FSE

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Pete slowed, lingering behind the guys who'd come to the stag party. Everyone else had broken up into pairs or groups, chatting and laughing in bunches as they all tried to find where the fantasy-themed prostitutes - given the codeword "booty" - had hidden themselves. Pete, though had more urgent needs, and he didn't really want to bother any of the other guys.

After having gotten off of the first floor with little trouble, they ended up going down a bunch of stairs. The stone steps were still visible, although just barely, from where Pete stood. The only other entrance to the long, thin corridor was right down the other end. Pete clenched his jaws; he'd been agonising over this before they'd even arrived.

Nobody noticed as he came to a complete stop, and since Pete could see both ends of the corridor, he was pretty sure nobody else would accidentally stumble upon him as he took care of something. Heading to one of the darker areas of the corridors, his hands made their way to the front of his pants, quickly unzipping the front of his fly and reaching in to fetch his manhood out of his boxers. Besides, even if one of his friends was going to catch him, he wasn't the first guy to have flashed his wedding tackle at guys at a stag do.

"God, I need to piss," Pete thought: his bladder had been full, but ignorable when he clocked out from work this afternoon. It had built up on the drive over, and step by step he'd been losing his ability to make small chat as he felt his bladder slowly push to the point of bursting. He'd assumed a lot of things that hadn't been how they turned out, free access to toilets being one of them. They hadn't even come across a properly-themed hole in the ground to use. He got the signposting might have ruined the mood, but other than the huge bouncer, there hadn't been anyone else.

As he was going to piss his pants anyway, Pete decided "Fuck it!" was the best option, and sighed in relief as his hot urine left a big dark stain on the stones of the wall and in front of his feet. Whistling, he closed his eyes, feeling an immense wave of relaxation wash over him, shuffling the needed inches backwards to stay out of the puddle. He felt sorry for whoever was going to have to clean it up later, but he was a guest, and he'd tried his best to find somewhere more suitable.

Being distracted by relieving himself, whistling and thinking of what he'd say if someone bothered him about it, Pete didn't immediately notice anything was amiss until something soft and fluffy grazed against his cheek. He quickly turned his head around to look, checking both ways and twisting around as much as he could while he was still pissing, but nobody was there. Chalking it up to being anxious and just imagining things, Pete shook his head to try to clear it, and went back to pissing. He stopped whistling, though, and tried to keep himself alert in case anything weird happened again.

Normalcy lasted a few seconds, just enough for Pete to put his guard down. There was a weird feeling on his back, the same feeling that comes from having your hand a little too near to the end of a vacuum cleaner, with a slight hissing sound from someone breathing in quickly. It disappeared as quickly as it appeared, to be replaced by someone's hot, angry breath blasting down his neck, and the presence of a warm body standing closely behind him.

This time, Pete swung around; he knew something was up, and since whoever it was had seen him peeing, he didn't care too much about what they though. "If I piss on you," he threatened, urine flying in an arc around him as he pivoted on one foot. Once again, whoever it was that was doing this had hidden somewhere.

Even though he didn't need to, Pete looked down the corridor. His friends were gone, around the corner before anyone noticed he'd stopped. He snorted angrily: whoever was doing this was being incredibly irritating, and because he didn't understand how they were able to do it, his thoughts became angrier.

He quickly finished peeing, forcing it out as fast as he could. He didn't care if he got some on his shoes, or any dripped on his pants. Now Pete just wanted to find his friends, apologise and go the fuck home. He'd been down for anything, he thought, but not being tortured by invisible assailants. Cramming his junk back in his pants, he turned to head down the corridor and called out, "Hey, guys, where-?"

A swift yank on his pants interrupted all three actions, as Pete flung his arms out to catch himself before his head smacked on the stone floor. The shock jarred up his arms, cursing loudly as he rolled over. By now, he wasn't too surprised to see that nobody was there, but at he looked at the floor, he noticed that there was a wet footprint on the stones where whoever it was that was being a dick had stepped barefoot in his piss.

Feeling at least a little satisfied about that small win, Pete gave a small smile. The smile froze, then slowly disappeared as he took a good look. It was a footprint, but it certainly wasn't human. The print was too short, since there was no ankle imprint, and the number of toes were wrong. Unless he was being harassed by a four-toed shoeless ballerina with too-long nails, whatever was after him was an animal, or at least someone dressed up to look like one.

"Probably some kind of costume," Pete hoped, quickly yanking his pants back up and getting off the floor. Pressing his back to the wall, he turned to look in both directions down the corridor. He gulped as he weighed up the options: chase after his friends to warn them, or just get the fuck out of there and call them.

