The Coach

SABLE Briefing

>Powering on. Initiating system start-up.

>SABLE online. Please login.

>Login confirmed.

>Welcome back, MCA-WT69.

>Your target for this assignment will be Warren Bell. Target resides within ADBG-7BSLM_R78. As per usual parameters, you are to encourage and develop Mr. Bell as he has been identified as a Person of Interest (PoI) and integration into the _Conglomerate_has been deemed to be beneficial. Reality-bending and intelligence alterations are to be kept to a minimum to avoid potential dimensional collapse or paradoxical conflicts. Intellect should be maintained however behavioural modifications are encouraged. Predictive analysis has determined that you will encounter the below obstacles and scenarios in this mission:

· Muscle Growth

· Muscle Worship

· Penile Growth

· Testicular Growth

· Transformation

· Body Hair

· Incest

· Male on Male homosexual interactions

· Mind Control

· Hypnosis

· Male Lactation

>Prepare appropriately.

>As a final note, you are being deployed specifically to transform Mr. Bell and set his foundation for Conglomerate recruitment whilst maintaining reality and timeline stability. Due to popular demand, you are to convert Warren into the genus Panthera Tigris.

>Warning: engagement and subsequent activities should only applied to individuals who are aged 18 or 21 or above based on their origins and local laws. Breach of terms will not leave the Nexus Conglomerate or the author liable to legal ramifications of any corruptive influences the SABLE Interface may cause and possible disciplinary action or termination.

Director's Notes: "I know it's been a while since you were out and about, Garret, so take it easy. You're one of my most valuable Agents. Try to have fun with this."

>Briefing end.

*******

Warren Bell was not the most athletic guy in Mosey Hills High School. With the build of a twig and a pair of thick round glasses that made his green eyes look almost bug-eyed he was far from anyone definition of a 'jock' or even a mathlete at best. With messy blonde hair that stuck out at strange points and with an inability to grow facial hair he looked almost as if he still belonged back in middle school. But this high school senior had big dreams. One day, he wanted to play in the big leagues; to be a star hitter for a team like the New York Yankees or Boston Red Sox. He didn't care which team he went to just as long as he got away from the sleepy, farming town of Nebraska and went to the big city.

But there were two major obstacles in his way. One, he needed a letter of recommendation for a college that would actually show up on the major leagues radar. The second problem of course though was money, and being in a small town where his dad worked as a construction worker meant they didn't have a whole lot of cash to spare. While in all the movies and TV shows showed these 'small town kid making it big' stories where you could just go up to a collegiate team, try out and then sign-up, reality begged to differ. Schools wanted to keep their reputation. Even should he go to a college and be the best damn slugger in the state, no one was going to bat an eye in his direction when there were entire schools who prided themselves in making the next Rodney Kinsler or Roy Holladay. So he needed to get into one of the big schools to get a running start.

And his chance came with Coach Holt.

Old Coach Dempsey had spontaneously won the lottery and was retiring off to Florida. Good for him. Warren liked him but the aging man was more patronising than an actual coach. He filled Warrens head with big dreams of getting drafted and making it big, but after some research on previous drafts, he realized that with his batting average he wouldn't stand a chance. That is, of course, unless someone wrote him a letter of recommendation and Ol' Dempsey had too much integrity for that.

That's where the new Coach came in.

Warren took a deep breath as he approached the Coach's office located beside the locker room. It was after school and no one was around. Mosey Hills High didn't really have that much of a sports department. Most of the effort when into the sciences. Particularly chemistry. Not to say that everyone in Nebraska would eventually wind up cooking meth but... well, the trend was unshaking. Another reason why Warren wanted to get out of his little town.

He knocked on the glass plane of the door. Dempsey's name had already been replaced by 'Garret Holt'. The other kids had said that Holt was a nice guy. Really friendly but tough as well. He shouted at you when you did something wrong and he praised you when you did something right. He pushed you when he knew you could do more but was always there with a bottle of energy drink when you were about to die of exhaustion. A real coach.

The door sprang open and Warren jumped back. Dempsey hobbled forward, showing his perfectly straight - albeit false - teeth.

"Warren!" laughed the old, wrinkled man. Long ago, he was an athlete in his own right. But these days, George Dempsey had a hunch, hobbled forward with his hands dangling in front of him and had leathery, browned skin that looked more in place on the sunny beaches of Florida than in Central America.

Dempsey reached out with a bony hand and pulled Warren into the office. Warren was instantly assaulted by the scent of wet dog and his heart plummeted at the sight of Garret Holt.

"Have you met the new coach?" Dempsey said.

Garret Holt stood at a towering seven and a half-foot tall. His pointed, triangular ears nearly brushed up against the ceiling as they flicked around towards him. Holt's broad, muscled back was covered in short, grey fur that was slick with sweat and clung to every curve of his muscled back. The big wolf turned around, showing his very exposed chest. The grey fur that dominated his body stopped about at the edges of his enormous pectorals like those huge, square plateaus had pushed them open to reveal the white fur beneath. Thick, sinews stretched across every band of muscle ready to burst from his skin and fur at a moment's notice. A stack of eight, rigid abdominals were highlighted by the faintest whisper of bright, coppery hair that sprang up from the band of his bright, blue workout shorts. That same hair drew playful wisps over his forearms and thickened around the back of his enormous paws. The strong, square muzzle was further highlighted by a meticulously maintained chinstrap beard of the same colour. Short, spikey hair that was a little nuttier brown in colour sprang up between his ears only to highlight his bright, sky-blue eyes.

"Garret," Dempsey said, pushing Warren forward. "I'd like you to meet Warren Bell. He's one of my favourite students. A real bright bulb this one."

Coach Holt reached forward with one enormous paw big enough to wrap around Warren's face. "A pleasure to meet you, Warren. I'm Garret Holt."

Warren let out a shaky smile and took the big wolf's paw. His entire hand was consumed by the big, furry fingers alone. "Nice to meet you too, Coach Holt."

Coach Holt had a firm grip but it wasn't crushing. His leathery paw pads were nice and warm. It was nice.

"I'll leave you two to get acquainted," Dempsey said, shuffling out. "I'm off to Florida! Yipee!"

"Take care," Coach Holt said, waving with his other paw. He let go of Warren's hand and gestured towards the seat opposite to the lone desk in the office.

Where once the walls had been stacked with posters and pictures of old teams from years before, now the shelves were filled with books on anatomy, science and even nanotechology if Warren was not mistaken. Workout equipment occupied any space that was not blocking sight of various anatomy posters. Dempsey had always been a more 'traditional' coach who worked with everyone on the same level. But with so many kinds of furs around the world, it was always one of the coach's shortcomings on his lack of knowledge of various fur's anatomy and physical needs. At least Coach Holt seemed to be an improvement on that. Of course, being in the middle of a Red State, furs generally didn't mingle with humans at least at the school level. Tradition or so the pro-humanists claimed. Furs had their own schools and humans kept to their own. Which was one of the reasons Warren was surprised that a wolf was had been allowed to teach at Mosey Hills.

"Have a seat, Warren. Your old coach had a lot to say about you."

Warren tried not to roll his eyes. Dempsey probably offered a lot of flowery flattery and empty platitudes. Nothing but positivity and little in terms of actual constructive criticism to help him improve. Tempting as it was to blade his old coach for his twig-like physique, he knew he could have spent more time and a gym, eat healthier and probably be more active.

"He did?" Warren croaked. His voice also constantly broke and he hated that.

"Yeah." Coach Holt positioned himself behind the desk. As he sat down the chair creaked beneath his weight and it became painfully clear how small the room was for the big wolf. His desk alone was nearly as wide as his shoulders! It was fascinating to watch the huge mountain of lupine flesh move with such grace and ease. The big wolf reached down behind his desk and pulled out a file. "He said you want to make it into the big leagues. Play for the Yankees or something."

Warren lowered his gaze. "Or something..."

"Have a seat, son," said the enormous, red-haired lupine and gesturing towards the lone chair. "No need to be afraid. I won't bite."

With a thin, shaky smile across his pale lips, Warren stiffly moved forward and sat down, hands sitting on his lap like a dainty little girl waiting to be judged.

"Do you still want to play in professionally, Warren?" Holt said without looking up from the folder in his huge paws.

"Y - Yes, sir."

"Are you serious about? Can you tell me that in the next ten months before you graduate, you'll commit yourself to this? You're already eighteen years of age. Nineteen in a few months. Most of those gunning for such an esteemed position will have committed to more than a few months since the summer."

Warren ducked his head in shame. "I guess that's Coach Dempsey's fault... He sort of got it into my head that I could make it big."

"I understand. It's your senior year. You're already thinking about what you want to be when you graduate. College is just around the corner. It's your last year to make it count, am I right?"

He could only offer a stiff nod.

The lupine coach set the folder down on the table. "I hope this is more than just a fleeting fancy, Warren. Because once you commit to this, there's no turning back. This sport will be your life. You'll live it. You'll breathe it. You'll be it. Are you sure you can commit to that?"

Warren pursed his lips but it was not because he wanted to consider the question. It was so that he could keep himself from sounding like an impudent child. He already knew the answer and he had to keep it from bursting out too quickly.

"Of course I do!" he pleaded. "Please Coach Holt, you've got to give me a chance."

Holt smiled and raised a paw to settle him down. "I don't know you, Warren. Just what's in your file. So you get a fresh slate. But you've got to make it count, you hear?" Though he tried to be serious, the look he gave Warren was friendly and touched with an adorable smile like a puppy trying to beg for food.

"Yes, sir!" Warren exclaimed. "You've got me 110%!"

"Good." Coach Holt straightened and slapped the desk lightly. The wood shuddered with the impact and Warren was pretty sure there was now an indentation in the table where the coach's paw had rested. "So tell me, Warren. Who's your favourite baseball player. Current. Still playing."

This was a test. Garret Holt wanted to make sure he wasn't deluded by some dreams of grandeur of players long past and was actually keeping up with the sport.

"Gotta be Rodrigo Mantle," he answered decisively. "I mean, his batting average isn't that spectacular but he's consistent, at least. Plus he's also left-handed, like me." He lifted his left hand and shook it a little. "Oh and he's got a clean record. Don't do drugs though he's been accused of it multiple times but that's only because people are jealous."

"Rodrigo Mantle, eh?" Coach Holt replied with a slightly lifted, coppery red eyebrow. "In my opinion he's a little slow to get to the bases. He can hit well enough but if he _can't_get that homer, he can get caught out. Takes too many risks as well. He can hit but getting the bases is what's important. Good when the base are loaded but to start..." Holt pursed his lips and shook his head. "I wouldn't count on him. Stealing bases is definitely one of his greatest weaknesses."

Warren was shocked. Holt knew his baseball.

"You follow baseball, sir?"

"I have my sources," said the lupine with a shrug of his shoulders. "We're going to start on you baseball career tomorrow, Warren. After school. Do you have your own gear?"

Warren ducked his head. His family was poor. And though he hated the idea of being stereotyped as poor white trash he couldn't help but see the similarities he shared. His dad was a slob, working in and out of the same job for the past few years while his own brother had even been convicted of cooking meth. He was proven innocent eventually, but that sort of mark on your family doesn't fade with time. Either way it meant he was poor, only getting by with what little money his father provided along with his brother.

"We'll have to fix that," Holt said. "Come to my office after school tomorrow. We'll get you started." He stood up and reached over, resting a paw on Warren's shoulder. He didn't even have to walk around the table. He could just easily reach across the table with his huge, long, vascular arm. "You'll be a star in no time, son."

Those worse brightened his day and Warren could only smile.

"Thank you, sir!"

*******

The moment Warren Bell left, Garret Holt leaned back in his chair. The big wolf waited a few minutes to make sure he wasn't going to be interrupted his keen years perked. No one else was near the sports department at this time of day, not even the janitors. That gave him the opportunity to fish into the pocket of his shorts and pull out a sleek, black phone the likes of which this world had never seen before. It was like the entire phone, about as big as his paw, was made of a single piece of obsidian. No case, no ports, just obsidian.

"SABLE," he said softly.

"SABLE online," came a soft, feminine voice from the device. A display sprang up on the surface of the phone. The emblem of the Nexus Conglomerate appeared over it. "What can I do for you, MCA-WT69."

That was his designation amongst the Conglomerate; Male Change Agent - Wolf-Type #69.

"How many times have I told you to stop calling me that, SABLE?"

"Enough, Garret. Enough."

SABLE was the Conglomerate's major interface to all active agents. The Singularity Assistant - Biomechanical Lifeform: Evolved. She was the most advance fusion of man, machine and perhaps a bit of magic. Able to maintain a single coherent interface across all_realities akin to the Director himself. The artificial intelligence helped all the _Conglomerate's agents and was the one who had arranged to pay out Dempsey with a smooth ten million to urge his retirement and gotten Garret the job at Mosey Hills. She had also been the one to arrange his lodgings.

All to get to his target: Warren Bell.

"Can you tell me where Rodrigo Mantle is right now?"

"I assume you mean the Rodrigo Mantle of the reality you are presently occupying." Without waiting for him to reply, SABLE said, "Scanning. Found. Rodrigo Mantle is currently in New York City. Predictive algorithms state that he will be attending a charity event this evening. Black tie. Shall I arrange for transport and an invitation?"

"Please." Garret stood up and regarded the tall, full-body mirror he had mounted at the far end of his office. "And probably find me a suit that'll fit me."

"Are we talking 'fit you' as in the common conception of the term or your version?"

Despite being an artificial intelligence, SABLE has some sass. That was why Garret loved working with her. Far better than the far-too eager Alabaster or the talkative ECHO. "Make sure the jacket fits but I want the pants to really show off my thighs and calves. The shirt needs to be tight. When Mantle starts stripping me, I want to be able to flex and pop a few buttons."

"You do realise that Rodrigo Mantle is married."

"That's never stopped me before," Garret said with a grin. He glanced back towards his desk, towards Warren's file. "You know what? Tell me where Tyson Freeman is as well."

"The Olympic Gold Medallist? Why?"

A sly smirk crossed Garret's face. "Mantle hits well but he can't run for shit."

"Confirmed. Locating him now."

While he let SABLE_do her thing, he threw on a white shirt that stretched over his enormous torso. He slung a duffel bag over his shoulder and immediately left the school grounds. There was a big, black pickup truck waiting for him in the parking lot, a vehicle that was offered to him upon picking up this assignment. He was out of the parking lot and heading to the airport. He docked his _Nexus Monolith - as his phone was called - onto the dock on the dashboard so he could interface with SABLE without having to use his paws.

"Tyson Freeman will be up in North Carolina. Predictive analysis suggests that he will be well and truly asleep by the time you get to him. You cannot hit both of them before tomorrow's school day, Garret."

That was a bind. He wanted to initiate Warren Bell immediately. That kid was already on a slippery slope. Self-doubt was a crippling cancer and that boy was oozing it from every pore. Warren hadn't even asked him for that letter of recommendation despite the fact that Garret had given him ample opportunity to suggest it. Every day that passed where Warren wallowed in uncertainty made his job harder.

He snapped his fingers. "Not if I catch Freeman for his morning run."

"How did you know he would be out on a morning run?"

"He's a runner. He's _always_out on a morning run."

"Confirmed. I can get you a flight from the airport to New York in forty minutes. It will take three hours to get to New York City. You will be at the black tie event within twenty minutes."

Garret nodded. He was glad that the streets of Mosey Hills were relatively empty so he could focus more on his plans. "I can get what I want an hour after that. Maybe two as a contingency. That'll place me about ten PM."

"Your flight will be at ten-forty. You will be at North Carolina an hour and a half later. You will have approximately five hours to kill."

The wolf inclined his head to the side. "Five hours, huh?" He pondered what he should do in that time. "You know what? Arrange for Clinton Hardwood to come to my room in North Carolina."

"Very well. If I may ask, why?"

Garret grinned savagely, maybe even a little hungrily. "Hey, I got to make sure Warren has a big dick, right? What kind of coach would I be otherwise?"

SABLE sighed - the AI sighed. "Very well. Don't be late."

"I won't."

Garret managed to make it to the airport with a good twenty minutes to spare. Though he had to rush through security, the airport itself was small and mostly disused due to the fact Mosey Hills was a smallish town. The flight in and out only came about three times a day so he couldn't afford to miss this flight. Thankfully, _SABLE_was incredibly reliable and he just had to show his ID at the counter and a boarding pass was printed out for him. After a quick check of his bags and a pat down from a woman that was a little too handsy, he was off to Lincoln, Nebraska for a connecting flight to New York.

Thankfully, planes had been designed with furs his size in mind unlike some other realities so he was able to sit comfortably in the fur-cabin which periodically sprayed anti-scent in the air. Sometimes, having a large number of furs in the one, cramped space, sweating and jostling in mid-air could get overwhelming. Some argued it was discriminatory. Garret didn't really care. It gave him time to review his briefing and what he knew about Warren Bell.

After the customary period where he was required to shut off his 'phone', he flicked out his Monolith_and began sorting through the files. His itinerary appeared in front of him. _ROGUE - the Reconnaissance Operations and General Utility Exarch and one of SABLE's'siblings' - had arranged a car for him. ROGUE_warned him that Rodrigo Mantle was bringing his wife but had also slyly booked a hotel room for him through _Critical.

The text from SABLE came up shortly.

'Your car will be on the second floor of the parking lot. Section D4. You'll know it from the moment you see it. Keys will be in your bag.'

A warning came a second later.

'Be warned, Mantle will bring his wife. ROGUE has stated that they have had a recent argument and are putting up a front until they retire back home. Try not to ruin their marriage. I'd hate for Critical to have to rewrite history.'

Garret shook his head. While Critical could fix any problem with ease, they had to keep all forms of reality-alterations to a minimum. As he had learned back in boot, when you put too many patches on a program it will eventually become something different from its initial design. Pull too many strings on the tapestry and it will eventually collapse.

That's why _Conglomerate_Agents were very important.

Before he knew it, the plane was landing. Though he was on a tight schedule, he didn't want to be rude and take up entire aisles due to his bulk so he waited until almost everyone else had left before making his way down with only his duffel bag in tow. After a trudge through the airport, he was heading into the parking lot.

SABLE had been right that he would recognise the car the moment he saw it. Big, red as his hair and a beast, the SUV was just his kind of vehicle. The fact that the _Drive-N_emblem was on the front clearly marked it the car meant for him. He reached into his duffel bag. While it seemed full on the outside, it was actually quite empty inside save for the soft jingle of keys between his fingers. He snatched up the keys and unlocked the monster of a vehicle. The soft flash of the headlights was accompanied by the roar of the engines as the car itself sprang to life.

With a smile, Garret stepped into the vehicle and took a second to appreciate the leather seats and cushiony steering wheel. He placed his Monolith on the dash and set a course for the charity event Mantle was going to. Ten minutes ahead of schedule, he took a leisurely drive out of the airport parking and into the streets of Manhattan. Thanks to ROGUE's_expert scouting, he found the - relatively - quickest route to the event. He ignored all of New York Cities dazzling skyscrapers and angry honking motorists and drive right into the parking lot of the _Swan Gold.

Again reaching into his duffel bag, he found a key card for the hotel and swiped it at the reader. The boom gates swung open for him like he was any other guests. The designated parking spot was nice and empty for him. A quick check of is wristwatch and he noticed he was still a good five minutes ahead of schedule. Still, ahead of schedule was better than behind and he headed towards the lift, swiping the key card at the reader to take him to his floor.

A short elevator ride later and he was entering the simple one-bedroom suite of the _Swan Gold's_15th floor. Inside the dimly lit expanse, there was a king-sized bed - the only kind of bed that would fit Garret - and some essentials. Folded on the bed encased in some plastic wrap was a pressed suit. Still ahead of schedule, Holt quickly stripped off his scant clothing and jumped into the shower.

The Swan Gold was an old hotel so it hadn't been fit with the new fur-friendly showers that had jets mounted into the walls and could double as a dryers. Again, Garret didn't mind and just shut the glass doors and turned on the shower. Water drizzled down from the brass nozzle which he removed from his mount and diligently washed every inch of his large, chiselled body. Being on an airplane always made him feel so sticky and musky. He purposefully avoided the hotel-issue bath soap and shampoo instead opening the glass door briefly to reach into his duffel bag and retrieve his favourite shampoo and conditioner. A sweet vanilla smell like freshly washed linen mixed with a healthy amount of manly musk filled the steamy air of the shower as he made sure to lather and rinse every inch of his body - even his enormous feet and tail. It took a lot of water and ate into his five minute lead but it was worth it. His target wouldn't like to be exposed to a musky high school coach that smelled like he had rolled around in the locker room covered in discarded jockstraps.

Once he was done, he turned off the shower. He stood for a few seconds to let all the excess water drip from his soaked fur. Then he shook himself from head to toe like any canine would to get most of the water out of his fur. Once he was satisfied he wouldn't be walking around dripping wet, Garret Holt stepped out of the shower. Even without thinking it, his fur instantly began to dry out and started to smoothen itself, sculpting itself as if it was alive. Every curve of his muscled frame was perfectly highlighted by his fur and even the chinstrap beard groomed itself perfectly as if he had just been airbrushed in real life.

A bottle of cologne sitting next to his duffel bag caught his attention. A slip of paper was sitting beneath it.

All it said was 'She loves this fragrance'.

Good old SABLE. She was like the den mother of the Agents, offering advice when needed and adding little surprises like this to make his job easier. He sniffed at the cologne. It was a little tart and reminded him of pomegranate but it was fresh and masculine as well. A few sprits to his neck and he carried it out of the bathroom to his bed. After he set down the bottle, he began unwrapping his evening wear. As he had requested, the shirt was quite tight but had been tailor made not to restrict his arms or shoulders but accentuate the size of his pectorals. One flex and he was sure he would send those buttons flying. It was an effort to wrap it around his immense chest but he managed to squeeze into it. The pants might as well have been made of spandex as it wrapped around his legs like one of those form-fitting runner's pants. He could barely bend over to put on his socks and slip his feet into the black, formal shoes. The black jacket hid much of the muscled curves of his body but made the V-shape of his body all the more evident. A light sprit of the cologne on his chest and wrists and then he was ready to catch his prey.

He grinned to himself, giving one last look at his image in the mirror. A slight incline of his head to the side and his red hair shifted by itself as if it were possessed. It styled itself to be slicked back and make him look a little older as opposed to his youthful mess. He was tempted to retract his chinstrap beard but then remembered that he was going into a charity event attended by a baseball star. Looking like he was a thug that cleaned up was probably a good thing.

Garret went without the tie and cleaned up, hiding his duffel bag and discarded clothes. Once he was satisfied, he pocketed his Monolith and headed out towards the event. Needless to say, the charity event - the Baseball Injury Ball (BIB) - was being held in the one event hall of the Swan Gold. No one gave him a second glance as he entered amongst the other guests. His size certainly helped matters and he guessed the bouncers just thought he was another avid sports fan.

The event hall made use of the Swan Gold's Victorian-style furnishings with sweeping, marble-white pillars and crystal chandeliers that gave an overall golden ambient light over the chamber. Large, velvety drapes were cast over otherwise plain walls. The floor was a myriad of black, reds and browns arranged in geometric patterns. A classic band was positioned at the far end at the stage and they were playing some music that made the event feel a little more like it was lifted out of a mid-Depression Era novel instead of a modern soiree that was raising awareness for athlete's injuries in the sport of baseball. The buffet table was even decked out with silver platters and a table cloth so white and silken that he was fairly sure it was far more expensive than his entire suit. At least the food was geared towards hungry athletes and the beer was decent.

He checked his watch. While there was the usual time, there was also a countdown. Rodrigo Mantle would arrive in about seven minutes. That put him about three minutes behind schedule but that was fine. He could mingle and make his presence known in about seven minutes. Some of the players had already arrived and with them their wives. Though he didn't follow baseball that avidly, he was able to engage some of the players on their careers and chat to them about this controversy or that. The hot topic was apparently the move to replace the current standard of baseballs with something that was lighter and cheaper to make. This made batters angry as it would mean the balls would be harder to hit while pitchers were for the move.

Then, at 8:17 PM New York Time, Rodrigo Mantle and his wife, Shana, arrived in the event hall. There wasn't any fanfare to their entrance. They arrived just like any of the other players and they immediately separated from one another. Mantle went immediately towards the buffet - maybe indulging in a bit of stress eating. Shana sauntered over in her billowing red, sequence dress towards the other player's wives. Garret checked his watch.

A good ten minutes later, Shana wandered away from her own little club to get some food.

That was when he made his move.

He positioned himself on the opposite side of the table and 'conveniently' reached for the same smoked salmon with dill cream and caviar on a brioche slice as she did. The moment their fingers touched, they both instinctively flinched away.

"Oh sorry," she apologised. "Go ahead, you have it." She was a lithe woman that exuded strength. She had to be to be able to stand Mantle's notorious temper tantrums. Her shoulders were narrow and her hips wide. Deep, chocolate skin glimmered in the golden light of the hall and her hair black, glossy hair was tied up in a severe bun. The bluish-purple eyeshadow was specked with little bits of glitter to make her dark eyes pop out all the more and he was fairly sure there were flecks of gold in her dark lipstick. The red nail polish she wore was an interesting choice.

"I'm afraid I can't do that," Garret said, smiling lightly. He showed her his large, furry paws. "People get up in arms about furs and buffets. The moment they see a hair somewhere in there, they'll take this stuff away and blame me. You better grab it before that happens."

"No one here cares about that," Shana said, gently swatting a hand in his direction. "In case you haven't noticed, there are a lot of fur players here." She inclined her head to the side. "In fact, I thought I knew all the players in the league. Particularly the wolves. I've never seen you before."

He grabbed a pair of tongs from the shrimp section and plucked one of the brioche slices and made to place it onto her plate. She took up his hint and held out her plate for him. "I'm not a player. Garret Holt. Avid fan that managed to scrounge up enough money to make it to this event."

She gave him a coy look. "You don't really expect me to believe that you came all the way here just to gawk at players."

Putting on his most charming smile, he said, "Of course not. I've very serious about baseball injuries. I just recovered from my own physical limitations."

The smug look on her face immediately turned to one of apology and pity. "Oh, I'm so sorry. What happened, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I'd rather not go into it," Garret said, waving a free paw absently. "Suffice to say that I was basically a blob of flesh that couldn't even feed himself."

"Well you look _fantastic_if you don't mind me saying."

"Thank you." From the corner of his eyes, he could see Rodrigo starting balefully in their direction. He was sure the slugger was staring daggers at his wife but to antagonise him further, Garret lifted an arm and flexed his enormous bicep just a little. Even the small movement was enough to cause his suit to rip a little. Shana's eyes went wide in awe and her large, full lips peeled open in shock.

"Whoops! There goes next month's pay check," he snickered. "And here I was just trying to prove that I'm back in shape."

"And what lovely shapes they are," Shana said, shamelessly appraising him. She plucked a strawberry from her plate and bit on the tip in a vain attempt to hide her hungry smile. "Are you hoping to play again?"

"I'm well past my baseball days. Actually coaching now. Just at a small rural high school in North Carolina." He had already made an impression on Shana and no doubt on Rodrigo soon. Should they track him down - and he was sure they would try - he had to make sure any trails he left led to a dead end.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "You like kids?"

It didn't take a genius or extradimensional mutations to connect the dots. "I wouldn't say that high school students are 'kids' but yes, I get along quite well with children. Something about being big, fluffy and reminding them of their pet dogs."

Shana giggled, covering her lips while chewing the same piece of strawberry for the past thirty seconds. "That must be fun."

"Exhausting sometimes but watching youngsters grow and meet their full potential is its own reward." Before she could reply, he quickly said, "What about you? And kids in your future."

Her smile instantly faded, proving his suspicions. Shana rolled her eyes. "I would love to have kids but you could say there's one _big_road block in the way of that particular path." She made a not-so-subtle nod in the direction of Rodrigo. Garret could swear the Latino was trying to make him spontaneously combust with his eyes alone.

"Well hey, let's put that out of your mind for now, shall we?" he suggested, setting down his plate and offering his paw to her. "How about we hit the dance floor? Maybe a little rubbing and grinding might help you get over that road block?"

She laughed and finally finished that strawberry chunk she had been nursing for the past minute. "Sure. Why not?" She placed her hand in his and allowed him to lead her to the dance floor as the band went from some classical arrangements to something a little more modern. A few of the other couples were gathered but these were baseball players and their guests. Few were on the dance floor so when he shook his hips alongside Rodrigo Mantle's wife, everyone saw.

And that naturally made Mr. Mantle furious.

Garret had only seen Rodrigo drink one beer but it was enough for the star slugger to charge down the dance floor and immediately seize Garret's shoulder, pulling him from Shana.

"What the fuck's the big idea, bro!?" Rodrigo roared. He had a strangely musical voice when yelling and despite the heavily Americanised-lingo, his thick Latino accent was still very much prevalent. It was what garnered him a vote as one of the 'Sexiest Men Alive'. His dark brown hair cropped short to keep it away from his eyes and he wore a goatee that highlighted his supple lips. Coppery skin covered his strong, muscled body and his sharp brown eyes only showed the slightest signs of inebriation. Even beneath the awful grey suit he wore, his powerful upper body was visible. While nowhere near as large as Garret, he had the arms that could hit a baseball speeding at him at 90 miles per hour with enough strength to hit it out of the park. But as Garret had observed, all of Rodrigo's focus was in his upper body. Though his legs were not comically like twigs, they seemed a little disproportionate to his enormous, broad chest.

"Rodrigo!" Shana snapped.

"Stay out of this, Shana," the Yankee snapped back before whirling back towards Garret. At a respectable 5'11'', Rodrigo had to really look up to meet Garret's gaze. "You stepping in on my woman!"

"I am not your woman!" Shana protested.

She was ignored and Rodrigo jabbed Garret's chest. An intense fiery gaze was in his eyes. "You wanna go, bro? Let's go!"

Garret lifted his paws, exuding a warm, confidence that disarmed the raging Yankee. "I mean nothing by the gesture," he said politely. "Was just having some fun as it's an _enormous_honour for someone like me to get to dance with a New York Yankee's wife! But if you'd rather I danced with you...?"

Rodrigo flinched. "Da fuck?"

He curtly bowed towards Rodrigo. "I don't see a reason why two men can't share a single dance. We _are_tolerant people here, right? There's no reason to further objectify your wife by turning this altercation into a scuffle over a perceived slight and jealousy."

Mantle wasn't an idiot. Garret spoke articulately and the slugger understood every word. Everyone was watching now. It was a public event. Though there were no cameras, the best - or perhaps worst - recording devices were the eyes and brains of every person in the room. They would only remember things the way they wanted and if Rodrigo refused a clear mediation offered by a gentleman, the headlines tomorrow would be scathing.

"Fine," he snarled. "But I lead."

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

The crowd genuinely applauded them as the two of them locked hands and began to dance. The song was a slow waltz which actually helped Mantle ease into the motions of leading a bigger man in the dance. Other couples exchanged partners and soon other players were dancing joyfully with one another and even the players' wives were swinging alongside the song.

All according to plan.

"I honestly didn't mean an offence," Garret said. "Your wife just seemed a little bummed about not being able to have kids that I felt like I should take her mind off it."

"It's not your job to take her mind off that shit," Rodrigo answered though he was scowling more at himself than her.

"Huh."

The slugger's eyes snapped towards him. "What?"

"Nothing," Garret answered with a shake of his head. "Just a thought."

"Are you judging me?" Rodrigo's grip around Garret's paws tightened. It was definitely the grip of a batsman.

"Sympathising with you, actually." That surprised the player and gave Garret the opportunity to pounce. "I figured Shana is a very strong woman. So strong, in fact, that I bet she doesn't even let you jack off. Or if she does, you'll have this guilt over your head that you're not using your cum to put a baby in her belly."

Rodrigo didn't respond but it was clear from the way he had stopped leading that Garret had hit the nail on the head.

"Let me guess," Holt continued, "she wants a baby bad. But you're not ready. You're twenty-four, married and in the prime of your life but she wants to chain you down. You know that the moment she's pregnant, the moment that kid is in this world, that's it. You're locked in. Final answer. And the thing is, she knows this. You're the superstar_._ You're the one that can get anyone he wants. Girl or guy."

"I love my wife," Rodrigo hissed.

"I don't doubt that. But have a look at how she's staring at us." He artfully swung them around so that Rodrigo had a clear view of Shana standing next to some other players' wives. The fake smile on her lips was the worst acting Garret had ever seen. "She's threatened. Even now she's wondering what'd happen if you were bitten by the 'Rainbow Fairy' and fell for a guy like me. She knows how hot I am. She wouldn't have danced with just anyone after your spat about babies."

