FSE

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"The steely gaze clashed with the ominous, shifting woodland. Though darkness writhed within the wind propelled current which trembled across every naked, wooden limb, Mark marched on. Neither creaking wood nor ghostly whispers deterred him.

This was not the familiar forest in which Mark had claimed many trophies; despite the trees standing guard as they had always been, with not even a pebble misplaced, something sinister permeated the very air.

Only he dared encroach upon this change, and it emboldened him, pride sealing the cracks of doubt that split his confidence. It was foolish, he knew, but what exactly it was, he did not know. Whether arrogance or the perceived looming threat, it mattered little at the moment.

He wasn't afraid as he scouted out the usual locations.

He wasn't afraid as the shrill wind tugged at his overcoat.

He wasn't afraid as the brush quivered about him.

He was very afraid when the shadows exploded forth and engulfed him."

---

Hazy morning light nagged Marco from his drowsy haze, and with great reluctance, he shifted upright. Yawning and stretching away the remnants of sleep, Marco habitually slapped his hand around the place where his glasses should have been before his bleary eyes focused with perfect acuity. The previous day's events drifted back up, swirling in his mind. It never felt like a dream, but the very idea of what happened - a far more real thought struck him like a locomotive, wrenching him from his contemplation: he was late!

In a few seconds he had burst into the washroom, trying to get ready when his reflection caught his eye. For a second, he almost believed he still needed glasses. Marco sucked in a breath and inspected the man staring back at him. As if yesterday wasn't odd enough, there was an unmistakable change to his face, but like an optical illusion, he couldn't make out what it was when he looked for it.

After an inordinate pause, he swore his ears looked oddly elfin and though it hadn't occurred to him initially, he had grown a short beard, a far cry from his usually subtle stubble. It was like a second puberty, he mused, grabbing his razor and proceeding to shave it off, entirely.

The next discovery came as he brushed his teeth, finding his canines unsettlingly pointed. Though he told himself that he was being quick as a consequence of being late, subconsciously, he felt unnerved, confronted with his slight changes, wanting to get away.

"Clothes, clothes, clothes," he mumbled to himself as he perused through his clothing. A shirt adorned with a self-referential graph found its way in his hands first and he hastily pulled it on, only to find that it didn't fit very well, constricted at his shoulders and not even going down past his navel, instead hugging tightly against his - Marco scrunched up his face - pronounced abdomen? He yanked the shirt off and looked closer at his midriff. Running a hand gently over the slightly taut skin, the six pack was barely visible, yet unmistakable. Just because he did a little more activity than he usually did surely couldn't mean that he was already getting 'ripped', as Lucas fondly referred to it as. Marco almost laughed. If it was this easy, he would have gone to the gym with Lucas all the time. Marco let his fingers trail up and down the muscled bumps, even flexing them a bit for fun, imagining what he would look like had he gone: those thick, muscled bodies, flexed muscles glistening with perspiration...

The thought hung on a note before being interrupted by the cheery note of the door bell.

"Crap!" Marco muttered, and he snatched up another shirt, tugging it hastily over himself. This one didn't fit right either. Neither did the next one. And the one after that. A heap of t-shirts with cheesy science and math puns and quotes from fantasy and science fiction characters began to pile up next to him. "Are you freaking kidding me," Marco grumbled, teeth grit as he tried to force a particularly unlucky shirt onto his broad frame. The doorbell rang again and with an irritated grunt, Marco tore the shirt off himself with a sharp shrip from the shirt's fibers. The feat, however, went completely unnoticed as Marco scanned across the room like a thirsty man for water.

His eyes alighted upon a navy blue tank top, sitting folded on the corner of a drawer. Lucas had forgotten it at his house a month ago, and with much disappointment, Marco's mother had plucked it away to be washed. Lucas' clothes had to fit him. To his relief, the light fabric fell over his frame barely a little loose. Expecting his pants to follow suite with his ill fitting shirts, Marco didn't bother risking another year of his life looking for pants and tossed on some workout shorts before hustling downstairs to meet with the students he tutored.

