tried to hold on to his old principles, it just felt right to be furry all over. It made him feel like a man, a real man.

Pete could scarcely even believe it. He knew he should have been disgusted about it all but it was impossible to feel revulsion for something that just felt so right.

Part of him was glad he was hairy now. Not that he was suddenly disgusted with the idea of being clean-shaven.

He was just starting to see it as more of a cute thing than a masculine thing. The kind of thing a guy would do to impress another guy. No. No. Another girl, definitely.

Pete threw himself back into his workout with double the enthusiasm. He definitely didn’t want to think about guys doing things to impress other guys. He didn’t even know why the thought crossed his head.

It was just a momentary lapse. That was it. No way he was starting to warm up to that gay shit. No. Shaving smooth was the kind of thing insecure guys did to impress girls.

Well, maybe insecure gay guys would do it to impress other guys but how was he supposed to know? He wasn’t gay. No, no. He was straight and he’d totally meant to think about purely heterosexual preening.

Fuck.

---

Pete leaned on his workout bench to catch his breath. His heaving chest made his nipples tingle and the sensations went straight to his cock, which had been straining the whole time he was working out.

"Fuck!" he grunted, sliding his feet apart and arching his back as he humped the air. He was so goddamn horny but the pathetic little nub George had left him with wouldn’t let him get off.

He could deal with the nipples and the piercings. He could live with not ever putting a shirt on for the rest of his life. He didn’t think he could live with never having another orgasm.

He was so horny it was driving him up the wall. And to make matters worse, it was putting weird thoughts in his head. Gay thoughts.

He’d felt the worst of it during his last set of squats. Every time he lowered himself into position, his hole would itch and flutter, his cock twitching.

It had him wondering how it might feel to play with his ass. It had him thinking it might not be gay to just give his hole a quick rub. Just on the outside. Nothing sexy. Just a quick rub to get rid of the itch.

He was barely able to hold back. He was so horny he was about ready to do anything to get his rocks off and that was terrifying.

Pete needed to get his cock back and soon. He had to. Because if he had to endure how hot his body was running for much longer… Well, it didn’t bear thinking about.

He cast his mind back to George’s words. He had to risk further transformations to even have a chance at getting his cock back but at this point, it was a risk he was willing to take. It was a risk he needed to take.

Heart pounding in his chest, he went back to his bedroom. He grabbed the floor-length mirror by the closet and moved it over by the bed, making sure he could see himself in the mirror when he sat down on the edge of the mattress.

He wasn’t a coward. As much as he hated what he was about to do, he was going to face it head-on. He wasn’t going to turn his eyes away, he was going to watch every moment and every little change.

Most importantly, he was going to watch the moment his cock and balls filled out again and he was going to cheer. Because it didn’t matter how much the musk or the hair made him feel like a man, it was all useless if he didn’t have the parts to prove it.

Pete took a deep breath as he sat on the edge of the bed, removing his shorts in the process. He couldn’t believe what he was about to do but he had no choice. He needed his cock back.

He raised his hands to his chest—both of them. Just the proximity was enough to make his nipples tingle. He paused, nervous.

There was no telling what would happen once he started because he had no intention to stop. There was a chance he’d get what he wanted but he didn’t know how slim that chance was.

The possibility he’d end up looking like George before he ever got his cock back was real and for some reason, the notion didn’t feel as revolting as it used to.

Pete could almost envision it. And maybe it wasn’t as bad as he was making out to be. There was no denying George at least looked like a man’s man.

The only reason he’d disliked George was how open the big guy was about his sexuality. He didn’t even know why it had been such a big deal anymore, why it had rubbed him the wrong way.

He’d always admired masculinity. George oozed that. Had George been straight, Pete would have tried to make friends but instead he’d let the rainbows cloud his judgment.

It was funny. He’d finally taken a moment to reflect on his actions and how they’d led to this situation but he had no idea if the thoughts were genuinely his or if they’d come from the curse.

He supposed it didn’t matter. He was just glad the idea of becoming more like George didn’t make him feel as sick as it used to.

He took another deep breath. "Fuck it," he said, grabbing his nipples. He couldn’t help but moan the moment he touched them. It was so much more intense than whenever something accidentally glanced against the sensitive nubs.

Nothing immediately changed in the mirror but Pete could feel his body heat up. It started in his belly and spread from there. It seeped into his thighs and dripped down his legs. It rose into his chest and crept into his arms.

