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Jack'ed In

Written by Leo_Todrius and Kayawk

Supported by my Patrons

A late morning wind blew through the heavy boughs of the magnolia trees, the pink and white blossoms swaying and rippling in the current. The slate gray clouds tumbled and broiled, but in their chaos they cast a uniform overcast. It had not yet rained, leaving the cement dry and the grass of the quad cool. Beneath the steady hiss of the wind, a lower rumble came as skateboard wheels navigated across the wide footpaths. The rider atop the board was tall and willowy, sunbleached brownish-blond hair reaching his shoulders, a split mustache framing his lips. A headband kept his hair from covering his faces but disappeared beneath his mane. Given the cool weather, he'd opted for a long sleeve shirt that reminded him of his wetsuits back home.

If the ocean was absolute freedom to a surfer, then a college campus in the dead center of a landlocked state should have felt confining. To Bailey, it was anything but. There was no hostile architecture to prevent him from riding his skateboard, the university leaving him to use his best judgment on where to grind. He wasn't confined by any rules or regulations from his parents. He could sleep in or not, he could eat when he was hungry. As much as he missed the ocean, college was fantastic. Some had described past generations of hippies as dropouts, but it seemed more and more in the current generation that label was applied to free thinkers that pursued the liberal arts.

Bailey reached down to adjust his groin as he curved around the language arts building and began the gentle slope down into the parking lot outside his dorm. Shadow fell across him just as the first flecks of rain began to kiss his cheeks. He continued to roll forward until the last possible second, stepping off his board and pressing the front of the deck to flip it up and catch it as he stepped onto the porch of the dorm. He was just about to swipe his card when he heard the gentle patter of rain hitting the asphalt. Bailey paused a moment, turning back, looking out as the light gray of the sidewalks and the matte black of the parking lot began to darken and glisten. The already overburdened magnolia trees seemed to droop lower. A few students held notebooks over their heads as they ran from building to building. A few just stood out in the rain, enjoying it. Bailey grinned. Those were his kind of people - people that enjoyed all life had to offer. He took a few more breaths of the petrichor wafting into the air before he swiped his card through the reader. The door buzzed and clicked and he moved inside.

Cranefish Hall was as quiet as ever. The lights of the lobby were seldom on, the television left dormant. It was an eclectic sophomore dorm that generally caught nerds and slackers and those that didn't have the fortune to select a roommate on their own. Such was Bailey's luck, but he'd tried to make the most of it. He walked down the long, dim hallway, skateboard in hand. It felt a little weird to live on the first floor. Back home he'd always been higher up, but it was kind of good to be connected to the Earth ina way. As he approached the end of the long hall, Bailey reached up to smooth both sides of his mustache before he grabbed the door handle and eased it open, hoping he wasn't going to disturb his roommate too much.

For however carefree and adventurous Bailey was, the universe had seen fit to pair him for the year with somebody who seemed to be the polar opposite in disposition. Though Jonathan had mellowed somewhat since the first semester, when he would use cardboard boxes to build walls around his desk and bunk to block out Bailey's existence at the first sign of discomfort, he was still uptight more often than not and seemed to have done little to integrate himself into the social fabric of the school. Any invitation or meaningful attempts at connection had been met with an aloof but polite refusal, and any whiff of alcohol, weed, or sex in the room was responded to with an air of open disdain and a quick departure. While Bailey had been out enjoying what the college and world around it had to offer, Jonathan seemed to have spent all his free time the first semester in the dorm, spending time online or playing one game or the other, and was on track to do the same through the second.

Despite his attempt to open the door quietly, when Bailey stepped into the narrow dorm room, Jonathan was startled from his position in his chair, ripping something bulky off of his head and dropping it where he'd been sitting, shifting himself in front of it. The desktop monitor set on the desk beneath his bunk showed a somewhat low-resolution rendering of an idyllic country landscape, a pile of posts next to a half-built fence in the foreground while a few farm buildings sat further back in the distance.

“J-jeez, man, you scared me… I thought you were supposed to be out skateboarding or whatever all day…?" Jonathan asked, his tone faintly accusatory–he'd been looking forward to having the room to himself to play around with his new acquisition. He wore his seemingly daily outfit of a pullover hoodie with the university's logo and a pair of unflattering khaki slacks, his glasses looking uncharacteristically askew with visible dampness on the upper half of his face, strands of his usually neat-but-dully-styled hair clinging to his forehead sweatily.

“Sorry Bro, canceled on account of rain… But if you're busy I could probably find somewhere else to haunt for a while." Bailey said, his voice lilting with the airy elongation of words prominent with Californian teenagers. A faint smile played on Bailey's lips. He'd rarely 'startled' Jonathan. He'd annoyed him, yes. Vexed, tested, tried, strained his patience, but rarely startled. His eyes scanned down to the floor, trying to decipher what object his roommate had dropped so clumsily upon his entry.

Jonathan glanced out the window as he listened to his roommate's explanation, expression flickering with annoyance at the word 'bro', then scowled as he realized it had gone from bright and sunny to a densely overcast downpour while his mind had been on the game. He seemed to consider the offer for a moment before a peal of thunder and lightning punctuated his thought, apparently making him feel too villainous to accept.

“No, I mean, this is your room too, I'm not really doing anything important," he reluctantly allowed. As Bailey smiled and seemed to focus on the other, Jonathan's hair stood on the back of his neck, his posture visibly withering under the attention as he held his entire frame rigidly. Had he made a mistake, done something to make an ass of himself? he anxiously fretted, trying to follow Bailey's eyeline to its destination. With the headset resting face-down on the ground and the cable draped over his seat, he figured there was little point in trying to hide or lie about it.

“You know that VR stuff? I-I, um, saved up a little and got one of the nicer kits, used," he explained, hoping the novelty might distract Bailey's attention away from himself, “It only showed up last night, I got everything all set up after you left this morning, I was just checking out the games that came with it now." He winced as he picked the somewhat expensive equipment up off the floor, holding the matte black hunk of plastic in both hands, demonstrating it guardedly to Bailey. The VR monitor that strapped to the face with padded loops was slightly larger than a brick and almost as heavy, with an external camera lens mounted between where the eyes would be, bulbous edges and slight greebling along the surfaces giving it a veneer of futuristic design. Bailey's eyes seemed to widen with an almost juvenile exuberance.

“Woah, dude, that's so cool! That looks way better than those cheap things you stick your cell phone in. How is it?" Bailey asked, grinning again. Despite how he grated on Jonathan, he'd always approached his roommate with an amicable tone. Jonathan was quiet for a moment, slight suspicion in his eyes as though he was trying to intuit any trace of a set-up or insult in Bailey's words. Apparently satisfied with his roommate's intentions, he relaxed–very–slightly, seeming somewhat nervous about how to proceed now that his reflexive defensiveness had deflated.

“It's, um… it's actually pretty cool, yeah…" Jonathan replied sheepishly, offering Bailey his seat as he pulled the cable free of it, pulling the VR set on top of his head and settling it there for a moment. The monitor on his table showed a feed of a first-person view that lurched around correspondingly before settling on staring at the sky while the headset was held perched above his face. “There were a couple of games that came with it–I was just checking out this one, it seems like a farming sim or something? You can see what I'm seeing there, though," Jonathan explained as he gestured towards his desk, then pulled the VR monitor all the way down over his eyes, his hands groping for the controller-wands that were laid beside his keyboard. Bailey situated himself on the chair, leaning forward.