The students, barely a year younger than Marco, had already begun to wonder if something had happened to their tutor, for he usually greeted them at the door. In the case of a cancellation, he'd always provide excessive notice, but it wasn't until their tutor hastily flung open the front door that they realized just how odd the session would be that day.

Marco didn't say anything at first, but then he flushed. They were gawking at the usually punctual tutor, late, looking like he had just come back from the gym.

Fortunately for him, the three didn't bring it up.

"I'm so sorry about being late guys," he huffed with a slight bow, "Please, come on in."

From there, Marco almost forgot how strange everything was, allowing himself a sense of normalcy. The equations drew his mind away, and though the thought failed to hit him earlier, it didn't seem like he had to worry about the students questioning his altered appearance. Not even the lack of glasses roused any suspicions. Even if they did, they had the decency to remain quiet about it.

Equations and science theory brought Marco back from the strange stupor that the prior days' events had left him in. Though midway between a shift from one student to the other, Marco's nose reminded him that he hadn't showered last night, and, with hindsight being twenty twenty, he was glad that Lucas' shirt was freshly washed.

Oddly enough, the prospect of it not being washed intrigued him.

"And as you can see, you forgot the exponent here," Marco explained, letting the errant thought drift away. The student nodded thoughtfully and, after a pause, looked up at Marco with an unsettling gaze.

"Mr. Garcia, have you been exercising or attending the gym?" Marco flushed and he stood up a bit straighter. The eldest student with a mop of dark brown hair, vainly attempted diffusing the awkward question at the last minute with a half-hearted smirk.

"No, not really, but I'll receive that as a compliment. Thank you, Roger," Marco replied, but as he said it, his mind was elsewhere. Him, looking like he went to the gym? That was new. Not unwelcome, though. The other students sensed the awkwardness, allowing the rest of the session to breeze by without further comment.

When Marco shut the door behind the last student, he found that he was unnaturally hot. Summer had definitely not held back on the heat this year. After a quick peek out the window to make sure his students had departed, Marco opened the window and popped Lucas' shirt off.

Seated on the couch, he idly fanned himself with the tank top, when a light breeze blew in, tickling his chest. Absently, Marco brought a hand up to scratch at the offending area, only to find himself brushing up against a patch of grizzled hair radiating from between his pectorals.

He stared at them for another moment, and rubbed at them again, which tickled like the breeze had. He could have sworn that he didn't have this much before. Before of course being the hour or two prior to when he first woke up, because, naturally, he had none to begin with.

A hammering on the door gave away the identity of Marco's visitor before he even spoke.

"Hey M-" The door swung open midway through Lucas' shout and he gave a little laugh. "Look at the little psychic," he joked with a pizza in hand.

"Well, barring law enforcement or a murderer, I don't know anyone who would rail on my door like that," Marco replied in stride. At that point, Marco noticed Lucas gazing at his shirtless chest. "Right, sorry Lucas. You left your shirt here a while back and I never got the chance to return it. I hope you don't mind me borrowing it." Marco held the shirt up.

Lucas delayed a bit before meeting back with Marco's eyes and nodding. "Not a problem at all, man. I think it suits you. Just do whatever with it. I didn't even notice it was gone." Marco smiled at that, closing the door behind Lucas as he went to drop the pizza onto a table. Lucas didn't seem to care much that Marco wasn't even wearing the shirt to begin with.

"How was the gym?" Marco asked casually.

"Wow, the psychic strikes again, however do you do it?" Lucas teased sarcastically.

"Besides my psionic abilities?" Marco held his thumb and index finger up to his chin in a mock gesture of contemplation and surprised himself to find the sheared stubble from the morning was already back, thicker than before.

Lucas turned back with melting cheese clinging from his mouth to the pizza in his hand, confused at the pause.

"Must be your thick, manly odor," Marco blurted. He immediately regretted the crass thing that came to mind and looked away, uncomfortably hot. He could feel Lucas' stare weighing on his back.