Rodrigo was suddenly on the defensive. "How'd you know about that?"

"Keen observation. The way she took my hand. She wanted to make you jealous."

"I love her," reaffirmed the player.

"And like I said, I don't doubt that." Though the dance didn't call for it, Garret took a step forward, momentarily pressing his chest up against Rodrigo's. The slugger was one second behind and took the step back a little late. "But a man's got his needs and the grip she's got around your sack is turning your balls blue. The only time she'll let you get off is without protection. Am I right?"

Rodrigo grimaced softly. "It has been a while... I keep telling myself it's to keep myself at my peak. Can't have sex the night before a game."

"You know as well as I do that's bullshit." Garret flicked an ear. "So here's my offer. I've got a room in the hotel. 1506. I leave for a flight to North Carolina in about an hour. Half an hour. That's all we'll need. My muzzle around your dick. You get off. Stop bitching about babies to your wife and give a long, hard look at what you want. You choose between getting sucked off in hotel rooms or committing to your wife and future because if you're both going to go out of your way to tear each other a new one over you getting off, then you might as well start filing for those divorce papers."

He released Rodrigo's hands. "And with that, the song is over, Mr. Mantle." He bowed politely towards his partner and was met with the applause of the other couples. "It was good to meet you," he said, nice and loudly so that everyone else could hear. "Apologies again for the misunderstanding. You and your lovely wife have a good evening."

With those words, he turned for the door and swiftly left the event room.

Garret made his way towards the elevators and reached into his pocket. A few of the other guests had slipped their phone numbers into his pocket. One of them a lipstick kiss on it. Another was from an actual player. Curious at they were, he tossed them all into the rubbish bin next to the elevator.

He was back in his room just five minutes later. A check of his watch told him he had a good forty minutes before he had to leave. He rested his rump onto his bed and immediately felt his phone vibrate. It was SABLE.

"That was a risky manoeuvre," she said through text. "Even ROGUE cannot predict which way this will go."

"That's the risks of this job," Garret answered with a soft smile. "We're dealing with people, not numbers. The Director understands that."

"The likely reason why he's never created an AI for the executive level such as himself." There was a pause on SABLE's side. "Rodrigo is on his way."

That was a lot sooner than he had expected and perked his hears towards the door. A few minutes later, he heard a knock. Trying not to be too eager, he got up from the bed and took his time to get to the door. He pulled it open and sure enough, there was Rodrigo Mantle looking abashed and a little flighty. Without a word, the Yankee slugger pushed himself into the room and forcibly shut the door behind him.

"Let's do this," grunted the baseball player.

"Having second thoughts?" Garret rumbled.

"Of course I am!" Rodrigo snapped. "I love my wife!" Then his features turned into a wince. "But I really_need to fucking get off!" A deep, animalistic growl rose from his throat and he lunged forward, grasping Garret's pectorals. "And _fuck are you sexy! I've never said that about a man before but... fuuuck!"

Garret let out a soft rumble and shrugged off his jacket. "You think that's sexy? How about this?" He grasped his forearms and flexed his arms and chest. The fabric of his white, long-sleeved shirt gave way, groaning and splitting with a loud rip. Buttons went flying, popping free. One even struck Rodrigo square between the eyes and the Yankee staggered back in shock.

"Holy fuck..."

Smirking, Garret reached forward and pressed a finger against Rodrigo's supple, very kissable lips. "Nuh-uh. We're here to suck not fuck." He reached down and could feel Rodrigo's semi between those all-too-constraining slacks. "And I see you're definitely in the mood. So let's not waste time, shall we?"

The Yankee could only whimper in surrender. Garret swiftly undid his prey's belt and slipped down those black pants. A pair of white briefs greeted him, tented from the Latino dick steadily growing bigger and bigger within. Obliged to at least make this experience a little more pleasurable for the poor, conflicted Yankee, he leaned forward and nuzzled the silhouette of a cock against the white fabric. Rodrigo could only moan. His hands were frozen at his sides, as far away from Garret without looking like he was crucified. He began leaking and Garret indulged in a little lap through the briefs.

Satisfied at the taste, he pulled down Rodrigo's briefs. The heavy scent of need and manly musk hit him hard. Rodrigo really needed this. The eight inches of cut Latino meat was begging him to suck it and he didn't waste another second. He wrapped his lips around the offered dick, careful not to let any of his fangs scrape across the flesh. Rodrigo gasped loudly and his knees nearly gave out from underneath him but Garret kept him steady and from falling over. He lapped at the veiny flesh, long flat tongue stimulating every inch of it into feeding him the desired genetic slurry.

Rodrigo couldn't resist, not at this stage in the game and all his reservations went out the window. His strong hands seized the back of Garret's head and held him tightly against his crotch. Garret was sure to pull back though, drawing the tight ring of his lips up and down the baseball player's dick. With every lap, he got a blast of thickening precum. Rodrigo began thrusting in tandem and his moans turned into animalistic grunts as months of restraint came barrelling at the dam shattering it completely.

The baseball player let out a loud grunt and held down Garret's head against his thick, furry bush. Hot cum came rushing out of his testicles and shot out of his impressive length straight down Garret's throat. The wolf lapped it all up and was not at all surprised by the burst. The first time was always like this; quick with the guy practically unready for the immense orgasm. To Mantle's credit, he didn't scream out in ecstasy like most of the other guys Garret had gone down on. He got a good amount of seed down his throat and he swallowed every drop.

Rodrigo sighed softly and staggered back, seating himself down on the bed with a dazed look on his eyes. "Fuck, I needed that."

"Glad to be of service," Garret said, wiping his muzzle.

"Sorry I came so fast," muttered the Yankee, lowering his gaze in shame. "I usually last longer. Just... You know. Blue balls."

"There's always next time."

Rodrigo went rigid. "Whoa. This is a one-time thing. There isn't a 'next time'."

Garret gave the player a sly smirk. "I meant next time you cum."

The Yankee looked confused until Garret crawled over to him and ran his paws over the player's hairy thighs. Already, Garret could feel the heat rising up in Rodrigo's body. The deflating cock suddenly started to spring up again. Rodrigo's toes were even curling in anticipation.

"Whoa... bro. I mean I know I'm a stud but I can't cum twice like that so soo... ah..."

Garret silenced him by leaning forward and gently nipping at the Yankee's neck. Rodrigo moaned loudly and grasped the back of the wolf's thick, sinewy neck.

"Bro... no homo..."

"Nothing like that," cooed Garret seductively. He pressed his muzzle against Rodrigo's neck. "Just getting you in the mood."

One simple lick to the batter's ear and he could feel the heat radiating out of Mantle's dick like it was a super-heated carbon rod. With skilled hands and dexterity that belied just how big they were, he quickly unfastened the buttons of Rodrigo's shirt. The fact that his hot, sweating, Latino prey wasn't wearing a singlet beneath was actually a bit of a turn on. It gave Garret easy access to the light dusting of straight brown hair and chiselled pectorals that glistened with sweat. He pressed his tongue against Rodrigo's neck, lapping at the salty flesh and tracing the curves of his traps, down to the ridge of his defined collarbone and finally following the grain of his hairy chest. Rodrigo's breathing grew faster and faster. Each breath caused his pectorals to bounce up, tighten and shudder.

Garret curled one of his paws around the Yankee's dick. With it being so big given his size, Mantle was free to pretend that he was fucking a hole as his hips thrust into the vice that the wolf's fingers made. Hot streams of precum came pouring out of the eight-inch member. Mantle's balls jostled happily, slapping up against Garret's wrists with an eagerness that could only be likened to an enthusiastic puppy. Rodrigo was barely keeping himself upright and was paralysed with pleasure.

The big wolf's tongue traced lines down the copper-skinned Adonis' pectorals. Inch by inch, he drew closer and closer to the rather large roid gut. It had been the point of controversy for Mantle. Many accused him of drug use but in all the tests he always came out clean. Garret couldn't detect a trace of steroids in him either which was good. He wouldn't want Warren to be a user. His tongue ran over the curve of the Latino's belly, tracing the faint outlines of abdominal muscles along there and drawing circles around Mantle's outie bellybutton.

The batter's hand was digging into the back of his neck and eagerly drew him towards the aching cock that was still vigorously humping his paw.

"Oh my god...!" Mantle moaned. He still had a modicum of self-control and lifted a fist towards his lips, biting down on his knuckles to keep himself from screaming out in ecstasy. His eyes were so firmly shut that a few rather cute wrinkles were appearing around his eyes. "My dick... Fuck!"

Keeping a smile down, Garret pulled his paw away from Rodrigo's cock and leaned down towards the needy dick that was almost like a leaky faucet. He wrapped his muzzle around it just like before, nose pressed up against the curly pubes and chin just touching the practically-blue balls. His tongue slid down the length, teasing it, coaxing it to explode. Rodrigo was panting so hard and thrusting so desperately that the physical force of his eagerness translated through his dick. The eight-inch member surged forward a half inch, spurting a healthy load of precum directly down Garret's cock.

Mantle bit down on his fist so hard that he drew blood but that was not enough to keep his cock from erupting another half inch with a shower of cum that would've made any pornstar proud. Garret drank it all diligently as the seed poured down his throat. The first blast was definitely the thickest and had the most volume. The tearing Yankee bucked his hips a second later and the next blast came tumbling out with more force albeit with less mass. The third thrust was disappointingly dry.

Garret decided he'd fix that.

Rodrigo collapsed backwards into the bed, panting and with his legs twitching spasmodically. Garret gave the throbbing dick one last lick just to make sure he got every drop. Then he peeled his muzzle away and regarded the batter's injured hand. There was some blood but nothing too major. An idea sprang to his mind and he shuffled over to the bathroom and where he had last left his duffel bag. He reached into the 'empty' bag and pulled out a bandage.

Still mostly dazed from his second orgasm in less than fifteen minutes, Rodrigo barely paid him any mind as he gently took the batter's hand and gently licked the wounds. From any other wolf, that wouldn't have been sanitary but from an MCA equipped with NEXTs, his saliva had a different effect. Rodrigo's balls began to churn again, rapidly replacing the semen that it had just expending. Rodrigo moaned as his sex drive didn't seem to ebb even after two of the most blissful orgasms he had just had.

Garret kept the baseball player's mind off his aching cock and suspiciously growling balls by proceeding to wrap the bandages around his injured wrist.

"What are you doin'?" muttered Rodrigo, barely able to lift his head.

"People are you to ask why your hand is injured," said the grey-furred wolf. "You can just tell them that you confronted me as I left. Make you look like a big man."

"Oh... Thanks." He groaned loudly and slumped back into the bed. "Fuck... Hey... I know this is weird but... You think you could...?"

As Garret finished, he said, "One more time?"

"For the road?"

"Sure thing."

Mantle's dick didn't even soften after the last blast and Garret eagerly and happily wrapped his muzzle around the needy member now attached to a pair of bigger balls that stretched the Yankee's sack. He shut his eyes and focused his NEXTs to the job at hand. Rodrigo's cock needed to match the balls that he had just received and as his lips closed in around it, he could feel it thickening ever so slightly. Not enough to be obscene but certainly enough to give the man an ego boost. As he did so, the newly plumped balls went to work and began pumping precum down the already erect but still lengthening shaft.

Rodrigo wrapped both his hands around Garret's head, fingers eagerly digging into the wolf's crimson hair. He thrust eagerly, never losing any stamina and making Garret wonder if he really lacked lower body strength. The bed creaked loudly with each thrust as Rodrigo grew more and more desperate to get one final shot in. His sweat rolled off his muscled body, soaking into the sheets and filling the air with his musk. Garret dutifully sucked off the now ten-inch member, those huge balls slapping against his chin.

Rodrigo Mantle abruptly arched his back, mouth opening wide in a silent scream of ecstasy. Months of sexual frustration came pouring out in a tremendous, continuous stream of cum that left him in a near-catatonic state of bliss and physical ecstasy.

This was the orgasm Garret had been waiting for.

A seemingly unending stream of cum came pouring out of the thick, ten-inch dick, streaming down the wolf's muzzle like he was drinking straight from a tap. There were no brief moments of reprise between bursts, no gasps of breath or even jostling from the balls. It was like someone was squeezing the juices right out of Mantle's testicles, distilling his essence and sending it straight down Garret's throat.

Four minutes and thirty-nine seconds passed when the two were frozen in that position before the flood abruptly ended. Rodrigo collapsed back into the bad, gasping and with eyelids fluttering in exhaustion. Garret lapped up the last of the drops of cum before straightening. Rodrigo was fast asleep by the time he got to his feet.

He checked the time.

Nine fifty-two. It was time to go. Still with eight minutes ahead of schedule, he headed over to the customary desk and wrote Rodrigo a note.

'Hey Slugger,

That was fun. Be honest with your wife. Marriage is an equal commitment. You can't let her walk all over you for the sake of public appearances and she shouldn't have to constantly be on guard to keep away strangers like me.'

Garret paused for a second and mulled over what he was going to say next.

'But if you ever feel like relieving some extra stress, my name is Garret Holt. Hope the extra two inches will make you both happy.'

He placed the note quietly right next to the slumbering Rodrigo before grabbing his duffel bag and heading out, suit still ripped and with a slight tent in his slacks. It was a pity that he couldn't get off himself but sometimes, after being exposed to the extraordinary so many times, the bar got set pretty high and he only really started getting aroused at the final blast. Didn't mean he didn't have fun, though.

Just as he was entering the elevator and heading towards his car, his Monolith buzzed. It was SABLE again.

"You do realise that now Mantle is at a crossroads. The chances of him staying with his wife are only at 56% according to Alabaster_. The fact that you gave him an extra-large penis and testicles added to that."_

"I know," he responded with a shrug. "The guy clearly wasn't happy with his arrangement. I just gave him choices. And who knows, we might have another agent in the works here. Having a New York Yankee endorsing the Conglomerate might not be a bad thing."

"True. That you told him you were the one that gave him the extra endowment would actually help lure him to us. Good thinking. Alabaster will submit this to the Directorate for consideration."

"Thanks, SABLE."

He was taking off his torn shirt and tossing his discarded jacket into the back of his SUV before he headed off. A quick change of clothes in the dark parking lot later, he was driving off once more for the airport with his eyes set on North Carolina and his next target, Clinton Hardwood. At least this one wouldn't be so hard as Clinton was a frequent contact of his. It paid to have connections in his line of work. Good thing Hardwood wasn't one of those guys that asked questions.

He arrived at the airport twenty minutes later at ten-twenty on the dot. Though his flight was already boarding, he got his ticket and vaulted through airport security fast enough that he managed to find his seat before the plane took off. It was a good thing that the fur-only cabin was constantly squirted with anti-scent spray so that the elderly couple in the seats behind him didn't smell the reek of sex on him.

The flight was mostly uneventful and he was in North Carolina just a little after midnight. He made it to the apartment building that he had been given, finding the keys in his duffel bag. It was a simple one-bedroom place that was designed just so that he could waste some time before five in the morning when he would meet Freeman.

Garret was just starting to strip off his clothes when he heard the door open behind him. He smiled to himself as the moonlight shone through the windows, gently kissing his muscled frame. The fresh scent of sex wafted into his nostrils from the doorway.

"And here I was going to kick your ass for calling me out here in the middle of the night without any explanation," Clinton Hardwood said. The tall equine strode forward and wrapped his arms around Garret's waist. His fingers slipped into the waistband of the wolf's briefs, fondling the cock beneath. "But you know I can't resist that sexy body of yours."

He turned around, wrapping one muscled arm around the shoulders of the stallion. Clint wasn't a workhorse. His painted hide cling to his athletic frame which he meticulously maintained for his line of wore. Long, blonde hair tumbled from his head to cover his emerald green eyes in such a way that could be interpreted as either broody or rebellious. He possessed a sexy cleft chin that many found alluring especially when he smiled and his dimples appeared. His abdominal muscles were quite defined but nowhere near as bulbous or hard as Garret's. Though he stood taller than the wolf, his greatest asset was his 'third leg' which he often boasted he had to tuck into one of the legs of his pants.

One of Garret's gifts for many favours Clint had granted him over the years.

"So how much time do I have before you have to run off and do that mysterious thing you always do?" quipped the horse.

"You have until about four-thirty in the morning."

Clint cocked his head to the side, batting his eyes at him. "I get you for a whole three and a half hours?"

"It's been a while since I've been on duty. I'm taking it slow."

Clint smiled at him warmly and wrapped his arms around Garret's thick neck. "Then let's take it slow, stud."

As a pornstar, Clint Hardwood was an expert in reading the bodies of his partners. Even then, ever since meeting Garret, he had made it his mission to get the big wolf to cum. To date, no matter what he tried, Clint had always cum first and while he got Garret to get hard, he never got the wolf to orgasm let alone leak. Still, that didn't keep the horse from trying.

They collapsed into the bed a moment later, lips muzzles meshed together and tongues dancing with a sense of choreography despite the time since they had last met. Their bodies curled around one another, clothes flying off in different directions. Garret's toes curled in pleasure while Clint's hooves knocked against the headrest of the bed as they made love across the bed. The horse's _enormous_two-foot-long member became erect within moments, forcing them both to pull away from one another as the invading rod began slipping between Garret's massive pectorals. It had a slight curve to the right and the warm underside brushed up against Garret's nipple.

Clint slipped into familiarity as his thick, flared dick was compressed by the wolf's huge, furry pecs. His thrusting followed the same pattern it always did - pulling back up to his medial ring before pushing back. With such an enormous dick, it was easy for the throbbing flesh to crest the line of Garret's collarbone and slip into the wolf's muzzle. The former run-away teenager had always wanted to pec-fuck someone and this was just his fantasy come true. That rendezvous with Garret were as rare as a blue moon, it only made Clint all the more eager.

But as always, the first orgasm came quickly and Garret was quickly slurping down the gallons of cum that came pouring out of Clint's enormous balls. Not a single drop was spared from his hungry muzzle and when Clint had emptied himself into Garret, the equine shuffled around the bed. Garret immediately curled his arms around the horse to spoon with him.

He knew Clint and so he knew that the horse was unwilling to succumb to the temptations of afterglow. "How's work?" he asked.

"Same old, same old," answered Clint with a shrug. "Got on set, fucked a few guys, a few guys fucked me, went home. Got your call."

"Just once I wish you'd call me instead of the other way around," Garret chuckled. He softly breathed into Clint's ear. "Ever thought about what you'd do for the future? Unless you plan to do porn for your entire life."

The horse whinnied at him. "I thought I just wouldn't age like you."

Garret had plucked Clint off the streets at the tender age of eighteen when the equine's family had kicked him out right after graduation. A tough kid, Clint tried to make his way through life but was failing miserably. Without a college education, he couldn't get anywhere and he was too proud to beg. Someone in the Conglomerate was interested in him, however, and Garret was sent to turn his life around. That was ten years ago - at least to Clint - and now the twenty-eight-year-old was one of the most popular, richest and controversial gay-only pornstars out there predominantly because of his immense endowment. Many claimed the two-foot long member was fake. Others said it was CGI. That was, until, Clint went to a pornstar award show and whipped it out.

Garret still remembered the swell of pride in his chest when he had watched that event.

But there was also no denying that while Clint had grown older, Garret - at least physically - hadn't.

"You're smart enough to know that you're not like me," Garret said. Though he had to wonder why that was the case. It seemed rather odd that the Conglomerate would send him to change Clint's life like that without recruiting him.

"Just another one of your secrets," Clint sighed.

"Just like you've got your own," chuckled the wolf. 'Clint Hardwood' wasn't the horse's real name, after all. Garret didn't know what it was. The Conglomerate never told him.

"I'm pretty sure _this_isn't a secret," answered the pornstar, stroking his once-again-erect dick.

And so without further fanfare, they were at it again barely ten minutes after their first session. The night proceeded in pretty much the same fashion though with the breaks in between lengthening after each session. Clint would try his best to push Garret off the edge but no matter what he did, he would always cum first and slip into exhaustion. Garret diligently consumed every drop of cum that the horse offered for the next two orgasms as that was all he would need and he would need room for Tyson Freeman's seed as well.

He was even capable of taking all two feet of Clint's dick inside of him and while he did work up a sweat, he did not cum. He needed more than that.

Eventually, Clint fell into slumber around four in the morning. Garret let the equine slumber for about fifteen minutes before he gave him a light kiss on the cheek and started moving. The Conglomerate agent showered quietly before heading out in some running gear at four-thirty in the morning. He had what he needed from Clint.

Still, he had to thank Clint for his cooperation so he leaned down and gently kissed the equine's cheek. Only partially awake, Clint opened his eyes a crack and gave him a smile.

"I love you, Garret..."

The wolf's featured turned sullen as the horse fell back into slumber without hearing his answer. "I know, Clint. I know."

With that, he wrapped the blanket around Clint's sweaty, cum-stained form and headed out the door.

Now it was time for his third and last target before he had to rush back to Nebraska to Mosey Hills High School.

It was going to be a squeeze but he knew he could do it. After all, he had done this so many times before.

Even with a full day of work, social espionage and wild sex, Garret Holt still had enough energy to dash quickly a block or so down until he came to one particular street corner. There, he made an effort to jog in place. Already quite musky as is, the sweat and smell of sex that clung to his fur only intensified. Shirtless and with only his running shorts on, anyone who came close to him would have been repulsed by the cloud of odour that clung to him. Of course, that didn't stop one Tyson Freeman who came jogging in from his left right on time for his morning run.

Freeman was a 6'4'' chocolate-skinned athletic man with the perfect build for an Olympic runner. A gold medallist, Tyson was just twenty-three years of age and at the peak of fitness. His body was a different kind of fit compared to someone like Rodrigo Mantle. His muscles were tightly packed, lean and with the most focus down on his legs which was looking like a clump of densely collected bulges pressing up against his ebony skin. All of his frame was supported by enormous feet with custom-made shoes from Adidas which sponsored him.

Next to Garret, Tyson looked rather plain but there was still something the wolf wanted from the runner.

The light at the corner turned green and the two of them were instantly bolting down the street. Garret's legs were longer so he pulled a little ahead of Tyson after giving the man a curt nod. The wind blew in just the right way that it wafted his scent right into Tyson's nose. His keen ears perked, Garret kept tabs on the dark-skinned athlete to make sure he didn't lose his prey. The irony was not lost on him that he was running from Tyson when in reality, Tyson was his target.

As they came to another street corner and waited for the light to change, Freeman came up beside him, panting but in such a way that he was also taking in as much of Garret's scent as he could.

"Nice day, ya?" Freeman asked.

That was one of Tyson quirks. He tended to end every question with 'ya'. No one really knew where he picked it up from. His proud parents certainly didn't but it was something that both made him endearing and memorable. Garret thought that would be a nice thing for Warren to pick up.

"Sure is," Garret said with a pleasant smile.

The light turned green and Garret jogged forward. He kept his smile upon feeling Tyson's eyes following his broad, exposed back as it moved away. Naturally, the runner chased him, drawn by his allure and odour. He turned a corner, away from Tyson's usual route and the runner followed him.

One they came to another to another corner, Garret said, "You seem to be having a bit of trouble there." He made a point of looking directly at Tyson's crotch. The runner glanced away and subtly adjusted himself.

"It's nothing."

"Want some help with that?"

And with those words, Garret had ensnared the Olympic gold medallist. He led the way into a secluded alleyway where there was little to no chance of anyone catching them. He was pulling down Tyson's red, white and blue running shorts and wrapping his muzzle around the runner's long, veiny, uncut dick.

It only took a few licks and gentle sucks before Tyson was cumming right down his muzzle.

The first orgasm was _always_like that.

*******

After an exhausting day of having facts, equations and 'life skills' crammed into his head, Warren Bell had almost forgotten about his appointment with Coach Holt and headed straight home. As with every passing second of his life, however, his dream of becoming a star baseball player came back to remind him of the commitment he had made. So he went to the school locker rooms and knocked upon the new Coach's door.

"Come in," came the deep rumble - like thunder - from the other side.

Warren stepped in and was assaulted by that same smell of wet dog. Since the previous day, Coach Holt had actually erected a sort of bar at the far end of the office behind his desk. The big wolf was once again shirtless and had his back turned to Warren. It looked like he was mixing some sort of drink.

"You're a little late, Warren," Coach Holt observed.

"Ah sorry, Coach Holt," Warren murmured, lowering his gaze. "I sort of forgot about our appointment."

"Not to worry." The Coach's voice was light, friendly and forgiving. "Change takes some time to settle in." A loud rattling noise filled the office as Coach Holt seemed to shake what appeared to be a protein shake bottle. "Alright, so before we begin..." The big wolf turned towards Warren with the thick, white slurry in his paws. "... drink this."

Protein shakes. Warren had tried many times to get into drinking them when he had his bursts of inspiration to exert some effort into physical activity. Even when he got fired up to pick up baseball under Coach Dempsey, he could never quite stomach the foul-tasting concoction. It was a new day, however. A new coach. Maybe the slush he was being offered wouldn't be so bad.

He took the shake bottle. In Coach Holt's paws, it looked normal but he had to hold it in both of his hands just to keep it stead. Suddenly, the liquid inside looked so daunting. The quite, bubbly mixture only came up to half of the bottle but that must've equated to at least half a gallon! Just looking at it brought up memories of a foul-tasting, powdery brew that started caused his stomach to shrivel up in protest.

But he had made a commitment. There was no backing down now.

Trying to keep his expression as still as enthusiastic as possible, he tipped the shake bottle towards his mouth and gulped down the mass as fast as he could. It had been his hope that he could guzzle the slush quickly so that he wouldn't be exposed to the taste. That would've worked if he had been drinking from a normal bottle but when he was using Coach Garret Holt's extra-big shaker, there was no escaping it. He choked a little when his tongue registered the faintly salty taste, the milky texture and offending musky smell. Coach Holt's eyes were on him like a pair of blue lasers; that warm, encouraging smile gave him strength to curb his disgust and swallow the shake despite his stomachs constant threats of throwing it all back up.

He gasped once the last drop tumbled down his throat and set down the shake bottle.

"Good job, Warren," Holt laughed. "You're a lot tougher than I first thought. You actually downed _everything_in one go!"

"I... I try my best," Warren answered, offering a shaky grin.

"Good." The big wolf reached towards the crate of sports equipment he had and pulled out a batting helmet and a baseball bat. They were of a brand that Warren had never seen before. Solid black with silvery linings. "Here you go, son. These are yours."

Warren regarded the equipment with great trepidation. "Uh Coach Holt... I don't know how to say this but..."

"I've read the file Dempsey kept on you. I know what it is like back home for you and trust me, this is no trouble at all."

The young, blonde-haired man flinched. His pale cheeks began to turn just as bright red, hiding the freckles across his face. "Erm... Uh..."

Coach Holt rested a huge paw on his shoulder. "It's okay, son. I get it. I'm here to help. This isn't coming at a cost to you. No extra fees. I'm giving these to you. And if you want, you can keep them here so that your dad doesn't blow up at you for spending his money or your brother doesn't see it and sell it."

Disbelief was the least of the emotions Warren was experiencing. Most prevalent of them all was an intense sense of gratitude. He threw his arms around Coach Holt's broad waist - not even being able to link his hands.

"Thank you, Coach! This means so much to me!"

"That's why I'm here, Warren," said the wolf, patting his back gently. "Now come on. Let's get some batting practice in. I want to see your form."

Careful not to let the Coach see his tears of joy, Warren slipped on the helmet that seemed a little too large for him but he didn't much care. He never had his own helmet before let alone a bat. The school supplies were always worn and the helmets tended to smell like bad shampoo and Warren was always scared of getting lice. With a bounce in his step, he followed Coach Holt out of the office, through the locker rooms and out into the school's baseball field. Though the school may have been situated in a small country town, that just meant that there was more space for various sporting fields albeit they were rough and mostly makeshift. The baseball field was really just a flat section beside the school. The diamond's lines were mostly made from the worn paths players over the years had taken and the bases were so old that they were almost buried into the ground itself. The only discernible feature was really the pitcher's mound and perhaps the old, weathered, creaking stands off to the right.

Coach Holt, carrying a duffel bag, set up next to the pitcher's mound and told Warren to take up position as the batter. Warren did as he was told. He set himself up like he had seen his hero, Rodrigo Mantle done many times before. A fire burned in his chest; a fire to impress this amazing wolf that believed in him.

Garret Holt plucked a baseball from his duffel bag and a baseball glove. As Holt began to wind up, Warren realised the wolf was only wearing a pair of tight, red shorts and little else. When he pulled back, Warren caught sight of the Coach's white and red sneakers hiding those enormous, feet. The sun glinted off his perfectly combed fur that was incapable of hiding his thick, bulging calves decorated by vine-like veins. Every muscle on the Coach's thighs were perfectly accentuated. There was no line that just faded off into fat. Warren gawked at just how tightly the Coach's clothes shorts clung to his frame. Not a single inch of free space was given between the latex and fur. He was too distracted by the wolf's sculpted legs that the baseball just flew right by him.

"You okay, son?" Warren exclaimed, waving a thick, muscular arm in his direction.

Warren found his throat suddenly dry. "Uh... Yeah! Sorry! I'll focus, Coach Holt!"

"Alright! Here comes another one! Remember to swing! Doesn't matter if you hit it or not. I just want to see your form."

He nodded and tried to focus more on the ball than the hunky specimen of manliness in front of him. Unfortunately, that was impossible. His eyes were drawn away from the ball in the Coach's paw. With such a big paw and thick fingers, the ball was completely engulfed in grey fur that was dusted lightly by coppery red. Warren found strange feeling bubbling inside of him as he followed the curves of the Coach's forearms up to his bulging biceps. The red hair over the Coach's body was like a brilliant aura that glimmered in the sun making him almost appear godly. His eyes traced the lines of muscle over to bodybuilding lupine's shoulders. Realising he was about to lock gazes with his Coach, he veered his eyes off course but could not deny the magnetism of the wolf's amazing body. His gaze was instead drawn towards Holt's massive pectorals and the bright pink nipples that stuck out over the mountains of his chest muscles. He drooled as he watched those muscles move...

... move!

Coach Holt had thrown the ball.

In desperation, he swung the bat but missed the ball entirely.

His adoration was replaced by embarrassment.

"Are your eyes the same?" Holt shouted.

"Huh?"

"The grade of your glasses." The wolf pointed towards his own eyes. "Is the left and right the same?"

Warren shook his head. "My right is weaker than my left."

Coach Holt seemed to be lost in thought for a moment. "Okay." The wolf approached and Warren felt a strange heat rising up inside of him particularly towards his groin. He had never felt this way before and with every step Garret Holt took towards him he felt desperate to run in the opposite direction. But there was some primal magnetism from the Coach that kept him in place.

Holt positioned himself behind Warren and gently took his hands in his large paws. "Relax your grip a little. There you go." Holt's paws moved down his arms. "Keep your arms bent like this... Good. Your shoulders..." Those paws, radiating heat and power, moved towards Warren's shoulders. Warren could barely hear anything over the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears. "... keep them locked until the last moment. Yep. Now your hips..."

Warren's eyes bulged as those very same paws moved towards his hips, so close to his crotch - so close to the throbbing dick that he was clad was hidden by his baggy pants. He just hoped that Holt wouldn't notice.

"One leg in front of the other. You want to be able to follow through with your entire body when you hit the ball. Put the full force of your frame into the hit not just your arms. Just like that."

Then one of Holt's fingers brushed up against Warren's erection and the young bespectacled human went rigid.

"Too stiff there, son," Holt said. "Relax a little. You want to explode at the last moment. Don't wind yourself up or you'll lose it." Holt beamed at him with that dreamy, warm smile of his. "In fact, when you're about to hit the ball, I want you to yell."

"Yell?" Warren repeated, barely able to form cogent words.

"Yeah. I want to hear you roar!" Holt said. "Everything in your body erupting in that moment, giving it your all. Let the beast loose!"

"Uh... Okay..." Warren croaked. His mind swirled. With Coach Holt so close to him, he could smell the wolf's perpetually musky scent and it was stirring things in his loins that made his legs weak. It took all his strength to keep himself standing.

Coach Holt strode back towards the pitcher's mound, his strong, muscled legs offering Warren the perfect view of how his bubble butt shifted and tightened with ever movement. "Alright," exclaimed the wolf. "I'm going to pitch to you again. Get ready."

The young man nodded, his throat perpetually dry as he readied himself. As much as he tried to focus on the bat in his hands, the bat between his legs was the one that was occupying most of his focus. Sweat was starting to pour down his brow and his breath was causing his glasses to fog over. That came to his benefit as he was momentarily barred from seeing Coach Holt's impressive body moving in the afternoon sun but at the same time, he could barely see the ball. He could only make out the wolf's vague silhouette as he hurled the ball.