“Even without the headgear it looks a lot better looking than minecraft." he said, his jaw hanging open a bit in wonder, though that was often a default setting for Bailey. He gazed at the simulated screen for a bit before looking over at Jonathan. There was the headset of course, but also the controllers in each hand. Sensors had been stuck up to the desk and the cinderblock wall and there seemed to be several more peripherals in the box sitting next to Jonathan. Bailey had to admit, he was pretty impressed. “Do you get dizzy or anything?" he asked.

“Um, I did a little at first, but then I guess you just sort of get used to it?" Jonathan explained, sounding sheepish again as he admitted, “Which is weird, because I'm usually a mess with motion sickness, but I decided to give it a shot since some people online said it was pretty smooth." Though there was lingering tension in his body, his shoulders still slightly hunched, and an undercurrent of anxiety ran through his words, it was still the most 'relaxed' Bailey had ever seen his roommate be in the four or five months they'd lived together. Jonathan still felt a little wary about being the butt of some elaborate joke, but that possibility felt smaller and smaller the longer they talked. For all his prickliness–and sometimes open hostility–Jonathan didn't feel genuine anger or hatred towards Bailey.

Bewilderment? Sure. Irritation? Absolutely. But for the most part, he simply couldn't understand the other. That anybody could be so… empty of pretension, always meaning everything that he said and little that he didn't, so easygoing and smiley all the time, laughing over nothing? For so long, Jonathan thought it was impossible, that there had to be something sinister or malevolent lurking behind a mask, rather than being simply as he appeared. As annoying and gross as his roommate could be… a deeply buried part of Jonathan envied being able to live like that. It was clearly working out better for Bailey than whatever he was doing for himself.

“B-but, um, no, you're basically fixing up this old farm, and when you're ready for the next thing you have to do, you go up to the farmhouse and this old farmer guy tells you. I'm just trying to put up this fence…" Jonathan explained, sounding increasingly self-conscious as his explanation went on, realizing how boring it probably sounded to his far-cooler roommate, “I know it's probably pretty trash, but some people say it's supposed to be relaxing, you know?" It was the first time he'd ever tried to consciously impress Bailey, and it came out accordingly–forced and unnatural, clearly adopting a position that wasn't his own. Bailey, as he was with many things in his life, seemed completely oblivious.

“That's so fucking cool, dude! I mean, talk about vibing out. Especially if you can't actually go outside, this way you can still go outside! That's dope!" Bailey exclaimed with an overflow of enthusiasm. He reached to put a hand on Jonathan's shoulder before remembering that he wasn't that great at touch, and since he had a VR headset on it might startle him too. Instead, Bailey slung his arm behind his head, “You want me to leave you to it? I remember taking a day off when Order of Reverence came out." Bailey contemplated. His roommate's enthusiasm made Jonathan tilt the monitor back up off his face, smiling bashfully at Bailey as he rode the wave of the other's earnest excitement, an experience that seemed foreign to him.

“Oh! I-I mean, you can feel free to stick around if you want, I don't need a ton of space to play as long as I can stand up, and I d-do kinda feel bad about kicking you out of here so much…" Jonathan offered, the closest to an apology Bailey had ever received for really any part of his behavior, his roommate sounding unsure as he continued, “And, um, if you watch me for a little and decide you wanna try it too… I mean, they say you're not supposed to use it for too long in one sitting anyway." Yet again, Bailey seemed shocked.

“Really bro?! Yeah, that's so tight! Yeah. I promise I'll learn how watching you play." Bailey grinned, taking his chair and pulling it back out of the way to give Jonathan the room he needed. He tucked it under his desk as best he could before jumping onto the veritable tangle of quilts and sheets that covered his own bed before rolling over to face his roommate's desk. Jonathan was smiling in his hesitant way, his heart pounding as something close to stage fright filled him with a fluttery, nervous feeling, though he tried to remind himself that his life would be better if he and Bailey could at least be friendly with each other.

Once Jonathan repositioned himself in the space that had been cleared, he lowered the monitor back down over his eyes, gripping the controllers a bit tighter than before. Over the next several minutes, Bailey watched him pantomime the actions that comprised fixing a fence–his roommate bending over, driving the 'post' into the invisible hole, and 'hammering' in the boards that connected it to the larger construction. Jonathan would give occasional explanations, like how he was controlling a certain action, or narrating a surface-level overview of what he was doing, though by the fifteen-minute mark he was silent apart from answering Bailey's questions somewhat tersely, apparently engrossed in his virtual farm chores. When Jonathan finished attaching the latest fence-post, a twangy banjo riff played from the tinny speakers on his desk and in the headphones that wrapped around his ears.

“Jawb complete!" a deep voice drawled out with the same compression as the game's music and sound effects, “Why don'cha c'mon back teh the house 'n we'll find somethin' else fer ya teh do." The interjection seemed to startle Jonathan out of his deep focus, seeming to remember himself as he explained sheepishly, “They, um, kinda lay on the whole 'country' thing pretty thick…" though he was already navigating himself up the dirt road that led towards a white-painted, two-story farmhouse, which now sported a starkly contrasting red down-arrow hovering in the sky above it that spun slowly.

Bailey had been rather engrossed, though his focus on the game had been to a lesser degree than actually watching his roommate. They had been placed together at random, two 'roommate orphans' that had no other option than being stuck together. They had come together like water and oil. Bailey had never seen Jonathan this relaxed, this at ease, this accessible. He'd also never seen him move his body this much and he had to admire how actually fit he was. Bailey couldn't help but look down at the way his butt wiggled when he was 'installing the post' and was a bit relieved that Jonathan couldn't see out of the visor. Realizing that both the computer and his roommate had spoken, Bailey forced his focus back to the present.

“I mean, you gotta have a theme…" he managed lamely, not sure what else to say. His brow furrowed a little as he realized just how tightly Jonathan's shirt was hugging his torso after his virtual workout. Despite the way all of his clothes were starting to ride up a little, just a couple sizes too small, his roommate seemed totally unaware of his body's rapid growth–he just felt a dull, vaguely pleasant aching, a constant reminder of the effort he'd put into a good hard day's work. As Jonathan approached the virtual farmhouse–pushing through a white picket fence rimmed with daisies before reaching a stoop and a veranda porch that stretched the width of the house.

With a guffawing laugh, the house's front door opened, the porch floorboards creaking under the weight of a somewhat stylized anthropomorphic donkey designed in hillbilly caricature. Barehoof and appearing to be wearing nothing but a pair of overalls, with only one of the straps secured over his shoulder, the middle-aged equine's torso filling it to capacity. While a heaving belly helped considerably, the newcomer also had solid-looking, bulging biceps and pectorals, his grayish brown shorthair coat doing little to conceal his physique. Balancing a single straw of wheat on one side of an avuncular smile, the donkey beckoned Jonathan up onto the porch, and when he spoke it was with the same voice that had congratulated him a few moments earlier.