"Well, sounds like I accomplished my mission." Lucas barked with laughter, and though Marco couldn't see, when the tension in his shoulders dropped at Lucas' humour, Lucas gave a gentle smile. "I'm not the only one, though, what did you do, wrestle with the students?"

Marco blushed, shoulders tensing again. All at once, he became unsettlingly aware of just how much he was sweating and he dabbed underneath his arms quickly, still not looking at Lucas before realizing he had used Lucas' shirt to wipe sweat off. What if Lucas saw and got offended? Marco shook the feeling after a second. Lucas would probably encourage it.

Marco took a breath, gave his face a quick wipe with the shirt, which had all but lost the artificial fragrance and slipped it back on before turning to join Lucas.

"Oh? The shirt actually fits you?" Lucas asked, "I thought it would be a bit, y'know, loose."

The greasy, meat lover's pizza was almost half eaten already and Marco snagged himself a piece, mouth watering. After a bite, he said, "Guess you're not as large as you thought." Lucas gave a naughty grin at that before realizing that Marco meant it bluntly. Marco didn't catch the look, as he was mostly tearing into his slice of pizza.

"Speaking of the gym," Lucas said between bites, "I was really thinking of getting you a membership so you can tag along. It'd be nice to have you as a partner." Lucas took a large, slow bite before clarifying, "At the gym. Y'know, a partner at the gym to spot and what not."

Though the idea still seemed a tad absurd to Marco, he couldn't deny that something about the thought of it at least interested him more than it would have just the previous day. However, he didn't say anything and instead shrugged, lunging out to grab another slice of the meaty pizza before Lucas could. Lucas shook his head with a smirk, and Marco smiled a bit with the pizza in his mouth. The smile grew even wider as Lucas discovered that Marco had swiped the last piece.

"You hog," Lucas teased. In less than a minute, all traces of their lunch were gone, with even the greasy pizza smell fading away. Cooling off on the couch, Marco noticed another scent untangling from the remnants of the quick feast as he breathed through his nose. A fact surfaced from his veritable vault of trivia: smells possess the stronger links to memory. Something about the odor he was picking up on certainly stirred a sense of familiarity and he focused on taking in slow breaths with his nose. Oddly enough, rather than being calming, he felt more riled up, getting a bit antsy and dizzy in the head. To make matters worse, the heat had gotten uncomfortable once more and he had to pop the tank top off again.

"Sometimes I despise the summer heat," Marco murmured, wiping the fabric briefly under his arms and catching the chest hairs that he didn't recall being so close to his armpits before. It was certainly the heat that was getting to him, Marco thought with another slow breath. He continued to focus on his nose, trying to figure out what seemed so familiar, but with a dull headache. The aching began to spread all over, especially below his navel as he sat there.

Lucas scooted up against him on the side of the couch, straddling the armrest. Marco looked up at his friend's curious expression and shrugged. All at once, he felt a bit overwhelmed: stuffed up and cramped, and leapt to his feet, starling Lucas off the armrest.

"You know what? I feel like going for a run," he declared, cracking the bones in his neck and back with a prolonged stretch that was followed by a deep inhale.

"Yeah sure, I'm up," Lucas agreed, tugging at the back of his pants. "In fact, how about a race, huh?" Lucas added with a competitive grin.

After a moment, Marco turned back around to Lucas' gaze locked on him and then nodded. Lucas' grin grew.

"Two loops 'round the block and then straight to my house."

Marco tugged Lucas' tank top back on. "You've got it."

Once out of the house, Marco found his head clearing a bit, though he inexplicably felt slightly disappointed.

"Hope yah don't plan on winning, bud," Lucas laughed.

"I'm just in it for the run," Marco paused, "but maybe you'll be surprised."

"Will I, now? Ready? Three, two, one, go!"