"Ya..." Warren cried, swinging the bat. He didn't feel anything impact the stick of wood though he did feel his dick throb closer to the verge of orgasm.

"Come on, Warren! You can do better than that!" Holt shouted from the mound. "Let the beast loose! All the frustration you felt over not getting anywhere! No matter how many protein shakes you chug, how much you work out, you can't put on a single pound of muscle!"

He grimaced and brought his bat back up to where he had been a second ago, remembering Holt's advice. Those words stung deep and started the flood of emotions that bubbled up in his chest. Though he had only been trying to improve for the past few months, he _should_have started to see some improvement. Even maybe just a bit of tanning from all the times he spent out practicing in the field with the 'varsity team' such as it were.

Holt threw another lazy ball towards him.

"Urgh!" Warren grunted. A swing and a miss... again.

That frustration grew bigger like a fiery cancer in his chest. It didn't help that his dick was only throbbing harder and harder for attention.

"Closer that time," shouted Holt. "One more."

Warren was panting now. His mind swam. If he hadn't been such a twig of a man, maybe he would have a better chance at being a star player. If he wasn't living in the middle of nowhere, maybe colleges would offer him the scholarship he dearly needed. No matter how good he got, no college would go out all the way to Mosey Hills to pick him up from the crowd. Even a letter of recommendation wouldn't do much but put him on a college's radar and even then, he'd be tiniest blip amongst a sea of superstars.

"Rrrrah!" he shouted, swinging one more time.

Again, he missed.

All his dreams, all his hopes, it all came down to this. If he could just hit the ball. If he could just get rid of his raging boner!

"Grrrrrrraaah!"

Another ball gone by, another miss.

All the while, his cock just kept aching for release and with every cry, it only grew more and more insistent. Warren could barely keep his eyes open and though every ounce of his being wanted to drop the bat and furiously masturbate on the spot, he couldn't let Coach Holt - let himself - down. Not now!

"Here we go," Coach Holt warned. "Last one. Make it count, kid!"

The ball was thrown and Warren swung with all his might.

"Raaaaaaaaaaawr!"

The cry came with a sudden burst from his loins that he was totally unprepared for. Warren Bell shuddered where he stood, unable to stifle his scream of ecstasy. Hot cum came flooding out of his dick like a rush of water over his burning frustration. The bat slipped out from between his fingers and fell to the floor. His knees gave out from beneath him and he collapsed, barely able to hold himself up on his hands. The weariness of afterglow began to lay a haze over his mind and he could barely keep his eyes closed.

He became aware of the strong paws that gripped his shoulder and pulled him to his feet.

"Are you alright, son?' Coach Holt asked.

Warren blinked several times, momentarily dazed and confused. "Uh... yeah... Sorry, Coach. I was just... Just a little tired, that's all. Long day."

Coach Holt gave him a reassuring smile. "Alright then. That's enough for today. Hit the showers. I'll bring you your post-workout shake."

With a mind that felt like it was made of foam, Warren could only nod and follow Coach Holt off the field and back into the locker rooms. It felt like he was walking through a dream with his limbs acting autonomously. He felt like he had blacked out because the next thing he knew, he was stripping off his clothing, tossing them onto the floor and stepping into the communal showers. He had never done that before. Even after practice with Coach Dempsey, he had always foregone the shower at school and returned home to get cleaned up. But for the moment, he was too tired to care. The cooling water that cascaded from the showerhead rebooted his mind.

He looked down at his five and a half-inch dick. He was still sporting a semi strangely enough and he couldn't understand what had happened.

"What's going on with me?" he whispered to himself.

That same sense of self-consciousness that prevented him from bathing in school crept in. Once every inch of him was vaguely wet, he hurried out of the shower, grabbed one of the school's towels and dried himself. He was back in his baggy pants and equally baggy T-shirt by the time Coach Holt was emerging from his office with another bottle full of the protein shake.

"Here you go, Warren," Holt said, offering him the shake. "Drink up. When you're done, I'll drive you home."

"You don't have to do that for me, Coach," Warren said, not even thinking twice of taking the bottle and starting to down the brew.

"I insist," said the kindly wolf. "It's getting late, after all. I don't want any harm to come to you."

It took a full minute for Warren to drink all of the brew. Still as awful as he remembered it. "Thanks, Coach Holt. I appreciate it."

Garret Holt gave him an encouraging smile. "Any time, son. I'm always here for you."

*******

Coach Holt's truck was big and rather fancy. It was sleek, black and had seats that weren't quite leather but had the sheen of it but was comfortable and not at all sticky. Warren didn't recognise the company that made it but he didn't ask about it. He kept mostly silent throughout the entire trip predominantly because he was ashamed of what his new Coach would think of his home.

As they rounded the corner to his street, he could already see the squalor that he lived in. The front garden was a mess of overgrown weeds, browned grass and discarded, rusty objects that had no right being out in front. There was a tricycle that he couldn't even remember every playing with as well as an old washing machine. The path to the front door was completely hidden by the labyrinth of rust and junk. To his dismay, his dad's mismatched sedan sat in the driveway. It used to have a white coating but five years ago, the left rear door fell off and his dad had it replaced with a red one. The trunk had bullet holes in it when Brysen Bell had gotten drunk and fired at it with his handgun causing the police to come over. The front hood was completely rusted over. What happened to it was a mystery. One day, Brysen had just returned home and there it was, rusted.

"This is it," Warren said softly, offering a shy, wry smile in Coach Holt's direction. "Thanks for the drive up, Coach Holt. I'll see you tomorrow?"

As fat would have it, it was at that point that the front door opened and out stepped Brysen Bell. The construction worker may have once had an intimidating build but now he had a belly bigger than his hips covered in patchy, curly, blonde hair. What made matters worse was the fact that Brysen wasn't wearing any pants. The good news was that his belly fat was so prominent that his cock was hidden. Admittedly the head of his circumcised dick poked out of the unkempt, dirty-blonde bush. The only piece of clothing he wore was the smelly, stained singlet.

"About fucking time you got home!" roared Brysen. He staggered towards them. Instead of using the tried and true path through the maze of discarded goods, he decided to go right through and that got him momentarily stuck between a toppled over bookshelf and a dryer.

"Oh great... he got fired... Again," Warren muttered miserably.

"Again?" Coach Holt asked, concern in his voice.

"It happens every month or so," he muttered ashamedly. "Dad does something stupid at work. The foreman fires him. He'll get back there in a week or so when the foreman, a friend of his, takes pity on him."

"That's not a very sustainable work ethic."

Warren kept his mouth shut as his father stumbled up to the door. Fury bubbled up inside of him at the sight of his dad's greasy hands tarnishing the beautifully maintained sides of Coach Holt's truck.

Brysen squinted in Holt's direction, his beady little green eyes almost lost in the fats of his cheeks. What little hair he may have had left was gone from the top of his head but he didn't have the shame to cover it up and just let his hair grow wild and frizzy around the rims of his head. "Who the fuck are you and what the hell are you doing with my son? You ain't one of them paedophiles, are you?"

Warren grimaced and turned away in shame. He wanted to apologise on his father's behalf but he couldn't muster the words or the strength.

"I assure you sir," Garret Holt said with infinite patience. "I have only your son's best interests at heart." He held out one of his massive paws. "I'm Warren's newest coach. Garret Holt."

His drunken dad didn't even reach out to take the offered gesture of peace. Instead, Brysen snorted and spat a wad right into Holt's face! Warren was completely aghast and shrivelled up against the door. He wondered - and perhaps even fantasised - that Holt would slam one mighty fist into his father's face and break his nose.

"Fucking mutt!" snarled Brysen. "Get out of town! We don't like your kind here!"

Despite the offense, Holt remained calm. The big wolf just reached over to the dashboard where he had some tissues and wiped the saliva that was slowly crawling down his cheek. "Be that as it may, I have a job here and I intend to see it through despite your protests."

"Like fuck you will! I'll run you out of town! I'll go to my fucking senator! I'm one of his fucking constituents, you know!"

"I'm sure you are but you are also clearly drunk. How about..." Holt reached behind his seat into that ever-present duffel bag and fished out a can of beer. "... you take this, go back inside and stop flashing your genitals in the eyes of your neighbours. I'm sure after having just lost your job, the last thing you'd like to deal with is an indecent exposure ticket."

Brysen glanced around and there were a few curtains that flicked closed beneath his suspicious gaze. "Fucking parasites..." He cracked the beer open and waddled back towards the house, oblivious to his nudity.

Once he was out of earshot range, Warren bowed his head in apology towards Coach Holt. "I'm _so_sorry, Coach Holt..."

"I've dealt with worse," the wolf said with a gentle smile. "Just get some rest. You'll need it for tomorrow."

Warren thanked his generous coach one more time before heading out of the truck and into his house. It was not at all that surprising that there was a sea of discarded beer cans on the floor and some pizza boxes. Clearly, his dad had decided to stress-eat again after having lost his job. He made sure to avoid the lounge room where Brysen parked himself in front of the smelly, browned couch and had the television blaring on at full blast.

Instead, he moved towards the basement and gently knocked. There was some loud shuffling on the other side followed by the hurried scurrying of someone coming up the stairs. Several locks were undone before the door cracked open ever so slightly. A single green eye poked through the darkness.

"Is... Is it safe?" Tanner Bell whispered. His voice was raspy, thin and that one eye was severely bloodshot. Warren wanted to believe that his brother wasn't cooking meth in the basement again but he couldn't muster the strength to argue with him.

"Dad's got a beer," Warren answered softly.

The door shut and a few more locks were undone. Then it sprang open fully. Tanner Bell didn't cross the threshold of the basement and recoiled at the light. He would've been taller than Warren if it weren't for his permanently hunched figure. Like his younger brother, Tanner was all bones and his hair was frizzy and long, hanging past his head in bands and strings. Eyes were sunken and bloodshot but Warren was fairly sure it wasn't because he was cooking. His left eye was half-closed and the bruise was starting to appear there.

"Dad hit you," Warren stated.

"Said I was using again," Tanner replied with a shaky smile. "Heard a whistle. Thought I was cooking."

He fixed his brother with a severe stare. "You weren't though, were you?"

Tanner shook his head furiously. "No. No. Of course not. Not ever again. Learned my lesson." He beamed at Warren, showing crooked, yellowed teeth. "You want to see what I've been doing?"

Too tired for any excuses or surprises, Warren shook his head. "No thanks. I'm going to my room. Have you eaten?"

"Dad ordered pizza."

Which meant that Brysen probably ate almost everything and Tanner snuck out a few slices while he wasn't looking. That's how their life was. Brysen was the lazy, slothful asshole that rules their pile of squalor and he and Tanner were little more than scavenging rats trying to get themselves feed. Little wonder that he was still a twig. Though he hoped that would all change under Coach Holt's tutelage.

Much to his relief, there was an entire of pizza that had been left alone and it seemed that his father had missed. He swiped it up before Brysen finished with his current beer and headed into his room. Unlike the rest of his house, his room he attempted to keep as a sanctuary of sorts. It was clean, organised and had as much natural lightning as possible. The only place in the entire world that he could lock himself away and just be himself.

He slumped onto the bed and sighed softly. The day had certainly been very eventful though he was ashamed that he hadn't made any sort of progress. Though he told himself it was his first day with Coach Holt, it was another day closer to the deadline before college.

Not that he could actually pay for college...

That was why he needed that letter of recommendation, it would be the only thing that would give him some chance of getting a scholarship. The moment he got to college, it would mean he wouldn't have to deal with his alcoholic father or his drug-addled brother.

He could feel the bile bubbling up in his chest again and he decided to quickly down the pizza and get a start on his homework. Warren parked himself onto his desk, the box full of semi-cold pizza sitting right next to him and his homework splayed out before him. After a few equations, he found himself grasping at the greasy box and was surprised at even himself that he had finished the entire pizza himself without even realising it. A quick check at the time and he realised that he had been at it for quite a few hours. It was already ten in the evening.

His dad didn't go to sleep until well into the morning and God only knows what Tanner was up to. So Warren packed up his books, making sure that they were properly organised, before heading towards the bathroom. He brushed his teeth, washed his face and did everything that was part of his ritual before bed. Brysen was yelling at something on the television so he didn't notice his own son bidding him a good night.

Warren slumped into his bed, hoping - praying - that his next big chance would come with Coach Garret Holt.

*******

Garret had identified one of the major blockers to accomplishing his mission and that blocker's name was Brysen Bell. The moment he had left the Bell residence, he had brought up his Monolith and contacted SABLE.

"Bring up everything you have on Brysen Bell."

"Purpose?" answered SABLE. It was customary to ask. Agents had the potential to cause great change in any given world that they entered. Information could be a catalyst for that change. SABLE and the AIs had to make sure that none of the Agents abused this power.

"He's Warren's father and a major blocker to his development. Abusive, brash and a cancer to the boy's growth. Warren wants to go to a college out of state and become a baseball star but if he has baggage like Brysen, he's either going to be stuck here unable to do leave or it's going to bite him in the ass later. Plus familial ties could be a detriment to Conglomerate recruitment."

"Confirmed."

One a second passed before SABLE displayed all the information on Brysen that she had obtained across the screen of his Monolith. As Warren had described, Brysen had been in and out of the same job for the past fifteen years. Tanner and Warren were born out of wedlock. Neither he nor his wife had ever had the money for an actual marriage and they kept putting it off until five years into their marriage when Tanner was five and Warren was a meagre three, Katrina Marsh just up and left. According to SABLE, she was currently in Florida with some retired geriatric living it up on his money. Brysen spiralled into alcoholism and depression which eventually translated into abuse towards his sons.

It was hard to get mad at the man given all that's happened to him.

The new information made Garret reconsider his options. His keen ears and eyes picked up movement within the house. A figure slipped out from one of the windows. Too tall to be Warren and too skinny to be Brysen. It could only be Tanner.

"What's going on here, _SABLE?"_he asked.

"Despite his repeated pleas of innocence, Tanner Bell is in fact selling drugs on the side. He does it out of a sense of duty, however."

That puzzled Garret and he regarded the solid, black phone with confusion. "Duty? Does he have some form of customer loyalty program or something?"

"Quite the contrary. He despises his customer base as they effectively hold his deeds over his head and constantly threaten to expose him to the police and thus put more financial strain on his family. They pay him half the market value of the drugs that he produces. All that money goes to maintaining the meagre living that he is forced into."

A bitterness began to well up inside Garret's chest. Despite all the Conglomerate's powers and capabilities, it was disheartening to know that there were families like the Bells that were stuck in limbo until they died or something broke the delicate equilibrium that they found themselves trapped in.

Good thing then that he was there to change things.

"I'll deal with Tanner at a later date. Tonight, it's about Brysen."

Garret got out of his truck and swiftly snuck through the trash heap that was covering the Bells' front yard. He approached the fence that separated the front and the backyards and easily vaulted over it. The rear of the house was stacked with just as much rubbish if not more. The garbage smelled like it hadn't been taken out for weeks and some rats scurried away from him and back into their hiding places. Despite his bulk, he managed to creep through the yard without being detected.

Warren's room was at the very rear and as he quietly peeked through the blinds, he noticed his primary target on the lone bed. The bedroom was quite clean and well-maintained; likely a coping mechanism against the chaos of the rest of the world. Garret took note of that and smiled softly to himself as Warren's hips bucked with orgasm.

Quietly as ever, he moved towards the rear door. It was locked. At least Brysen that much sense. Against an Agent, however, a primitive key-based lock was not enough to stop him. He reached down into his shorts, seizing his cock and giving it a little squeeze. On his command, a bit of his precum poured into his paw, little more than a dollop. As he pulled it out into the air, the goo shifted over the leathery pawpads, solidifying and reshaping into the shape of a blank key. It was easy enough to slip the ever-shifting mess into the keyhole and allow it to mould into the key needed. A simple turn of the doorknob later and he was quietly sneaking into the house.

Brysen Bell was shouting at something on the television screen and it was a wonder that Warren ever managed to get any sleep. But that served Garret well enough. He entered the lounge room where Brysen was roaring at some late-night show, some sort of reality TV thing. The drunk oaf hadn't even noticed Garret standing there until the big wolf positioned himself right in front of the television.

Brysen actually arched his neck to the left to try to see around Garret and only after he realised he couldn't see around the wolf's thick thighs did he register something was wrong here.

"How did you get into my house!?" snarled the tubby drunkard. "The fuck do you want?"

Holt smirked confidently. "For you to change."

Brysen immediately took offence to that and started to get out of his chair. "If you got an issue with my parenting -"

Garret shoved him roughly back into the soiled, smelly sofa. "I've got an issue with your parenting, your alcoholism, language, attitude and heartless approach for to your sons' futures."

Perhaps it was the beer in his blood or because he honestly didn't like the idea of anyone coming into his home can calling him on his lacklustre parenting but Brysen puffed out his hairy chest and snarled at Holt. "They're my sons. I make them do whatever the fuck I want. You ain't gonna make me change that by marching up here and telling me what I can and can't do."

"You misunderstand," Holt said, sharp blue eyes narrowing. "That's not exactly the kind of 'change' I was referring to."

Lightning fast, the big wolf seized the sides of Brysen's head and pulled the man towards him. Their lips met and Holt's tongue invaded Brysen's mouth. All the shock of the moment was instantly addled by the copious amount of alcohol the drunk had consumed. Coupled with the sudden rise of his dick, he found himself beyond caring. Garret used his immense size to shove Brysen further into the sofa, positioning his huge thighs on either side of the sofa for further leverage and making sure that Brysen could feel his massive dick stirring in front of him.

"What... the... fuck...?" Brysen moaned.

Garret, his paws still on either side of Brysen's head, forced the man to look directly into his eyes. "Don't think. Just listen."

A soft murmuring response came from between Brysen's lips, a vague acknowledgement. Garret made a mental note to tell SABLE that his new hypnosis-based NEXT - was working very well.

"Here's how things are going to play out," said the towering, muscled wolf. "I'm going to tell you exactly what you're going to do. Then you're going to do it. Got that?"

Brysen could only nod. His eyes were focused, intense, cutting through the haze of alcohol with Garret squarely in his sights. There was nothing he could do against the powerful force of the Agent's NEXTs.

"Good." Garret decided to start with something simple. "Turn up the volume so that no one can hear us."

Without blinking or even taking his eyes off Garret, Brysen reached over to the remote and immediately pulled the volume up to full blast. Even with the little bar maxed out, it wasn't overwhelming. The television was very old, after all. Garret could see that. Brysen had gotten it the first day that Katrina had announced she was pregnant. He had hoped to make her as comfortable and got the TV for her so that she could just sit down and watch it all day. Ironic that it was now Brysen that was nearly immobile in front of it.

"Take off my shorts," Garret ordered. Brysen's hands began to move. "With your teeth."

"What...?" began the hypnotised male. "But...?" Despite these protests, he was already leaning forward and catching the strings of Garret's shorts between his crooked, yellowed teeth. He struggled with them, tugging and pulling but eventually breaking the knot free. This forced Brysen's forehead to press up against Garret's solid abdominals and the big wolf had to mentally tell himself not to get too hard or he might poke out the man's eye.

Brysen managed to tug down at Garret's shorts on the front to reveal that the wolf had gone commando that night. A hot, musky wave of lupine pheromones hit him square in the face. Brysen coughed and gagged.

"Breathe it all in," ordered Garret. "Let it fill your lungs. Nice deep breaths."

Unable to do otherwise, Brysen did as he was told, breathing in the heavy musk and being infected by yet another one of Garret Holt's NEXTs. The former construction-worker's eyes fluttered as a deep warmth began building inside of him. Even without truly seeing, he managed to find the edges of Garret's shorts and pull the garment further down until they freely exposed the big wolf's big, grey, furry sheath and his tight, muscled rump.

Garret straightened and got off the couch, knowing he would no longer need to restrain Brysen at this stage. He pulled down his shorts, just leaving him in the tight, white shirt that hugged every part of his torso perfectly. Warren's drunken, fat father slumped back into the chair, unable to do anything but keep breathing in more and more of the special pheromones that Garret kept producing and that the wolf continued to order into the man's lungs.

The muscled high school coach examined Brysen from head to toe again. He couldn't change the man too drastically. Not yet anyway but he could certainly have fun with him.

"Let's start with that awful hair of yours," Garret grunted, reaching forward and running his palm over Brysen's bald patch. "You look like a fucking monk."

Still drunk but utterly under the wolf's control, Brysen spoke with a slur. "I look like a fucking monk..."

"Get rid of the rest of that hair. You're bald. It makes you tough. You maintain it too. You shave your head at least every three days."

A stupefied smile crossed Brysen's lips even as his utterly focused eyes fell on Garret's dick. "I'm bald. I shave my head every three days." As he said this, the bushes of dirty blonde hair clinging to the sides of his head began falling off. A snowstorm of hairs dropped onto his shoulders, accelerating rapidly until he was no longer left with a single head of hair on his bald head.

Then the secondary effects of Garret's NEXTs took affect; Brysen began concocting his own reality around the suggestions, making them his.

"I started shaving my head when Kristina left. Fucking bitch took five years of my life. Wanted to make myself a new man. Loved the look. Kept it. Made me look tough. Ain't gonna take pity from no one."

Garret had to admit that was a pretty hot attitude to take but he could also see that sort of attitude starting to impact the reality around him and particularly the boys. A new hole appeared in the wall where Brysen had punched it when aiming for Tanner's face. Broken glass was added to the discarded beer bottles and pizza boxes. That had to change before more damage was done to everyone else or the changes grew out of control.

"You love your sons," he commanded. "They're your greatest treasure. No one else compares. You'll do anything for them and would never hurt them." Then he quickly reconsidered that. "Except when you wrestle with them."

Brysen's dumb smile faded. "No one hurts my sons. I'll protect them with everything I have. I'll provide for them. Keep them safe! I want them to be big and strong like me. I used to be on the wrestling team, you know."

That began stabilising reality a little more even as some changes began to creep onto Brysen's body. Those flabby arms quivered like they were made of constantly jiggling gelatine. Muscles tightened beneath the layers of fat, growing bigger and bigger. The humiliating man-boobs that looked like half-melted white chocolate drops rose up and lost their droopy shape to become a firm square that was barely visible beneath the flab and thick, curly hair. At the very least his nipples weren't pointing in opposite directions and straight down anymore.

"Do something about that scraggly beard of yours," Garret ordered.

"Scraggly? Fuck. I don't got hair on my head anymore but I still got it on my face. I got a fucking man's beard."

And as he said it, the patchwork of hair and oddly blank patched on his face that made it look like Brysen had lost a fight with a razor began to fill in. The unkempt look evened out. Stray hairs became perfectly maintained. Patches grew thick and full. Not a single layer of skin was left across neck, cheeks and around his lips. Each hair was exactly the same length and seemed to cover one another more like a layer of fur than just a beard. The edges were perfectly cut as well so there were no stray hairs that encroached over the border between flesh and hair.

Garret was rather pleased with that. Brysen was starting to look very sexy. He was also growing rather hard from the experience. This was the kind of thing that really turned him on. His own doggy dick was starting to fill out his thick sheath with the deep red tip starting to slip out of the furry pouch.

"That job, that construction job," he said, "it's toxic for you. You can do better. You have to do better for the sake of your sons." A thought entered his mind and he began to formulate a plan, a narrative. "Warren is going to be a big star in the future. But he'll be focused on performing. He needs someone to manage his career and look out for what's best for him."

"I can do that!" Brysen exclaimed.

"I know you can." As a reward for his eagerness, Garret said, "Let's get rid of a little of this, shall we?" He reached down and grabbed a bit of Brysen's belly fat. As he did so, Warren's father moaned. The hunk of flesh between his hands vibrated loudly and shrank away. "Let's put it all in that ass of yours."

The man grunted loudly and bucked his hips. His five inch dick was poking out of the thick bush of blonde hair between his legs. With each thrust, the fat that bubbled away migrated towards his ass, feeding the muscles there and causing them to grow. His glutes began nice, big and round. Certainly fuckable.

"Everything you do will be for Warren, got that?" Garret said firmly. "You won't neglect Tanner either but your job will be to take care of Warren's every need. But you're not going to coddle him. If he's being an ass, you tell him so and act accordingly. You're his manager but his father first."

"I'm tough," grunted Brysen. "I got to be tough with my sons."

A good stance to have and consequently, Garret pushed the changes towards Brysen's legs. The flab there that had somewhat caused the muscles of his legs to atrophy bubbled away slightly, replaced with enough strength to keep his frame steady. Some loud crackling filled the air. Bones and joins stretched and grew, pushing Brysen from his 5'8'' height to a respectable 5'11'. The man's toes curled in joy as his feet stretched out, becoming bigger and with all the shoes that belonged to him subsequently growing two sizes.

Watching the man change really got Garret going. His cock was out. The big doggy sausage, a full foot in length and as thick as Brysen's arm, was only semi-hard and it was already lying across the man's portly belly and leaking precum down mountain of a belly like a waterfall. Brysen's eyes never left the massive member and a new need was growing within him, one that was both alien and yet felt so right.

Garret pounced on that. "You don't have a job now. Time to clean up your life. Starting with yourself. Fix up your body hair."

Brysen shook his head but he never once took his eyes off the wolf's ever-hardening dick. "Fuck... I don't know how it got this fucking messy... I need to shave..."

Still mesmerised and still bucking his hips, Brysen's body reacted to the suggestion. The messy, greasy hairs on his legs suddenly dropped off, leaving him with hairless legs that looked like they were religiously shaved. The pubic hairs straightened and shrank back from the messy bush to become a neat triangle that wouldn't dare cross the boundaries onto his legs. The mess of hair that were patchy all over his chest seemed to migrate towards one another. Hairs on the outer edges of his chest shrank back into his skin and resurfaced closer to the centre. A thick, inverse triangle of hair formed across his pectorals. Combined with his trimmed beard, it was as if it were an arrow pointing straight towards his dick.

Garret was pleased with the changes and he decided to stop there. Too many changes too soon would have some severe consequences. "Now suck my dick."

For the first time, Brysen blinked. "But I ain't a faggot..."

Still some resistance. "Yes you are. Your experience with Kristina put you off women forever. At least with guys, you can't ever get pregnant."

That stupid smile crossed Brysen's lips again and he reached towards Garret's thick cock without further hesitation. "Yeah. That's right. I love my sons. But I ain't gonna get another one."

He immediately opened his mouth and took in as much of Garret's massive, two-foot long dick as he could. The big wolf had to take a step back away from the man as his cock just kept growing. The huge, red pole lay completely across Brysen's chest, balanced on the mound of his belly and slipping into his mouth with ease. Naturally, Brysen couldn't take more than a few inches of the huge, thick cock but Garret knew that would change eventually. For now, he needed to reward the man for his compliance.

Precum poured out of his cock and straight down Brysen's throat. The man's painfully hard dick shot its own clear fluids all upwards with the strength of a geyser, coating Garret's dick eagerly. Brysen diligently drank the fluids offered and Garret stirred himself closer and closer to orgasm by rubbing his huge paws up and down the length of his gargantuan dick. The thick veins over his member were the most sensitive and he simply adored having them stimulated. But the best stimulation came with the subtle changes all over Brysen's body. Each little change caused his already large balls to swell, growing bigger and bigger until he was forced to adjust himself so that they wouldn't force himself to stand with his legs so far apart.

The man's skin turned from an almost sickly pale to a few shades darker. Rosy blush applied to his cheeks and his eyelashes grew just a little bit longer to accentuate his bright, green eyes. The bushy eyebrows that would have once become a monobrow or a hairy caterpillar sitting on his brow was severed down the middle. They became meticulously maintained. Dirty, uncut, yellow fingernails straightened and lost evidence of years of being chewed on to become quite well manicured. Even his yellowish toenails were polished to a sheen. He didn't lose any of the callouses on his hands and feet though.

Perhaps the coup de grace of his transformation was the addition of two golden earrings, one on each ear.

That was enough for Garret.

He grunted loudly and his huge, watermelon-sized testicles unleashed their payload straight into Brysen. Hot, white fluids that was a little thicker than semen came pouring out. The reason for his enormous cock soon became evident as every inch of the member was needed to push the copious amounts of the sticky, almost gelatinous cum out of his body and straight down into Brysen's body. The entire length was almost like a single pump, hosing his seed out of his body like a writhing, living snake.

For his part, Brysen Bell could only consume as much as he could - which was still an impressive amount - before he couldn't take anymore. He gasped and pulled his head away from Garret's dick, finally breaking eye contact with some part of the wolf's huge form. Garret spilled the remainder of his seed all over the man's body, practically cocooning him in the cum. Brysen's own dick burst with joy and let out his own blast of seed but it was little more than a bubble against the thick layer of cum that had covered the now changed construction worker.

Garret smirked and willed his cock back into its sheath. He pulled his shorts back over his crotch and headed for the front door. Just as he pulled the door open, he cast one last glance over his shoulder at Brysen. His cum was already doing its work and seeping into the unconscious, quietly snoring man's flesh ready for the next time he got a visit from 'the Coach'.

"Until next time, Brysen," he snickered.

Then he left the Bell Residence.

All the while, back in his room, Warren Bell's body writhing in a mixture of pleasure and agony has he had his third successful orgasm of the night.

*******

Morning came and apparently, so did Warren. When he woke up that morning, he was sporting a raging erection which was normal for a boy his age - or at least he reasoned. But what made this odd was the fact that he was already covered in his man cream. Somehow during the evening, he had discarded all of his clothing, having tossed them aside, and left himself completely naked. He had even discarded the sheets and lay on the bed completely naked with evidence of his evening's excitement all over his flat chest.

"Jesus..." he muttered softly. "What was I dreaming of last night?"

He grabbed a few tissues from the nightstand and wiped himself down. The moment his hand lightly brushed against his raging cock, he let out a soft, ragged gasp. His balls tightened and hot seed came shooting out with enough strength to strike his temple. The shock of the blow was enough to throw him back into his bed as if he had just been hit by a baton square between the eyes.

The young blonde-haired man was left panting, dazed and staring off into space for a good five minutes before it occurred to him what had happened. A rather nice buzz was filling his mind. His limbs were vibrating with unfettered energy and more than anything, he wanted to go out running or at least to do something so that he could get rid of this energy. The longer he lay there, however, the more he could feel that energy starting to flood towards his cock. Not even soft, his cock was starting to harden once more.

He couldn't understand what was happening but he knew that it felt good. Perhaps it had something to do with his new coach.

"Coach Holt _is_pretty hot..." he muttered to himself.

His hand was already halfway towards his hardening dick when he stopped himself. Puzzled by these new feelings, he proceeded to wipe away the new splatters on his face. A loud _crash_from outside his bedroom door made him start in surprise and freeze like a deer caught the headlights of a speeding truck. When his door didn't burst open and his father or brother accusing him of being a faggot, he quickly got up and dressed himself.

Another crash made him freeze just short of putting on his glasses. His door remained intact despite the noises. A bitterness began rising from his chest at the thought that it could potentially be Tanner cooking something down in the basement again. If he had heard it, no doubt the neighbours had heard as well and that could potentially attract the police. He decided to nip this in the bud before it escalated any further.

However, the moment he put on his glasses, the world became a mess of blurs and haze as if he had been drunk. A wave of dizziness hit him and he immediately wrenched off his eyewear.

"What the...?" he muttered. With the glasses held out a short distance from his face, he pulled it over his eyes and then back down. Strangely enough, he was able to see perfectly without them. He tried to remember what his prescriptions were. Was he wearing any contacts?

No, that wasn't it.

Wearing a well-fitting shirt and pants, he stepped out of his room to a surprise. The beer cans and pizza boxes were gone. In fact, the sound of crashing came from Brysen hauling a large pile of said trash out of the house.

"Dad?" he asked.

Brysen glanced over his shoulder while carrying a stack of old, browned newspapers. "Morning son. Be with you in a second."

What surprised him entirely was that Brysen looked much brighter, happier and even more put together than before. It may have been the presence of pants and a decent shirt but his father seemed very different. The man before him seemed... off for some reason. Brysen had lost a lot of his youth due to the not-quite-divorce and always had a bit of a paunch but Warren distinctly remembered him being fatter and more pathetic. He had this image of a man with a sad balding plate and a ring of hair like he was in denial over his baldness, patchy facial and body hair and who would spend all day on the couch drinking and eating. This man - this Brysen - was taller, handsome and looked like a man who had his life together.

"Uh... hey dad..." Warren began, confused.

"What is it, son?" Brysen asked, setting down the stack of newspapers in the backyard.

"Did you... uh..." He was struggling how to phrase 'did you always look this hot?' "... did you always have those earrings?" The two small golden loops only stuck out because of how well they contrasted against his dark beard.