Suddenly, he felt hands - clawed hands - digging into his shirt, pinning him to the wall. The arms were so thick and muscular he could see the cords flexing even beneath the blue-black fur as the dark claws curled out and in while the hands pushed in and out. A slender, lithe, furred torso, rising and lowering as it - he, Pete corrected, looking lower - breathed as slender runner's legs capped with feline hind paws tried to dig into the stone floor. Thick, barbed tentacles writhed from the creature's back, the furred sides sliding over his neck. The feline muzzle licked its lips, the clearly not-a-costumed-actor transfixing him in the glittering emerald eyes, as it threatened, "This is my territory, what are you doing marking it?"

Somehow, Pete managed to escape, running blindly down one direction of the corridor, screaming his head off. The creature was hot on his heels: the furred tentacles striking him in the shoulder, tearing his shirt off as he pulled back. Pete screamed louder; the barbs had sunk into his shoulder, making it throb as he felt blood trickling down, the pain making him run faster. Sweat ran down his forehead; he blinked to keep it from his eyes.

Then Pete slammed into a wall, falling back onto his ass once again.

Pete looked up in confusion, then around. He'd been sure there was a good bit of corridor in front of him when he'd been running, or at least that's what he'd thought. Looking around, he noticed the weird cat-man wasn't chasing him any more. A moment later, it was, materialising out of the shadows with an odd shimmering.

"There you are!" the cat-man shouted, bounding along the stones towards him, tentacles out once again.

Quickly running in the opposite direction, lungs wheezing and legs burning, Pete felt the tentacles' barbs dig into his pants. Even though they were tougher than his shirt, the barbs still dug in, the creature's strength straining the stitching. Feeling the tear running along the crotch line, Pete dove forwards, unsure of what to do but desperate to escape. An eerie static charge caused all of his hairs to stand on end.

Then the monster chasing after him was gone. His pants were gone, too, but Pete was less worried about them. Looking around, he tried to figure the best way to go, but all this area was unfamiliar. Panting heavily, he abruptly sagged to the floor. He'd used all of his energy to escape. In the pit of his stomach, he knew that once the cat-man found him, there wasn't anything that he could do.

Pete's back throbbed angrily. As the fear from his flight subsided when the terrifying cat creature didn't immediately appear to accost him again, the adrenaline coursing through his body lessened, releasing the pain from his wounds. Turning his head around to try to see it, his neck protested. Hoping that a short rest wouldn't be fatal, he gently slid along the floor until his back rested comfortably against the wall.

Shuffling his feet around, Pete kicked off his shoes. His feet were hot and sore, and they felt uncomfortable. Grunting with effort, and then relief, he wriggled and spread his toes, then used them to free his feet from the socks, slowly working them off. If his arms hadn't started feeling stiff, he'd have slipped out of his boxers too: his warming body found the feeling of fabric rubbing against his skin increasingly uncomfortable.

Sweat ran down Pete's brow, his body burning with fever. His left hand started to tremble, fingers thumping on the ground, nails clacking against the stone. Closing his eyes, he prayed the fever would pass quickly. He wondered if he'd been poisoned; thinking glumly that he was going to die alone and almost naked on the floor.

Fur brushed up against his face, Pete's eyes snapping open and his heart racing as he felt his breath catch in his throat. It was one of the furry tentacles the cat-creature had, only the rest of him wasn't visible. His pain-fogged mind slowly made the connection, realisation dawning moments before horror did: the tentacle was coming out of his back.

Barbs of his new appendage scraped along his sweaty skin as a second tentacle appeared. Pete tried to move, his limbs as immobile as heavy blocks of iron except for his left hand, which seemed to have a life of his own. Scuttling like a spider, he watched it crawl up his leg, inching towards his crotch.

That's when he noticed the tent: Pete didn't feel aroused, more like his body was messed up from the fever, and the pain had made it hard to think about anything else. His wayward hand slipped under the waistband of his pants, soliciting a breathy moan as he touched the engorged tip, sweat-slick and throbbing in his pants.

Another blue-black tentacle unfurled around him, like he had a weird furry parasite on his back. Control of his body returned slowly, strangely choosing to start with the parts he didn't have before. His tentacles gently probed around, caressing the fur creeping across his back. The tips of two tentacles traced along the border between the short, but quickly thickening, fur that formed a patch around the wound on his back and the skin he had always had.