The two kicked off the hot, dry pavement at a rapid pace, to the misfortune of any stray pedestrians. Each throwing their legs forward in great bounds, trying to out do the other. Mere seconds passed before they had already looped around once and made good distance in their second. Every burst of speed in one only spurred the other even more.

Lucas let himself sneak a glance at Marco as his house appeared within sight after the second loop, noticing smugly how hard his friend was straining, thigh muscles clenched as tight as his swinging fists. Marco sensed his friend looking and returned the glance with an equally smug look before speeding just ahead of Lucas. That was all Marco needed to slip into the lead and slap his hand against the wall of Lucas' house a full second before Lucas could.

Before either had even approached the front door, Marco yanked the tank top off, immediately fanning himself and doing a quick swipe across his brow and back. Both boys were heaving, but grinning broadly through the exhaustion.

"Who woulda thought you could beat me?" Lucas gasped between breaths.

"To be honest, I sure didn't!" Marco laughed in reply. Lucas toyed with the bottom of his tank top, eyeing Marco's exposed chest, but then just stepped forward to sling his shoulder over the slick back of his friend, giving him two hearty pats. After a sniff, Lucas smirked.

"Wheww. You're really building up a stench there, Marco!"

Still catching his breath, Marco looked into Lucas' eyes for a moment before countering, "Sure that's not you, buddy?"

Lucas unslung his arm and reached for the front door, saying, "Trust me, I know I smell way better than that."

Marco gave a small laugh, flicking out the balled, moist shirt before crumpling it again to wipe under his arms. "Don't worry about it, I think I'll just head home for the night, actually."

There was a bark from inside and Lucas paused opening the door.

"Sure thing. I'll be seeing you tomorrow then, hm?" Marco nodded at that, both finally catching their breaths,

The two continued standing before Marco noticed that he was still holding Lucas' now slightly dark-splotched tank top in his hands and he sheepishly put the sweaty cloth back on.

"Uh, yes, I will see you tomorrow. Have a good evening, Lucas!" Marco swiftly turned on his heel and jogged off.

As the adrenaline wore off, Marco couldn't help but feel a little flushed from Lucas' comments and he made a mental note to toss Lucas' shirt in the laundry. In fact, he was a bit self conscious walking around with the spoiled shirt on, so he ran the short distance back.

Even before he reached the door, the clamp of hunger had already settled on him. A quick dig through his cupboards yielded a disappointing turnout as Lucas' steak came back to mind. He could make do with anything after that run. As he cooked up some beans and three eggs, his thoughts drifted back to his day. It was difficult to shake the feeling that something was off, as if he should know, but couldn't pinpoint it. Ultimately, he relegated it to hunger and fatigue without another thought, and continued on to make a milkshake with two generous scoops of vanilla and the rest of the quarter full milk carton.

Satisfied with his handiwork, he took his makeshift meal over to by the television, eager to kick back and watch the latest episode of Silicon Valley. However, as the show went on, he found himself disappointed, and almost confused. Perhaps he had missed an episode, but that didn't seem likely. His eyes left the screen as he chewed idly, staring at his food, before settling on the fact that the show just didn't make sense. He must've been too focused on eating; the writers couldn't have lost the audience within three episodes. Afterall, he was fairly hungry. With a shrug, he flipped the television off, giving up on understanding the gibberish that the characters were spouting at that point.

In no time at all, he had his plates in the sink, deciding to bother with them later. Heading up the stairs, he popped into the washroom to clean up and removed Lucas' tank top, planning to toss it in the laundry, when he paused. Though he had been slightly embarrassed about Lucas noticing his body odor, it occurred to him that he had brought it on himself, for it was his decision not to shower the previous night. For a moment he stood there, slowly putting it together. Though he hadn't completely realized it, the pleasant smell from the previous night was... He brought the tank top to his face and gave himself a small, guilty smile. Without hesitation, he took a deeper whiff. Now with a wry smile, he let the the fabric fall to the ground. Lucas did say that he could do whatever he wanted with it. Speaking of Lucas, a stray thought popped into Marco's head wondered if that's what Lucas smelled like at the end of every day.