“Very well done, mah friend–li'l bit more work like that, and we'll have this place up 'n runnin' in no time!" the farmer praised in a booming voice, “Sure is a hot one out there, though–yeh've earned a break! Gotta nice cold'n in the fridge with yer name on it, but I was thinkin' of takin' a smoke break mahself, if that's more yer thing?" The offer made Jonathan freeze for a moment, feeling his reflexive revulsion–really? What's even the point in a game like this? And that's before he even started on the dangers of glo–but then he felt it grow quieter under the donkey's unendingly warm and friendly eyes. Did he really want Bailey to think he was too much of a tightass to just pick something? With that added pressure, he raised one of the controllers, selecting the “Smoke" option in the dialogue box that appeared.

“I-I mean, might as well, right? S'not lettin' me choose to cancel or just move on anyway…" Jonathan mumbled, feeling compelled to explain his apparent hypocrisy after a semester and a half of terrorizing Bailey and his friends about the smell of weed in the room or cigarettes on their clothes. In the virtual world, the farmhand avatar that Jonathan drove brought up a rather thick looking cigar. Once it was approximately where Jonathan's mouth was, the end sizzled and glowed and then a plume of digitized smoke expelled, swirling around the avatar's head. At first it seemed fairly straightforward, but the smoke began to swirl and circle around Jonathan, creating more complex pattern. At first it was disorienting, but then it felt like it was trying to worm its way deeper into Jonathan's eyes and then his brain.

After just one moment in the virtual cloud, it felt as if one of the many tightly stretched strings inside Jonathan's soul was suddenly cut. His shoulders dropped, the muscles no longer constantly squeezing tightly. Another relaxed around his stomach. All the while the silver smoke swirled and snaked its way across Jonathan's entire field of vision. Despite his apparent lifelong aversion to vice of any kind, the crook in his arm as he held the cigar to his lips felt natural, comforting, even. His eyes widened as they tried to follow that glimmering, dancing smoke around his virtual form, quickly becoming slightly glazed as that pattern imprinted itself on his consciousness. With that drop of his shoulders and loosening of his hips, a low chuckle started to sneak out of him–

"Huh huh huh, hawwwwwwwww," the last note feeling good, 'correct' in the same way that cigar in his hand did. He wasn't even sure why he was laughing, what was so funny, but he couldn't contain his glee at watching the smoke seemingly perform for him. “Heee–H-hey, um… w-wouldn't it be kind of crazy if we were smoking here t-too?" Jonathan suggested, his tone slightly goofy in a way that sounded practically alien coming from him, “Like… bridging the real world and the virtual one!" While framing it as a hypothetical allowed him to rationalize saying the thought out loud, Jonathan was still too self-conscious about what he was considering to look Bailey in the eye, his face remaining concealed by the headset and turned away.

“Whoa…" Bailey whispered to himself, sitting more upright, “That sounds awesome, bro, you just name what you want and I'll get it. All I got right now is my bong…" he admitted sheepishly. The more serious consideration made Jonathan shiver a little–was this really what he wanted? Wasn't it more just some random idea that popped into his head than some–and then with a snort and a roll of those much looser shoulders, the doubting thoughts felt distant, slipping away. Pushing the monitor back up to look at Bailey more directly, Jonathan's mouth was screwed up in thought, his eyes still slightly blank from their time in the smoke.

“I-I mean, I don't wanna invite myself to your stuff, man, and I don't wanna get in trouble either…" he mulled aloud, his typical personality struggling against the exciting new urges teasing and tempting him. “I-if you think we'd be alright, it would be pretty s-sweet to give it a shot?" he finally forced out with a more nervous smile, sounding actually embarrassed to admit, “Y-you'd, um, h-have to show me how to use it and everything though…"

“It's meant to be shared, and no one's here to get you in trouble. I promise, it'll be great." Bailey said, sounding for the first time in their relationship like someone that actually had an agenda.

****

It was a strange combination of fire, water and air as the liquid bubbled and broiled in the glass cylinder, vaporizing the special contents before the smoke billowed and wafted up into Bailey's waiting mouth. His bleached hair and split mustache seemed par for the course for all the after school specials Jonathan had seen growing up - the bad influence. He held the smoke in his lungs for a few moments before expelling it into the room. He relished the experience at being so open, having demonstrated the process to Jonathan just as he had demonstrated the game. Bringing the tube to his roommate's lips, Bailey moved to help usher Jonathan into this particular right of passage.

Jonathan sat next to Bailey, the VR set perched on his head even though the game had been paused ever since the Californian had begun the preparations to smoke him out. Despite the usually heavy, awkward weight it wore on his spine, he found that the headset's presence didn't really bother him, scratching idly at his neck, which was starting to stretch the collar of his hoodie with its girth. Bouncing the jitters out of his knee as he watched Bailey take his hit, he was struck by a moment of clarity, the keen irony of what he was about to do, like he had less than zero excuse for not knowing any better. While Jonathan knew he should be terrified rather than fun-nervous, that this was disgusting and pathetic–the moment only seemed funnier with the carefree manner with which Bailey exhaled and handed over the bong, his personal bad influence topping things off with a flair. He laughed anxiously.

“He-he hee h-huh, heee," the noise pulled itself out of his throat like it had a will of its own, Jonathan looking genuinely surprised with himself, a stunned look on his face as he took the bong's neck in hand, though it was hard to hold any concerns in his head for long. Shaking his head, he tried to refocus on the task at hand, his eyes constantly flashing nervously towards Bailey for guidance, trying to force himself to remember what his roommate told him: Don't exhale into the bong, don't be afraid to take a breath of fresh air in the middle of things, just let it out once it wants to get out… He fumbled with the lighter awkwardly, ultimately needing Bailey's help to ignite the bowl, Jonathan's eyes widening again as he watched that dancing flame, the glowing embers taking root in the green, the milky smoke soon filling the entire main chamber as he tentatively inhaled…

“H-haw, haww, h-hawww!" he coughed harshly, his throat feeling like it was burning as it touched smoke for the first time, tears running down his reddening eyes. His nostrils flared as he tried to suck in fresh air, too distracted by the coughing fit to notice the way they seemed to stay expanded, not shrinking to their previous size while the underside of his nose tilted forward, exposing the pair more. “D-damn, dude…" Jonathan wheezed, the first time Bailey had heard his roommate approach swearing–or calling him dude, for that matter. Feeling a little embarrassed at the display, and feeling an unfamiliar but comfortable eagerness to impress the other, he grabbed his tumbler from the desk and gulped down some water before bringing his lips back to the mouth of the bong. Glancing at Bailey a bit sheepishly first, he pulled the bowl from the stem and ripped the smoke into his lungs, taking a 'proper' hit as he shakily handed the glass back to its owner.

He held his breath until the heat in his lungs started to tear its way out, so he exhaled, sinking into a stoned daze as he found himself again staring at the smoke twirling and catching on the light from his computer screen, the bright light and level of oxygen in his brain making him see stars. Bailey had already taken another hit himself, a seasoned professional. When he set it aside, though, the blond seemed to be looking at Jonathan with a mix of adoration and confusion. Bailey could sense something was off, but not what exactly. The effects of the weed certainly weren't helping him identify specifically what was off about it. While the two marinated in their cloud of debauchery, a slight banjo twang came from the computer. At the bottom of the screen a vine began to stretch along with an increasing percentage number, indicating a live update was being patched in.