Brysen gave him a puzzled look. "Didn't I tell you about how I got these? I thought I have."

Strange memories of him asking his father about those earrings when he was ten bubbled into the back of his mind. They were familiar and right but... strangely out of place as well. "Erm... Yeah. You got them after mom left. One for each of us, right?"

"That's right," Brysen said, winking at him. "So that you boys don't get any ideas about wearing any earrings because otherwise, you'd be just like your old man and that wouldn't be cool."

"I dunno, dad," Warren said abashedly. "If I could be as put together as you after having just lost my job, I'd be on the couch drinking and shoving pizza down my throat."

His bull of a father shrugged his massive shoulders and placed his hands on his hips. Brysen glanced around the house with a sigh. "I haven't been the best of fathers, son, but I think it was because I kept going back to that job." He flashed a grin at his son. "I'm going to take this as an opportunity to do some real cleaning around here. Not just the house, but with me too." Brysen waved at him to leave. "Now hurry up and get ready for school."

"Right... Okay..."

"While you're there, if you've seen my glasses I'd really appreciate it."

Warren remembered the pair of glasses that he had found in his room and held them up.

"Hey! You found them!" Brysen exclaimed with a grin. "Thanks son. I know I'm getting old but I'm not blind. At least not yet. Still, kind of hard to move around this mess without them. Where'd you find them?"

"In... my room..." Warren answered with a confused tone.

"Really? I wonder what they were doing in there." Brysen looked puzzled for a moment as well but he shrugged it off. "Oh well. Thanks again, son. Breakfast is in the oven."

The mere idea of his father making him breakfast seemed absurd and he almost didn't believe it until he walked up to the now clean kitchen and found himself looking at some pancakes stored in the oven. He heated them up and ate them, still in denial over the fact that his father was actually a fully-functioning adult. For some reason, he had this image of his dad being some sort of abusive man-child but that couldn't be right. Brysen was an awesome father and did the best with what he had.

After he ate, he showered and went about his daily routine before heading on out. Dressed in a pair of baggy, grey pants with the cuffs muddied and a baggy, white shirt, Warren got ready to leave. Brysen usually wouldn't leave for work until later and couldn't drive the boys to school so Warren always had to leave early as he had to walk all the way to campus. Mosey Hills High didn't have it in their budget to have a school bus. He was surprised, then, when there was a big, black truck parked outside of his house and a familiar wolf was reading a newspaper.

"Coach Holt?"

The big wolf turned to him and grinned, waving him over. "Morning Warren. Hope in. I'll drive you to school."

"You will?" Warren responded, confused. "Why?"

"It's on my way," Holt answered with a shrug.

"Well... alright then."

Without further questions, he hopped into his Coach's truck, buckled up and then they were off heading towards Mosey Hills. It was a short ride, only twenty minutes, but Warren found himself becoming more and more comfortable as the seconds ticked by. There was just something so... reassuring about being with Coach Holt, like the huge, muscled wolf would protect him from anything.

Halfway to the school, Coach Holt said something that jarred Warren from his thoughts.

"How's your brother by the way?"

"Tanner? Uh..." Warren tried not to say something incriminating or that would make Coach Holt think any less of him. "He's... okay, I guess."

"Don't suppose you know where he goes to sell his drugs, do you?"

Warren froze up. "W - What?" He began to panic. If Coach Holt blabbed to the police about Tanner, they'd be in trouble again. His dad couldn't afford the legal fees and there was every possibility that they could be arrested as well by association. They only got off last time because the judge took pity on them. Worst yet... what if Coach Holt was a user?

"Nothing sinister, I assure you," said Coach Holt, waving a paw at him while the other was on the steering wheel. "I just want to talk to him, that's all."

"W - Why?"

"Because a man's future is based on the foundations that he lies upon. Your foundation is your family. If Tanner is going to be doing something illicit like this, you'll never get to the majors. Think about it, how would it look if you made it big and Tanner kept getting arrested for meth?"

It would look _very_bad. Either he paid to get Tanner off the hook and thus dig into his own funds or he distance himself from Tanner and be seen as the guy that couldn't even look after his own brother. Either way, there was no way he could focus on becoming a star hitter if he had to keep worrying about Tanner.

"You're not going to hurt him, are you?"

"Of course not," Coach Holt said with an encouraging smile.

"Okay... Well, I trust you Coach." He gave Holt a shaky smile. "There's this place a little ways out of town. It's this little patch of forest. We call it Greenside. I think that's where he goes."

"I'll have to check it out, then," Holt said. "In the meantime, here we are."

He parked the truck in the teacher's parking and stepped out. Given that it was so early, no one else was at school yet. Normally, it would take Warren about an hour to get to school by foot, sometimes an hour and a half if the weather was particularly harsh. Since he was so early, he was a little lost as to what to do. Most of the time he arrived just before the first bell. This was the first time he had arrived well before that. Not surprising as the teachers generally arrived before class began.

"How about we get some practice in before class starts?" Holt suggested, carrying his ever-present duffel bag.

"I don't have to drink any protein shakes, do I?"

Coach Holt laughed softly, flashing his pearly white teeth at him. "Nah. Only take those once a day. Too much and you might not like the results. Come on. Just a little bit of a warm-up this morning."

He agreed to that and happily followed the massive lupine towards the gym. One some level, he was grateful that Coach Holt was fully dressed in some jeans and an - admittedly tight-fitting - shirt. Having to endure the huge wolf's naked body so early in the day would've been too much for him to handle. Once they were back in the Coach's office, Garret Holt offered him the baseball bat and helmet that he had given earlier in the day. But there also came a small addition.

"I had this made for you," said Garret Holt, offering the letterman jacket.

Warren was in shock. Only the career sportsmen of Mosey Hills had the honour of wearing one such jacket. Though it was an awful colour of grey with purple linings and it wasn't like anyone ever won any competitions worth bragging about, having such a jacket was still a great status symbol. One that Warren wasn't sure he deserved.

"Coach... I don't know what to say..."

He took the offered jacket and regarded the name and number on the back. 'Bell' was written in that awful pastel purple at the top and number 89 was drawn right beneath it. Normally, the 'nickname' of the player would be written right beneath the number. No one had ever given him such a nickname. Too choked up for words, he slipped it on alongside the baseball helmet. There was a strange sense of power and masculinity that came from wearing the jacket. It fit him rather well unlike the rest of his clothes.

Coach Holt beamed at him and guided him back out to the baseball field. There, they once again began their routine of the Coach pitching to him and him trying to hit it. The big, burly wolf had to remind him to shout like he was some sort of karate master hitting a wooden plank. It still felt ridiculous but as the minutes flew on by, it started to become second nature. His arms felt like lead by the time they were done practicing and they headed back to the office just before the first bell.

He set aside his helmet and baseball bat and was just about to take off the jacket when Coach Holt stopped him.

"Leave it on, son. It looks good on you."

Warren blushed at that. It was nice that someone complimented him on his skinny, wry frame. "Thanks, Coach Holt, but I don't think I deserve this."

"Why not? You've been playing for your entire high school career, right? Was in peewee league before then?"

That didn't seem right. Hadn't he just started getting into baseball this year? Something about worrying about his future and being inspired by the previous coach, Coach Dempsey? But... that wasn't right. He had a letterman jacket. That meant he was in one of the teams. Yeah, they didn't win any games but he was trying _really_hard.

Besides, would Coach Holt lie to him?

"Yeah... Yeah. I guess just because we haven't won any games... I'm kind of been ashamed of wearing it around, you know?" He hiked a thumb over his shoulder. "No one has even given me a nickname yet..."

"I'm sure you'll get one soon," Coach Holt said, resting a paw on his shoulder encouragingly. "Now head on to class. I'll see you this afternoon."

The idea of hitting the field with the big lupine excitement him in more ways than one and he eagerly said, "Thanks Coach!"

Garret Holt watched the young man go with a satisfied smile on his muzzle.

*******

Sadly, the rest of the day wasn't as exciting as Warren had hoped. It was just more and more facts being crammed into his head occasionally with the threats of being a failure for the rest of his life if he didn't pass his SATs. After a few months of the same thing, the words all just blurred into a dizzying mess that was more likely to lull him to sleep than whip him into any shape.

As he sat in his algebra class, he couldn't focus on the equations that might as well have been like hieroglyphs on the blackboard. He rested an elbow on the wooden table, propping his head up on his hand and just stared blankly ahead while watching his teacher go on and on about this equation or that formula. Most of his other classmates were in a similar situation. It was unfortunate that in this backwater school, most of them were likely to go to work as farmhands or as labourers. He honestly didn't see any purpose in teaching any of them complex mathematics. It wasn't like they were ever going to use it in real life.

Warren turned to his notebook and absently began scribbling on the corners to avoid any of the 'work' he was doing. The last class of the day was always a 'double period' which usually lasted for an hour and a half and that made sitting in the same chair for that long extremely uncomfortable and boring. He adjusted himself, shuffling his ass from left to right. His feet were starting to fall asleep so he had them tap a few times.

The gesture was starting to cause the cuffs of his, dirty, grey pants to start sliding upwards and he glanced down to pull them back down. He seized the filthy cuffs and gave them a little tug but they didn't go any further than his ankle. Likely due to the way he was sitting, the pants fell short. It felt weird with some of his skin exposed like that. Normally, he covered up all the way in an attempt to keep anyone from seeing just how skinny he was.

Not that anyone would take the time to look down beneath the desk anyway, he told himself. He just continued to doodle absently on his notebook. Before he knew what he was doing, he was starting to draw big, muscled wolves and blood began rushing towards his cock. A small smile touched his lips as those crude drawings came to life in his imagination. The image of a huge, grey wolf with just the right amount of coppery-red hair to highlight his masculine, jaw and thick arms.

He grunted softly to himself, straightening so that he could use his other hand to reach down towards his crotch and adjust himself so that his dick could position itself towards one of his pants legs. Memories of having woken up in that morning covered in cum made him wonder exactly what was happening to him but those same thoughts were quickly banished as images of Coach Holt permeated his mind.

Warren's chest suddenly felt tighter and he was finding it harder to breathe. His body demanded more and more oxygen and he was forced to start breathing through his mouth. Sweat dripped down his brow as his body temperature rose along with his dick.

He suddenly became aware of something... strange happening. The cuffs of his pants suddenly rubbed up against his calves. At first, he gave it off to his cock pulling some of the fabric back but his dick wasn't that_big. As before, he made to pull his pant legs back down again but this time, he noticed something _very strange happening. All the dust and grime that had been caked on the cuffs of his pants from walking through dusty roads to get to school flaked off. Not only did they flake off, but the pieces just vanished into thin air before they even touched the ground. At first, he thought it was just his eyes going bad and he wanted to rub his glasses clean when he remembered he wasn't wearing any glasses. A pitcher shouldn't need them.

His cock abruptly throbbed, sending a wave of warmth and lust rushing up the rest of his body. Warren had to bite his lower lip and his hand gripped his pencil tightly. For some reason, he could not take his eyes off his pants as the cuffs began to ride up his leg as if he was watching them shrink in the wash. The changes were not only in his garment, however. Right before his eyes, he could see his feet growing, stretching and pushing the boundaries of his dirty sneakers. With every pulse from his dick, strength and power rushed down his legs and slammed into the boundaries of his feet, pushing them further and further outwards.

A sensation like he was about to cum radiated from both his feet and his sneakers were those last few jerks before orgasm. Pressure built in his toes and he could almost hear the fabric of his sneakers tearing. A soft whimper left him.

"Mr. Bell!" shouted the teacher. "Is there something the matter?"

Warren could only shake his head, trying desperately not to open his mouth. He was afraid that if he did, he would say something incriminating or just let out a lusty moan that would throw him further down the social ladder than he already was. Thankfully, his algebra teacher wasn't one to press the issue and just turned back towards the blackboard.

That moment of distraction offered Warren some relief and the pressure building in his feet seemed to have ebbed. He glanced down. His jaw flew open in shock. The dirty, torn bands of his sneakers miraculously repaired themselves. Just like the dirt from his cuffs flaked off and disappeared, the substance of his footwear also crackled and dropped away into nothingness. Replacing them were shiny, white rubber, cool black fabric that could let his feet breathe and sharp, red highlights that made them bring the idea of speed into mind. Suddenly, he was wearing a pair of new, fresh runners that fit his engorged feet perfectly.

He didn't get a moment to think on it as his cock suddenly throbbed again and he felt the tightness in his chest increase. Warren reached for his chest with the hand not grabbing his pencil and he felt a pair of firm pectorals greet him. Once glance down and there was no denying the firm shapes that were pushing up against his white shirt. The reason he was having trouble breathing was because his shirt was getting too tight for him.

"What's happening to me...?" he whispered softly to himself. He had to bite his lip a second later as his cock throbbed and sprayed a bit of precum that formed a distinctive wet spot against his pants. But they weren't really pants anymore. They were more like ¾ shorts and as the seconds ticked by, they grew shorter and shorter. Not only because the cuffs were literally sliding up his legs but also because his legs were also starting to fill out.

With the growth of his feet, his calves quickly followed. The thick blonde hairs that covered them were forced to push away from one another as the muscles beneath his skin began to expand. That same pressure began building all over his legs and he was forced to grit his teeth, keeping his eyes cast down to avoid looking conspicuous. His pants slip up past his knees as his calves transformed into two, big, hulking hams barely covered in a light dusting of blonde hairs. His thighs began to push outwards and he instantly felt his flesh start to compress his cock which was already forming a lewd silhouette against the fabric.

More and more precum came pouring out of his dick making it's impressive eight-inch length more evident. It became even harder to conceal his throbbing dick when the fabric of his new shorts began to change and shift. Instead of the dusty blend of cotton and polymers, it surface became slick and perforated with breathable material. The dull grey transformed into a sleek black with fiery red stripes running down the sides. Warren let out another whimper as the edges of the shorts pulled back far enough that it revealed the huge mounds of his thighs and his cock's head actually poked out a little from the rims. His precum began dripping directly onto his chair.

The changes did not stop there. The pressure in his chest had yet to subside. His chest continued to expand. The zipper of the letterman jacket which neatly wrapped across his collarbone began pushing further and further apart. He came to realise that as his chest continued to broaden, he would never be able to close the jacket every again. His shoulders similarly ballooned out and he watched his arms inflate before his eyes, stretching the fabric of the jacket. For a moment, he was afraid that he would tear through the newly acquired jacket but just as quickly as his arms inflated, his the fabric adjusted itself. His hands began to creep away from him, growing longer but the jacket was just a second behind, maintaining it's perfect fit.

Thick veins crawled up the back of his hands and -

SNAP!

The pencil snapped in his grip. His cock took that as a sign and unleashed a torrent of his seed that splattered up against the underside of his table. He was fortunate as the bell rang at that moment.

Warren Bell remained in his seat for a second, gripping the broken pencil and quaking lightly as his cock emptied his balls into his table. Almost everyone had already departed before he grabbed his books, positioned them over his crotch and hurried his 6'1'' height out of the classroom.

He wasn't sure what had just happened but he hurried his athletic frame down the hallways. People were watching him, their scrutinising gaze setting his cheeks afire. One of the girls bumped into him, quickly apologised and hurried away but not before she felt her hand slide across his chest and give his juicy pectorals a squeeze. He was stunned at the attention. No girl had ever touched him like that.

Something was _definitely_strange.

Warren went straight to the one person he knew would believe him.

Coach Garret Holt.

He practically burst into Coach Holt's office while the wolf was just setting down a few dumbbells.

"Hey, you're eager," Coach Holt said with a laugh. "Ran all the way here, did you?"

"Something's happening to me, Coach Holt!" Warren pleaded. He spread his arms wide, exposing his black and red running shorts that hugged his muscular thighs and his dick which had stained his shorts.

Holt looked a little worried. "You didn't piss your pants, did you, Warrior?"

Warren blinked a few times in confusion. "Warrior?" He then shook his head. "No! No I didn't! I... I don't know what happened! I was just in algebra and suddenly... I grew! And I came! I... I..." He gestured at his body. "I became this!"

The smile on Coach Holt's face wasn't patronising. It was strangely... understanding. "I see." He moved around the table and pulled a seat in front of his desk. "Have a seat, son. Tell me about it."

Shaking, scared and unsure of what was happening to him, Warren took the offered seat while Coach Holt leaned against his table, arms crossed and watching the boy closely.

"It's just like I said. I was sitting down for the last period of the day," Warren explained. "Then I started noticing that my pants were getting shorter. I felt this... this _pressure_inside of me. It was coming out... out of my dick..." He bit his lips, ashamed at talking about his cock to a teacher. But it had to be said. "Then... then my feet started to grow! They kept getting bigger and bigger until I thought they'd shred my sneakers! Next thing I knew, I wasn't wearing my dirty sneakers anymore! I was wearing these!" He gestured at the sporty and expensive runners. "I -" He looked up and stopped himself.

Coach Holt had pulled his shorts down and his cock was exposed. The big wolf was already partially hard with about six inches of his thick, red cock out. Warren was hit by a wave of strong, wolf musk that was almost like a physical blow.

"C - C - Coach..." he stammered.

"Don't stop," Holt urged, licking his lips in a predatory manner. "Tell me more."

Some part of Warren told him this was wrong, it was very wrong, but at the same time, he trusted Coach Holt. He should do as the Coach said. He had to obey.

"I... I felt that pressure again. It filled my calves... my thighs. It's like... like every inch that my pants became shorts, my muscles grew."

"Hrrrm..." rumbled the Coach, coaxing more and more of his cock on. Warren found himself starting to match the drooling of that huge, red, puppy maker. "You've got big, strong legs. Good for running to the bases. You need speed as well as upper body strength, after all. And pants just restrict your movement."

"Wha...?" Those words made sense but at the same time they didn't. Warren was getting confused. "I... I do?"

"Of course. You're a star batter. You've earned that jacket. And it shows in your body. Big, strong legs. Huge feet. You use them."

Warren glanced at his legs then back at the Coach whose massive foot-long cock was still growing. He became mesmerised by the throbbing of that doggy meat. Each pulsation was matched by his heart and he found himself fighting the urge to reach out and touch it. "Y - Yeah... O - Of course. Need strong legs. Can't just... just hit homeruns all the time... Game doesn't work that way..."

"That's right," Coach Holt said. "So what were you saying?"

"Uhm..." Warren knew he was talking about something, something strange. But he couldn't really form the thoughts correctly. There were strands here and there and he tried to formulate them into words. "I... My chest. Got bigger. Huge. Found it hard to breathe..."

Coach Holt's gentle laughter was soothing. "You've gotten so big, Warrior. You got to breathe through your mouth. Only way you're ever going to get the oxygen you need."

"Uhm... Yeah. That... That makes sense." He scratched his head absently. "But... my arms. Back... Everything felt like I was going to burst out of my jacket..."

"Looks like it fits fine to me."

Warren smiled softly, eyes completely fixated on the huge dick that was inching closer and closer to him. It was over a foot long now! "Erm... yeah. I guess you're right, Coach. Uh... What was I talking about?"

"Something about algebra?" prompted Coach Holt.

Then, Warren remembered and he grinned broadly. "Yeah! That's right! I totally stealth wanked in algebra. Mr. Fillmore almost caught me but he totally didn't see me jack off and cream my desk."

There was pride in Holt's eyes even though he reprimanded the young man. "Come on, Warren. Respect your teachers. I know you want to be a star baseball player but you need a solid education too, you know. You're not going to just ride on your good looks and muscles all the way through college."

"Of course not!" Warren said, waving him down absently. His fingers brushed up against Holt's throbbing dick, now just inches away from his face. Since he had already touched it, he grabbed the enormous, thick member that was even thicker than his arm. It was naturally to grab his Coach's dick like this. He did it all the time, after all. "You know me, Coach. I probably won't get noticed by a big college out here so I'll apply for biochem. My grates are ace! All the chicks love me and the guys hate me!"

He threw his head back and laughed. "I mean, this one girl even 'bumped into me' and grabbed me pecs!"

"That's the only time she'd ever get to touch you, eh?" Holt said with a smirk.

"Damn straight." Warren smirked. "Well, 'straight' isn't the word I'd use." He winked at Holt. "So, can I get some of your 'special shake' yet, Coach?" I'm dying of thirst over here."

Garret Holt grinned broadly. "You've earned it, son. Go nuts."

Warren diligently wrapped his lips around the thick, pointed canine dick of the Coach. His body moved autonomously even though his mind constantly railed against him doing so. Some part of him kept shouting that this was wrong, this was not what he was supposed to be doing but as he continued, that part grew smaller and smaller and his acceptance of the situation grew. After all, this was how he got the special 'protein shake' from Coach Holt. Sure it started out watered down like before but as he grew stronger, as he grew to know his Coach more and more, he got to drink 'right from the source'.

His eyes fluttered as hot, salty precum poured down his throat and his arms wrapped around the enormous member. His fingers massaged the thick knot of the Coach. Each little application of pressure brought a thicker and thicker blast of fluids into him. He took it all, not a single drop going to waste. He sucked on this dick like a real man, a real Warrior.

Warrior.

Warren 'Warrior' Bell. It sounded right. It was right.

As the last bits of himself began to accept this truth, an intense pressure began to build at the base of his spine. He shuffled uncomfortably in his seat and as he did so, he became aware of the second source of pressure that was pulsing against his thigh. His arms were too occupied with the massive tube of flesh in front of him to think of his own needs but he started to let out loud, lusty moans the more fluids poured into him.

With the pressure came an immense heat, a heat that radiated throughout his entire body and came rushing towards his crotch. There, it split into two, one rushing towards his cock and the other towards his tail... But... he didn't have a tail. That though was quickly erased by a blast of precum that shot from his dick, splattering onto the floor and across the sides of his leg.

He let out a loud grunt, one matched by Coach Holt as the big wolf thrust his hips. The fluids flooding down his throat suddenly became thicker, stickier and almost gelatine-like. Warren obediently drank - ate - it all as it pushed out of the Coach with a loud, gurgling noise. At the same time, his own cock burst with joy and shot his seed against the Coach's thighs. The pressure at the base of his spine erupted and a loud ripping noise filled the office. A long, ropey tail erupted from the seat of his pants, lashing out at its newfound freedom. The tube-like tail was covered in orange fur and decorated by a series of black stripes.

Coach Holt's seed ebbed and Warren lapped up the last bits of it, even going so far as to stick his tongue into the Coach's huge piss-slit to lap up any leftovers. Once he was done, he gave the huge, red rocket an appreciative kiss before getting up from his seat.

"Thanks for the fuel, Coach." He adjusted himself, tail doing loops being him happily. "Now let's go put it to good use! I'm all fired up!"

"Ready to let out the beast?" Holt said smugly, his cock shrinking and receding into his body with an unusual speed.

"Fuck yeah!"

With those words, Warren Bell grabbed his baseball bat and his helmet, slammed it onto his head and headed out towards the baseball field, his tiger tail waving back and forth eagerly.

*******

No one gave Warren a second glance even with the odd, orange protrusion springing from just above his ass. That was the beauty of reality alterations. No matter what you changed, the world would eventually fix itself to make it the norm. Whether that meant that people would grab their pitchforks and torches and kill the offending alteration or simply accept it as fact was a matter of how big the alteration was. That was why Garret Holt had opted to make sure the changes were slow and appeared piece by piece.

Warren still had much to grow but already, Garret could see the man he would be. As he parked in front of the Bell's residence, he was glad to see that Warren wasn't the only one growing. The yard was now free of all clutter and the dilapidated car that once stood in front of the garage was gone from the driveway and secured inside. The grass itself was neatly trimmed though the house still looked like it had taken a page out of a disaster movie.

Small changes, Garret reminded himself.

Speaking of small changes, he noticed Tanner Bell sneaking out from a window as always and slinking away, wearing a hoodie despite the heat and with shoulders slumped.

"There he goes again," muttered Warren. "I just wish he'd get his life together."

Garret smiled knowingly. "Leave him to me. I'll straighten him out."

Warren seemed shocked at that. "You're going to make him like pussy!?"

He laughed at the mere notion. "Of course not."

"Awesome," Warren replied with a knowing smirk. "Make him fun for me, would ya, Coach? Oh and make him _really_huge. Like he puts the 'big' in 'big brother'."

It was certainly nice to see that Warren had advanced to the stage of accepting and knowing about Garret's abilities. Though he didn't know the exact specifics of it yet or about the _Conglomerate_for that matter, he was progressing very well. Garret gently poked Warren's nose.

"You got it, Warrior."

Warren beamed and jumped out of the truck, bidding him a good evening and good luck.

Garret thought he'd need it as he knew that he'd likely be working against more than one person in what was to come next. He revved up his engine just as Warren waved a fond hello to his neighbour, a grey-haired, portly man named Harold Combes. Combes replied with a friendly wave but the moment Warren was gone, he scowled at the boy's tiger tail. Garret made note of that and remembered that he'd have to do something about the anti-fur sentiment in this town as well.

"SABLE," he commanded. "Run me an analysis of the impact of the Bells' infectivity."

"Confirmed. Running analysis now."

While SABLE ran her calculations, Garret pulled out of the curb and began heading west towards the so-called Greenside forest. He passed Tanner on his way which was good. He could rest and lie in wait while Tanner got to the location.

"Analysis complete," SABLE_intoned not ten seconds after the request. _"Once the Naturalisation stage has been completed and the Immersion stage has begun, the Bells will proceed to begin infection as is per the norm. However, due to the internal focus of the familial unit, infection will be more focused on those who encroach upon their territory and are perceived as a direct threat. This will translate to all those that have been infected. Unfortunately, given the pro-human sentiment in Mosey Hills, any fur created from this will be perceived as hostile and the remaining humans will subsequently be seen as a threat. Within a month, the transformations will be on an endemic level. Advise corrective action."

That would be problematic. Holt wouldn't mind sporting stripes and the barbed dick had its pleasures but he preferred his lupine form. Plus, if he let this go unchecked, his actions could easily lead to societal collapse through a race war and maybe even some form of apocalypse.

"Give me the names of cornerstone individuals. I'll deal with them."

"Submitting a list now."

He was given a list of a total of sixty people. One of them was the mayor of the town, surprisingly enough. It seemed that he would be busy. That was fine. Anything to make sure that Warren and his family lived comfortably and kept their minds intact - albeit with some behavioural alterations.

But first, Tanner.

The suburban landscape quickly gave way to rolling farmlands which was only occasionally broken by a few patches of forest no more than half a mile wide. The one closest to the suburbs had to be the Greenside forest and a quick check with SABLE confirmed it. He turned his car back around and parked inconspicuously at a gas station some distance away. From there, he headed out on foot back towards the Greenside. It was relatively far from the Bell residence so he was rather surprised that Tanner could make it all the way there without needing a fix.

Then again, Tanner was a pusher and a mixer not a user. It must have taken an incredible sense of will to resist taking the drug that he was making. Then again, he had noble intentions behind it - it was all to support his family. Hopefully with Brysen getting his act together and Warren rising up the ranks of baseball, that pressure would be alleviated. But he had to act carefully. Without the need to support his family, Tanner could just as easily turn to using the very drugs he made.

This required a _delicate_touch.

He reached the forest and waded through the dense underbrush until he came to a wide clearing. Several tracks cut through the forest leading to this very clearing and he could see evidence of a bonfire. Garret positioned him some distance away, crouched down into the bushes and waited. Some other person may have been bored out of their skull but he was an Agent, a hunter. He could be patient.

By the time the sun went down, other cars had started funnelling in. There was a mix and match of people that emerged from them. Some looked like chronic drug abusers with tell-tale signs like pale, unkempt skin, shaky limbs, blood-shot, sunken eyes and more. Others looked like they came from the higher end of society wearing well-pressed clothes and appearing well put together. All of them, however, were starting to get edgy as the minutes turned to hours and they waited for Tanner to arrive.

It was about ten in the evening before Tanner trudged into the forest, head down.

"About fucking time!" one of the dirty looking men shouted. He charged at Tanner and seized the eldest Bell brother by the collar. "Where the fuck is it!? Give it to me!"

Tanner stood his ground and shoved the man back. "Let's see the money, Phil."

Phil seemed to be the leader of the congregation and he spat at the ground. "You don't get to make demands, Bell. Remember who holds the leash." He held out his hand. "The meth. Give it here!"

Tanner seemed hesitant. What bravado he had sported a moment ago faded and he reached into his pocket. The little plastic bag full of white powder was sizeable and could certainly lead to a conviction.

Phil snatched it from him and scowled. "This is it? Where the fuck is the rest!?"

"My old man got fired from his job again," Tanner said. "I couldn't get out of the house to buy the ingredients."

"Well that isn't my problem, is it?" scowled the druggie, eyes so wide they might've popped out of his head. There was a loud, metallic sliding noise and Phil suddenly had a knife in his hands.

Garret was on edge and immediately began to rise from his hiding spot.

"This is barely enough to keep me up all week!" Phil snarled. "And that's only me." He waved the knife around him, gesturing at the six other people behind him. "My buds here need some too. So here's what you're going to do..." He loomed over Tanner which was surprising since Tanner was taller but given his hunched, submissive posture, seemed smaller. "You're going to go to the drug store right now. You're going to buy what you need and then you're going to make me more meth! And to show you I'm serious..." He grinned savagely. "I'm going to poke a hole in your face!"

The knife came racing forward and Tanner squeezed his eyes shut. There was a loud _crunching_noise - not the sound a blade should make when piercing skin.

When Tanner opened his eyes, there was a big, furry, grey paw highlighted by red hair closing around Phil's arm. The druggie was forced to let go of his knife as his forearm was broken in three places by the big wolf's grip alone.

"I think you've had enough, Phil," Garret Holt snarled.

"The fuck!?" shouted the addict. The dishevelled man tried to pull his arm away but Garret was like a mountain and was not moving. "Get off me, bro! Get the fuck off!"

Garret abruptly released the man and Phil was sent stumbling into the ground. A yowl left the addict's lips as his broken arm hung limply by his side.

"You're going to pay for that, mutt!" sneered Phil. "Get him boys!"

The other punks began pulling out makeshift weapons. One of them even had a rusty pistol and brandished it foolishly on its side like a 'real gangster'. Garret could only mentally shake his head at these idiots. They all thought they were 'badass'. _None_of them had any idea what a real man was like. Though he wondered if he could show them in person. That would have to wait, however. There was immediate danger to both him and Tanner.

Faster than his size would've suggested, he was suddenly in front of the punk wielding the gun. He seized the barrel of the weapon. The metal barely slipped halfway down his palm. A loud metallic grinding noise followed as he crushed the weapon between his fingers. When he let it go, the gun's barrel had been twisted beyond recognition and the meth user's eyes went wide like bloodshot saucers.

"You had all better leave," he growled, baring his fangs at them. "Before I get really mad."

"Fuck you!" Phil roared. "We've got him outnumbered! Someone stab him!"

Garret mentally rolled his eyes. A real show of power was obviously needed. One of the punks lunged at him, little pocket knife . If it had hit him, it wouldn't even have hit anything vital. Still, Garret had witnesses here and he didn't want to shock Tanner more than he already had. He took a swift step towards one of the cars and jammed his claws into it. Metal bent easily against his strength. With one, powerful yank, he pulled the entire car hood off its hinges. The men around him cowered. One even pissed himself though given how much these fools used meth, he wasn't surprised that bladder control wasn't one of their strong suits. He boldly threw the hood over his shoulder, sending it crashing into the woods.

"Last chance kids," he said ominously. "Leave. Now."

With that one last word, the weak-willed punks rushed towards their vehicles, practically diving through the doors and scurried away. They drove off to the sound of screeching tires and panicked cries. He made note which licence plate belonged to this 'Phil' and was mildly amused that Phil's car had been the one he had mutilated.

Now that they were dealt with, he turned to poor Tanner who had fallen to his knees a short distance away. Right in front of the eldest of the Bell brothers was that bag of meth, now broken and with its contents scattered into the ground.

"You're not thinking of snorting that shit, are you?" Garret asked.

"No," Tanner responded. He brought his bright green eyes fiercely to meet Garret's blue ones. "You fucktard! How the hell am I supposed to support my family now!?"

His anger was understandable. As far as Tanner Bell knew, this huge oaf of a wolf had just ruined his client base and potentially the only people who would buy his 'product' after having been convicted. But that was why Garret was stepping in.

"You won't have to," Garret said calmly. He held out a paw. "Come with me, Tanner."

"Why the fuck should I!? I don't even know you!"

"My name is Garret Holt. I'm Warren's coach."