"Mmph!" Pete groaned, his cock pulsing as his thumb traced circles on his glans. A thick goo started to ooze out, soaking into his boxers and lubricating his thumb, as well as slowly meandering down his shaft. He squirmed, the movement making him brush his quickly-closing wound up against the stones, and he grunted again.

Although Pete could guess what was happening, and the very basic level of how - since his wound seemed to be the source of all of his changes, it must have been linked - he still didn't understand how it could happen at all. Lycanthropy wasn't a real thing; fuck, monsters weren't real. They didn't lurk in closets or under the bed, and they certainly didn't hang about, ruining people's nights out. Except he'd seen the monster, and as the fur started to creep up his neck and around his sides, it looked like he was becoming one himself.

Moaning again as his cock shuddered, Pete licked his lips as the fuzzy paralysis started leaving his face. It was just in time for him to swear as the waistband of his boxers strained. At first, he thought it might have been another tentacle; this growth didn't have a wide, barbed-covered part on the end. "Oh fuck, a tail!" Pete cursed, trying in vain to wrest control of his hand away from the phantom force that was busy making him pleasure himself. His hand had gotten more energetic as he started gaining control of his body, the front part of his boxers also being strained as he slowly jerked himself off.

Breathing in heavily, Pete let out a long, lingering moan as strands of fur started curling around his face. His jaw seemed to jut out as far as it could, slowly easing backwards; he could feel his face growing broader. One finger of fur seemed to be rudely intent on "poking" him in the nostril, making his lips curl as he tried to sneeze it away. Once his jaw clicked back into place, Pete quickly noticed it hadn't quite. His jaw spasmed out again, as he realised his lower face was slowly pushing out.

A line of fur ran along his taint, as he felt the line of transforming flesh reach the start of his genitals. A warm, invisible hand slowly reached around his nuts, caressing them as his actual hand continued pumping away, moving faster as the lubrication flowed and his appetite for release increased. The top of his shoulders bristled, the outline of limber muscles showing through as the fur wrapped over him like a cloak.

Feeling a disturbance in the air, Pete turned his head as he felt his old hair tickling his neck as it fell out. His ears pricked up, pointed tips slowly forming on one as the border of his monstrous parts spread to consume it. The cat-creature he'd seen before sauntered out of the shadows, his slow, premeditated movements displaying confidence. "Ah, I finally tracked you down again. You're quite a difficult displacer beast to find."

"Displacer beast?" Pete asked; immediately regretting it as being stupid. The jaguar-like creature standing cockily over him was a displacer beast. He, himself, seemed to be turning into one. He moaned again, feeling strange. He knew he should have been scared of the monster standing over him, since he could have hurt him at any time and Pete couldn't defend himself. He should have, at least, been embarrassed at being caught jerking off. Instead, he didn't really feel anything at first, only slightly confused.

The displacer beast certainly seemed to know his own feelings though, cupping one clawed hand around its round, thick balls, scratching them carefully as he looked down. A pink, barbed cock tipped slipped out of the dark shaft in front of it. "Yeah, that's what we are. Bet you're hungry, huh. If not, you will be."

Pete licked his lips again, feeling how their constitution had changed as he grew a muzzle to match the displacer beast's. Even his teeth had started to change, he learned as his tongue felt the sharp points of prominent fangs prick gently against his flesh. So much of the displacer beast's body was oddly spiky: the teeth it bared as it grinned lustily, the cock sliding right in front of his changing face, the barbs on the tentacles reaching down to meet his.

The displacer beast's erection danced in front of Pete's eyes as he licked his lips as he waited for his brain to come up with a response. It was getting harder to think clearly. Something smelled enticingly arousing, and as he was already swimming in need all sorts of crazy ideas were popping into his head. The changes didn't help either: the ring his thumb and index finger made slid over the head of his shaft, now below the border between his human and displacer beast parts, and he could feel how the hot, hard flesh had distorted, his finger and thumb rubbing up against firm lumps of flesh on his glans that hadn't been there before. "I don't know what you mean," he lied, his eyes betraying him as green slowly crept into his irises.

"You're not a very good liar," the displacer beast noticed, hand squeezing Pete's jaw open. Pete hadn't even realised he'd been squirming to sit up, getting his head in line with the displacer beast's cock, until it was sliding over his lips, the barbs scraping against his tongue. "Now, doesn't that feel good?"

"Mmhmm," Pete agreed. There wasn't any point in lying to the displacer beast - or himself - any longer about the way he felt his own aroused feline cock quivered as he looked at the form it was going to take staring him in the face. The whiskers on his muzzle's upper lips tickled the inside of the displacer beast's legs as he moved his head forward, engulfing the entirety of the offered cock in one smooth motion.