“Wow, they really care about the players…" Bailey said, leaning back a little before realizing that there was a little more of a tent in his pants than he'd hoped to let on. He leaned forward again, hoping to hide it. Something about getting his roommate to finally toke with him had been… exhilarating. The sound of air tearing through the glass chamber pulled Jonathan out of his empty-headed daydreaming, his bleary eyes widening as he noticed the way his roommate seemed to be examining him. There was a charged edge to that earnest excitement that cut through his slightly altered psychology, a basic part of Jonathan still fundamentally uncomfortable with being the object of another's attention. While he hadn't seen the bulge tent in Bailey's shorts, he could feel something in the other's eyes dragging across his body–and with the voice that normally would have felt revolted and ashamed silenced under a blanket of smoke in his mind, Jonathan realized with pinking cheeks that maybe he act

ually did want that attention after all… When that sound effect jerked both of their attention back to the computer, Jonathan was relieved for the distraction, though he squirmed a little as he felt himself throb against his too-small khakis.

“O-oh, um, y-yeah, 's'pretty cool, thought it was supposed to be an older game, it's awesome when a company shows l-love to those," he replied sheepishly, his words slurring slightly as he felt a strange stiffness in his jaw, his teeth feeling more noticeable in his mouth. Jonathan just chalked it up to being high, his focus still largely on Bailey besides. “I'm down to check it out, unless maybe you want to give it a try?" he suggested as he tugged the headset off and held it out in offering. Rather than the hesitant reluctance of the first time he'd offered, instead was a slightly desperate eagerness to impress Bailey, some part of Jonathan starting to feel like he had ground to make up in that arena.

“You wouldn't mind? I don't want to mess anything up after you worked so hard on it…" Bailey said, trying to remain chivalrous. He liked seeing Jonathan like this, although there was also a chance that in their altered state of mind that a virtual reality game might end up seeming all too real. It might be best if the veteran of such things faced it first. His concern wasn't necessarily unfounded, as in the past Jonathan could get on a paranoid tear if he thought something was moved on his desk, let alone lose progress on a game he was invested in. While faintly aware that under other circumstances he'd be irritated, now it just didn't seem all that important to Jonathan–at least not as important as getting along with his roommate.

“I just started playing it this morning, I promise, you're not gonna mess anything up, dude," he offered, the last word sounding less unnatural than it had the first time. Holding the headset out more insistently, his grin widened as he assured, “I was barely through the tutorial stuff when you got back, there's still a ton of stuff I haven't even seen yet."

“Thanks, bro." Bailey said earnestly, pulling the headset on. He felt Jonathan adjusting the straps behind his long hair to get it to fit right, knowing he probably had a potent musk going on between his morning workout, the weed they'd taken and his natural manly aroma. Hopefully Jonathan didn't mind being that close. Still, his concerns melted away as he looked out at the farm around him… the very realistic, very beautiful, very serene farm. He saw blades of grass, he saw the branches of the trees moving, he… smelled fresh hay? That had to be a byproduct of his brain. He turned and inhaled a bit more in wonder, seeing the world turn with him. There was no lag, no refresh rates. The view on the computer screen had truly been the very basic depiction. “Woah…." Bailey drawled in wonder.

Jonathan felt a little weird as he carefully drew the straps around Bailey's head, his fingers threading that sweaty hair to make sure that it didn't catch on anything as the full weight of the monitor hung from the other's head. There was a strange intimacy in it, and he couldn't help but shiver as he was struck by Bailey's scent, his roommate's musk a distillation of his essence as a person, it seemed. Normally, that particular smell made him feel tense, resentful, a little sick, but now he couldn't feel any of those things. His thighs squirmed together slightly, and he was relieved that his roommate couldn't see him through the headset as he tried to make sense of how he could actually be enjoying that rank–Not rank, he decided, Earthy… manly.

“Yeah, it's pretty crazy how real it feels, right?" Jonathan replied, his voice just slightly muffled through the headphones wrapping over Bailey's ears, “You can take a sec to just get used to things if you need to, you just kinda point to where you wanna go and press the button." Within the virtual world, Bailey found himself on the same porch Jonathan had paused at, the donkey farmer sitting on a rocking chair and puffing on his cigar, the seam in the infinite animation loop becoming apparent the longer it was examined.

“I should probably get us some cigars sometime too. You did so well with the weed, I know you'd be a pro with the classic." Bailey observed, finding his pants growing tight again at the thought. He swallowed a little at that before he edged his character forward, “You're right, no motion sickness. This must not have been a cheap setup, it's really amazing!" Bailey beamed. The compliment made Jonathan smile more sheepishly, that familiar but unexpected pressure between his legs only adding to his already considerable confusion about things.

“Uh, sure, I mean, if you got some cigars I-I'd be up to try…?" he answered, sounding slightly less sure of himself, feeling more driven by a desire to impress the other than he had with the weed. He had a moment of not believing the words coming out of his mouth–was it really that easy to get him to start using cancer sticks and smelling like–It'll be fine. One won't kill you. The words rolled through his head automatically as he let out a deep breath and rolled his enlarged neck to work out some kinks, his guilt evaporating the moment his attention flicked to watch Bailey play. “Nah, it wasn't anything too crazy, like I said, I got the main kit used, so it was a few hundred bucks?" he insisted. There were some aftermarket 'accessories' he'd picked up new, but Bailey didn't need to know about those, he decided.

“Okay, so how do I…" Bailey hesitated as a really good feeling swept over him. He smiled a little distantly, his mind fuzzy for a moment. As he stood in the virtual sunlight, his actual skin started to take on a healthier tan like it had back when he'd been surfing everyday. The contrast between the natural dark part of his hair and the bleached strands seemed to increase a little too, though Jonathan could have convinced himself it was just a trick of the light filtering through the blinds as the clouds moved. Bailey shook his head a little, “How do I select my next mission?" he asked finally. When he shook his head and glanced around, he could see the farmer watching him with a confident but friendly grin, and even though it wasn't apparent exactly what game action he'd done to initiate progression, the donkey rose to his hooves with cigar chomped on the side of his muzzle.

“Ready teh git back teh work?" the farmer drawled, before gesturing in a vague direction behind Bailey's avatar. “There's some tillin' that needs doin', think yeh'd take care o' that fer me? You'll find the plow'n everythin' you'll need behind the barn," he explained, a small arrow then appearing at the top-center of Bailey's vision to orient him. “Should be a piece o' cake fer yah, 'n then c'mon back here once yer done. Thanks, pard!" Bailey smirked a bit at the guide and he followed the arrows. Gaming was nothing new to him, though he wasn't sure if he did it more or less than Jonathan. He slowed a little as he rounded the barn, grinning wide. The bushes that had appeared genetic on the computer monitor were clearly more detailed in VR.

“Woah, dude's totally got a green thumb for some kush on the side… Who programmed all this?" Bailey chuckled before he continued on, reaching the appointed destination. While he was no expert in farming, he did clearly identify the plow and the several long straps that trailed off it… but there were no horses, no donkeys other than the guide, and the barn hadn't seemed to have any animals that he could see when he passed it. His lips pursed a little, “Is this too advanced a mission, or do I gotta do something?" he asked.