The sensation made every breath almost unbearably hot but he gritted his teeth and fought through it. He squeezed his nipples, moaning at the electric bolt of pleasure that shot down his spine and straight to the tip of his cock.

"Holy fuck!" he said, a small voice in the back of his head wondering why he hadn’t done this sooner when it felt so good.

Besides a bit of twitching from the simulation, his cock didn’t really react. The heat, on the other hand, only grew more intense.

Pete felt like he was breathing in the fumes from a furnace. The air in his lungs was so hot it was almost uncomfortable.

He’d gone straight to his bedroom after his workout so he was already sweaty but the heat had him drenched in seconds. He was sweating so much he could feel it dripping off him and onto the sheets.

His old self might have been disgusted but now the sensation excited him. Expectedly, the thick headiness of his musk filled the air too.

Fuck, was he horny. Even if he’d wanted to, he couldn’t have stopped. He was so desperate to get his cock back he was willing to go as far as he needed to.

He pinched his nipples, squeezed them, and tugged on them. He groaned as he felt something ripple through his body.

The heat concentrated in his arms. He watched his reflection as they swelled with muscle. His skin stretched taut, veins popping to the surface along his forearms.

His biceps ballooned to the point they forced his arms away from his body with their sheer size. It should have felt obscene but Pete was mesmerized.

He could have taken a sizable melon and held it beside his arm and his bicep would have still been bigger. He’d been satisfied with being a muscular jock but now he had to wonder why he’d ever settled when he could have been bigger.

His cock twitched with excitement as he felt the heat move to his shoulders. The muscles swelled, bulking up even his neck, growing to such a size he was forced to roll his shoulders forward slightly.

Pete moaned and squeezed his nipples harder. The pain blended into the pleasure, melding into an indescribable sensation that surged down his spine and made his asshole tremble.

The heat sank into his legs. He watched as his calves exploded with hard muscle. His thighs grew and lifted him an inch or so higher off the bed.

His breath caught in his throat. He could pop melons with those calves. He could crush boulders with those thighs.

He looked and felt strong. Almost like superman. It was intoxicating. Addictive. Part of him wanted to resist still but he was hooked.

"Fuck yeah…" he grunted, hooking his fingers through his nipple rings and pulling them away from his chest. The pain was intense. The pleasure, even more so.

He practically howled as he felt the heat from his arms and legs concentrate in his torso. He watched his abs pop into stark relief, the ridges and valleys growing so defined it looked like he could grind a rock to dust on his stomach.

His chest was no less dramatic. His pecs swelled, forming a deep cleft between them. Firm, corded muscles with pulsing veins formed a shelf on his chest and suddenly the huge nipples and areolas didn’t look so out of place.

Pete was only hornier than when he’d started but there was still no movement on his cock. It was still tiny, entirely disproportionate to the rest of his body.

And the sensations in his asshole had only gotten worse. He could feel it twitching, fluttering, practically begging for attention.

He didn’t know what else to do. He leaned back and swung his legs into the air, exposing his ass to the mirror.

His muscular cheeks were covered in hair. It was dense and coarse, drenched with sweat. His crack was even worse, a dark and furry crevice between the two mounds of muscle.

He spread his legs. His asscheeks went with them, parting just enough to expose the quivering pucker between.

Pete released one nipple and reached between his legs. There was barely even anything in the way.

He dipped his fingers into his furry asscrack. The feeling of hair down there should have disgusted him but it didn’t. He rubbed his crack and moaned, hesitant to go all the way but less so by the minute.

He tugged on his nipple and grunted, pleasure pooling in his stomach. "Fuck it," he said, pressing his finger on top of his asshole.

"Oh shit," he moaned, taken off-guard by how sensitive his hole was. He’d only meant to touch it lightly but he couldn’t stop.

This was wrong. This was gay. It was only meant as an experiment. He wasn’t into butt stuff. He was straight. But it felt so good he couldn’t help himself.

He rubbed his finger on his hole, moaning deliriously at the sensations. It was like nothing he’d ever felt before. He didn’t even have the words to describe it.

It was like stroking his cock but without touching it. Like jerking off if his cock was inside him.

If just rubbing the outside felt so good, part of him couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel to have something in there. Bottoms were a thing for a reason. If getting fucked up the ass was unpleasant, no one would ask for it.

Maybe that was a line too far. Maybe he could be satisfied with just playing with his hole on the outside.

But he was horny. So horny. His whole body was asking for it, begging for the pleasure. He was wired and desperate enough and maybe it wasn’t going to be so bad.