Pete hadn't sucked dick before, but he'd seen it enough to know what to do. His stretched nose, the skin darkening and looking increasingly feline with each passing second, pressed against the displacer beast's crotch, the warm scent sticking to his nose as the cock slipped down. The tip curled down as it met the roof of his mouth, the barbs painful but not hard enough to cut into his flesh.

The displacer beast braced itself against the wall with one hand, while resting the other on Pete's head. When Pete pulled back, he pushed him on again, his cock sliding along the pink feline tongue that traced along the underside, tasting the salty, prickly flesh as it passed over. Lifting up one of his foot-paws, he rested it against Pete's crotch, rubbing his dick through the fabric of the boxers. He extended his claws, just enough to tear at the fabric.

Moving his hand away, Pete let the displacer beast rub his dick with his foot, enjoying the excitement of the unexpected as someone else took control of his dick. With his hands freed, he grabbed onto the waistband of the ruined boxer shorts, strength surging down his arms until the elastic snapped and the fabric ripped further, until he sat on the floor naked, the remnants of his boxer shorts sliding down off his fur or trapped underneath his butt. His hands then wrapped around the displacer beast's upper legs. He dug his fingers in as he felt his nails start to curl outwards.

By now, almost all of Pete had changed or was changing. His torso was becoming firm and lean, the blue-black hair covering all the hard, strong muscles. His tentacles, which he hadn't known what to do with arched forward, the barbs combing through his fur. With his eyes closed, face sliding up and down on the displacer beast's cock, he heard, "Oh yeah, you're a fast learner, aren't ya?"

"You don't know the half of it," Pete thought, sliding his mouth off the cock, and his hands off the displacer beast's body. Moving his tentacles out of the way, he focused, feeling his fur stand on end as he teleported behind the displacer beast. He'd judged the distance right; he had enough time to get onto his feet and pounce by the time the other displacer beast noticed.

They tumbled together, two twinned monsters rolling around on the hard floor. "What do you think you're doing?" the displacer beast growled.

Pete grinned: clearly displacer beasts couldn't read minds. He needed to let him know exactly what kind of monster he'd become. "I just want mine," he answered, struggling to try to get on top, his mind pulsing with the idea of him pinning his partner down, forcing his dick into the muzzle.

"You've got a lot to learn then," the displacer beast snarled, gaining the upper hand and pinning Pete against the ground. Their emerald eyes stared at each other, their breath coming on in short, ragged pants. A lusty grin broke out on the displacer beast's face; Pete returned it as he felt the weight on his chest move. The displacer beast twisted around, butt descending towards Pete's face. His torso pressed Pete's into the ground, and Pete felt hand-paws rubbing against his inner thighs.

They continued to squirm around for a bit, until they lay side to side, cocks in each other's muzzles and their hips around each other's heads. Pete felt the displacer beast's hand around the base of his cock while a rough tongue licked around the tip. Sighing in satisfaction, he mirrored the action: he knew if he liked it, the other displacer beast would like it too.

In his mouth, Pete felt the displacer beast's cock twitch hot. Although he wasn't familiar with displacer beast anatomy, or having sex with another male, he knew from his own experience what happened when a guy was getting ready to blast. He could feel it in the short, ragged breathing against his cock, hear it getting louder. The hips around his head were twitching more and more. He could almost feel the cum building up inside, the need for release taking control of the displacer beast's body. It made sense; his own body was starting to feel the same things, almost as if it was racing to catch up to the displacer beast's in being on the edge.

Pete considered dragging it out, but his stomach seemed to gargle. The taste of displacer beast cock was fine, but his body seemed to be craving the cum. He wanted the displacer beast to be absolutely certain he was ready to join him, and any other people they managed to capture, or had already been captured.

The displacer beast's body seized up, and Pete got what he wanted: a thick cock-ful of cum splashing into his mouth, eagerly swallowing it to make room for more hot fluid as it fired out into him. The taste of it seemed to set himself off: after a couple more strokes he felt himself lose control, and all of the fluids he'd been building up pumped out of him.

Pete lay there, breathing heavily through his nose one moment, swallowing decreasing quantities of cum the next. The displacer beast rolled off, a trail of semen following his muzzle as he grabbed Pete's arm, pulling them both until they sat facing each other in the corridor.

"So, what do you want to do now?" Pete asked.

"Let's get a drink," suggested the displacer beast, his green eyes flashing. "We've got some territory to mark."