“Uhhhh…" Jonathan trailed off as he watched Bailey's progress on his desktop monitor, frowning as he quickly realized he was just as stumped as the other. “...No, I mean, it can't be, it's like, the third job…" he thought aloud, “...I mean, does it let you interact with the straps at all? Maybe that'll give us some kind of hint…"

“That's brilliant, bro!" Bailey exclaimed, loping over with his avatar. Sure enough, there was an interact symbol. Bailey clicked the button on the controller and gasped. Both in game and on the monitor, the camera backed up to show the player's avatar, although the avatar seemed to have longer hair than it had when Jonathan was playing. The straps that had been laying on the ground began to wrap around the player, creating a thick leather harness with straps and rings. The shirt the avatar had been wearing was gone, showing off the immense musculature of a seasoned farm hand. The animation was gratuitous, bordering on anime transformation sequences. Likewise, it had gone further than it needed to by giving the avatar a collar, leather bracers around the wrists and a belt on his low slung pants.

Bailey made a strange exhalation noise as he felt a sudden wetness leak into his boxer shorts, his aching cock throbbing a little. He'd actually felt the straps wrap around him for a moment, putting him into the harness. He'd felt it on his skin and it felt so right, so good, like he was meant to be used hard and put away wet. He sat in the chair, motionless, feeling the wet spot against his thigh as the game's camera returned to the first person view. Bailey was blushing and very clumsily edged his character forward. The long straps grew tight and the plow began to scrape the soil behind him as he moved into position.

Jonathan's jaw had fallen open–he hadn't really known what to expect, but it certainly wasn't whatever this was. Even while his attention was mostly on the in-game transition, his eyes still glanced back towards Bailey, realizing that he couldn't help but imagine his roommate in the virtual outfit. He squirmed in his seat again as he was struck once more by those confusing impulses he'd felt in enjoying Bailey's scent, but now there was also a stranger sort of jealousy that made his cheeks burn hotter. He just knew he would look good in it too, but more than that, the thought of being put to use, having his body's power literally harnessed, it was a satisfaction that ran deeper than mere pleasure. That sharper exhale drew Jonathan's focus back to Bailey, and while he wasn't able to see his roommate's eyes, he was able to see the blush in his cheeks running out from the edge of the headset.

“D-damn, that's… w-well, I guess that'll do the job," Jonathan finally remarked, more out of a compulsion to say anything to shift the charged vibe in the room. He knew he should probably be embarrassed by the game's turn, and even more so furious at Bailey for the arousal that was increasingly obvious. For all of the times he'd thought of his roommate as a brainlessly horny animal for jacking off in the room, or referencing anything vaguely sexual, now he only felt a kinship he didn't really understand, wanting to ensure Bailey's comfort. “You've got this, m-man, just gotta dig deep and get it done, y'know?" he encouraged, venturing to pat the other male on the upper back. The back felt firmer than Jonathan expected.

“Sure, yeah…" Bailey said, “I don't want to steal your glory though, so maybe after I plow for a while we'll switch back and I'll get a shower." Bailey said, hoping to be gracious enough. As he began to push forward, his avatar leaned into it and began dragging the plow through the field, using brute strength to break up the topsoil. As he moved, a little silhouette on the side popped up and began to pulse, showing the experience that was being gained. As the experience went up, the silhouette was growing more muscular… and so was Bailey. Little by little, centimeter by centimeter, his shoulders were getting broader and thicker, his pectorals slowly filling out in his shirt, his biceps and triceps expanding to press against the cuffs of his shirt. Sweat was soon glistening across Bailey's forehead and neck, soaking the collar of his shirt as if he was actually working out.

“Hah, you got it, dude, we can team up to get it done," he offered with a chuckle, watching Bailey put in the work to till the field. While he couldn't explain why the virtual chore required so much actual effort, neither did he feel like he had to. It just made sense–after all, there was a job, and it needed doing. There was a simplicity in that that appealed to him. Similarly, when his roommate's body began to tense and quiver outwards slowly, soon reaching a size that Jonathan could not dismiss as easily as that tanning skin, no explanation was necessary. The more work you put in, the bigger you get, pretty simple. Still, even if the source of the muscle wasn't a particular anxiety, its appearance was surprising for Jonathan, and teased out more and more of those strange, guilty impulses.

“Sh-shit, dude, keep going! It's definitely doing something…" he mumbled in astonishment, the hand that had been patting at Bailey's back now cupping around those bulging muscles to feel and stroke. While there was a hunger in the way his fingers groped across that sweaty, expanding back, there was also a less lustful reverence, Jonathan marveling at the muscle development in a mix of pride and jealousy, an extension of the feeling he'd had in watching Bailey be harnessed up. After working nearly half the field, Bailey realized that he'd pitched a tent in real life and there wasn't any real way to hide it. He coughed a little forcibly and leaned forward.

“This is great, dude, but I've been keeping it from you too long, man. Thank you so much! I better catch that shower." Bailey said, reaching up to unhook himself and soon finding Jonathan's guiding hands assisting. As the headset came off, he shook his hair a little, feeling how sweat soaked it had gotten. If they ever got into a marathon session he'd have to remember to hydrate better. Bailey extracted himself from the seat with all the fluid flexibility of a ferret as he maneuvered around Jonathan and made it over to his closet, opening it to grab the plastic bucket that held his shower kit.

“A-any time, man, really," Jonathan was watching him a little sheepishly as he took the headset back, the pouring sweat making that slightly spicy musk intensify especially as Bailey shook his hair out. He wasn't used to feeling disappointed being left alone by his roommate, and the fact that he knew exactly why Bailey had excused himself so suddenly didn't seem to be changing that, to his own chagrin. Better just to focus on a job he could do something about than worry about shit that he couldn't, he decided as he pulled the VR monitor back on. Just as he'd hoped, as that field stretched out before him he could feel his insecurities fading away. He rolled his shoulders, grinning as he felt the pull of the leather on them, stopping for a moment to just enjoy standing in the breeze without a thought in the world–something he'd never really been capable of before.

With that, he pushed himself forward into the harness, feeling like he was using every muscle in his body to try and force the heavy plow forward. He could still feel the controllers in his hands, but they felt almost secondary to the very real strain tugging at his frame, Jonathan realizing that he'd already sweated through the collar of his shirt. He glanced over his shoulder–he'd only gotten it a few feet, and he reminded himself that he wasn't in the same shape that Bailey was. His mind was tugged instinctively away from his sense of failure and back towards the mental image of his roommate harnessed up, muscle stretching steadily outwards against his skin… His cock quivered, finally hardening enough that the shaft was grinding up against the front of Jonathan's pants. What was he doing? He was alone, sure, but Bailey was coming right back…

Shaking his head, he pushed the words from his mind and forced himself to take another step, his already widened nostrils flaring out even fatter as he sucked in and forced out massive lungfuls of breath. He could feel a chafing around his upper chest, his shoulders shuddering outwards as his pectorals throbbed against his shirt, developing a taut firmness the typically doughy male had never had in his life. He could tell himself it was just the strain of his exertion, the pull of the harness around his shoulders, though, even as his thighs burned and flexed against the plow's weight, already forcing his khakis to their limits as they seemed to bloat out with muscle. The more his musculature developed, it was apparent that he was becoming a little stockier than his roommate, sharing similarly proportioned pectorals and biceps while Jonathan's torso became more barrel-chested, a tearing sound tugging at his awareness as his thighs became shorter but thicker. He ignored it and went back to work, grinning as he felt how much easier it was becoming.