"Fuck. Oh, fuck. Fine!" he grunted, sitting up to grab a bottle of lube from his bedside drawer but the sound of the door opening distracted him before he could.

"Looks like you’re coming along nicely," said George as he leaned against the doorway. "Haven’t had any luck getting your cock back?"

The one guy he’d hoped never to see again was somehow in his house, in his bedroom. He should have freaked out but instead he couldn’t help but stare.

George looked like a Greek god made flesh. His muscles were perfect, his body in beautiful proportion. His arms and legs were huge, even bigger than Pete’s. His chest was thick, his shoulders broad. Every inch of skin was covered in coarse fur that just oozed masculinity and sex appeal.

The only thing George had on was a pair of rich purple side-cut short shorts with gold trim. They barely went past his groin and looked to be struggling to contain the big guy’s bulge.

George must have been commando because Pete could see the outline of his cock through the mesh of the shorts. It was huge. Fat. Part of him wanted to reach out to touch it if only to feel what it was like to have a cock again.

It was that thought that snapped Pete out of his reverie. He felt like someone had just dumped a bucket of ice-cold water on his head. "W-what the fuck are you doing here?!" he said, snatching his hand away from his nipple as he tried to cover up.

George shrugged. "Figured I’d drop by and see how you were doing. I thought I might have been a bit harsh with your punishment."

Pete’s cheeks warmed. "A-a bit harsh?!" he said. "You turned my life upside-down, man!"

It was odd. He wasn’t really angry at George anymore for the changes. Well, maybe he was still angry about his cock but the muscles and the hair were a different story.

Part of him felt an almost-sick sense of gratitude for it. In the back of his mind, he knew it was wrong to have changes forced on him, to have his idea of what his body was supposed to be violated so thoroughly but he didn’t really feel that way. The curse had made sure of that.

George shrugged. "Well, then maybe you shouldn’t have been such a little shit," he said with a laugh.

Pete bristled at the dismissiveness but said nothing. "I get it, okay? I’m sorry," he said. This time, he actually meant it. "Did you just come to gloat?" he said.

George laughed. "I told you already. I came to help. I was teaching you a lesson but I’m not a monster."

"Well give me my cock back, then!" said Pete. "Fuck. Man! I can’t even come with this thing!" he said, tapping the underside of his hard, shrunken nub.

George grinned. "Sure," he said. "Get up. Just let me play with your nipples and we’ll see what we can do about your downstairs area."

"Fuck…" Pete muttered. He wasn’t going to admit it out loud but his cock had jumped at the proposition.

Part of him was excited to let George handle his nipples but there was also the part of him stubbornly holding on to his pride and heterosexuality.

All it took to convince him was one look down. He was so hard, harder than he had ever been in his life, and yet he could barely see it through the thick bush in his crotch.

"Fine," he said as he stood up from the bed, trying not to betray the thrill of pleasure he felt as he accepted the offer.

George crossed the distance between them with surprising speed. He wrapped his arms around Pete from behind, his fingers hovering just inches away from Pete’s nipples.

Pete shivered at the proximity. He could feel the heat of George’s body on his skin. And loath as he was to admit it, part of him liked the feeling of George’s arms around him.

"Good boy," said George as he leaned forward to whisper the praise in Pete’s ear.

Pete’s cheeks warmed. The tips of his ears felt like they were about to burst into flame. "J-just get on with it!" he said, stuttering as his words caught in his throat.

"Such a hurry," George remarked with a chuckle. He moved one hand down to Pete’s stomach, spreading his thick fingers over the cobbled abs. "Alright. Here we go. But there’s just one more detail we need to get right."

"W-what are you talking ab—AHH!" Pete’s words died in his throat, his back arching from the sudden shock of pain and pleasure that tore through him as George yanked on his nipple ring.

Pete’s eyes widened as he felt an odd gurgling in his gut. He looked down, moaning as George’s fingers dug into his abs.

He watched, first with horror and then increasing arousal as the curse worked its magic on his head. His gut swelled, stretching his belly taut over it to the point his abs lost their definition.

"Oh fuck," Pete grunted, cradling his new muscle gut with both hands. It was firm. It was big. To the point he could barely see his feet past it, much less his diminished endowment.

"There we go," said George with a smirk. "Alright. Let’s do something about those downstairs parts."

Pete took a deep breath. He tried to contain his excitement. He was going to get his cock back. He could scarcely wait.

"Close your eyes, boy," said George.