Tanner rolled his eyes sarcastically. "Whoop-dee-fucking-doo. You think you're doing Warren a favour by being out here to save his 'big brother' like you're fucking Superman!? Think again! How the fuck do you think he makes it through school!? How the _fuck_do you think he can pay to be on your team!? You think it's my old man!? That asshole can't hold down a job if his life depends on it!"

Tears were starting to roll down his cheeks as he fingered the white dust in front of him. "Now I'll never save up enough money to send Warren to college and out of this fucking town."

There was something to be said about Tanner's conviction that Garret really admired. This brave young man _never_took the drugs that he made and used it as a means to provide for his family as it was the only thing he knew how to do. He was even willing to put himself on the line, even after being caught and convicted, just to save his younger brother from being stuck in Mosey Hills. That was a love that transcended the traditional definitions.

"You don't have to keep sacrificing your own future for Warren's. I hear he's got a good chance at a sports scholarship on the east coast."

"What the fuck does that matter if he never finishes high school?" growled Tanner. "Dad's out of a job again. I don't have enough to support us for the eight months until Warren graduates since those dickwads_only paid me _half of what they should've!" He threw a birdie in the direction of where Phil and his gang had retreated.

Garret reached down and gently pulled Tanner to his feet. In doing so, Tanner got really close to the wolf's sweaty armpits and got a face full of lupine musk. Tanner was already too teary to notice. The towering wolf hoisted Tanner up with both arms, carrying the young man as if he were a child. Tanner buried his face into Garret's thick, muscled chest, holding on tightly as the lupine Agent carried him back towards his truck.

"There are other ways to make money," Garret said.

"Like what?" sneered Tanner. "I'm not good at anything else but making drugs."

A plan began formulating in Garret's mind. "Making drugs means you're great at chemistry. Brilliant even."

"Not really," Tanner muttered softly. "It's pretty easy to make that shit..."

"And you're wasting your potential. You got top grades in school. Did all the extra credit. You loved chemistry. Hell, you even tutored Warren and that's why your brother got into biochem."

Garret felt a little bad for abusing Tanner's vulnerable state but it was when people were most exposed that they were most accepting of reality alterations. Just like when Brysen was heavily drunk, the more Garret altered reality, the more readily Tanner was willing to accept it and forge his own history based on it.

"I guess," Tanner muttered softly. "Shouldn't have wasted my life cooking meth. Could've actually been something if I had the money for it..."

They approached Garret's truck and he quietly set Tanner in the passenger seat. Warren's ragged, stressed brother was quite limp. Those bright, sharp, green eyes were staring off into the distance, still teary but mostly unfocused. "What did you do with all the money you got from the club?"

"Club?" Tanner asked without looking at him. "What club?"

"The club where you work as a bouncer. I mean, that's where you first ran into Phil. He went to the club, you hauled his ass out and he briefly mentioned he wanted to get high. You thought you could score a little bit of extra cash on the side by selling him meth."

A frown crossed Tanner's features showing lines that made him look so much older than he really was. Twenty years of age and already he looked like he was in his late thirties to early forties. "What? No. I can't be a bouncer. I'm scrawny as fuck..."

"I don't think so. Come on. Show me some muscle."

"What does that even mean?" Despite his words, Tanner lifted his right arm, the arm facing Garret and flexed it in a typical bicep curl.

"Aw yeah," Garret said, licking his lips. He reached out and gently gripped Tanner's upper arm. His one paw could close in around it easily. "Those are some huge guns you got there."

Tanner let out a soft moan. The muscles beneath Garret's paws immediately began to heat up and stretch. He could feel Tanner Bell's heartbeat through the thick veins that quickly pushed up against his pale skin. A featureless flat length suddenly bulged outwards. Hard curves around the base of the bicep that formed the divide between the enormous triceps quickly formed. Tanner's awful green shirt with grey horizontal stripes began to pull away from his enlarging arm and shoulder. The sleeve wiggled back, sliding over the immense 25-inch bicep and getting stuck where the huge slab of meat met with the scalloped, defined shoulder. Garret ran his fingers across the huge arm, now filling his paws easily. It was as if he was leading the veins up from the mountain of Tanner's bicep down to the forearms. For a second Tanner's hands sprang open wide as if clutching at the air before tightening into a fist. Bone and muscle surged outwards and Garret found himself holding an enormous ham of vascular muscle.

A wave of exhaustion hit Tanner and he let out a loud breath, the air condensing in front of his lips. He let his engorged arm fall. It hung out of the truck and with its enormous size and weight, he almost tipped out of the vehicle. His other hand immediately lashed out to support himself, gripping the driver's side chair. For a second, it seemed like his other arm was made of elastic as his heavier, muscled arm weighed him down and stretched the other arm to exactly the same length as its bulky brother. Once it had reached optimal length, the muscles erupted outwards. A loud tearing cut through the night as his sleeve could not retreat fast enough and was split down the middle by h is emerging shoulders and biceps.

Garret chuckled softly to himself as Tanner Bell straightened himself. The boy looked a little ridiculous like he was a gorilla with incredibly overdeveloped arms. He would have to fix that.

"Guns..." Tanner muttered, his mind already bending reality and history to his favour. "Phil... that asshole. He tried to pull a gun at me..."

"You just puffed out huge ass chest and knocked him on his ass."

A cocky smirk crossed Tanner's face and he immediately clasped his forearms. "Yeah... I gave him one of these!"

He pumped his chest outwards. The scrawny, borderline-malnourished chest broadened. Two hardened nipples pushed up against the green and grey shirt and his shoulders were pushed out a little wider by the spontaneous growth. It was an improvement but nowhere near matching his enormous arms.

"Show me again," Garret prompted.

"Hurk!" Tanner groaned and again, his pectorals bounced with new size. His collarbone became highly defined against the shelf of muscle on his chest. Two distinct lumps were visible against his shirt but the concave shape between the two peaks was still too wide.

"That can't have been it. Again."

"Hurmph!"

And again those pectorals heaved, growing in size and flexing. Now his nipples were clearly defined against his shirt and so was the outline of his huge pectorals. His neck all but disappeared against the mass of muscle that led from his head down into his broad shoulders. The shirt started to groan in protest at the abuse. Without another prompt from Garret, Tanner flexed one more time.

Rrrrrrrip!

The shirt split right down the middle revealing two, enormous mounds of flesh with every band of muscle so clearly defined that it would've been possible to use every sinew like a guitar string. The only thing that interrupted the anatomically correct pectoral muscles were the big, blue veins that crawled across their surface. Sitting right beneath them was a thick shelf eight solid blocks of muscle.

"Fuck..." Tanner rumbled, looking down at his chest. "That was a good shirt..."

"Yeah it was. Your other one ripped the same way when you showed off to Phil. Your manager gave you a hard time for tearing a company shirt again."

The muscled man snorted softly and absently reached back towards his wispy blonde hair. He pulled back the long strands away from his eyes, revealing a strong, square jaw and a face that was decorated by artfully placed, dark brown stubble. A little black hair tie appeared in his enormous, calloused hands which he weaved with practiced fingers around his hair to form a ponytail. That same hair lost its greasy texture, becoming well-maintained, glossy and having a few golden streaks through it as a bit of vanity on the bouncer's side. The ponytail ruffled softly, a few extra inches being added to its length so it fell down just past his huge, broad lats but not too far that when he squeezed his shoulder blades together to show off his muscled back, it would get squashed.

"The boss likes to act tough but I'm the biggest guy on staff," Tanner said with a dopey grin on his face. "He can really only ask nicely. If I didn't need the money..."

"You better start being smart with your money then," Garret said. "You don't need the 'extra' from Phil and his gang. Warren is going to move to the big city. He'll need his big brother to protect him and his dad to help him. You'll both be there to help him be the best he can be."

"Yeah..." Tanner said, beaming bright. "Yeah, I will."

Garret couldn't help but notice Tanner's still scrawny legs. "You helped him get big and strong but also to keep his smarts. You have a nice little lab in your room but you've got a home gym down in the basement. Your runs with him every morning help keep him fast for his position as a batter."

Tanner absently began rubbing his own legs. Every movement caused the thin thighs to immediately inflate like he was massaging mass down from the top of his body down towards his legs. The dirty jeans he wore strained against the growing mass of his thighs before tearing artfully across the thighs just enough to reveal the thick groups of muscle so hard packed that they looked like they had been taken right out of marble sculptures. The hems of his jeans rode up, getting frayed and torn as his calves pulled away from him, growing thicker and bigger. The denim ¾ shorts left nothing to the imagination as his dick similarly inflated. Without any sort of prompting needed, Tanner pulled down his pants to reveal his raging eight inches, drooling eagerly. The dirty sneakers he wore stretched. They stood no chance the moment his feet burst from them. The fabric and leather succumbed to the change as well, turning into a deep black gloss with silver laces that snapped across his ankles and rose up a sort distance to just barely touch the frayed hems of his shorts. The large, black boots just screamed tough and strong.

All the while, Garret couldn't help but grow hard himself and his enormous two foot dick began nudging the side of Tanner's face, telling the boy that he was ready for the final step of the transformation.

"You work at a club," Garret said, clutching his knot and trying to speak between his heavy pants. "Worked there for how long?"

"Uh..." Tanner moaned softly. "I dunno, bro. Kind of busy here." He shameless began jacking off right there in Garret's truck.

"Three years sounds about right," said Garret. "But you can't have started at the job three years ago. Not when the drinking age here is 21. You're 24 now."

"Well, duh," Tanner rumbled. "Bro, don't make me do math. Not now."

Garret smiled quietly to himself as he not-so-subtly slipped his dick into Tanner's mouth. The now 24 year-old bouncer didn't even protest to getting the huge, red tip slip between his lips. While Tanner was 24, Warren would remain at 18 but that mean the age gap between them would jump from two to six years. He could see a few of the lines that had once made the stressed out meth cooker look aged fade though a few of them remained as Tanner's cheeks were filled by the wolf's huge cock.

"And you're going to forget about Phil and his gang," Garret grunted. "Leave them to me."

Tanner's eyes slowly slipped close but not before, with his free hand, he gave Garret a thumbs up.

That was all the confirmation that Garret needed. The big wolf jerked his hips and his cum came rushing out, just as thick and as gelatinous as ever. Tanner didn't even open his eyes and drank all the corruptive seed like a hero. Of course, even heroes had their limit and eventually, Tanner had to pull his head away and let the goo splatter all over him, cocooning him in a later of thick, white mass.

Garret sighed softly. This was the second time he had cum hard in the day alone and he wasn't even done. Not yet anyway. He quickly retracted his dick before anyone could see and shut the door to his truck. Then he navigated his way around to the driver's seat and hopped in. By that time, his cum had already started to meld into Tanner's flesh, merging with him and solidifying the changes to reality, cementing them into history.

Garret started the truck and purposefully drove slowly all the way back to the Bell Residence. Along the way, he made sure to keep watch on Tanner who was digesting the changes in his body, mind and very place in this world. By the time he arrived, Tanner was quietly dreaming of something arousing as his cock had once again grown erect. Garret gently nudged him awake.

"Hey man. We're here."

Tanner snorted away, blinking drowsily around. "Huh... Oh..." He glanced over to his house. There was a now a bright, red sports car parked in the drive way - Tanner's car. One of the many frivolous expenses that the bouncer had spent his money on. "Uh... Thanks Garret." He gave the wolf a lopsided smile, subtly shoving his dick back into his pants. "And thanks... thanks for the drinks and talk tonight. I really needed it."

Tanner let out a soft sigh. "My baby brother is growing up. I've got to live by example. Can't let him go nuts with his money like me."

"Atta boy," Garret said, patting Tanner's shoulder encouragingly.

The big bouncer jumped out of the truck and waved back at Garret with thanks. "Hey, maybe you can come over for dinner one time. I'm sure dad and Warren would love to have you."

The big wolf smiled brightly.

"Sure. Count on it."

*******

Warren Bell snorted awake and found himself pulling his face away from a sticky puddle of drool on his pillow. He always had to sleep on his belly because of the long, ropey, striped tail that sprang from just above his butt. Not that he minded. Of course, as he pulled himself away from his sheets, he became aware of the immense throbbing springing from between his legs and pressed up against his belly.

Typical, he told himself. He was horniest in the mornings.

Straightening out of bed, he stood just as the sun peaked through his blinds and glistened against the trophies on his wall. Sure none of them were for winning a game but they came close. He kept telling himself that this year he would bring home the gold. It was the only way he was going to get that recommendation from Coach Holt and get that scholarship. His backup plan may have been in bio chemistry but his heart would always be in swinging a bat around.

"Speaking of bats," he said, snickering to himself. He glanced down at his throbbing, uncut ten inches of meat. Grinning, he strode over to the full body mirror at the foot of his bed. The athletic form in front of him with the broad, string shoulders and strong legs might as well have been ripped right out of a bodybuilding magazine - an amateur one but still. It's what made him such a great batter. Huge, strong arms but still with a speed that belied his strength. Coach Holt emphasised that speed as well as strength.

He was just starting to grab his dick when he heard a loud boom that shook the house by its foundations. It was much larger than the sound of his dad cleaning up yesterday and seemed to come from the basement. Fears of Tanner cooking meth bubbled up in his chest and killed his libido. He quickly threw on a red jockstrap and marched out of his room. There were no pizza boxes or stray beer cans littering the floor. Everything was clean. He could see his dad out in the backyard, shirtless and with some earbuds on blocking any noises. His dad looked like he was mowing the lawn.

That left whatever bullshit Tanner was up to for Warren to deal with.

Much to his surprise, Warren found the door down to the basement wide open. The TV down there was on. There was another resounding boom that shook the floorboards beneath his feet. No smoke rose from the basement so at least he knew that Tanner wasn't making drugs again.

He strode down the wooden steps. There was a brief flash of confusion in his mind as he only saw a lot of workout equipment as well as a large TV that was showing some news report on Tyson Freeman. In front of the TV was Tanner, covered in sweat, huge muscled body glistening in the bright light. Tanner was positioned in front of a matt with about two hundred pounds attached to a deadlift bar. Tanner grunted loudly, bent down, showing off his tight ass, and hauled the bar up, grunting loudly with his skin turning bright red with the effort.

BOOM!

Tanner let down the bar and thus the cause of the quakes.

"You're going to wear yourself out before our run, bro," Warren said, striding down to bottom floor.

Tanner glanced over his shoulder, his bright blonde hair drenched in sweat and allowed to tumble past his shoulders. "I bet I can still keep up with you even after I do all this!"

"What's got you so worked up? You're usually out cold at this time and I have to wake you up."

Tanner pumped his fists into the air. "Just stoked about my resolution, bro!" Then he brought that huge arm down around Warren's shoulders and brought the young man diving into those monstrous pectorals. "I'm gonna take care of you! With the money I've saved up, I can send you to college no sweat!"

Warren laughed and wiggled free of his older and bigger brother's grip. "You just want a free trip to New York out of it."

His brother shrugged his huge shoulders absently. "I'm sick of this town. I think dad is too. It's time to get out of here and be the best tigers we can be."

Tigers? They weren't tigers. They were human... Right? Mosey Hills was kind to furs so...

Warren shook the thought from his head just as he heard the newscaster report on an interview with Tyson Freeman about his next Olympic appearance.

"So Tyson, how do you think you'll do with today's trials?"

Tyson, a tall, ebony Adonis with perfectly straight teeth and full, kissable lips grinned broadly at the interviewer.

"I think I'll do pretty well. I mean you won't know until you try, ya?"

The interviewer laughed jovially. "Yes, yes of course. Can we expect more gold medals for the US this year?"

"Well I ain't gonna count my eggs before they hatch. But you know my record, ya? Fastest man alive!"

"Man the way he talks is so..." Tanner began.

"Sexy," rumbled Warren. He shamelessly fondled his cock through his red jockstrap. He was already starting to leak through the fabric. Tanner immediately saw it and smirked.

"Horny fucker," snickered his brother, throwing a sweaty towel in his direction. "Come on. Spot for me at the bench press."

Tail happily doing curls in the air, Warren positioned himself on the other side of the bench press while his brother began mounting it with weights. At two hundred pounds, Tanner lay himself down on the bench and gripped the bar. Warren kept his hands hovering beneath the bar as his older brother pumped his enormous muscles up and down. Some part of him was jealous at just how big Tanner was but he knew his brother had to be big. Being a bouncer was dangerous and if Tanner was going to work security or be a bouncer in New York of all places, he'd have to be even bigger. Little wonder he was pushing himself so much recently.

He tried to focus on the workout but Tyson Freeman's deep, rumble followed by his accent continued to slip into his ears like alluring music. Every time the towering chocolate sculpture of pure masculinity would end his sentences with 'ya', Warren could feel his cock jerk in excitement. He wasn't even paying attention to what the interviewer was asking. From what little he gathered, there was some controversy about the runner but he was just so mesmerised by those sultry words.

"I gotta focus on my game, ya?"

"It don't matter, ya?"

"What happens in my bedroom ain't no body's business but my own, ya?"

Tanner's big hand suddenly closed around his cock and he let out a yelp. He looked down to where the square-jawed bouncer had racked the heavy bar and was giving him that coy, half-lidded expression of someone who was expecting an apology. His view of his brother was partially obscured by his stretched jockstrap that was straining against his erection. Thick clouds of his own musk were wafting into his nose that was only intensified by the fact that he had yet to take a shower.

"Something on your mind, sexy?" rumbled his bulky brother. Tanner smirked and angled his head to the side just enough so that Warren could see Tyson Freeman on the screen. "Or someone."

Warren blushed. "I can't help it. Freeman is just so fucking sexy."

"Is it because of the way he talks or is it because there's something exotic about him?"

Cheeks burning brightly, Warren said, "Well... little bit of both. Got to always party with Dr. Strange, right?"

"You want strange?"

Tanner reached up, hooking the rim of Warren's jockstrap and pulling it down to fully expose Warren's cock. He gripped the bench press bar with both hands, pulling himself up as if he were doing a pullup. In doing so, his lips wrapped around Warren's erect dick. The touch of the warm, soft lips made Warren moan and he instinctively thrust forward. That morning's lack of a ritualistic jack-off session came back to haunt him as his balls already began to ache for release.

His brother was surprisingly skilled with his tongue as it slipped and slid over his cock, teasing at his foreskin and lapping up every drop of precum he offered. Warren managed to keep himself standing despite his knees going weak with pleasure. His attention was ultimately drawn directly towards Tanner who used his pullup motion the simulate the bobbing motion he needed to take all ten inches of Warren's dick before pulling back again to kiss the tip. The huge, bulging muscles flexed and stretched constantly. It was a joy to watch the veins pulse and muscles tense in tandem with the sucking sensations from his member. Tanner never had a single inch of the dick completely out of his mouth.

"Oh fuck, Tanner..." Warren moaned. "This is weird..."

Tanner slipped his lips away from his brother's cock. "You're right."

His brother's huge arms suddenly lurched forward, seizing his waist and lifting him up with surprising ease. Warren was no light weight but compared to his brother's superhuman strength, he might as well have been filled with feathers! Tanner lifted him over his head positioning him right over the tenting shorts and then lowered him down. Warren was about to protest when he felt the familiar pair of lips wrap around his dick. His objection turned into a gasp and his open mouth was filled with a musky, precum-soaked tube wrapped in breathable mesh fabric.

Lust automatically overrode common sense and he immediately began nuzzling the thick rod in front of him, holding it in both his hands as his brother literally bench pressed him. His legs hung over the bench press bar giving him suitable leverage. As he was again lifted up, he took the opportunity to pull down Tanner's shorts. His brother went commando as always. The entire family found underwear rather chafing except for the times when they wore jockstraps.

Because jockstraps were hot.

Tanner lowered him once more and he was ready. The throbbing piece of meat slipped down his throat easily. Some part of his mind recoiled at the thought of having a cock down his throat and that part caused him to gag. However, the stimulation radiating from his dick brushed it aside and reminded him that he had done this before. Many times, in fact. His father had taught him how to masturbate but it had been his big brother that taught him how to have sex. When his interests started to gravitate more towards men than women, Tanner had been his first. Having his brother's cock inside of him was not unusual and his ass clenched at the memory of the last time his brother had fucked him.

How could he not love his brother in that way? Tanner was huge, hunky and had taken care of him all his life. Sure there was that small stint in jail for meth cooking but Warren had kept faith in his brother. Tanner had turned a new leaf and was saving up to put him through college. That was not the actions of a drug dealer.

He moaned, a noise mirrored by his brother. The eight-inch prick in his mouth rocked back and forward with every rise and fall that Tanner guided. Warren stabilised himself by holding onto Tanner's enormous, muscled thighs. The taut curves of his brother's quads offered the perfect grip. The taste of his brother's cock was exquisite. Musk, heat and precum all poured into him and he drowned in the moment, in the ecstasy of it all. His body immediately went into autopilot, same with Tanner.

With both men no longer paying attention, neither of them took notice of the changes sweeping their bodies.

Where Warren's orange and black tail touched his tanned flesh, a soft prickling sensation erupted. Again, Warren was too caught up in the lust and desire to notice even when the same bright orange fur began pushing out of his skin and spreading over his perfectly rounded ass. Black stripes accompanied the orange, matching the colourations of his tail. The fur stopped just below his waistline but spread towards the front of his body instead. It curled around his thighs, stopping about a quarter of the way down the mountainous mounds before abruptly turning white. Only the tips of the black stripes encroached upon the stark, white fur. His balls itched both for a need to orgasm and as the white fur swept over them. His blonde pubic hair remained though they thickened into a dense bush contrast against the white that surrounded it.

The greatest mutation occurred towards his penis. The uncut length vibrated, spewing increasingly thickening precum down Tanner's throat. The white fur didn't stop spreading down its length. As Tanner hilted along the dick, the fur stopped as if it was respectfully waiting for him to draw back. As he pushed Warren away from him, flexing his enormous chest and arm muscles in the process, the fur advanced, rushing forward as quickly as he pulled away until it had covered every inch of skin along Warren's ten-inch length. Then, just as Tanner kissed the head, that very skin pulled back. A second wave of arousal coupled with that exciting sensation of growing erect again filled Warren. A bright pink, member emerged from the white, fluffy sheath spearheaded by bulbous, mushroom-shaped glands. As his sheath receded, his cock grew bigger and bigger. Blood filled the member all over again and causing the barbs all up and down veiny shaft to rise. He moaned loudly as every inch of his new dick was stimulated by Tanner's tongue and lips, his brother never missing a beat and somehow knowing just which barb, which vein to stimulate to get him that much closer to orgasm.

For Tanner, the growth was focused entirely on where he was expending the most energy - his arms. Whether he controlled it or not, blood pumped through his arms and through them, the transformation. A brighter shade of orange fur than his brother immediately spread from his shoulders, cutting off at his armpits and rushing down his biceps. The black stripes followed shortly afterwards. His veins contested being covered by the fur and immediately grew bigger so that their shape could not be hidden by the wave of fur. A deep growl rose from his throat as all the head from his arms were pushed towards his hands. An intense fire built in his forearms like the fur was pushing the last bits of the human shape out of him, pushing it towards his fingertips where a last barricade was maintained to keep him from fully turning. It was a futile battle as white fur spread over his palms and on the underside of his forearms around the inner part of his arms. The fur completely took over his fingernails where the fire seemed to intensify. Tanner could only tense his fingers. In doing so, the burning sensation shot out of his fingertips in the shape of black claws jutting from his new feline paws.

Both men purred, warning each other that they were close to orgasm.

A voice suddenly interrupted them.

"Boys! Breakfast time! Put your weights away and -"

Brysen Bell stopped about halfway down the steps when he caught his sons in a compromising position. The sudden shock of their father catching them dropped any restraints they may have had against cumming and both boys unleashed their payload in tandem. Warren didn't get a chance to look up at his dad when his cock went off like a rocket and Tanner's dick did the same. Hot cum poured into both men's mouths and the bench press shuddered with the shock of the two wracked with spasms.

In the back of his mind, Warren was still concerned about what his father would think so he only swallowed the first load before rolling off his brother and hitting the ground. The loud thump of his broad back striking the ground caused another impressive fountain of his seed to shoot from his feline dick and splatter onto his face. Tanner was in no better position. Without a mouth to catch his cum, the blast of seed sailed through the air and struck the wall behind him.

"Dad..." Tanner moaned softly, his vision blurred in bliss as his third shot hit. He could barely make out his father's big, hairy feet and had no strength to lift his head.

Brysen crossed his arms and sighed heavily. "What have I told you boys about having sex on the workout equipment?"

"Don't..." muttered Tanner. "Blame Warren. He came down here in that sexy red jockstrap of his and nothing else."

Not that there was much left of the jockstrap. Though it appeared that Warren was wearing a pair of tiger-stripe boxer shorts instead given the growth of fur.

Their father shook his head and sighed. "Well, at least you didn't injure yourselves. Now clean up. You've already missed your morning run. Warren, Coach Holt will be by soon. Don't want to keep him waiting."

With that, Brysen turned and retreated back upstairs but not before adjusting himself slightly and wishing he had caught his sons sooner if only so he could've joined in.

*******

"You best act quickly, Garret," SABLE warned. "The seams of this reality are already starting to strain."

Garret didn't need to be told. He could feel it in the air. It was like someone had sprayed blood into the air so now everything tasted and smelled of copper. It wasn't the Bells' fault. They were only doing what came naturally. Still, every little change they made to themselves and others around made the world a little more unstable. The fact that Warren was sporting a tiger tail that everyone seemed to ignore and the fact that this was a pro-human town only put constant strain on stability.

So he had to act.

And his first target was Phillip Cole.

The drug addict from the previous night stepped out of the trailer that sat quietly in the corner of the trailer park. Garret wasn't sure if he should be surprised that Phil lived so meagrely. Shoulders hunched and a hoodie over his head, Phil slinked out of the tailer park that was surrounded by a wire fence and some forest. He kept his arm close, the one that Garret had broken last night. He likely didn't plan on going to the hospital, with the drugs in his system and his lack of cash he would be thrown into a jail cell or rehab. Thankfully though he was located on the outskirts of town away from the farmlands and what one would consider the more 'suburban' side of Mosey Hills.

It was the best place to catch the man and turn his life around.

Garret made his move the moment Phil had stepped away from the trailer park and was making his way down the dusty path towards town. He emerged from behind a tree somehow large enough to hide his enormous frame and intercepted Phil. Before the addict could protest, he wrapped an arm around the man's face, his bicep alone enough to smother any screams for help. He dragged Phil back into the forest, deep enough that no one could see them. There, he threw the man against a tree and slammed his arms on either side of the trunk to keep Phil from escaping.

"What the -?" began the addict. Then his eyes met Garret's and he immediately recognised the wolf. "You!"

"Yeah me," Garret growled.

"You're the asshole that fuckwad Tanner Bell brought with him!" He lifted his hands in surrender. "Fine! You made your point, okay? I'll stop trying to buy meth from him! He's out!"

"That's a start." Garret narrowed his eyes, focusing directly on the cowering man before him. "Tanner is clean, now got it? You and your gang can stop trying to drag him into sting operations and dragging him into shit just so you can clean up this town! He's paid his dues!"

Phil stared at him in confusion and shook his head. "What the fuck are you talking about!?"

Garret slammed a fist against the truck, causing it to quake. "I'm talking about you and your cop buddies using Tanner to catch other drug dealers and crooks! He's a good kid!"

"Cop!? I ain't no fucking cop!"

"Then what's with the badge, officer?"

Garret poked Phil's chest. When the addict looked down, there was a big, shiny, golden badge sitting on his flat chest, hanging over his hoodie like a big, lead weight. 'MHPD' was drawn across the shield as well as the name 'Cole'.

"What...? That... Uhm... I..." Phil's fear gave way to confusion. His blood-shot, brown eyes were looking directly into Garret's.

"Look, I get it," Garret said, lowering his voice and easing off on the fury. "You want to clean up this town. It's really admirable, Officer Cole. But Tanner made one mistake. You're putting him in needless danger by dragging him into this again."

"I... I don't..." Phil scratched his head absently. "Officer Cole?"

"That's you. Officer Philip Cole. Mosey Hills Police Department. You're next in line to be sheriff of this town. I get that you wanted to use Tanner to get that final push but don't you think that putting an innocent man in danger would do more harm to your career than promote it?"

Suddenly, Phil's bravado came back but it was a different kind. There was no false indignation. Instead, he spoke with a fierce authority. "Look here, citizen, I don't know where you get off but this is _my_town and I'll do whatever it takes to keep its people safe."

As he said this, Phil's chest puffed out not only with his defiance but also with new muscle. The hoodie that hung around his frame filled out and as Phil reached up to poke Garret's chest, the sleeves became filled with a thick arm that could clearly be seen through the dark fabric.

"Just because I'm a wolf and you're a cat, doesn't mean you get to speak to me that way," Garret said, keeping his cool and trying not hard to smile.

That fury was again replaced by confusion. "Cat...? I'm not..."

Garret lifted a paw in apology. "Right, right. I know you smilodons don't like being called 'cats'. But come on, Officer. The Bells are felines just like you. Can't you cut them some slack?"

Phil blinked a few times and as he did so, the bloodshot in his eyes faded. His brown irises flicked to a bright yellow a second later and momentarily contracted into slits. His dirty blonde hair immediately began to receded into his scalp like someone was pulling at the strands and causing them to slid back into his skin. He was left with a definitive crew-cut. With the loss of length in hair, however, tawny fur began springing up all around the rest of his body starting from just the tips of his ears and rapidly spreading towards the rest of his face like a forest fire.

"Uhm..." began Phil.

"Maybe there's something I can do to convince you," Garret said, winking slyly at the growing officer of the law. "I haven't had breakfast yet so..."

Without waiting for permission, he fell to his knees and immediately pulled down the former addict's joggers. Phil's six inches was already erect - a consequence of these changes - so he happily wrapped his muzzle around it and began to suck. 'Officer' Cole's body shuddered as reality began to bend around his new mind and personality.

Strong calloused hands shook and quickly curled around the back of Garret's hand. Black claws jutted out from their tips while pink, leathery pawpads sprang up over his palms. Fingers thickened alongside his hands themselves. The sawm tawny fur that had started to encroach upon his face rapidly spread all over the back of his hands while his palms were covered in a lighter tan colour. Powerful veins crawled up the back of his newly acquired paws and spread up his forearms, feeding the muscles there with more strength and mass.

Garret bobbed his head back and forth, sucking out the old Philip Cole and pushing in the new. With each movement, Officer Cole's forearms ballooned out into powerful, furry machines capable of flicking out a handgun and letting off a shot with a guaranteed bullseye in less than a second. The officer's arms stretched before him, strong muscles winding around his bones. The sleeves of his hoodie easily slipped upwards from his forearms, sliding over his elbows and straining themselves as they curled over his enormous triceps. They lost their dark colouration and turned a bright, sky blue. They settled about a three inches down from his shoulder but then his deltoids ballooned out and pulled the sleeved further up until it looked like he was wearing a sleeveless shirt.

The guys in the office always gave him hell about it and the sheriff used to reprimand him for it but he was just to goddamn big. No uniform would fit him and the department in Mosey Hills was too poor to be able to provide Cole with custom made clothes.

Cole moaned loudly, bucking his hips into the Coach's muzzle. With the first buck, a single chevron appeared on his shoulder patch. A second promoted him to corporal. A third made him a sergeant. Sure there was one lieutenant above him that should really be the next sheriff but he and the lieutenant were good friends and they both knew that Cole would make a way better sheriff.

With another buck of his hips, Officer Phil Cole's chest inflated, straining the fabric of his half-shirt, half-hoodie. The last fragments of his former garment vanished into the cleaned, pressed and ironed officer's shirt which allowed his perfectly sculpted pectorals to jut outwards with his badge spearheading the way so the world knew he was a police officer. His huge traps led down towards his washboard abs, barely concealed by his shirt and with every button on the fabric straining to burst.

The slouched posture from years of dealing drugs and trying to look inconspicuous straightened with loud snapping noises. His spine became straight as a ruler, his head snapping back to be held high and proud. He gnashed his teeth together, thrashing his head from side to side. A soft yowl left him when a powerful pressure build within his skull, pushing outwards from all directions. His ears were forced to the tip of his head and his nose flatted with his features reshaping themselves into a distinct, feline shape. His lips peeled back in a snarl. Yellowed, broken teeth sharpened into points and became perfectly white. The upper canines grew into huge, curved sabres that hung out of his muzzle and was the most prominent feature of his handsome, face.

Officer Cole kicked his legs out, supporting his weight on the tree behind him. His feet burst free of his sneakers, shredding them into an instant with his claws leading the way. The fabric crumbled into nothingness, leaving him with just his enormous, bare paws. Just as the department couldn't afford to give him a better fitting uniform, so too could they not afford to find him a good pair of shoes. That suited him just well. Chasing down perps in barefoot held a certain exhilarating thrill to it.