He wasn't sure exactly how long it had taken him to get through the second half of the field, his mind settling into an almost zen-like state, focusing only on each shifting movement in his body, developing an athletic awareness of his position and how he was getting himself to the next one. Even though he'd never set up a second character, the game seemed to know that his experience level was separate from Bailey's, a small notification accompanied by a ding alerting him when their XP balanced out. Grinning with a base sort of satisfaction at knowing he'd held up his weight, contributed just as much as his roommate did, he was almost surprised when he reached the end of the field's final row a moment later, having forgotten for a little that there had been a purpose for his effort beyond his own satisfaction with using his body.

“Jawb complete!" the farm owner's deep voice drawled out just before Jonathan was sprinkled with the game's banjo sound effects, “Why don'cha c'mon back teh the house and take a load off, big fella?" Jonathan's ears twitched at the twangy sounds, and chuckled to himself as he felt the way they shifted through the breeze before he shrugged himself out of the harness.

Cracking his neck with a few loud pops, he stretched his arms outwards before using one to stretch the other across his head, enjoying the burn radiating through his spent muscle before he lumbered off back towards the farmhouse–he couldn't quite remember where it was, but all he had to do was follow that handy little arrow... The satisfaction of the day's work was enough to keep him from feeling in reality the way his hoodie was already riding up past his navel with his sleeves almost to his elbows, while his slacks were a tattered collection of fabric strips hanging from the waist, whatever form or support left in the pants being used to restrain the dripping bulge between his legs.

****

The nozzle squeaked each time Biley turned it, ushering the shower head to sputter, hesitate, and then unleash a torrent of fairly warm water. Bailey peeled off his shirt, dropped his shorts and tucked everything into the plastic bucket before he pulled off his boxers. As the waistband drew out, he was shocked to see the fattest, longest erection he'd ever sported. How had he gotten THAT hard directly in front of his roommate? A brand new flush came to his cheeks as he tried to fold the boxers so the wet part wouldn't touch the rest of his clothing or be visible by anyone that came into the communal showers. Tucking all that away, he set the bucket in one of the cubbies, grabbed some shampoo and stepped into the water. The metal rings of the shower curtain rattled as he tugged it into place.

His chest rose and fell, beads of high pressure water pelting the tanned flesh before running down, collecting in the newly forged crevice beneath his pecs. It took Bailey far too long to realize the path of the water had changed since yesterday. He was going to look, but that same summer breeze full of the scent of hay seemed to waft through his mind and a dull smile crossed his lips. He squeezed the shampoo bottle and used the translucent honey colored liquid to create suds that he spread over his chest, his stomach and under his arms. Only once he was suitably foamy did he add some to his mane of surfer hair, using his fingers to wipe some onto either side of his mustache.

Under the assumption that the soap would need some time to 'do its thing', Bailey returned his attention to his erection. Wrapping one foamy hand around his rod, he gave it a squeeze, admiring yet again just how hard it was. Licking his lips and then wincing at the taste of soap, he began to guide his hand forward and back, up and down, appreciating its heft. It had to do with how he had restrained himself, probably… He'd been horny during the game and not indulged, allowing it to get harder and harder. He just hoped he'd be able to get this big again in time for his next date, whenever that was going to be. He shifted forward and back as he jerked off in the shower, the water spray washing the soap from his chest. He turned around and tipped his head back, letting the water soak into his hair.

The constant shifting of his center of balance made it apparent that his heels had gotten a bit tougher than they should have been. He was going to have to moisturize them or something. Likewise, his toenails felt thick. Maybe he should have worn foam flip flops in shared shower spaces like they said. Still, Bailey couldn't help but feel good about everything. He'd broken the ice with Johnny - no, Jonathan… Grown closer to his roommate, shared a past time. It was a good sign. If things kept up like this they'd have an amazing year, especially if he really kept up with the weed and the cigars. That thought made Bailey grin wider and soon he was moaning. His fat balls tensed up, his brain sparked with delight.

“Hnnn… Huhhh… Hawww! HAWWW!" Bailey bleated out as he came, sending rope after rope of stringy pearl colored semen out across the tile wall. He knew that the school hated the maintenance on the pipes, but sometimes he just couldn't help it. He shuddered, feeling the thicker muscles of his back rolling as he embraced the pleasure that had been pent up. He was a horny brute, an animal, a work horse that had just now gotten put out to do his thing… and it felt so good.

****

It had been a long night in more ways than one. The roommates had taken turns long into the night, plowing fields and building barns planting crops and harvesting them. In Between each major chore was time on the porch smoking and drinking and kicking back. Even when they had finally gone to bed, Bailey was fairly sure they'd each nutted at least two more times. It would have been a blissful way to enter the weekend if it had in fact been the weekend. Instead, they had barely managed to drag themselves to the cafeteria the following morning before classes.

Bailey kept his eyes half closed even in the diminished lights of the kitchen area. The school subscribed to a sort of continental breakfast and for some reason they turned down the lights compared to the rest of the day. Bailey didn't really care. He wandered around like a lost cow, selecting anything that might help with his headache and his body ache. He filled a bowl with oatmeal topped with cinnamon, sugar and milk. He followed it up with a mug of the school's hot barley soup, something he never would have considered before. Part of the skater wanted to fill up on eggs and bacon and sausage, but all of that just seemed too… rich? It seemed like his body wouldn't be able to handle it all.

When Jonathan woke up, he realized that his memory of the previous night only went up to a certain point before abruptly stopping, a warm fog 'hangover' filling his head and covering his thoughts like a fuzzy blanket. All he had was an innate knowledge that he'd been able to keep up with Bailey, a fact that pulled a dopey grin to his lips and filled him with a deep contentment even if he couldn't really remember why, having reached a point in the night where he wasn't too stoned to stay up with his roommate, simply too stoned to retain anything. As little as he could recall, though, as he stumbled around the dorm room getting dressed in that blissfully mindless haze, he also knew one more thing–whether he could remember it or not, it had been the most fun he'd had in his life.

By the point that he had finally made his way down to the dining hall closest to their dorm, he was nearly unrecognizable even before factoring the ways his form had fundamentally changed. To his dull annoyance, he'd discovered that the majority of his clothes no longer seemed to fit, leaving him in a pair of sweats that had been previously massively oversized on him, but now barely contained his lower half without splitting seams. He'd been forced to 'borrow' one of Bailey's hoodies, the entire outfit leaving little to the imagination with the way his physique stretched the material, practically encased by it at the narrowest points, to say the least of the volleyball-sized bulge at his crotch.

“Damn, dude, what even happened last night?" Bailey heard the question as a familiar presence fell in place behind him at the register line. Whatever seemed to be altering his appetite was apparently affecting Jonathan as well–while his tray contained a bowl of dry corn flakes, steamed rice, and a dressing-less creation from the salad bar that seemed to be comprised of hard vegetables as much as lettuce, it followed the high-grain, low-meat pattern that Bailey's breakfast did.

“We rocked out man… It's called 'living the dream'." Bailey grinned, shrugging a little as he slid his tray down the counter, “Comes with a cost though. I bet your brain feels about the same as this oatmeal." he smirked, swiping his student ID card through the reader at the end of the counter before lifting his tray to make room for Jonathan. His roommate was following beside him a few moments later, nodding with a guilty smile as he admitted,

“Y-yeah, man, I've never been fucked-up like that before… S'alright if I eat with you?" For most of his mind, the question felt odd, almost stupid–why wouldn't he eat with his bro if they were both here already?–and yet he couldn't deny the seemingly impossible fact that he couldn't remember ever sharing a meal with Bailey.