Pete did as he was told. At this point, he wasn’t willing to do anything that could jeopardize getting his cock back. He closed his eyes. Squeezed them shut, even.

He hissed as George tugged on his nipples—both of them, this time. Unlike the sharp yank of before, this was slower, more deliberate. The pain was intense, but the pleasure was equally so.

Pete couldn’t help but moan. He could feel something happening. The heat was moving down. Yes. Yes! he thought to himself.

But the heat didn’t go where he thought it would. The heat went to his ass. He moaned again despite himself as his hole fluttered.

He could feel his cheeks expanding. They were supposed to be tight and muscular but he could feel them swell, rounding out into a fat, hairy bubble butt.

Pete forgot about his cock altogether for a moment. The sensations coming from his ass were intense. The more it grew, the more sensitive it became and the more natural it felt to arch his back and push his ass out, bumping his crack into the bulge of George’s shorts.

His heart skipped a beat when he felt it. He bucked his hips and he felt it bump into the cleft of his ass. Thick. Hard. Hot.

The jolt of pleasure it sent up his spine was so shocking it returned some clarity to his mind. "Y-you said I would—!" he started, only to be interrupted halfway through.

"Patience, boy," said George. Pete could practically hear the smirk in his voice. "Just enjoy the process."

"O-okay. Fine," he said, begrudgingly. Truth was, he just wanted a distraction from what he was feeling.

Deep in the pit of his stomach, he was feeling a sick desire to keep rubbing his ass against George’s cock.

He was straight.

He was straight.

He didn’t want cock up his ass, much less the fat battering ram George was wearing in those sexy little short-shorts of his.

Fuck. He was too deep. He was too far gone. The more George tugged on his nipples, the more he wanted it. His spine tingled. His hole tingled. Only by pure force of will did he manage not to beg for George to split him open.

He was straight. Not anymore. The curse had made sure of that. He could deny it as the day was long, but ultimately it was the truth.

The curse had changed him. Physically. Mentally. Fundamentally. He wasn’t straight anymore.

The moment Pete acknowledged his new truth, the heat surged from his ass to his crotch. He moaned, arching his back even more as he felt his balls drop and his cock filled back in.

He felt every inch return to him, the shrunken nub swelling, straining, aching for a release. It was such a relief he felt his eyes water. "Oh fuck. Oh, fuck!" he moaned as a fresh wave of horniness washed over him.

"There," said George. "All done. Satisfied, boy?"

Pete licked his lips. Was he satisfied? Looking down he could see his cock. It was back. It was as big as ever. It leaked just like before.

But his thoughts wandered to that dream he had last night. How big his cock had been. How big his cock could be. "B-bigger," he breathed, his chest heaving at the possibility. If George could make the rest of him bigger, George could make his cock bigger too, right?

"What was that?" said George with a low chuckle that sent a shiver down Pete’s spine.

"Bigger," Pete repeated. "I-I want my cock to be bigger!" he said.

George laughed. "Had a dream of the possibilities last night, did we?" he said.

Pete nodded. "Please," he said. He even meant it this time. "Please give me a bigger cock. I’ll do anything."

George snickered. "Even if I tell you the only way to get it is to bend over for me?" he said.

Pete flushed. He bit back a moan lest he sound entirely too enthusiastic about the idea. Granted, he wasn’t without reservations.

He’d seen George’s cock soft. It was huge. It was intimidating. It would probably split him open but he just couldn’t shake the desire to get even bigger. "I-I’ll do it!" he blurted out before he could stop himself.

Pete squeaked as George grabbed him by the hips. The roughness was unexpected and even more so the ease with which George manhandled him to face the mirror.

"Go ahead, then, baby. Bend over for daddy," said George with a smirk.

Pete swallowed his trepidation. He spread his legs and bent over, his nipple rings dangling over the floor as he placed his hands on his knees and arched his back.

"There we go," said George. He stroked Pete’s flanks, making him shiver. "Fuck. That fat ass is beautiful. You’re a natural at this, boy."

Pete flushed at the praise. He didn’t know why but it made him feel good. It made his cock ache.

Cheeks burning, he said, "Just fuck me already!"

George laughed. He moved his hands down from Pete’s hips to cup his asscheeks. He teased them apart with his thumbs, brushing one over the trembling, eager pucker. "Now, now," he said. "Is that any way to talk to daddy? Say the magic word."

The tips of Pete’s ears felt like they were going to combust. "J-just fuck me already… Please!" he said.