The dusty, dark joggers transformed into pressed, black slacks that hugged his thick calves, his juicy thighs and made everyone envy the package he sported. Where his chest directed the eye towards his badge, his legs drew everyone's attention to the massive cock and balls that Garret found himself buried in. Each testicle was the size of a baseball and the cock within his muzzle started to writhe and squirm with a dexterity that was definitely not normal.

Cole threw his head back and let out a loud gasp. Hot cum and the remnants of the old Philip Cole poured out of his alien dick, his hips thrusting madly in excitement. The man that had once been a drug addict was now one of the top policemen in Mosey Hills. Reality began to bend around him. The seams stopped degrading at such a concerning rate. One of the most respected and sexy authority figures in town was now a fur and a form of feline. That helped.

But there was more to do.

Garret pulled his muzzle away from Cole's dick, lapping up the delicious seed and smirking. Sergeant Cole was about five inches shorter than him was wider, built like a real tank. Against the common criminal, Cole would be an intimidating figure indeed.

Better yet was the 'weapon' that Cole was equipped with between his legs. The smilodon returned Garret's smirk with one of his own. The long cock wasn't barbed like a normal feline's but it was long - very long. Rising from its sheath, the bright, pink member rose up, curling in the air like a serpent drooling at the sight of its prey. It gently caressed Garret's strong jaw, running along the chinstrap beard there.

"You make a very convincing argument, Mr. Holt," Cole said.

"So we have a deal?" Garret said. "You leave Tanner alone?"

Cole lifted his arm and flexed the enormous mass there. "Can't say I ever imagined myself being a police officer. But this is fucking amazing." Upon his command, his prehensile cock curled around his bicep, drooling precum all over it. "The cock is weird but the way you worshiped it... Well fuck. It's better than meth!"

"I thought you might feel that way," chuckled the wolf. "You'll be interested to know it's _other_abilities."

"It can do more?"

Garret smirked. "Every officer needs backup, right? Just stick that down someone's throat and they'll turn into a sexy, sabretooth cop just like you." He lifted a finger before Cole could ask any questions. "But you've got to be careful. You could end the world if you go crazy."

There Cole's expression turned grave. The sergeant straightened and his dick slipped back in his sheath with a loud schlurp. He buttoned up his slacks. "I'm listening."

"I'll explain on the way back to my car." As he turned, Cole seized his shoulder.

"Let's take my squad car," said the officer. Then he broke out into a smile briefly. "Shit... I have a squad car."

Laughing softly, Garret accompanied Cole back to the big police cruiser that was built just for furs. Being particularly large specimens of furs, they were sitting shoulder to shoulder. Cole started the car and told Garret to explain.

"When you transform someone, you have command over their personality, history and as such this very reality," Garret warned. "If you wanted, you can make the big, tough-guy mafia grunt a skinny, cock-worshiping slut. But you'll only be able to change someone once."

"Why once?"

"Because you're not an Agent like me." He gave Cole an apologetic smile. "Sorry man. You need more training to be able to continuously affect reality and thus the world around you while remaining immune to its effects."

"So I can't change you, huh?"

Garret shook his head as Cole began to drive. "No. Just one of the restrictions I put in the NEXT I gave you."

"And a NEXT is...?"

"A Nexus Evolutionary Xenophilic Trait. A mutation that has special effects."

"My dick and it's ability to turn people into smilodon cops."

"Right."

Garret explained that Agents had the unique ability to be able to support multiple NEXTs and even trade them out for others amongst the Nexus Conglomerate. Unfortunately, the usual populace of the realities had their genetic and dimensional limit. Entire worlds had been destroyed when one individual took too many NEXTs. This was because NEXTs generally did not belong in the reality.

"You're not _meant_to be able to turn people into smoking hot cops, you know," Garret said.

"I still need to thank you for that." Cole winked at him. "I'll get out at five today."

"I'll meet you at eight," Garret said with a grin. "You'll want to check out your new house."

"I don't have to live in that shitty trailer park again? Well shit. What's the downside of this? Why don't you just give it to everyone?"

"Because if you make everyone special, no one is," answered Garret grimly. "And like I said, too many NEXTs, too many alterations and your entire world could go to shit. You know those stories where the entire world becomes covered in horrible, fleshy abominations?"

Cole looked at him warily. "Yeah..."

"That."

"Oh."

The Coach warned the newly made Sergeant that the use of NEXTs could have two impacts upon the world: destabilise it or restabilise it. Cole's transformation restabilised it because Mosey Hills originally didn't allowed any furs to live within it but as the Bells were slowly being transitioned into becoming tigers, that made a sort of 'plot hole' that the reality could not cope with. Suddenly making Mosey Hills like furs and yet having no furs but the Bells or keep on being xenophobic with the exception of the Bells would just be too much for the rules of the world to maintain. The change would be too sudden and there would be disaster.

"So you made me into a fur," Cole concluded. "What makes the Bells so special?"

"Honestly, it's just Warren and I can't tell you that. Mostly because I don't know either. My mission was just to alter Warren Bell and as a result, the rest of his family was changed to."

Cole shrugged. "I get it. I suppose. So what can I do to save my home?"

"Turn other people into cops like you but without making things too drastic." Garret reached into his duffel bag and handed Cole a black, glossy device - a Monolith. "There's a list on that thing to help you decide who to change."

The smilodon officer parked his cruise and tapped on the featureless black screen. His features lit up as he saw all the applications available and opened the list offered to him. "Aww shit. I was hoping Riley would be on the list."

"Riley?"

"Yeah," Cole grinned at Garret. "He's one of my gang. We're at his house right now."

Garret lifted one eyebrow as Cole eagerly left the cruiser and headed up towards the large, two storey home. They were in one of the richer parts of town. Now that he thought about it, he recalled that some of the people that had been with Cole that night looked like they came from well-to-do families. He watched with amusement as the officer knocked on the big, white door and told the woman the answered that he needed to speak with Riley.

Cole entered the house a moment later, blocking him from the Coach's sight.

With a smile, Garret pulled out his own Monolith and accessed SABLE.

"How's the dimensional stability coming along."

"Much better," answered the AI. "You work fast. Transforming Philip Cole will allow him to infect his gang members. That will be a total of seven people along with their family members that will be transformed thus increasing the fur population of Mosey Hills. I will be providing the newcomers with targets to whom they can transform as well so you do not have to be the one to stabilise the reality alone. Well done."

Garret decided not to mention that he had specifically targeted Cole because of what had happened the previous night.

"And here I thought I'd get to fuck the mayor."

"That will be Riley Queen's job given he comes from a wealthy family and has ties with the mayor. May I just ask why it is that you chose to give him the prehensile penis infector NEXT? It is an odd choice all things considered."

The wolf smile at his phone. "To avoid jealousy from the Bells. He needs to be unique compared to them. If he was just another smilodon fur, he'd be questioning why he couldn't get the NEXTs that I've given the Bells."

"Ah. You intend to make him an ally."

"A reason why I gave him a Monolith. Plus, that cock is hot."

"Indeed."

A moment later the door to his side of the cruiser opened. Another smilodon wearing the same sky-blue uniform lowered his head to regard him. This one had reddish-brown fur and had two bands on his shirt marking him as a lieutenant - the same lieutenant that was Cole's friend and lover from what Garret could discern.

"Sorry Mr. Holt," rumbled Lieutenant Riley Queen. "That's my seat."

Garret shrugged and hopped out. The two police officers took up the front two seats of the cruiser - causing the car to visibly heave - while Garret sat in the back.

"Mission accomplished," Sergeant Cole said, taking up the wheel and starting the engine again.

Garret glanced over to the two storey house and noticed that the woman - who had once been human - was now a smilodon and bore the same reddish-brown fur as Riley Queen. She was waving at them. "You two might need to turn a doctor," he said, handing Lieutenant Queen a Monolith.

"Why?" asked Cole.

"Let's just say that your dicks aren't the only part of your anatomy that normal doctors won't find on a chart."

The two cops laughed and asked where they could drop off Garret. After he was driven back at the trailer park to fetch his truck, Garret left the two officers with a smile and a few parting words.

"Welcome to the Nexus Conglomerate, officers."

*******

It was the best part of the day for Warren. The time when he finally got to finish up with his classes and meet up with Coach Holt in his office. Throughout the day, he had been feeling an itching crawling up his belly and chest. To a lesser extent, it spread down his legs as well. About halfway through the day, he had ducked out into the toilets and pulled up his shirt. It had taken some effort because the garment was so tight around his frame. What met him was a wall of solid muscle that was covered in soft, short white fur. Upon turning around, he saw the rigid back muscles coated in orange fur with the black stripes only highlighting every curve of his impressive physique. He registered that some other people would've been horrified at this but he didn't consider it strange at all. There was definitely something changing inside of him and he knew it was all related to Coach Holt. But it wasn't a bad thing. He was enjoying it and was eager to see what he would eventually become.

With this thought in his mind, he hurried to the Coach Holt's office, his heart racing in his chest. Strange as it may seem, he actually felt like there were two heartbeats pounding in his chest, one right next to the other. He didn't even bother to know this time. He just barged in. Holt was leaning back in his chair, idly tapping away at his phone with his big feet up on the desk.

"Nice to see you putting those legs to good use," Holt said with a smile. "Ready for today's lesson?"

"You bet!" Warren licked his lips. "Can I get my protein fresh like yesterday?"

"Hold on there, champ," said the big wolf, holding up a paw. "First, there's something I need to tell you. Take a seat."

Warren did as he was told, tail slapping against the ground eagerly. His eyes were fixated on Coach Holt's immense bulge. He knew what was kept within those tight shorts and he was impatient to get at it.

"You've probably noticed the changes happening to you. To your family."

That was enough to jar Warren from his obsession with Holt's dick. "Actually, yeah. I... I don't know what's going on but it feels really good." He cocked his head to the side. "You're the one that made this change in me, right?"

Holt nodded sagely, straightening in his seat and causing that bulge to drop away from view for a moment. "I don't really work for the school. Well, I do but I was planted here by my real employers."

"Your employers? Who?"

"Can't tell you that yet. One day I'll let you meet them but not now." Holt pocketed his phone and looked gravely at Warren. "Warren, for whatever reason, my employers asked me to come here and change you. To make you an asset for them."

"An... asset...? Seems so impersonal. I haven't signed away my soul, have I?"

Holt lifted a paw. "You're under no obligation to join up. Really, this entire world, the entire universe you know is their asset. You're already one of their assets and the truth is, had we not interfered... well..." Holts gaze dropped a little. "Your future wouldn't have been to your liking. They're just trying to make sure that they see a return on their investment and you can do that by living your life to its fullest."

Warren frowned. "You sound like... like you work for God." His eyes widened. "Are you an angel?"

Holt threw his head back and laughed. "Oh wow! In all my years I've never heard that one before!" The big wolf shook his head. "No, son. Not an angel. An Agent. Close, I guess. But these are questions for another time. I walk to talk about the changes in you."

The lupine coach rose from his seat and walked around his desk. Coach Holt took up the same position he did yesterday when Warren had sucked him off. But Warren was not concerned about that for the moment. He was fascinated about the topic at hand.

"See Warren, I have certain abilities," Holt said. "We call them Nexus Evolutionary Xenophilic Traits or NEXTs for short. There are other Agents like me and they have all sorts of NEXTs. Sometimes, we all have the same if we're working towards a singular goal. But my NEXTs allowed me to do a couple of things. First..." He held up a finger. "... it allowed me to distil the essences of people, copy them and reconfigure them for my use."

Warren remained silent. He had an inkling he knew what Coach Holt was talking about but waited for the wolf to clarify.

"I can do this in a variety of ways," said Holt with a shrug of his broad shoulders. "Eat their hair, drink some of their blood. Sometimes, if the situation calls for it, eating them entirely. Of course the last one needs other NEXTs to help me cope as I'm not built to eat people whole. But the best and by far most enjoyable way I obtain essences is getting someone's cum inside of me."

"You give people blowjobs?"

"Or they fuck me. Either way." Coach Holt nodded towards Warren. "One of my other NEXTs is the ability to create a formula that can induce a transformation in someone else. All I have to do is think it and my balls make the formula." He tapped the side of his head. "Can you see where I'm going with this?"

Warren did. "You got the essences of certain people then made a formula that you gave me. That's how I'm changing." He looked up towards the lupine Coach. "Whose cum did you have to get for me?"

Holt smiled. "Rodrigo Mantle."

The young baseball hopeful leapt out of his chair in shock. "You sucked Rodrigo Mantle's dick!? But he's straight! He's married! Unless..."

The wolf laughed softly and waved him down. "No, he's straight. In fact, if I did it right, he should be more in love with his wife than ever before despite their arguments. It's one of my other NEXTs." He lifted one of his arms and gestured towards his sweaty pit. "I can produce pheromones that lowers the inhibitions of those who smell it. They become more suggestible. That how I got to Mantle. Of course, those with strong will won't necessarily be so easy to bend to my will. That's why I have these beauties." He gestured at his eyes. "Total hypnosis through eye contact. When I activate them and someone locks gazes with me, they fall completely under my power."

A little smidge of concern bubbled up in Warren's throat. "Did you ever use that on me?"

"Just a little bit. Just to boost your confidence and gloss over the changes you're undergoing. I'm sure you've noticed that anyone else would've been shitting themselves right now."

"Uh... yeah."

"That's all you. It's my last NEXT. A catalytic reality bending ability." He gestured at Warren. "I can't change the rules of the world or your physique without the permission of someone else whether it be conscious or subconscious. I may make the suggestions but unless that person wants to change or accept my changes in any way at all, it won't happen. You changed because you want to change. You're not afraid or panicking right now because you know you wanted this. Deep down, you've always been a real tiger."

A wry smile appeared on Warren's features. The young man closed his eyes, searching within himself. There was no shred of doubt in him that what Coach Holt said was true. Even if he didn't trust Holt, he wouldn't want to have the changes reverted. In fact, he wanted more. He wanted the changes to complete.

When he opened his eyes, he found himself looking right into Coach Holt's bright, sky-blue eyes. At that moment, it felt like the floodgates had been opened and a rush of memories came trickling into his mind. He could only grasp at a few at a time but he came to realise where he had been. Just a mere three days ago, he was a scrawny kid working on a hope and a prayer that his high school coach would take pity on him and write him a letter of recommendation to maybe have a chance at getting into a decent college without any idea of how he'd pay for the tuition. His father was an abusive, hopeless drunk and his brother was a meth-cooking, anti-social punk.

Things were so much better now.

"You're right, Coach," he said, his smile turning into a broad grin. "Thank you."

"I'm glad you like what I did," Holt said, returning the smile. "Either way, I'm sure you have questions. Feel free to ask."

As much as Warren wanted to start with 'Can I suck your dick now?' his inquisitive side did need sating first. "Who else did you suck off for me?"

"I don't suppose you know Clinton Hardwood?"

Warren shook his head. This prompted the Coach to quickly grab his phone, do a quick search and then show the screen to the young man. Warren's eyes went wide and his jaw dropped open in shock.

"Holy shit! Is that thing..."

"It's real," the wolf laughed. "I gave it to him. If I did things right, you might just get one too. Provided you let it."

Warren's mouth watered at the sight of the huge two-foot long equine dick. As much as he would absolutely _kill_for a cock like that, he couldn't help but wonder how he'd fit it into his brother's mouth or his dad's ass.

"Could we... uh... scale it back a little?" he asked. "I mean, I'm not sure that thing would fit anywhere."

There was a sheepish edge to Holt's smile. "You'd be surprised. But sure, son. Shall we settle on fourteen inches?"

"Sounds fair." Warren gripped his own rising dick which was already at an impressive foot long. An extra four inches would make a lot of difference and he certainly couldn't wait to put it to use. "Anyone else?"

"Tyson Freeman, actually."

"The Olympic runner? Why?"

Holt got up from where he was sitting and poked Warren's chest with a finger. "Because while batters have excellent upper body strength, kids like you tend to think that's all they're good for and forget that they need to run as well. Had I just stopped at Mantle, you would've focused entirely on how big his biceps were and forget legs day."

Warren's reply was instinctive as it was defensive. "No I wouldn't!" Holt just gave him an exasperated look that made the boy lower his gaze. "Okay... yeah. Maybe."

"It's no problem." Holt patted his shoulder comfortingly and returned to his position leaning against his table with his arms crossed. "Any other questions?"

"How does the whole 'reality bending' work?"

Garret Holt explained some very technical stuff that went over Warren's head but from what the little the young baseball star could gather, all Holt could really do was make small changes to history, personality and physical appearances. Incredibly large changes would be disastrous and he always had to consider the knock-on effect of any changes he made. He gave the example of Tanner who became a bouncer. The encounter at Greenside transformed from Tanner shuffling quietly to a secret meeting with some local addicts to Tanner and Holt confronting a group of ambitious police officers to tell them squarely that they were done playing the mole.

"It's like playing Jenga," Holt said. "You take one piece from some place in the tower _carefully_and reposition it somewhere on the top. You ultimately make the tower taller but also a little more unstable. Do something drastic and it all comes crumbling down. Do it right and you might just win the game."

"Are we at risk now?"

Holt shook his head. "Sergeant Cole and Lieutenant Queen is working to stabilise the town right now so the rate of degradation has stopped at least. To fully repair the damage, though, I'm going to need to get you and your family to do their part."

"Us? What do you need us to do?"

There, Coach Holt smiled. "When I changed you, you got a NEXT as well. One that will allow you to infect others. I'm sure you've also noticed that you can alter reality and memories of those close to you."

Now that he had his memories back, he did recall how he went from closeted gay to enacting every redneck stereotype of fucking his immediate family all because Tanner got horny.

"Uh... Yeah. I did."

"Suffice to say that the Bell Family will be able to make a few tigers and indeed will need to so that the reality will become a little more stable." Holt smiled broadly. "Trust me, you'll enjoy it."

"Okay..." Warren had to sit down because his cock was straining against his shorts and it was getting hard to stand with all the blood rushing towards his member. "What... uh... What other changes were there in me?" He was impatient to get all the technicalities out of the way so that he could just suck that amazing cock in front of him.

"Your physiology has also changed."

He rolled his eyes at that and wondered if Coach Holt was just teasing him now. "Well duh, Coach. I mean check these out!" In a swift movement, he pulled up his shirt to reveal his furry abdominals.

"More than on the surface," Holt said with infinite patience. "You've got two hearts now. One is your primary but the other one helps your circulation and keeps your body running. Where most people would get tired, you'll still keep going. Your lungs are three times more efficient than before and have inbuilt filters that will now take away all pollutants and filter them out of your body. You'll now also have a 'protein sack' right next to your stomach."

"A what?"

"Think of it as a non-fatty fuel tank. When you start straining yourself, instead of your muscles starting to eat themselves to keep you moving, it'll start eating away at the stuff in your protein sack first. Needless to say that you'll need to eat a _lot_more now to keep yourself fuelled up."

There were other mutations that Coach Holt explained. Obviously, Warren could no longer have children. Instead of secreting his genetic material, his cock and balls would pump out the mutagen that would turn someone into a tiger just like him. His muscles were much denser than normal furs making him a lot stronger than someone his size. Every bone in his body was also reinforced with flexible, metallic alloy.

"There will be some drawbacks," Holt said. "You've got to regulate your strength. You're not invincible so don't go acting like you're a superhero. Like I said, you've got to eat a lot more to keep yourself fit and strong but that also means if you want to keep growing and developing, you've need to eat even more than that. Oh and airport security will be hell. You've got metal in your bones now, after all."

Coach Holt rubbed his fuzzy chin thoughtfully. "Though I do wonder what your secondary mutation will be."

"My what?"

"You're not an Agent so you can't switch out NEXTs like I can but generally assets tend to have a unique mutation that's unique to their type. I know there was this particular strain that could stick their cocks into cars and that would act as the vehicles fuel. I wonder what yours will be." Holt shrugged and reached for his waistband. "Oh well. Enough talk. Feeding time."

Warren's features brightened. "Fucking finally!"

Garret Holt could only chuckle as he pulled off his shorts and willed his cock to full mast. Within just a few seconds, his grey, furry sheath erupted as his enormous cock that took both his paws to hoist up emerged. Warren didn't even need to move from where he was and just sat there with his mouth open as the big, red dick shoved itself into his mouth. Garret had to admit the entire time he was explaining the mechanics of the transformation to Warren, he had been fighting his own need to pounce the boy and fuck him until he was a full tiger.

Now that he had his cock in the boy's mouth, he couldn't hold it in any longer.

He let out a loud moan and his balls churned madly. They took all the information he had gathered of Rodrigo Mantle, Clinton Hardwood and Tyson Freeman, condensed them into the thick, white juices that he produced and then added his own touch. In his mind, he kept thinking, 'Tiger. Tiger. Big, muscly tiger' and his balls did the rest. The formula was ready and his cock went to work pumping it out of his sack and straight into Warren's throat. Holt was nearly blasted back by the force of the orgasm. His desk actually cracked a little where his rump was resting as the thick, gelatinous goo came rushing out.

Warren gobbled as much of it up as he could but the force of the blast from the titanic cock was powerful enough to knock him off his chair and send him sprawling onto the ground. Holt didn't stop cumming despite this. His molten seed kept pouring out, splattering all over Warren and covering the half-tiger youth until no inch of him was exposed to the air. Though the cocoon of cum was already thick enough, Holt squeezed out about two more gallons of the stuff just to make sure that the transformation was complete.

The mound of goo began to gurgle loudly, shifting in front of him.

Within, Warren could feel the Coach's cum seeping into his every pore. Though he tried to consume as much of it as possible, his body simply hungered for it. His very skin sucked it in, every hair or fur on his body drinking the cum like a man thirsty for water. Raw power flooded his body, pushing through his muscles, rushing into his bones, filling his mind. Suddenly, his mind was awash with professional baseball plays, perfect strategies, the right way to hold a bat as a left-handed hitter, when to steal a base and how to look sexy while doing it. He was a tiger and as a tiger, the crowd would hear him roar whenever he scored for his team. It was his thing. The moment he hit Homeplate, he would usually flex, possibly ripping his shirt in the process, and let out an ear-shattering roar.

The crowd constantly cheered 'Unleash the Beast' over and over again whenever they saw him strut onto the field. All the gold trophies on his wall were a testament to how many times he had let the beast loose. Not only on the field but off the field too. His dad usually liked to reward him for a job well done after all.

As this all came flooding into him and reality warped to suit the new truth, his body quaked and changed. What vestiges of human flesh that covered his body became covered in orange fur striped with cool, black streaks. His fingernails vanished beneath the wash of fur only to resurface as retractable claws that jutted from the tips of his fingers. Black, leathery pawpads sprang up both on the palms of his paws and the soles of his feet. Toenails followed the path of their hand-bound cousins while his legs stretched and grew.

An immense heat erupted from the core of his body. It pushed outwards both in the direction of his feet and his head. His body had no choice but to comply; stretching outwards in both directions. He felt the power overflowing around his shoulders as it pushed them out into two, huge, round bowling balls. Huge beefy arms that would've made Rodrigo Mantle jealous ballooned into existence, barely contained by the beautiful coat of orange fur. His belly tightened. All fat melted away against the searing heat and only left strong abdominals that were as wide as human hands and as thick as a fist. His bellybutton became compressed against their suffocating grip but even against the coat of white fur, it popped outwards against the sea of muscle as a resolute outie. Warren threw his head back, beaming brightly and with his eyes squeezed shut. Light crinkles appeared around the corners of his eyes reminiscent of a certain baseball player and remained there even as the orange and white fur came sweeping in over his features.

His already enormous foot-long member surged outwards, puncturing the bubble of cum like a flag. Rising another extra four inches to become an incredible fourteen inches, the pink member curved a little to the side just like Clinton Hardwood's. Warren felt cold air brush his cheeks again as the last of the cum seeped into his body and was converted into mass and form. His angular chin obtained a handsome cleft that was clearly visible even beneath the white fur of his strong, square muzzle. The nose at the tip of his face flatted out with a pink tip while feline whiskers popped out on either side of his muzzle. His massive paws instinctively curled around his dick, his hips bucking madly into them. The grin of ecstasy was made somewhat more adorable by the presence of dimples just where his black, rubbery rips met his cheeks.

Warren 'Warrior' Bell arched his back and let out a tremendous roar reminiscent of his battle cries out in the field. His big feet inherited from Tyson Freeman curled in ecstasy, the legs from the same sire kicking out madly as he finally let out his first orgasm as a fully-fledged tiger. His cock erupted, shooting high with enough force that it splattered the ceiling of Coach Holt's office. He gagged, gasping as the orgasm left him utterly breathless and mostly delirious.

He wasn't sure how long he was lying there but the next thing he knew, Holt was standing over him, offering a paw.

Warren could only take it and allow the Coach to hoist him up to his full 7'3'' height. He was still a few inches shorter than Garret but he didn't mind looking up to the wolf that he admired. He smiled and leaned towards Coach Holt, nuzzling him affectionately and using his long, rough tongue to lap at the Coach's cheek.

"Thank you," he purred.

"Anytime, buddy. Anytime." Holt gently pushed him away. "Now what do you say we go out and practice your batting? Maybe today you can finally hit a homerun."

Warren beamed. "Just don't pull any punches, ya?"

*******

Warren returned late a little past five in the evening and it was to the sight and sound of his father cooking dinner. It smelled delicious and though he had to duck a little under the doorframe, he managed to sneak up to his dad and kiss him affectionately on the cheek.

"Smells good," he purred.

"Thanks, Warren," Brysen said, not even blinking at the sight of his huge, 7-foot-tall tiger son. "Set the table, would you? Oh, and did Garret drop you off?"

"Ya?"

"Catch him before he leaves. Invite him to dinner tomorrow."

"Sure, dad!" Warren quickly rushed back towards the lawn but Garret had already left no doubt to help stabilise the world again. That didn't matter. He reached for the phone Coach Holt had given him, a Monolith and quickly texted him the invitation. Garret replied a second later with a sound thumbs up.

"He'll be there, dad," Warren announced as he reached for the plates and cutlery. "Think you can cook up your famous strudel? Bet he'll love it."

"Sure thing!" Brysen exclaimed.

He began to set the table, reminiscing about how his family hadn't gathered around the table for dinner for so long. But that was the old reality. In the new version of things, he distinctly remembered all of them having to sit around the dinner table early because Tanner had to go to work fairly late. Being a bouncer at a club meant that he wouldn't get a chance to eat and the only time all the Bells would be together was right after Warren got home from school. That was a version of history that he much preferred. He wondered how long it would take to even forget that he had once lived a different life.

A few minutes later, they sat around the dinner table while Brysen served them some steaks, mash and greens. Unlike everyone else, Warren had five steaks and while that would've seemed excessive for him, he knew he needed every calorie to fuel his newly acquired protein sack and immense, feline body. But he also had to worry about the fact that his father no longer had a job. Could they get along on Tanner's salary?

He pushed the thoughts out of his mind and just enjoyed his meal. Occasionally, he would stop munching on some meat to chime in on the conversations between his father and older brother. Being able to chat with them without either being drunk or drugged out on meth was just so heart-warming and idyllic.

"Damn, out of water," Warren muttered as he regarded the empty pitcher before him.

"I'll get more," Tanner announced, picking up his finished dishes. The bouncer had to eat fast to make it to work after all. "Sit still, bro."

"Thanks, man."

Tanner returned a moment later with a jug of milk. Warren didn't want to be picky as his brother was already eagerly rushing to hurry out the door. Still, his body craved nourishment and he quickly poured himself some of the milk which seemed a little thicker than user. He drank it and gagged a little at the distinctly salty taste. This was cum. Typical of Tanner to play a prank on him but he wondered how his big brother had managed to squeeze out so much cum in so little time.

"Bro, I'm impressed."

Tanner reached down to pick up Brysen's dishes. "Huh? What do you mean?" Then he saw the jug of cum. "Wait... That was water."

"It was? But it's your cum. I know. I've tasted both."

Tanner dipped a finger into the seed and lapped it up. "Yep, that's my cum alright. But I filled the jug with water. I swear!"

"Worry about it later, son," Brysen said, grabbing the jug and nonchalantly pouring himself a glass. "Hurry up or you'll be late for work."

With a shrug, Tanner did the dishes before rushing off to the club. Not before he gave both Brysen and Warren a peck on the cheek and a coy grope. The two remaining Bells exchanged glances, quietly wondering between themselves whose bed Tanner would invade tomorrow morning when the brawny bouncer returned. Tanner's red sports car zipped out of the driveway and Brysen retired to the couch in the lounge. Warren joined him.

They watched the news. Local newscasters were going on about how the sheriff had gone past local customs and decided to promote Sergeant Philip Cole as his successor instead of going to Lieutenant Queens. The conservative channels were already spreading rumours that Queen and Cole were secretly lovers and objecting to the idea of having a bug of 'furry faggots' in law enforcement. Naturally, there were conservative furs who opposed this notion and more liberal ones that attacked the rumours. Warren had to wonder if this was part of the plan or would be fixed.

His mind was drawn away from the TV, however, when he noticed that Brysen was rubbing his own feet.

"Something wrong, dad?"

Brysen shrugged at him. "Just been on my feet all day, son. Had to haul all the junk we had to the garbage pile. Lots of lifting. Lots of driving. Lots of cleaning. My paws are barking."

"How about I give you a foot rub? Bet it'll feel good, ya?"

His dad beamed and leaned back against the armrest of the sofa, holding up one of his feet. "I'm not going to say 'no' to that."

Warren happily took his father's big, warm foot and kneaded the soreness out of it. Brysen moaned at the attention his son's paws lathered on his feet. The contact quickly evolved from a massage to something a little more intimate. Warren, who had opted to go back home shirtless, drew the foot closer to his chest where he pushed it against his pectorals. Brysen happily explored the wide plateau of his son's chest even sinking his toe into the valley between the two mountains. Warren purred as the idea of having something of his father's slide between his pectorals was incredibly arousing.

Neither male called any attention to their rising erections even though both noticed. Warren happily pulled his father's foot closer towards his muzzle. He tongue lashed out, sliding over the underside gently so as not to injure his dad with his rough tongue. He momentarily caught himself marvelling at how - three days earlier - he despised his father and now here he was, worshiping the man's foot and being intimate with him. For some reason, that just made the experience all the more arousing.

An incredible force drew Warren to pull his father's big toe into his muzzle, drooling all over it. Brysen moaned, pushing more of his foot into his son's muzzle. The warmth of Warren's tongue left a tickling sensation on the tip of his toe. As he pulled it out as if he were fucking his son's muzzle, orange fur sprang from the tip of his toe. Perhaps instinctively knowing that his claw would come out soon, Brysen curled his foot around Warren's cheeks, his son moaned and purring softly. The fur consumed his toenail a moment later. A quick flex of his toe and there was a black claw that slipped out from a sheath.

Bones crackled loudly as the foot itself began to grow bigger and bigger. The orange fur spread like wildfire, covering both the underside and top of Brysen's foot. The effect also occurred on his other foot which he immediately brought up and used it to caress Warren's chest. It almost appeared like he was wearing two, big, novelty tiger slippers. The fur stopped just a little past his ankles but it was enough to turn both men away from the television and bring their attention to more carnal needs. Brysen circled his new clawed toes around his son's big, pink nipples to bring a moan from the large tiger. He licked his lips, finding it delectable that he could arouse his son so much.

For Warren, he could feel the desire to cum building not only in his balls and erect dick but also strangely in his nipples. He grunted, thrusting both his hips and chest forward. The muscles of his pectorals tensed over and over without showing any signs of relaxing. Hard veins traced lines from his broad shoulders over the sinewy path of his pectorals before kissing the pink of his areolas. The fleshy nubs hardened just like his cock and ached with the same need.

He moaned loudly and seized his father's feet, pressing them against his chest. An ecstatic burst of pleasure erupted from the nubs and his eyelids fluttered with the orgasmic release. Hot, creamy white fluid coated his father's feet, momentarily stunning Brysen.

"Son... did you just...?" began the sprawled half-tiger.

Warren only moaned softly and brought up his father's foot back towards his muzzle. His tongue slipped between the toes, lapping up his own milk. All the day's trials and tribulations faded from his sore muscles and aching bones. Any form of weariness faded from his mind and body. He became sharply awake and filled to the brim with energy. His dick throbbed with the same enthusiasm, squirting precum all over his father's belly.