“Sure dude, not very neighborly to make you go to another pasture." Bailey said as he swung a leg over a chair by the window and sat down. Jonathan settled on the other side, though he didn't immediately dig into his food.

“I… uh, I was thinkin' about just skippin' class today, y'know? Only thing is I have a pretty big test. Already feel so braindead, it's not like I'm gonna remember shit…" he snorted, a strange tension in his voice as the unfamiliar way of speaking and indifference to his obligations ran through him with a dissonant shiver, stirring what remained of who he'd always been. His shoulders were fixed stiffly as he sat down, his eyes flicking constantly back towards his roommate, hungry for reassurance or approval as he added, “That's not the worst idea ever, right?" Bailey was frozen, his spoon half way to his mouth, the oatmeal piled on top.

“I mean, it's not like high school. We're paying them so it's up to us if we go or not. I can't really speak for you, but for me nothing feels better than going back to sleep when you're not supposed to." he chuckled. The response seemed to instantly relax his roommate, Jonathan's shoulders sinking in relief as he beamed back. The slight uneasiness that had crept over him was a distant memory as he leaned over to start shoveling his dry salad into his mouth, occasionally punctuating the conversation with the sharp snap of a carrot or cucumber.

“Does it feel less like slackin' when you're not doing it alone?" he joked through a mouthful of lettuce, any sense of the strangeness of his meal hard to detect beneath the unfamiliar, visceral satisfaction Jonathan felt in his thick teeth crunching through plant matter, the steady rhythm of his jaw, finding a kind of simple pleasure in it akin to how he felt using his muscle. “I was thinkin' after I wake up a little, I might try gettin' back to the farm, see if I can finish that bronco-ropin' job–I know I can do it now that I'm fresh!" he insisted, his forearms flexing in anticipation around his tray. “Though I s'pose I do have a couple other games too if you want something new, would be kinda dumb to drop all that money just to play one game…"

“Not if we're playing it to its fullest, dude! You gotta give the game its all!" Bailey declared emphatically, slurping up his oatmeal with spoon after spoon.

“Hell yeah!" One of the campus quarterbacks said, raising a fist as he passed, assuming no doubt that the others were talking about an actual sports game. He hesitated a little, glancing over through a mop of curly rust colored hair, “Johnny, looking swole bro!" he added before he continued on his way, no doubt seeking out the other jocks elsewhere in the cafeteria. Bailey grinned a bit, looking Jonathan over. Before, the mere public acknowledgement of his presence would have sent him into a neurotic spiral, and while in the first moments he felt pangs of that anxiety, he saw his roommate smiling and they simply stopped, an easy grin soon pulling across his own face. With a playful looseness, he stretched one of his arms out, let it relax, before suddenly flexing it with a sharp snort, his bicep bulging nearly as large as a bowling ball.

“'Johnny', huh?" he remarked as he glanced back at Bailey, rolling his eyes with an air of good-natured self-deprecation. “But naw, man, you're totally right–we gotta see our farm through to the end! Don't hold my moment of weakness against me," he snickered as he settled back into their conversation like they hadn't been interrupted in the first place.

“Oh, you're just tired, bro. Strap on the feed bag, take a little nap and you'll be ready for the fields in no time." Bailey said, slouching back in his chair as he continued to eat, his knees brushing against Jonathan's. Jonathan didn't resist. In fact, he slouched down further, their legs sliding forward until they were intertwined beneath the table.

****

True to form, Jonathan had wholeheartedly accepted his mission. He'd collapsed into bed, returned to sleep and had sunk so deep that it seemed he was going for another night's rest. Bailey had napped as well, but when waking to such a peaceful room, he'd tried to wait for Jonathan… at least for a little while. The boredom had started to gnaw at him, then eventually the siren song of the computer had become too potent a lure. While Jonathan continued to sleep, Bailey had crept over to his side of the room. While he didn't want to wake Jonathan from his slumber, he didn't feel such an obligation to his computer.

With the windows shut and the air conditioning off while they slept, the room had grown warm and humid. It was saturated with the scent of youthful vitality. Neither Bailey nor Jonathan seemed all that embarrassed by their sweat anymore. With the headset resting on his nose and his mouth hanging open a little, Bailey bobbed and shifted in the seat as his hands clicked the controls. He tried not to get too emphatic, hoping not to rob his bro of his himbo sleep. As moments ticked by into minutes and minutes stretched well past an hour, though, his marathon gaming session began to take its toll.

Bailey continued breathing through his mouth as he pushed towards his current objective, something even more surprising given that his nostrils had so much extra capacity as his nose had broadened and widened beneath the visor. Then again, so had the rest of him. His t-shirt was sweat soaked and strained over incredibly broad shoulders, his cuffs cutting into his arms. He'd worn shorts which made his rapidly thickening calf muscles very visible. The hot breath passed back and forth over blunt teeth and his face was bristling with new stubble, lighter in color than his mustache.

“The slope is so steep…" Bailey murmured in a raspy whisper, his avatar having to carry a heaping backpack worth of cargo up the slope to a new planting ground. The thick backpack straps on his avatar were also leather, looking startlingly reminiscent to the harness he'd worn for plowing. It was odd how much Bailey could feel the plight of his avatar in game. His muscles ached, his skin was slicked with sweat, and yet it felt like the best workout of his life. His fingers flew over the controller to complete mini-games necessary to indicate that he'd pushed through the fatigue and found his footing. As he rapidly tapped the triangles and circles and squares on the controller, he finally lurched over the final lip of the slope and stumbled forward onto even ground. Somewhere in the back of the headset he heard the chipper banjo music play. On the screen, golden light started to swirl and circle around him.

“Level up, pardner!" The twang of the farmer cheered.The camera view backed up from Bailey's Avatar, showing the muscle bound behemoth in all his glory. The Avatar looked down as fur began to swirl upwards from the edge of his boots, covering his legs and ass and back and shoulders. Bailey's back tightened, his chest gasping for breath. While the change wasn't exactly like that on the screen, it was certainly close enough. What had started as invisible peach fuzz across his body started to take on pigment. The hair on his arms went from clear to brown to a rich caramel color. The stubble on his cheeks took on pigment as well, taking him from a surfer with a split stache to a bearded college student in moments. The hair on his arms had grown so dense that as it darkened, it truly became fur. It swept across the nape of his neck, then spilled over his thick shoulders.

Bailey squirmed and panted, nearly dropping the controller. His feet went from aching to burning to stinging. He reached down with his free hand, trying to get his shoe off. He struggled with it for a moment before getting it to pop off. As the sneaker toppled to the floor, his sock was writhing and stretching over a very misshapen foot. He tugged at the cotton, managing to get it off. While the visor occluded Bailey's view, Jonathan got a full view of Bailey's toes. They were webbed together by flesh that was rapidly tightening, forcing them into perfect alignment. His toenails had grown chalky and soft, spreading out over his toes in rapid fashion. His heel had shrank away to nothing, forcing his foot onto the ball. The mass that had made up his heels only shifted enough to make the front part that much thicker and larger, clearly meant to support his immense weight.