Pete flinched as George swatted his ass. The impact stung and was more painful than he felt it had any right to be.

"That’s good enough," said George with a chuckle. "We’ll have to work on that attitude but that’s for another day."

Pete was about to say something but the words died on his tongue as he felt George’s cock head rubbing against his asshole. Heat flushed through his whole body. He arched his back and spread his legs even wider, moaning like a cheap whore as he felt his hole practically kissing George’s glans.

"Like I said. You’re a natural at this," said George. He grabbed Pete by the hips again and pushed.

Pete whined as he felt his ring stretch around George’s considerable girth. It burned but not nearly as bad as he thought it would.

There was resistance there briefly but George was so strong and Pete was so horny his hole gave before too long. Pete moaned, his eyes going wide as George’s cock slid into him with ease.

Pete was so full. He had another man’s cock inside him. He had another man’s balls resting against his hairy ass. He should have been disgusted but the only thing he could think about was how right and how good it felt.

He wasn’t at all prepared when George started moving. It had already felt so good just having his insides stretched out by the fat cock but actually feeling it thrusting inside him was utterly mind-blowing.

He understood now why gay guys liked dicks up their asses. It was amazing. It wasn’t like anything he’d ever felt before. Fuck. He hated to admit it but the more George fucked him, the bigger those thrusts got, the more he was coming to love having a fat hog in his ass.

"Oh fuck," Pete moaned. It didn’t take long at all before he was bucking against George’s thrusts. It felt good. So good.

"D-daddy! FUCK!" he screamed. Something had changed in George’s thrusts. Maybe it was the angle. He didn’t know. But it was hitting a spot inside him that sent shockwaves of ecstasy through his body.

Pete hadn’t even meant to say "daddy" at all. It had just spilled out. "F-fuck!" he moaned as George really started riding his ass. "Oh fuck. W-what is that? W-why does it feel so good?"

George chuckled. "That’s your g-spot, baby," he said.

"Oh fuck. Oh, fuck yeah," Pete moaned, bucking his hips, fucking himself on George’s cock with more and more enthusiasm. "Harder. Please."

"Harder, Daddy," George corrected.

It was humiliating. It was embarrassing. Pete’s cheeks burned but he wanted more. He wanted it harder. He wanted to feel a proper rut. "H-harder, Daddy! Please!" he moaned.

"Good boy," said George as he let go of one of Pete’s hips to reach up and grab him by the shoulder.

Pete wasn’t prepared for how hard George ratcheted things up. That fat cock rammed into him over and over and over again without reprieve and without mercy.

He felt like he was getting fucked by a jackhammer. Slap. Slap. Slap. In. Out. In. Out. Each thrust was somehow more forceful than the last.

It felt so good Pete could scarcely think. A pressure started building up in his cock. In his balls.

"Feel it, baby?" said George.

"Y-yeah," Pete moaned. It was different from an orgasm. It was in the meat of his cock. His balls. The pressure was building and building and building.

"Go on then, baby. Let it out," said George. "Let go of all the resistance left in that pretty little skull of yours. Embrace your hairy roid bod. Tell me who you belong to now."

Pete moaned. He was too far gone. There was no holding back. His cock pulsed. His balls throbbed. "Yours!" he moaned. "I’m yours, daddy!"

"My what?" George demanded, pummeling Pete’s hole harder and faster.

"Your roid queen fag!" Pete screamed. He came. He came harder than he’d ever come in his life. He felt his balls drop and swell. He felt his cock thicken and grow.

"OH FUCK!" He watched in the mirror as his cock surged from its normal size to the obscene foot-long bat he’d had in the dream and he came. Shot after shot of thick jism splattered against the mirror as his hole clamped tight around George’s hog.

With one final thrust, George slammed inside Pete and bred him.

Pete’s orgasm, which had already started to subside, surged again as he felt George painting his insides. He moaned deliriously, his legs nearly giving out from under him as his balls bounced and his cock exploded.

When finally the white-hot pleasure subsided after what felt like an eternity, Pete’s metamorphosis was finished.

He looked at his reflection. He was nothing like he used to be. He was huge. Hairy. His cock was enormous. More importantly, there was a stupid little grin on his face as he squeezed his hole around the length of George’s cock still buried inside him.

He licked his lips. His old life was over. There was no going back. Not that he wanted to go back anymore.

"Round two, daddy?" he said with a grin.

George grabbed him by the chin and forced him to crane his neck back so they could kiss long and deep.

"Attaboy," said George with a smirk.