A devious grin crossed his lips and he let go of Brysen's foot. He seized his right nipple with both his paws, aiming it directly at Brysen's face and squeezing the muscle there while simultaneously tensing his pectorals. His man milk shot out. First he overshot his dad's face and hit the table beyond. Then he splattered some onto Brysen's chest. As his father laughed, the third shot managed to make it into his lips. His dad's eyes lit up and his hips instantly bucked.

"Shall we bring this to the bedroom?" Brysen suggested.

"Fuck yeah," Warren growled.

There was a blur of motion and discarded clothing as both men eagerly bolted towards the master bedroom. Brysen playfully pinched Warren's bubble butt, sending the younger tiger scrambling onto the bed. Warren had barely turned around to lie flat on his back before his father's immense bulk was on top of him and their lips meeting in a passionate kiss. Both men gripped one another in a loving embrace - perhaps _too_loving for a father/son relationship - but one that was afire with sexual passion.

The steel rods of their cocks were pressed against one another, their heartbeat pulsating through them like the sound of drums urging them on. Warren was careful not to be too aggressive with his feline tongue. His dad was still human from the ankles up. But Brysen's desire was insatiable and there was something about having his own feline feet rubbing up against his father's, their claws out and gently scratching at their fur that got his cock aching with overwhelming need. Uncertain of how well he could control himself, he pulled his muzzle away from his dad, offering his neck instead. Brysen eagerly nuzzled the strong, corded flesh, nipping at the bands of muscle and sending waves of pleasure all throughout Warren's mind.

Brysen's hands roved his lean, muscled form, rubbing through his fur and caressing the hardened flesh beneath. Warren purred and bucked constantly, rubbing his barbed dick against his father's member. Each jostle pushed Brysen's roving hands from the bulky tiger's abdominals, moving one rung after the other until they began to crest the huge summit of his bulging pectorals. Those same hands immediately began to veer off to his sides. The moment they brushed up against his nipples, Warren let out a soft moan and as his pectoral muscles heaved and secreted more of his milk.

The sudden touch of liquid caused Brysen to pause and the big, burly daddy pulled away for a moment to regard the liquid dripping between his lips. He tentatively lapped at it, eyelids fluttering in ecstasy as the hesitant lick turned to him sticking his fingers into his mouth to get every drop out. All the while, his hips continued to grind into his son.

"Oh fuck dad..." Warren moaned, adoring the touch of his father's thick dick against the barbs of his cock.

Brysen straightened while cradling his son between his hips. In one big, meaty hand, he held their two cocks together. Even without fully evolving into his feline form, his hands were big enough to seize both members. The other moved towards Warren's left nipple and gave it a tight squeeze. Warren moaned, arching his back and thus thrusting his cock into Brysen's big hand. Hot man milk shot out of his dick, splattering his dad's face. Brysen eagerly lapped it up.

Showing no signs of slowing and a bit of a manic look in his eyes, Brysen stroking their pressed cocks together. Every pull towards the tip of his dick caused a jet of precum to shoot from their cocks, splattering all over Warren's white, furry chest like an abstract expressionist painting. The splashes somewhat mirrored the white splotches of milk that shot from his nipple and onto Brysen's face. The pushes towards the base of his barbed member only built more pressure in his balls, increasing the heat that he felt in his body and making him yearn for that instant of release. Though precum and milk were pouring out him, it was not enough to relieve the pressure in his body.

"Dad... fuck... I'm gonna..."

Each of his bucking grew more and more fervent. The pressure within him begged for release and he could feel his balls tightening up against his cock, ready to unleash its load.

"Don't you dare cum yet, son," growled Brysen. "Not yet."

The power of his father's deep, commanding voice both aroused and subdued him. Though the burning that could only be doused by an ocean's worth of cum continued to rage and grow within him, it was like his cock would not let it loose. Warren could feel his cum sloshing around in his balls, thrashing and railing against the invisible barriers that kept them from charging up his dick and out into the world. His dad's command was law and he could not break it.

Warren gnashed his teeth together, thrashing his head from side to side. He seized the headrest of the bed, claws digging deep into the wood. He whimpered, panted and pleaded with every inch of his body for his dad to let him cum but Brysen had not yet given the command. His dad continued to keep up the increasingly punishing pace; thrusting growing more and more eager until the precum pouring out of both their dicks was shooting out in a constant stream.

"Ah... ah!" Brysen moaned. "Son... I'm gonna cum!"

"Please dad," Warren pleaded. "Let me cum too!"

"Yeah son... let's cum together! Ready?"

Warren squeezed his eyes shut, a roar building in his throat. "Please dad! I'm busting!"

"Now! Son! Now!"

Both men arched their back and their cocks immediately went rigid like steel. Warren let loose a tremendous, ear-shattering roar. The conflagration of desire and lust in him was abruptly doused as hot seed came bursting out of the human-shaped tip of his barbed, pink dick. Warren's eyelids fluttered, his eyes drifting beneath them as all of his body became focused entirely on blasting the copious amount of cum that had been bubbling in his balls. He barely even noticed when the powerful jet of white goo splattered against his face or when some of it fell between his lips and he got a taste of his own salty, corruptive juices.

At the same time, Brysen let out his own cry, tears of joy and desire streaming down his cheeks and soaking into his beard. His own human cock erupted, joining his son's own cum. Each jet caused his eight-inch member to surge out a little more. The blast erupted from his balls with enough force that it stretched the skin and flesh of his cock, pushing it outwards and upwards until he was sporting an impressive ten-inch member as thick as a beer-can. It was quickly becoming a dick that no woman would ever be able to take and was geared just for the pleasure of men.

A soft, rasping noise like sandpaper being rubbed against one another rattled in the periphery of his hearing. The orange and white fur on his feet seeped up his calves. They quickly covered his calves in their entirely. The muscles beneath the mass surged and grew, a network of thick, bluish veins pulsed beneath his fur. Each calf was an enormous bulge of flesh wide enough to be a normal man's thigh and built of solid muscle with only a thin layer of skin and fur draped over it.

Both men collapsed with Warren slumping into the sweat-soaked bed while Brysen slumped on top of his son, their combined seed meshing into his beard and wafting into his nostrils. Some instinct drove him towards Warren unmolested nipple and though exhausted quickly took over him, he managed to wrap his lips around the fleshy nub and give it a little suckle. Warren moaned, a sound that quickly turned into a purr. His son flexed that pectoral once and squirted a shot of milk right into Brysen's mouth which the bearish man eagerly devoured.

That was a critical error on Warren's part.

The moment the rejuvenating milk tumbled down Brysen's throat, the patriarch of the Bells immediately felt a jolt of power and energy rush through him. His eyes snapped open, incredible aware and awake. The exhaustion of afterglow was immediately kicked away and his cock immediately became painfully hard not even fifteen seconds after having unleashed its load.

"Let's go again," he growled.

"Dad..." moaned Warren even though his paws were already curling around his dad and squeezing that tight ass. His father's command was law and while he was compelled to obey, his body was still feeling the exhaustion of the session of lovemaking. "I... I'm..."

Brysen immediately saw the solution. He dove back for his son's nipple and suckled on it. More milk came shooting into his mouth but instead of swallowing it, he kept it in his cheeks until he had a full mouthful. Then, he pressed his lips against his son's, shooting the milk into Warren's muzzle. His son was forced to drink it and his eyes filled with energy and his enormous, feline body immediately tensed like he was ready to pounce on his prey.

Warren, with his paws around his father, immediately flung Brysen against the bed, rolling atop the older Bell and with a savage grin on his muzzle. "I'm on top this time."

Showing no signs of exhaustion, both men went at it for a second time. Their firm, sweaty bodies collided in a dance of ecstatic lust and love. Their balls shot cum down their dicks a few minutes later and before afterglow could claim them, Warren was collecting some of his milk from his nipples on his paws and shoving his fingers both into his and his father's lips. Brysen, rejuvenated by the milk, then threw Warren to the ground, the two of them tumbling off the bed where they proceeded to make love a third time.

Over and over, the two men fucked, roared and drank. There seemed no end to their savage lust until halfway through, the door to the room opened.

"Guys?" Tanner asked, stepping inside in confusion. He took a step back in surprise as the smell of tiger sex filled the air, waving his enormous feline paws over his face to get rid of the smell. "Fuck... Did you two even sleep?"

Warren, who had been on top this time, straightened, grinning broadly. His fur was completely soaked in sweat and cum. "Fuck no! Join us, bro!"

Tanner could only grin. "Why the fuck not? I could use the stress relief."

The enormous man stormed forward, making to remove his clothes. Both Warren and Brysen pounced on him, mercilessly throwing him towards the bed. Warren's claws dug into Tanner's pants, ripping them to shreds until the man's cock was fully exposed. Brysen ripped his eldest son's shirt right down the middle, burying his face been the two massive pectorals before him.

The combined desire of all three men mounted to unbearable levels until Brysen's cock needed something to be stuffed inside. He immediately grabbed Warren by the shoulders and threw him against the headrest. He shoved his dick right into Warren's abused hole, making the youngest tiger yowl in ecstasy, his tail looping around Brysen's waist in a desperate attempt to pull his father closer to him. Not to be left unattended, Tanner rose from behind his father, looming ominously over Brysen before shoving his own dick into his dad's waiting ass.

All three men moaned as they rutted, hips bucking madly with mounting eagerness. Tanner set the pace and he was a vicious lover. Warren's arms could no longer hold himself up and he collapsed into the bed, pressed down by the weight of the two men he loved and his cock grinding into the soaked and abused mattress. He could only moan, helpless while his claws tore through the fabric and revealed the foam beneath.

With every thrust, the tigers within the two partially transformed Bells took form. The fur across Tanner's arms rapidly spread across his back and chest. A sound like a gurgling stomach rumbled through his lats and traps. Each muscle grew bigger, more defined and more vascular. Huge mountains rose from across his back, pushing his shoulders wider apart and all but consuming his neck. His pectoral muscles ballooned out, white fur swarming over them while also forcing him to breathe deeper, rumble louder and his voice to dip even lower. Beneath all the muscle, more changes occurred. Just like his little brother, a secondary heart grew and developed right beside his first one, connecting itself to the other blood vessels to encourage blood flow. His protein sack grew as well while every bone and muscle became hardened and reinforced.

The changes did not stop at his chest, however. It spread towards his legs and face. The big man squeezed his eyes shut as his face jut forward into a typical feline shape. His toes crackled loudly with the appearance of claws that raked across the bedroom floor where he stood to support himself. His cock morphed inside of his father, bringing even more pleasure to Brysen as the barbs stimulated his insides.

At last a full tiger, Tanner threw his head back and let out a tremendous roar, announcing his arrival into the world and his orgasm. The blast of cum from his body rocked through his entire body so much so that it caused his tail to erupt from the base of his spine and stand on end.

Beneath him, Brysen was similarly in heaven. As his son's cock stirred his insides, the fur along his legs spread, sweeping over his thighs, his ass and groin. He squirmed with the transformation of his cock, gaining barbs and a sheath even though the changes stopped at his waistline. With Tanner's cry, he added his own human shout of ecstasy as his mutant dick poured its seed into Warren for what seemed like the hundredth time.

And beneath the two, buried into the sheets by a mountain of muscle and man, Warren could only moaned loudly as he came, pouring the last instances of his old life into the bedsheets.

With the source of the rejuvenating milk currently buried under them, all three men collapsed onto the bed. Normally, the king-sized bed wouldn't have been able to fit them all but they were so comfortable with one another - so deeply loving - that they merely curled against one another to make room. Brysen, the only partially human of the group, was sandwiched between the two enormous tigers, the middle spoon so the speak. Tanner wrapped his huge arms around them all, capable of holding them all tightly even with the bulk of all three men.

And Warren... Warren closed his eyes and finally dropped off to sleep marvelling at just how amazing his life was.

*******

Brysen woke in his own bed but these days, it was more the 'family bed' than his own. After the foreplay on the couch, he and Warren had retired to the bedroom and, being tigers, fucked the night away. Tanner had come in about two in the morning and woken them from their slumber only for all three men to go at it once more. Unfortunately, even a king sized bed was nowhere near big enough to house all three of them so they had sort of slept at a weird angle. It was a good thing that he had opted to remove any electronics from his bedside table after the first time they had a threesome. Buying a new lamp every day was not very economical.

He rolled off the bed which really just consisted of him inching to the right. Stretching his back, he greeted the morning sun with a soft, stifled yawn so as not to wake his sons. He wiggled his toes, retracting and sheathing his claws back and forth to get the blood going in his body. Brysen padded out of the room, using his feline agility and stealth to make it as soundless as possible.

Once back in the kitchen, he started brewing some coffee. They had left the television on after rushing to the bedroom so he idly switched it off. For a moment, he regarded his reflection in the blackened screen. The orange fur of a tiger and the strong, muscled legs ended at his waist. Everything else above that was human. Though it struck him as odd, he was only concerned that he wasn't a full tiger yet. With a shrug, he knew it would come eventually, perhaps with his next orgasm. He couldn't help but wonder how the 'roid gut' he currently sported would look with a layer of fur. Most would consider him to have a powerlifter build and he encouraged it. Though Tanner was substantially bigger than him, he still could bend his son over and fuck him - both of them.

There came a knock on the door and he didn't even think as he wandered over and pulled it open. He had been expecting Garret for some reason.

Instead, he got the caramel-skinned mailman who immediately started with shock. At the sight of the fully naked, half-tiger man.

"Oh... Uh... excuse me, Mr..." The man looked at the package he was carrying. "Bell. I have a package for you."

"On a Saturday?" Brysen asked. "Man, you guys are diligent. I'll sign. Got a pen."

The mailman glanced down at Brysen's furry crotch.

"Ah, sorry!" Brysen laughed. "Just woke up when you knocked."

"It's okay... Should I come back?"

"No, no. In fact, why don't you come in? I've got coffee."

"Really, I shouldn't..."

The coffee pot stopped whistling and let out a soft click. "Ah, there. It's done. Come on in. This won't take a minute."

The mailman sighed and relented. Brysen headed to the kitchen and poured himself and the mailman a cup. He took his nice and black without any sugar. The mailman - Andy - by his nametag, liked some sugar with his.

"So early morning, eh Andy?" Brysen asked.

"My name is actually 'Ankit'," replied the mailman bashfully. "My boss just insists on calling me 'Andy'."

Brysen sighed and shook his head. "Talk about whitewashing. Sorry about that, Ankit. This town used to pretty bad when it came to anyone who wasn't white. Even furs like me were ostracised just for being striped."

"Uh..." Ankit began, staring at Brysen incredulously.

"You don't believe me?"

"No... Just... With all due respect, Mr. Bell. You're not a fur. You may be wearing tiger-striped pants, anatomically correct tiger-striped pants but you are no fur. It is insulting that you would compare your situation to ours."

Brysen smiled patiently. "Oh. You think I'm wearing pants, huh?"

The patriarch of the Bells stepped out from behind the kitchen counter, showing off his impressive bulge and flaccid, sheathed cock. Only then did Ankit the mailman notice that those cock and balls were very much organic and the tail thrashing behind Brysen was also not some machine or elaborate animatronic. Brysen found the idea of surprising this man with his cock rather arousing and that only stirred the blood in his white, furry sheath. Slowly, the flaccid, eight-inch member began to stiffen and rise. As it sprang up, the pink tip at the end began to emerged from the 'lip' of the sheath. The human-shaped helmet was first to emerge and Ankit realised just what he was looking at.

Then Brysen said something that would change the mailman's life forever.

"Suck it."

"Wh - what...?"

Despite his question, Ankit was falling to his knees, licking his lips.

"I want you to suck my dick," ordered Brysen Bell.

Whatever protests Ankit may have were muffled as he immediately leaned forward and took the growing cock into his mouth. He suckled on the hot, twitching rod, precum immediately pouring down his throat as Brysen threw himself into the change.

A sense of power and domination filled him. His mind filled with possibilities and he just instantly knew that anyone who willingly stepped into his home would fall under his command. He wasn't sure how he knew. It was just a fact that he seemingly already knew. That knowledge somehow made him feel... complete. The last blocks that kept him from being a full tiger fell away and a rush like his entire body was one huge cock that was growing erect filled him.

Licking his lips, Brysen crossed his arms behind his back, thrusting his hips into Ankit's mouth. This newfound power and realisation filled his body. He groaned and grunted. The fur that stopped at his waistline crawled over his roid guy belly. Even their soft touch could not hide the solid abdominals that framed his stomach. His moans grew louder as the fur spread over his chest, sweeping over his massive, sinewy pectorals and then over his arms.

Loud snaps erupted from his spine and legs. His bones lengthened like some invisible force was pulling him upwards. He rose to a full seven feet tall, shorter than his sons but still an impressive height by human standards. There was a moment of concern when he realised that his cock would similarly pull away from Ankit's lips but he was surprised when the mailman rose alongside him. One look down, he grinned as Ankit's caramel flesh was quickly consumed by bright, almost fluorescent orange fur decorated by black stripes. The mailman's scrawny frame inflated with strong mass and muscle, his uniform perfectly fitting his new frame and even shifting and adjusting to allow a new tailhole for his long, striped, ropey tail to emerge.

Brysen threw his head back in a vain attempt to keep the change from concluding. He leaned towards his flexed bicep, lapped up at the huge, furry bulge. With each lick, his tongue became less and less human. His face pushed outwards, becoming a strong, feline muzzle that kept his well-kempt beard that he religiously maintained. The bald head that shone in the morning light became covered in the striped fur that covered the rest of his body, his ears migrating to the top of his head as two, rounded dishes.

He edged closer and closer to orgasm until he thrust his hips one final time with a tremendous roar that rattled the entire house. Hot liquid splattered against his feet and he could only guess that was Ankit spraying his own seed in turn. Brysen held the mailman down against his huge, foot-long dick to make sure that not another drop was spilled on his clean floor.

A soft sigh escaped him as he emptied his balls into the mailman and patted the head of the tiger beneath him.

"Good boy. Now get me that pen."

Ankit stood, rising to his full 7'9'' height and beaming at Brysen with bright, brown eyes. He reached into the pocket of his tight, form-fitting brown shirt and held out a pen that seemed far too small for use. "Here you go, sir. Please sign here."

Brysen signed the document and Ankit tipped his hat which miraculously didn't fall off despite all their activities. "Thank you sir. Thanks for the coffee and the milk."

Brysen laughed as the mailman left. He regarded the package before him and wondered what it was. Curiously, it was actually addressed to Warren. He felt a pair of strong, warm arms wrap around his waist as if his thoughts had conjured the owner out of thin air. A loud purr left his thick neck with the entrance of that familiar cock into his ass.

"Ooooh... fuck son," he moaned. "I just came."

"Yeah but then you woke me," rumbled Warren, gently nibbling at his father's shoulder. "Now it's my turn, ya?"

"Don't you want to open your package first?"

"It's already open," Warren snickered. Though he still reached out around Brysen's waist and used his claws to tear open the package. It was a good thing he didn't dig too deep into the brown box or tear at it too roughly or else he wouldn't ripped through the official short and acceptance letter.

Brysen felt Warren's cock jump inside of him, making him moan and his own dick spring back to life.

"Holy shit..." Warren gawked, seizing the letter. It seemed a little ridiculous as he stood there, eyes skimming the letter in front of him while still embedded into his father who was partially bent over the kitchen table. "Holy shit! Holy shiiiiiiiiiit!"

Brysen could only keep moaning.

Thankfully, the thundering footsteps that came from the bedroom offered a means for Warren to explain why he was so excited. Tanner came marching in, naked and in his full feline form. Brysen guessed that the previous night's activities had been enough to fully push his eldest son to his full potential. Seeing the enormous, hulking tiger - the biggest and tallest of the Bells - filled him with pride.

"What? What's going on?" Tanner rumbled sleepily.

"I got an offer letter!" Warren exclaimed, pulling out of Brysen which made the father gasp. "I got a scholarship to New York Anthro College! A sports scholarship! I'm going to New York!"

The hulking bouncer was suddenly very away. "Motherfucker! That's great!"

Brysen felt pride and joy swell in his heart and he immediately scooped up his youngest son in his huge arms, swinging him around in joy. "That's amazing, Warren! You're gonna be a baseball star!" He swung Warren a couple more time around before settling him down.

"I've got to tell Garret!" exclaimed Warren and he immediately reached for the kitchen phone, dialling the number that he had memorised.

Brysen and Tanner stood by, grinning broadly and beaming with pride. Then worry crossed Warren's face. The Warrior Bell lowered the receiver and stared at it in surprise.

"It's... It says it's disconnected."

"Well... duh," Tanner said. "He's on a secure line. Use your Monolith."

Warren rolled his eyes. "God. You're right. I'm just so stoked I can't think. Where'd I leave that...?" He dove for the lounge room where he found his Monolith and immediately searched for Garret's number.

A female voice answered instead.

"I'm sorry, Warren," SABLE_said stoically. _"I cannot let you do that."

Warren's face fell just as Brysen and Tanner's hearts sunk.

"What? Why?" Warren demanded. "Who the hell are you?"

"My name is SABLE. I am the artificial intelligence that assists all Nexus Conglomerate_personnel in their daily routine and am normally contactable via the_ Monolith you hold in your hand."

"Great. Patch me through to Garret then."

"As I said, I cannot do that."

"Why not?"

"Because he's already at your doorstep."

All three Bells, turned just as their front door creaked open slowly. Garret Holt stood by the doorframe, arms crossed and smirking at them knowingly.

Warren leapt to his feet, waving the sheet of paper in his paws as he bounded over to the big wolf. "Coach! Coach! Check it out! I got headhunted by a school in New York! I'm going to college!"

Garret plucked the piece of paper from him and gave it a quick skim. "Congrats, kiddo but this is just a letter of interest." He smacked the page with the back of his paw. "It means that someone from that school has their eye on you. You've still got eight months of your senior year left. You're not allowed to slack off."

The facts did little to deflate Warren's enthusiasm. "Yeah but it still says that they're eager to get me on board! With you in my corner, I'm guaranteed in, ya?"

The big wolf nodded towards the rest of the Bell family. "I'm not the only one. You'll need support from the rest of your family too." He padded into the house, his ever-present duffel bag over his shoulder. After reaching into it, he pulled out what looked like to be a list of retail magazines and some guides on how to renovate. These he handed to Brysen.

"What're these for?" Brysen asked.

"You're gonna want to manage your son's career as big league baseball player," Garret said with a wink. "You manage his career and he can focus on being the best batter in baseball history. But to do that, you'll need some place to stay. Based on the analysis, you can spruce up this place with a few renovations and then sell it. You can then use the funds to buy a place in New York and that can be your base of operations."

The bearded tiger's cock jumped up again, having just recently gone flaccid. "Will you help?" The idea of Garret Holt wearing nothing but denim overalls, lugging around pieces of lumber and sweating in the hot sun was infinitely arousing.

"Sure," Garret laughed softly. Then he turned toward Tanner and handed him a few applications, most of them were for clubs but some were actually for bodyguard training. "Someone will need to protect Warren off the field and keep all the groupies away." He glanced briefly towards Warren. "Girls are gonna want to have sex with you and it's up to you if you want to come out straight off the bat as gay or not." Then he turned back towards Tanner. "So you'll need to learn how to push them back while avoiding lawsuits."

Tanner regarded one of the applications and frowned. "This is an application for Police Academy."

"What better place to start off your career as a personal bodyguard than being in the police force?"

"If you think I can do it..."

Garret rested a hand on Tanner's shoulder and grinned. "I believe in you, Tanner. Besides, just think how sexy you'd look in one of those big, blue officer get ups."

The largest of the Bells quaked where he stood, his cock also rising in excitement. "Officer Tanner Bell... I like the sound of that."

Warren grinned brightly. "Me too." He positioned himself in front of Garret, beaming brightly. "You'll keep helping me get to the big leagues, right Coach?"

Garret Holt, beaming brightly, rested both his paws onto Warren's shoulders. "It's every coach's dream to see their students play professionally but also have a wholesome life off the field." He nodded towards Brysen and Tanner. "You've got a family that supports you and you can bet I'll always be there to cheer you on."

Alabaster Analysis

Hi Mr. Director!

So, Agent MCA-WT69, otherwise known as Garret Holt, succeeded in his mission. He did really great! He not only managed to set the target on a path to the Conglomerate but also formed a stable foundation for him for his future. Not sure why you declared Warren Bell a PoI but I won't question your judgement on that.

Anyway, my analysis of the assets are as below:

Bell Strain - Brysen: Panthera Tigris humanoid. Tends to develop a powerlifter physique. Very fatherly and tends to gravitate towards paternal instincts. Unique NEXTs is the ability to 'mark his territory' and issue commands to whomever is within the territory. Those who enter his 'domain' are compelled to follow his instructions. Naturally, those with strong will can be resistant to it as well as those with the appropriate NEXTs or Agents. Suggested naming is: Man of the House.

Bell Strain - Tanner: Panthera Tigris humanoid. Highly muscular and well-built individual. Rather domineering and a protective species particularly around the other three of the 'Bell Strain'. Oddly quite submissive in the bedroom. Unique NEXTs is the ability to turn any liquid he physically touches into a mutagenic serum similar to his infectious seed. Would be an excellent NEXT to deploy for covert agents particularly those with a penchant for personal trainers. Suggested naming is: The Cumidas Touch

Bell Strain - Warren: Panthera Tigris humanoid. A more balanced, muscular strain that has good strength and good speed. Would make excellent Agents, in my opinion. This particular individual's NEXT is the ability to lactate a powerful serum that accelerated recovery in individuals. Those who consume this liquid will become rejuvenated, healing all wounds and feeling refreshed. They can become overwhelmed with tendencies to consume more of the milk and become engaged in male-on-male interactions. Suggested naming is: Man Milk

Cole Strain - Philip: Smiledon_humanoid. A bulky and aggressive strain that acts with authority and is physically domineering towards others. Highly intelligent but also incredibly infective. Will follow orders excellently and would be excellent enforcers. NEXT is a prehensile penis that can reach up to five metres in length and deposits highly infectious liquids through any orifice. Suggested naming is: _The Tiger Tentacle.

As to Agent Holt's performance, I must say that he performed incredibly admirably. He maintained his cool which is great given his previous mission. His commitment to the job is incredibly admirable especially since he stayed with the Bells for the remainder of Warren Bell's high school career and remained within the dimension to coach and support him from a distance. The substantial emotional attachment he developed with them shows that he has recovered from the previous incident and is certainly back and truly fit for duty.

He has reported he is ready for duty and I have attached a list of missions and subsequent analysis that I believe he would be well suited for.

Alabaster out.

Director's Correspondence

Alabaster,

While I appreciate the enthusiasm in naming the NEXTs out of this mission, for the love of GOD leave it to our legal department. I'm pretty sure you may have infringed on at least one copyright and some of those suggested names are just cringe-worthy. Please don't subject my eyes to that again.

Overall, I am pleased with how this mission went. The Bell Strain is well developed and I look forward to seeing how they are utilised in the future. Make sure SABLE keeps interacting with them. The Cole Strain is certainly fascinating.

Contracts for all the primary individuals involved in this mission are attached. See to it that they are put into action.

As for Agent Holt, send him my congratulations. However, decline his offer to resume active duty. I'm putting him on mandatory leave for five more years. Make sure he and the Bells know when he's going to leave so there is no emotional heartbreak surrounding the departure. He will ask why.

Tell him he deserves to see the Warrior win a championship.

Enough said.

The Director

Glossary

The Nexus Conglomerate - A collection of interdimensional corporations built around the motto that every individual has the capability of creating entire worlds within their own minds and souls and thus this is a resource to be exploited. The Conglomerate exists across multiple realities with no set 'home' reality. More often than not, they work in secret and rarely have a public presence. The Conglomerate is run first by the Directorate who then answer to the heads of the various corporations who then report to the ultimate head of the Conglomerate and its CEO, the Director.

The Divisional Directorate - Every reality under the Nexus Conglomerate_is run by a Dimensional Director who is responsible for the creation and management of the given reality. DDs - as they are often called - can set the goal of a reality and can guide their development. All DDs and their realities come under groupings or 'Division' depending on their purpose, size, theme and a myriad of other factors. The DDs of a certain grouping is collectively known as the Divisional Directorate of that particular group or just 'Directorate' for short. Note that it is possible to have various branches of the _Conglomerate working under the same Dimensional Director. E.g. NexPharm, AgriNex or Drive-N can all have branches working under the one DD.

MCA - Male Change Agent. Agents in the employ of the Nexus Conglomerate who specialise in the transformation of identifiably male targets to incite change. These changes can be physical, mental, political, emotional, spiritual or any form of transformation. Their impact on the world can be varied from the subtle seemingly inconsequential to the widespread and high-impacting.

NEXT - Nexus Evolutionary Xenophilic Traits. Mutations that Agents bear that allow them to do their work. These mutations can be biological, mental, biomechanical, cybernetic or a mixture of all forms of transformations and can be applied regardless of species. Often, they are used to introduce change into the world around them.

SABLE - Singularity Assistant - Biomechanical Lifeform: Evolved. One of the five artificial intelligences that help coordinate the _Conglomerates'_extradimensional operations. SABLE is in charge of agent interactions and preliminary analysis. The first point of call in all interactions from assets out in the field. The 'ears and mouth' of the AIs.

ECHO - Enhanced Crisis-Hardened Operative. One of the five artificial intelligences that assist with the Conglomerate's extradimensional operations. ECHO is actually an active agent that participates in operations physically. Considered the 'body' of the AIs.

ROGUE - Reconnaissance, Operations and General Utility Entity. One of the five artificial intelligences that assist with the Conglomerate's extradimensional operations. ROGUE is responsible for scouting and providing tools and equipment for Agents out in the field. Commonly thought of as the 'eyes and hands' of the AIs.

Alabaster - One of the five artificial intelligences that assist with the _Conglomerate's_extradimensional operations. Responsible for in depth analysis of activities and reports to executives and the Dimensional Directorate. Occasionally reports directly to the Director. Thought of as the 'brain' of the AIs.

Critical - One of the five artificial intelligences that assist with the Conglomerate's extradimensional operations. The only one of the AIs capable of reality alterations and timeline modifications. Supports the other AIs based on their input. Incapable of performing actions without the other AIs. Regarded as the 'heart' of the AIs.

Epilogue

The game wasn't going very well for the New York Yankees. It was a baseball cliché. Bottom of the ninth, bases loaded and the scores were tied. The crowd was on the edge of the seats. Even the commentator was mysteriously silent as the Yankees sent out their newest hitter, Warren 'Warrior' Bell. The hulking tiger had been making headlines all over the nation as the Yankee's rising star. So far, he had never been struck out in his short career and was consistently hitting homeruns. Given that, however, the Yankees only deployed him when the need was great.

And the need right now _was_great.

It was the World Series. This play would determine whether or not the Yankees would win the competition and whether or not the Warrior would kick off his career on a high.

"Wait," the announcer exclaimed. "Looks like the Red Sox are making a last minute substation to their pitcher. Little surprise as Warren Bell is left-handed. They're putting in Hank Conroy, also left-handed. This is it, folks. The ultimate decider between these two titans of American Baseball. Conroy verses Bell. Yankee versus Red Sox. Veteran versus rookie."

Hank Conroy pitched a low fast ball. Bell swung.

"Strike one!" shouted the umpire.

The crowd fell silent.

"Strike one. Bell must be feeling the pressure."

Warren Bell adjusted his helmet and glared at the pitcher.

Conroy threw.

Thump!

"Strike two!"

"That's got to sting," hissed the announcer. "This is it, folks. Last pitch. It's make or break. I'm on the edge of my seat!"

Warren lowered his gaze and bit his lower lip. Sweat dripped off his brow, soaking his brown fur. He took a second to take off his helmet and wipe away the sweat, rubbing it into his short-cropped blonde hair. As he put it back on, he looked into the stands. His fans were holding up banners with the words 'Unleash the Beast' on them. They were all waiting for him to hit that homerun and let out his trademark roar.

The entire game rested on his shoulders.

Could he do it?

Then, his eyes settled on one particular fan on the front row. He was a huge wolf with grey fur and coppery-red hair. The entire world, all the noise just seemed to fade and he became focused directly on this one wolf with mesmerising sky-blue eyes.

"Relax your grip!" Garret Holt shouted from the stands. "Keep your arms bent! Keep your shoulders locked until the last moment. One leg in front of the other and follow through with your entire body!"

Warren beamed and set himself up into position just like he used to five years ago back in high school.

"And don't forget to yell!" Garret added.

Time seemed to restart and Warren started to let out a threatening, thunderous growl from his massive chest. He could see the umpire behind him give the catcher a concerned look but he didn't mind that. His focus was entirely on the ball.

"Conroy winds up..." the announcer began. "And...!"

The ball came racing towards him.