Any effort to remove Bailey's other shoe was for nothing. The rubber and leather had stretched and warped, stitches popping and snapping. His careless malaise in how he tied it paid off as the bow unfurled, the laces separated and the shoe finally broke free. His right foot had changed even faster than his left, the shoe pried apart by a thick, heavy, hearty hoof. It came down to the floor with a faint clop and the pressure connected up through Bailey's huge furry leg. Both limbs throbbed and pulsed, muscle expanding and stretching beneath the flesh.

The disproportionate mutation of his feet seemed to stabilize and regulate. His toes were locked together in flesh and bone, webbed together before sealed in a keratin shell. As the hooves darkened, so too did Bailey's fingernails. They were blunt and wide and thick, far thicker than human nails. The hair, now fur, growing out of Bailey 's legs was shifting to a dusty gray color. It came in thick and soft, visible from where his overburdened shorts ended all the way down to the top of his hooves. His furry gray haunches peeked out of the waistband of his shorts as his ass started to swell and expand, pushing up and outward along with a nub of furry flesh that was wriggling and growing above the crevice of his ass.

Despite the desire to remain quiet, Bailey was making soft noises as he leaned forward and back, panting hard, hawwing gently to himself. He suddenly groaned, grinding his flat teeth together. The groan grew in intensity as he leaned almost all the way forward. The sound of ribbing fabric came as his shirt split down the spine, revealing his immense back. A jagged line of gray fur followed his spine and was spreading out quickly. The fabric shrank away like cling wrap, falling to the floor before him. Without his shirt and shoes, he wore only painfully tented shorts and the VR headset. In his vision his avatar was still growing and shifting, the external view so realistic. He set the controller down and pawed at his shorts, realizing that the zipper was hidden beneath a slight pudge on his stomach and made even more difficult to get to by the huge erection tenting the fabric. He had to lean in uncomfortable ways to try and get in and after a few moments he merely pursed his thick lips, grabbed each side of the fly with his larger, stronger hands and pulled.

A click came as the button of his pants bounced off the computer monitor. A huge pillar of cotton covered flesh erupted from the newly opened orifice, the boxers soaked with a gratuitous amount of pre. Bailey felt like he was using an exercise machine as he hoisted his elastic waistband up and over his dick before pushing it down towards his furry knees. While Bailey was unable to see his rod in reality with his visor on, his Avatar had done its best to emulate him and was now sporting a rather impressive equine erection. Bailey wrapped his cock around his own and started to slide it up and down, squeezing harder and harder, imagining he was the proud owner of the manhood in the game. With each stroke, that came closer and closer to reality.

Blood rushed into his cock, forcing it to grow longer and thicker and stiffer. There was so much that it discolored as well, first turning red like an embarrassed blush and then a sort of purplish brown. Bailey had jacked off a lot in his life, enough that he could have double majored in it, but this felt different. It wasn't a passive, insignificant dalliance. His cock was rock hard and it felt bigger than it ever had before. The skin was both strained and pliable. There was just enough give to shift it up and down, but the skin across the mushroom shaped head was so tight it was starting to pull the tip flatter and flatter. The growth still surged into it, forcing the blunted spear to widen out past the diameter of the shaft, giving it a lip or rim around the end. Even Bailey's urethra seemed to be stretching and widening, the hole pulsing like the mouth of a hungry fish. The other controller clattered to the floor as Bailey's free hand was also redirected to grab onto his growing dick with it as well.

More pops and spas came from stitches as the growing skater's shorts tore out along his taint. It split down from the underside of his cock, running between his legs, rushing towards his furry ass. What had been a nub a few moments ago was now over seven inches long and growing longer, covered with gray fur and tipped with a shock of black. As the shorts came apart, two plump avocado sized furry gray balls dropped forward, resting on the edge of the seat in their soft velvety pouch. The jagged line of fur had swept out across Bailey's back, sliding around his ribs and closing across his already fuzzy stomach.

There had been discourse at the university at how magnificent shoulders could truly be. There was even a torso sculpture outside of the gym of a muscled midsection flexing huge arms. Few of the students sported truly good shoulders, aside from a few of the football stars, but Bailey was filling out so quickly that he was clearly in the running. Silver fur rippled across the broad, wide, sturdy shelves of muscle and sinew. There were entire muscle groups in there that Jonathan never would have learned the name of. Bailey's arms were inflating like balloons as his biceps and triceps gained many new siblings.

The changes had been sweeping through Bailey like a rising tide. His neck had grown wider with new ligaments and muscles sloping out like gently rolling hills to anchor his head to his shoulders. His split mustache and goatee had grown thicker and darker, contrasting the silver stubble that slipped along the underside of his jaw and up his cheeks, bristling under the straps that held the visor to his head. Bailey's ears were distinctively pointed, still dangling with earrings as the tops stretched taller and taller. In fact, they seemed to be wriggling free of being squished under the straps, rising higher along the sides of his head, creeping their way through his mane of bleach blond hair.

Bailey had been so used to being a mouth breather over the last few days that he didn't notice at first that his breath had to travel that much further over blunted teeth. His jaw tingled like a limb that had gone to sleep, numbing and muting the fact that his jaw was pushing out forward away from his throat. As it grew, his upper lip went with it. The nostrils that had broadened and fattened pulled forward and the bridge of his nose seemed to melt and meld, widening and curving into the forming muzzle. The tip of one of his pointed ears twitched as it reached the top of his head.

While the dorm furniture had been designed to put up with use and abuse across generations of students, it did seem to be having trouble with Bailey's increased mass. It groaned slightly beneath his thick, furry ass. His tail flicked and twitched behind the chair, a good two and a half feet long and tipped by a black tassel. His muscular, furry legs were pinned in the space between the window cubbies, the computer desk and the foot of Jonathan's bed. Both hands vigorously worked a cock that was now over a foot and a half tall, veined and mottled brown and black. The huge, blunt tip glistened with precum.

The game itself had apparently been waiting for this moment. After spinning around, circling Bailey's Avatar, the digital world began to dissolve into pixels, light and code. The information poured into Bailey's captivated eyes and directly into his soul. Drool began to leak from the corner of his long donkey muzzle, his ears standing tall and proud. He jerked off harder and faster and more vigorously, clenching and unclenching his rubbery black anus involuntarily. His tail twitched and then, as everything streaming from the computer came to a blinding crescendo, he slammed his muzzle down along his long dick just as it erupted with sticky, thick donkey jizz.

Audible gulps came as Bailey swallowed his load, filling his belly with raw semen. He gave muffled moans as he came. With his eyes now closed, all that computer information had nowhere else to go and a green flash of light erupted from the visor, spilling and leaking out of the edges before it washed outward in every direction. It passed through Jonathan, through the walls and windows and door, sweeping outward toward the horizon in every direction. The computer sputtered, the screen flashing blue with a QR code as it rebooted involuntarily. The visor went dark, leaving Bailey there sucking himself off, feeling finally at home in his new fur lined skin. Bailey the skater was no more. Sitting in his place was Bailey the stud. Even as he continued to suckle himself and savor the salty flavor, what few gears remained in his mind began to turn. He had to make sure Jonathan enjoyed this pleasure as well when he woke up. After all, what were bros for? That thought alone was enough to start BBailey's erection all over again.