"Rrrrrrraaaaaargh!" Warren cried.

SMACK!

Everyone was suddenly out of their seats.

"It's going... going... And it's gone! Homerun! It's a homerun! Yankees win! Yankees win!"

Warren stared as the ball disappeared into the sky, sailing well away from the park. Fireworks erupted around him and confetti came raining down in all directions. He couldn't believe it. He had won the game. _He_had scored the final hit that won them the championship!

And it was all thanks to Garret Holt. His eyes went to where the wolf had been standing. The big wolf was leaping up and down with the rest of the crowd, cheering wildly. He had one arm around Tanner Bell's broad shoulders as if trying to launch himself off the big tiger's deltoids and into the sky. On his other side, Brysen Bell was pumping his fists into the air wildly. Warren wanted more than anything to rush over to them but he was quickly brought back to the field when one of his teammates, none other than Rodrigo Mantle, smacked his ass and told him to hurry up and take his victory lap. Warren grinned broadly, flashing his pearly white fangs and ran from base to base, pumping his fists into the air to the cheer of the crowd. They were constantly chanting 'Unleash the Beast' over and over again.

Cameras were flashing wildly at him as he made it past first base.

By second base, the rest of his team were swarming home base as the rest of his crossed to the home plate, making a big show of stomping on it.

At third, the chanting grew louder and louder and he prepared himself to unleash the biggest roar of his career.

He bolted towards the home plate, his teammates there greeting him with wide open arms. He slid down to his knees, tearing at his uniform with his claws, bearing his enormous chest and slamming his knees right into home plate. The roar that he had built up during the entire run came barrelling out, a deafening thunderclap.

The headlines would show Warren 'Warrior' Bell with the home plate right between his legs, muscled chest bursting out of his Yankees uniform and his muzzle wide open in an ecstatic roar.

*******

Brysen Bell staggered into his house a little tipsy from all the celebrations but nonetheless still very conscious. He had sworn never to get that drunk ever again since having remembered who he had been before Garret Holt had come into his life. As he stepped out of his SUV, Garret Holt's big, black pickup truck rolled in beside his car. Curious, he waited until the big wolf was out of the vehicle before saying anything.

"I thought you'd be out celebrating with Tanner and Warren."

Garret shrugged his broad shoulders, currently wrapped in a long, black trench coat to keep out the frigid New York weather. Even in the thick garment, his massive frame was clearly visible. "Let the kids have their fun for a moment. I'll visit them a little later. Just wanted to pop a few beers like proper gentlemen first." For emphasis, he did that thing where he bowed and waved his paw in a flourish that always made Brysen laugh.

"Fine, fine. You want some beers. Come on then."

Brysen led the way up the porch to his two-storey suburban home in upstate New York. Tanner and Warren had an apartment closer to the stadium but they visited him on their days off and holidays, of course. One would never suspect that the idyllic home with the big oak tree out front was home to three very horny tigers who constantly fucked one another despite being genetically similar. It was a good thing they had made sure to build their walls to be soundproof because most of the time, when all three tigers were under the same roof, they rarely made it to the bedroom.

He pushed open the doors and led the way through the entrance hallway. It was utterly impossible not to see the great achievements that both Warren and Tanner had made during the years since they had left Mosey Hills. Framed pictures hung on the walls like their own little hall of fame. Trophies sat in a cabinet and newspaper clippings of any of the Bells making it into the headlines were also perched on a pedestal.

Warren naturally joined the baseball team in college and won many games. He would've been in the first draft the year he graduated but he had opted to do extend his studies from bio chemistry to genetics for a further year before pursuing his baseball career. It meant that he was a year older than the newer recruits but he also had something to fall back on after baseball. Needless to say that in the year since then, he had made an impression on the Yankees and he skyrocketed to fame. But he was always kept well grounded thanks to the guidance of one Garret Holt.

Tanner became a New York City police officer and had made it all the way up to lieutenant before he had met the love of his life during a trip back to Mosey Hills. The unlikely love came from Sheriff Philip Cole. Both being cops and both having their lives turned around by Garret Holt, the men swapped stories and continued chatting even after Tanner returned to New York. Then chatting turned into something a little more and now Cole was living with Tanner in his apartment, playing the police officer while Tanner acted as Warren's personal bodyguard.

Brysen's own achievements were not to be outdone, however. As he passed the study, he caught sight of the various real estate documents he had scattered admittedly messily on his big, broad, corner desk. With a need to support his sons, Brysen had taken up construction in New York before eventually founding his own company, Bell's Buildings. He started out first purchasing some old houses or land, building it up and then selling it off to make a profit. It became a very lucrative endeavour and in between managing Warren's career, he was sending his army of construction workers to make him more money. All thanks to the little bit of inspiration he got from Garret.

The big wolf was right behind him as he reached the kitchen, popped open the fridge and pulled out two beers. They popped the caps and toasted.

Brysen took his first gulp and let out a sigh of contentment. "You think they'll have beer like this where you're going?"

"Don't really know where I'm going," laughed Garret softly, a hint of sadness in his voice. "I've technically been on 'mandatory leave' for the past five years. I don't really know what I'm expected to do once I get back to work."

"You mean you haven't been 'working' all this time?"

Garret bumped shoulders with him. "If you mean offering my advice by day and then fucking you three by night, then yeah, I've been working."

Brysen waved away the comment. "Please, you've never fucked me once."

"Only because your ass isn't big enough to take my dick! Only Tanner can do that!"

The proud father of two laughed but it was a short-lived one that trickled into sadness. "I'm really going to miss this, Garret."

"Me too." Garret sighed and flicked an ear towards the lounge room. "Come on. I want to see what the news says about the victory."

Glad to have a little more of a cheery topic, Brysen followed Garret towards the lounge. He switched on their enormous curved screen TV and sat down in the same old couch that had once been in their home back in Mosey Hills. Even over the years, this was the one piece of furniture that he had insisted they keep. Sure it was old and smelled of sex, but it was also the first place that he and Garret had been intimate even if Garret had him under hypnosis at the time.

Naturally, all the channels were abuzz with the Yankees' victory especially since it came from first-year starter Warren 'Warrior' Bell. Conservative media downplayed Warren's win. Anti-fur sentiment was still quite prevalent in the US and even all around the world. However, it warmed Brysen's heart when an image of Mosey Hills was shown where felines of all shapes and sizes were holding up signs saying 'Unleash the Beast' right beside humans. Man and fur celebrated Warren's victory.

He couldn't help but wonder if that was the reason that the Conglomerate had decided to target them.

That was never made clear to him and though he dug and asked around, he never found out.

"I can still call you, right?" Brysen asked abruptly.

"Of course. Any time you want and I'll come over," Garret said as he lifted his beer for a drink.

"I've heard that you some of your other 'targets' don't hear from you for months, sometimes years."

"That's because they don't have the balls to call me," answered the wolf with a smirk. "But I'm telling you now, if you don't call, I'll personally come back and rip you in half with my dick."

"You can try, Coach. You can try."

Garret gave him that coy, 'We fuck now' look that Brysen had gotten used to over the years. "So one more for the road then?"

Brysen set down his beer so that it was well out of the way. "Sure, why not?"

Their lips met as it had many times before but this time, there was a savage desperation in Brysen's lips that spoke of a desire not to let go of the wolf in his arms. He held onto Garret tightly, his claws yearning to tear the coat that the hulking lupine still wore around his shoulders and feel the touch of his flesh and fur around his own. Garret broke their kiss and Brysen was left gasping to have his muzzle filled. That gasp turned into a moan when Garret's teeth gently nibbled at his collarbone, nipping at the rims of his collared, striped shirt.

"Garret, wait," he moaned softly.

"What?" growled his lover.

"This suit is Armani..."

"So?"

Brysen gave it a moment of thought before shrugging. "Yeah. Good point."

A savage growl rose from Garret's throat and he leaned down, seizing the collar of Brysen's shirt between his fangs. He tugged at the collar with all his might, ripping the fabric clean in half and sending buttons sailing. The wolf immediately buried his muzzle between Brysen's thick, juicy pectorals and the daddy tiger encouraged him by flexing his muscled and being sure to bounce his pectorals.

Both men fell against the couch, Brysen's back against the cushions while Garret peppered the feline's chest with kisses while his paws continued to tear the shirt off his chest. His body starting to heat up despite the cool, winter weather, Brysen shrugged off his shirt, leaving part of it still hanging from his waist where it was tucked into his slacks. He went to work yanking the coat off Garret's shoulders which the wolf happily removed. Without the bulky waterproof coat, Brysen got full sight of the magnificent, muscled back before him. He ran his paws down the hills and mountains of the perfectly symmetrical canvas, committing every curve to memory by touch alone. His fingers crawled down those enormous, rounded deltoids, followed the natural curve of those highly defined lats and then slipped down the hard valley that made up the wolf's spine. He found the edge of Garret's figure-hugging red shirt and began pulling at it.

Garret broke away from his worshiping of Brysen's chest enough to let the tiger yank the shirt over his head and leave his massive, muscled chest exposed. They pressed their bodies together, nipples toughing and fur melding, exchanging heat and scents while their lips once more meshed into one and their tongues danced. Their loud, lusty moans became the tune that drowned out the TV while their paws scrambled over one another's bodies, groping, squeezing and pulling the other towards themselves as if they were trying to merge into a single being.

Garret's claws dug into Brysen's pants, tearing through the seat of his slacks and ripping into the briefs. Possessed by a deep desire, the large lupine tore at the fabric until he had Brysen's big, furry ass in his paws and gave it a tight squeeze. A growl of frustration left him at the touch of the leather belt that would take significant tearing to break through. Brysen caught his meaning and immediately undid the buckle. Not a moment later, Garret pulled his lips away and ripped the remnants of the tiger's pants clean off. He was met with the sight of the foot-long, fat dick that was almost twice as big as the very beer bottles that lay abandoned at the foot of the well-used couch.

"Garret," moaned Brysen. "Before you take off your shorts."

"Hrm?" Garret replied, incapable of formulating words.

Brysen smiled bashfully. "I want to see you burst out of them." He leaned towards the wolf, lips hovering over Garret's large, triangular ears. "I wanna see your big, fat, two-foot long dick shred right through them. Come on, big guy. Just tell me what will get you turned on."

Garret moaned loudly. Brysen's own member was throbbing with need and it was tapping against the wolf's washboard abdominals.

"Give me your arms," rumbled the lusty lupine.

Brysen grinned and crossed his arms behind his head making sure that they had Garret got a good look at his armpits and he got a good flex out of his biceps and triceps. Garret's hungry eyes dove straight for his armpits, lapping at the thick, brown fur there and burying his muzzle deep. The sensation, the feeling of having someone worshiping his armpit, of willingly embracing his scent and being marked by him caused his cock to spasm and squirt with joy. He held himself back from an orgasm if only barely.

Garret was naturally skilled with his tongue ad he drew long, seductive licks up and down Brysen's pits without tickling him. Those licks grew closer and closer up Brysen's thick, muscled triceps, tracing the lines of veins that rolled all over their bulge without interfering with the black stripes along their length. The wolf's tongue rolled over the valley where triceps met biceps and he peppered the upper mount with kisses, suckling on them. All the while, his cock began rising from his sheath, his shorts straining loudly with a soft tearing noise as the member continuously grew and grew.

Though Brysen could not see the 'main event' so to speak, he could feel the rising dick between his legs and against his belly. He closed his eyes, letting the sounds and sensations he felt from the rising member fill his imagination with lusty imagery and his cock with overwhelming ecstasy. He instinctively turned towards the arm that Garret was worshiping and - as if drawn by magnets - his lips found Garret's once more and their tongues fell into that familiar dance.

Rrrrrrip!

Garret suddenly bucked his hips and Brysen felt the first raw touch of that red puppy maker press up against his own cock. He growled deeply, a sound matched by Garret as they both thrust into one another in an alternating temp. With each thrust, he could feel Garret's cock growing bigger and bigger. The massive, molten-hot rod was sliding further up their pressed bodies like a serpent wiggling its way over the valley of their pectorals, eager to interject between them. It dwarfed his own dick and he felt it sliding past his pectorals and start to brush up against his cheek. He broke the kiss only to turn towards the huge, red, pointed cock before him and give it a kiss. His tongue lashed out and gently brushed against the member causing Garret to quiver in ecstasy.

"Fuuuuuck... You tigers and your tongues," moaned to wolf.

"You wolves and your knots," snickered Brysen, reaching down and squeezing at the bulbous nub that was the size of his head sprouting from the base of the lupine's dick. "Get on up, Coach. Daddy's going to fill you right up."

The big grin on Garret's face showed he had no intention of opposing the suggestion and immediately scooted forward far enough that he was sitting on Brysen's rounded yet muscular belly. The big wolf reached behind him towards the leaking dick. Brysen moaned, having to dig his claws into the couch's armrest behind him as even the mere touch of the wolf sent him teetering over the edge. Garret guided his fat dick right into his hole, pushing down until the tip squeezed into the tight ass.

Even after five years of fucking and being fucked day in and day out, Garret was still as tight as ever. Brysen loved it and though he would miss it, he knew Garret had a job to do. So at the very least, he could get one last fuck out of him.

Garret let out a soft howl as half of Brysen's dick pushed into him. He had to surrender the grip he had on the barbed tiger dick as he had to support the enormous cock to keep it from slamming down on Brysen like a two-foot long, fleshy baton. That gave Brysen room to immediately thrust his foot-long cock and slam it right into Garret's ass. The big wolf gasped as Brysen - barbs and all - hilted into him. A thick glop of precum squirted out of the tip of the wolf's cock.

"Yeah," growled Brysen. "Cum for daddy."

He pulled his cock back and then savagely thrust it back into the furry, grey ass making Garret twitch in bliss. He savagely repeated the gesture, sliding in and thrusting back in with increasing tempo. Huge, furry, white balls slapped against Garret's ass and Garret's own melon-sized balls began churning madly as the stimulation automatically caused his cum-factories to inflate and ready itself for orgasm.

Brysen uncurled his paws from behind his head and wrapped them around Garret's enormous dick. He pulled the tip of the member closer to him, pushing his nose against it and taking in that musky, lupine scent. Eyes closed, he committed the scent to memory. Just as Garret could take essences from others for use in his mission, Brysen took in that manly odour and made it his own, forever leaving a place for it in his memories.

Then he gave it a lick.

"Oooooh fuck..." moaned Garret.

No matter how tough or powerful Garret could be, he was putty when his dick was being licked by a tiger tongue. He lapped at the member, careful not to be too rough. A constant stream of viscous precum was pouring out of Garrets dick, soaking the couch and smearing all over Brysen's head. The striped feline could feel Garret's pulse and the pumps and valves within the enormous cock growing increasing desperate to unleash its payload. He too was crossing the verge to orgasm as his constant thrusts were growing faster and faster.

The pressure in his cock was starting to become unbearable and he could physically feel the cum sliding up Garret's dick. With it pressed against his body, he could feel the molten seed bubbling up from the wolf's enormous balls, churn about in his knot a little and then rise inch by inch up the entire length. He could feel it gurgling on paper-thin skin from his belly, sliding up past his belly button, over the mountains of his chest and lastly against his very tongue until...

"FUCKIN' HELL!" Garret roared.

Hot cum came shooting out of both of them. For Brysen, he shot his load directly into Garret, a final souvenir to whatever horizons he may be going to. For Garret, he blasted his thick, gelatinous cum across the house, sending it splattering with enough force to force open the study doors and coat Brysen's desk. Papers and important documents were instantly ruined by the sudden torrent. Both men shuddered from their first blast but when the second came, they were sent stumbling into each other's arms. Garret's seed formed a trail from the study to them, still blasting away with tremendous force. Conversely, Brysen's seed pumped into Garret in a gentler manner, a lover's orgasm.

Their lips met by the third shot and together, they felt the scorching rod between them pumping out gallons of cum from the Agent.

The sensations of the massive member were secondary to their kiss.

*******

Tanner wiped the back of his neck, drying it with the towel. Though his apartment was built with fur dryers, he much preferred to go with traditional towels predominantly because it saved on power. The late night shower was just what he needed to get the sweat and grime of the day off him. He had been guarding Warren for most of the day and then sitting on the edge of his seat as his brother won the World Series. After all that, he needed a moment to cool down.

Once he was satisfied with his relative dryness, the hulking tiger - the biggest of the Bells - regarded his reflection in the mirror. He considered tying his long, dirty blonde hair back but decided that since he was just going to go to bed with his boyfriend, he might as well leave it loose. Besides, Phil really liked it when he went without a ponytail. Said it made him look like he had come out of those cheesy romance novels that was a guilty pleasure of the smilodon's.

He tied a towel over his sizeable genitals and stepped out of the bathroom.

"Ready for bed, babe?" he said, heading towards the bedroom of their two-bedroom apartment. Originally, the second bedroom had been for his dad whenever he stayed in the city to help manage his business and Warren's career. These days, it became a bit of a library where both of them could play the doting couple sitting by the windowsill reading different books. They hadn't quite gotten the hang of reading the same book together.

When he stepped into the bedroom, he was surprised to find Garret Holt standing while Philip Cole was sitting on the bed. Garret was dressed only in a tight-fitting red shirt and what appeared to be a pair of his dad's joggers. Phil was naked as he always was before they went to bed. Phil immediately tucked something behind his back before turning to him with that guilty look on his face that instantly made Tanner suspicious. For a small-town sheriff and soon-to-be detective of New York, Phil really had a terrible poker face.

"Hey Garret," said Tanner as a mild greeting. "You're here late. What's up?"

Garret first glanced towards Phil who quickly shook his head but the wolf just rolled his eyes and turned back to Tanner with a mischievous smirk. "Just delivering the ring."

"The ring?"

"Goddamnit, Garret," groaned Phil. The bulky smilodon got to his feet, took three steps forward until he was right in front of Tanner and then got down on one knee.

Tanner's eyes went wide. "No way..."

"Hon," Phil croaked, his voice breaking. "We've been together for three years now. I moved halfway across the country just to be with you. I know this is Warren's night but because someone_couldn't keep their muzzle shut..." He shot a foul look at Garret who just shrugged helplessly. "... I hope I can make it _our night as well."

He pulled out a blue, velvet box and quickly opened it.

"Will you marry me, Tanner Bell?"

Tanner's answer was to immediately tackle the big smilodon to the floor, lock lips with him and viciously hump him there and there.

"Fuck yes!" he cried after finally taking a breath. "What took you so long, dumbass!?"

Phil gave him a playful punch against his broad chest. "I was waiting for you!"

"You fuck me all the time! I'm the woman in this relationship! You're supposed to propose to me!"

"Bitch, your cock is bigger than mine!"

The two laughed and immediately locked lips once more, this time gentler and more affectionate. The love Tanner had for Phil had never been greater than that point in time. Even without either of them looking and sprawled onto the floor with their cocks semi-hard, Phil still managed to slip the ring onto Tanner's finger. Their moment of romance, however, was interrupted when - at the same time - they remembered that there was a third person in the room with them.

They both caught Garret Holt just as he crossed the threshold of the room. Tanner grabbed Garret's shoulders and Phil seized the wolf's paws, pulling them behind his back in a typical handcuff fashion.

"Where do you think you're going, mister?" Phil growled playfully.

"Aw, come on guys," Garret moaned playfully. "This is your night. Can't I get off just this once?"

"Hell no!" exclaimed Tanner. The big tiger immediately tossed aside the towel wrapped around his waist revealing his enormous, throbbing sixteen-inch dick. "Don't think we didn't forget you're leaving soon. You owe us one last fuck if you can't make it to be the best man at the wedding."

"I thought Warren would be your best man."

Phil pulled him back by his wrists. "You're my best man."

"You do know you guys can just call me and I'll come running."

"You better. I want to consummate our marriage while you, and my in-laws fucking in front of us."

Garret lifted an eyebrow and glanced towards Tanner for confirmation.

"I approve of this," said the big tiger with a grin.

"You guys are into goddamn kinky."

Phil grinned broadly and his long, prehensile dick rose from his sheath, rising up and drooling precum across Garret's cheeks. "You're talking to the guy with a fucking tentacle dick."

"Point taken." Garret smirked at the two. Holt set down his duffel bag and reached into it. He retrieved a large bottle of champagne and gave it a few shakes. "Well, since we're celebrating, anyone got some glasses?"

Tanner inclined his head to the side and then let out a broad grin. "I've got an idea." He took the bottle and immediately took it to the large tub that they had in the bathroom. With Warren earning the big bugs, Brysen working the finances and property side, Tanner could afford a few luxuries the least of which was an extremely large Jacuzzi that sat in their bathroom big enough for about six men or at the very least three heavily muscled furs.

He grinned gleefully as he popped the cork of the champagne bottle, making sure it didn't fly off too far and then started pouring the contents into the tub. Behind him, Phil pulled the knob that closed off the Jacuzzi's drains.

"You do realise how much champagne it would take to fill that tub up, right?" said his fiancé.

"Good thing we have Garret's bag of endless shit, then, right?"

Garret rolled his eyes and began pulling out more and more champagne bottles for them. He would hand it to Phil who would pop off the cork and then offer it to Tanner who would then pour the contents into the tub.

"I never quite got how that bag of yours worked," Phil admitted. "Does it open some portal or something into a Conglomerate store room or something?"

"Some things are best left unsaid and undiscovered," Garret answered enigmatically. "Just be glad that these things are free. I'm pretty sure we'd tear through both of your salaries by the time we're done here."

After several dozen bottles, the bathroom was filled with the heady aroma of alcohol and the tub was happily bubbling away with the light gold liquid. Tanner beamed brightly and turned to the two men in his life; one that he would spend the rest of his life with and the other the guy that had set him on this wondrous path.

Without another word, Tanner moved in front of Garret and immediately knelt down in front of the wolf. He pressed his nose against the wolf's crotch. He caught the distinct musky scent of the male in front of him but also the scent of his father, confirming that Garret had borrowed his father's pants. He licked his lips and pulled down the grey sweats to expose Garret's plump sheath. Knowing that he didn't have much time before that cock became unmanageable for his muzzle, he closed his lips around it and stuck his tongue right into the sheath, coaxing that cock to come out.

Garret responded with a moan of his own and a thrust of approval. Phil took over from taking down the rest of the wolf's pants before moving on to remove the Coach's shirt and tossing it to the side. The smilodon's serpent-like cock slipped and oozed all over all three of them, smearing them all with its sticky precum like they were being coating his exotic oils. The mere touch of the fluid was enough to drive their arousal up and their inhibitions down.

Tanner ran mostly on autopilot as he lapped at the growing cock within his muzzle. Within moments, the huge, lupine dick was filling his muzzle until his jaw started to hurt. He was forced to pull away at stare at the glorious, red pole in front of him that oozed masculinity and begged for his ass. At the mercy of Phil's addictive precum, Tanner could only rise and scoop both the love of his life and the man whom he owed so much too and carry them both towards the bed. There, he deposited them both onto their sides before crawling in himself.

Phil's alien dick beckoned for Tanner to come closer and he happily obeyed. Garret moaned loudly as his cock grew bigger and bigger, rising up past his nipples and still growing in both length and thickness. Phil curled his dick over the wolf's broad, muscled chest before driving it right into the Coach's open muzzle. Garret's eyelids fluttered as the powerful aphrodisiac poured out of Phil's dick and straight into his system. Tanner pushed his lips against Garret's getting some of that concoction.

"Let's get in the tub," Garret rumbled. "Don't want all those bubbles going to waste."

Phil could only purr in acknowledgement and he was the first to untangle himself from the pile of muscles and fur. Tanner, still with his muzzle around Garret's enormous cock, watched his fiancé slide his enormous form into the bubbling concoction. The champagne level rose quite a bit as he rested his legs out. A soft moan rose from Phil's throat.

"Damn... I'm gonna have to get hard again. This shit is kinda cold."

Despite those words, Phil's fantastic member rose from the surface like a little periscope, curling in the air and inviting the other two into the tub.

Garret dislodged himself from Tanner, growling hungrily. Even just one enormous leg into the pool and the bubbling line of champagne rose up to spilling point. When the big, grey wolf slipped in right beside Phil, champagne poured out of the edges of the Jacuzzi and onto the tiled floor. The two muscled furs immediately curled their arms around each other, muzzles meshing in a dance while their paws eagerly cupped some of the alcohol from the tub and smeared it all over their fur. Garret's massive member rose up from the bubbling surface, stiff as a rod and like a monumental leviathan rising from the depths of a bubbly, frothy ocean.

Tanner couldn't last out on dry shores for long and he immediately sank into the champagne bath without a care for how much of the drink poured onto his tiled floor. He did, however, forget of his inherent ability and NEXT. The moment his paws sank into the drink, the light gold, clear liquid began to turn a milky white, opaque and grew in thickness. He let out a soft yowl of confusion as the transformation swept outwards and quickly consumed the rest of the tub. Garret only noticed the change when he dipped his paw into the goo and smeared the sticky fluids all over Phil's chest. The two men gave him an expectant look.

"Whoops," Tanner said with a soft chuckle. "Should've worn gloves."

"Damn... Now no bubbles," Garret sighed.

Tanner saw the glint in Phil's eyes and knew that the man he loved had an idea. "Oh... I dunno."

Phil tapped the dial beside him, pushing the Jacuzzi's jets to full blast. Though thick and viscous, the jets did their work and started the bubbles rising to the surface. Tanner moaned softly as the churning goo massaged his body. The idea of swimming in a cum-like bath only made him harder. At the very least, the cold of the champagne vanished and was replaced with a delicate warmth that made his body radiate with need.

"Oh yeah, that's the stuff," moaned Garret. The big wolf slowly rose up from the goo, crawling forward. "Come on, big guy. My balls want to add to this bath."

As he had done many times before, Tanner lifted himself slightly off the base of the Jacuzzi and rested his legs against the rims, his ass still partially buried beneath the waves. The massive lupine slipped his submerged dick into the offered hole, homing in without issue and managed to get in about a quarter of the way before meeting some resistance. Tanner gripped the edges of the Jacuzzi to stabilise himself, his knees bent and embedded into the thick goo. Garret thrust and buried his dick another quarter in, leaving Tanner growled in ecstasy. A loud grunt and a flash of ecstasy forced him squeeze his eyes shut as the huge member stretched him again. Though he had had that cock inside of him many times and only recently managed to take all of it, it still stretched him wide. Any other dick apart from Phil's would have left him unsatisfied and he eagerly shuffled himself down. The immense member slid down into the slot that had been trained and bred into him for the past few months.

Tanner grunted as he felt the wolf's knock push up against his ass. That was the one part of the lupine dick he could never take. With Garret mostly hilted into him, he curled his legs around the big wolf, pulling them towards one another until their muzzles met, muffling his moans of pleasure. It was enough that he could lie muzzle to muzzle with these two amazing men, curl his legs around them and intertwine his arms around them lovingly.

Garret's moans grew louder as Phil pushed his writhing cock into the Coach.

"Oh fuck!" Garret moaned, breaking the kiss with Tanner for a moment. "Fuck me, Phil! Use that cock! Yeeeeeah!"

Knowing full well how it felt to have that wild, thrashing dick inside of him, Tanner grunted and thrust his hips into Garret's washboard abdominals. Garret, in turn, thrust into him, filling him with that immense dick and precum that was already starting to leak out from his ass. All three men quickly worked into a rhythm with Phil dominating and setting the pace.

The smilodon thrust and that would translate into Garret who would in turn thrust into Tanner. The last in the chain, facing the wolf and his arms around both the men, would jerk his hips, his barbed cock rubbing against Garret's abdominals. His lips would trance lines across Garret's before sliding along that grey, sinewy neck and then finding themselves locked with Phil.

Garret began to let out a moan of warning as his balls let out their trademark gurgling noise and began to inflate. The two men took one shoulder each, nibbling on the flesh there and bringing the wolf closer and closer to orgasm. Despite being able to take Holt's entire length, Tanner knew he would never be able to take Garret's entire load. So with each desperate thrust from the Coach, he allowed himself to slide a little further and further away. Though it left him with a need to be filled, he didn't so much care as the hot, muscled Coach that had changed his life continued to hold him.

Then, with an ear-splitting howl, Garret Holt unleashed his load for the second time that night. The goo shot straight into the cum-like substance that filled the Jacuzzi, sending huge bubbles that exploded and splattered all three men with the white liquid. Tanner let his own roar join with Garret's cry and he held the wolf tight as his own impressive dick blasted his seed all over the wolf's muscled torso. He felt Garret jerk in tandem with Phil's last thrusts as his fiancé, too, sprayed his seed into the wolf. The smilodon produced enough cum that even the mammoth Garret Holt was left with cum dripping out between his legs as the big cat continued to cum into him.

The three men were far from done, however. They sat there, panting, grinning at one another with lusty grins on their faces. The night was young yet and their dance would continue for a second, third and fourth time until the sun finally rose on the New York skyline.

Throughout the night, the Jacuzzi spilled over and was refilled many times.

*******

As the sun rose, Warren Bell found himself strangely pensive. He stood at the centre of the very arena where he had just won the World Series. The empty stands were strangely haunting. Mere hours before they had been filled with cheering fans, all of them listening to him roar. But now...

"Well... What now?" he asked himself with a heavy sigh. "Won the World Series. Dream come true. Now what?"

He wandered across the diamond, following the same tracks he had taken the previous night but only walking. Each step seemed empty and he found himself looking to the future and wondering what else was left for him. Though he was still in his first year as a member of the Yankees, he had already achieved a victory worthy of the ages. Should he make a career of being a baseball player and strive to make it into the Hall of Fame or should he use his studies for something?

Time seemed to fly by as he seemed to lose track of how many laps around the diamond he had done. He only stopped when he noticed a familiar grey figure striding across the field towards him.

His features brightened at the sight of Garret Holt.

With no care for who was watching, he raced across the field and threw his arms around Garret, pressing his lips against the man that had given him this chance. He even went in with a little bit of tongue as he knew the wolf loved the touch of tiger tongues.

Garret slowly broke the kiss with a smile. "Sorry I couldn't see you sooner. Your dad wanted to get one last good fuck in before I left and your brother just got engaged."

Warren's eyes lit up. "Phil proposed!?"

"After some prompting," snickered Garret.

"That's fantastic!" Then Warren remembered the first part of Garret's sentence. "And you're leaving..."

"Yeah..." Garret said softly. "My job calls. Still an Agent of the Nexus Conglomerate, after all."

"I know," Warren murmured, letting his arms drop from around Garret's big, brawny arms. "I just wish you didn't have to leave. I could really use some guidance right about now."

The wolf laughed softly. "Yeah. You hit your high pretty early in your career, right? Not only did you make it to the World Series but you were the one that won the game for the Yankees."

"Yep." Warren's expression turned sour. "Where do I go from there?"

Garret Holt rested a paw on his shoulder encouragingly. "Oh you could do a lot of things. Maybe go for a hat-trick. Buy a house. Adopt a kid. Find a good husband. Plenty of things. Baseball isn't your whole life, you know." He winked at Warren. "Especially given you've got your dad who is a construction mogul and your brother is about to get married. I'm sure your nephew would love to boast about his superstar uncle."

His heart lifted at those words and Warren beamed. "Thanks, Garret. You always know what to say." But just like before, the little ray of sunshine faded as the reality that Garret would be leaving darkened his mood. "Just wish you'd stick around to keep saying them..."

"You know I can't stay forever," Garret said.

"And I won't keep you," Warren answered. "I know you love your job. I think it was actually kind of selfish of us to keep you from it for so long."

"The heart wants what it wants," said the big, grey wolf. "But you know, it won't be forever. You've got a Monolith now. Just call and I'll come by when I can."

Those words seemed like empty platitudes. He imagined that the moment he called, Garret would say something like 'Sure kid, I'll be there when I can' or even worse, 'I'll pencil you in for Tuesday'. Possibly the worst response he'll get is if SABLE just gave him an empty, 'I'm afraid I can't let you do that, Warren.'

"Of course you could always come with me."

There, Warren's fluffy ears perked up and he lifted his gaze as a bolt of energy shot through him. "What?"

Garret was giving him a confident, knowing smirk like Warren had just fallen into a trap or he was seeing the fruition of a very long play. The wolf reached into his ever-present duffel bag and retrieved what appeared to be a folder. "I've got authority to offer you this contract. Someone higher up got the idea of giving you some training. Extra development as it were. It won't be easy but by the end of it you'll be able to use a few more NEXTs than your one and by the end of it, you'll have a rather cushiony job coaching young, minds and potentially letting them follow in your footsteps."

Warren's eyes widened in surprise. "You mean...?"

Garret Holt beamed at him brightly as he held out the contract.

"Are you ready to be a Coach?"