Abruptly Marco took a deep breath, shaking off the thought. With a glance into the mirror, he was yet again surprised to discover that his beard, which he was certain he had shaved off in the morning, looked even bushier than it did the last time he felt it. It didn't look bad, but it was definitely startling. His chest on the other hand was now characterized mostly by the layer of hair covering it. Admittedly, Marco thought it accentuated his pectorals well.

Already, Marco noted that the bathroom now smelled like him, and as much as he knew he should shower, he couldn't bring himself to do it, seeing nothing wrong with it at the moment. He absolutely couldn't wear Lucas' tank top, again, though maybe he could keep his boxers. After stripping the rest of his clothes off, Marco gave his underwear a quick once over with his nose. He froze half way. Immediately, he shoved the rest of it right up into his face, nostrils pressed against where his crotch had been moments before. It was like the entire day's worth of his scent compressed together, and then some. A cocktail of sweaty, pent up musk.

It smelled manly. And it smelt like him. This was a bit weird, he tried to tell himself, but he honestly couldn't care at the moment, instead opting to suck in another odor filled breath.

Soon after, an ache drew his attention down to his groin. Though he understood what was happening, he was still mildly surprised. After all, erections were a natural part of human ana- the thought dissolved halfway through his mind as he sniffed some more. Whenever this happened in the past, he was quite able to just ignore it until it went away, but now, he found that he couldn't. The ache was too intense. Carefully, he rubbed at it with his free hand, not too experienced on how to relieve the pain, since he had only done so twice before, both times from curiosity more than anything else.

With awkward squeezes and tugs, he only managed to make it worse. After one such tug, he found that his foreskin went a lot farther than he thought was possible. Bringing down the hand holding his boxers, he looked into the mirror at his crotch. The whole thing looked bloated and the tip was alarmingly red. Dropping his hand out of the way, Marco looked down, inspecting his junk. The skin felt loose and sagged a bit, while his eyes weren't mistaken about the head, which was unnaturally red. Nervously, but still a bit heady from his own scent, he touched the end, gasping a bit from the sensitivity, but at least it didn't hurt. He kneaded the skin around it, noticing as it tapered from a round to a more pointed tip. Disbelief swarmed his mind but the more he tried to convince himself it wasn't real by moving the loose skin around, the head only became less human. In fact, the movement had caused a little precum to slip out, making the tapered head shiny and slick.

Since he was so frightened, having never expected this to happen, his rapid heart rate only exacerbated the issue as his rigid length ached even more with the accelerated pulse. His breathing was not to be outdone, pulling in the sweaty odor around him at an increased rate.

Marco finally let go of his member, confused and slightly dizzy. His mind stumbled through possible solutions, but came up blank, as he was unsure what to even address in the situation. As much as he wanted to know what was happening to him, he knew he wouldn't dare search something like this online. That was impossible.

Resigning to do the only thing he could think of, Marco stopped staring at his alien penis and awkwardly walked out of the bathroom, forgetting his clothes. As he stepped out, he spotted his book on the table and quickly grabbed it, ignoring the faint chill on his exposed glans. Getting up onto his bed, he stiffly laid down, holding his book up in a vain effort to read. His hopes that the erection and with it, the... changes, would go away if he read the book, was the only thing on his mind as he blankly stared at a page, not even able to read. A few minutes passed of him lying still in his bed, heart hammering, sweat dripping, holding a book for no reason, until he gave up, and placed it back before turning the lights off.

The next problem was that he couldn't turn over, and utterly defeated he tried pushing his erection down and then eventually in any direction, fidgeting with it in the hopes it would go away. Of course, this only served to worsen the issue, and in the end Marco passed out, confused, sweaty and with his raging erection.

* * *

As the night wore on, Marco twisted and turned in a troubled sleep, occasionally grinding against his bed, his arousal persistent and unwavering. As he was asleep, his body moved on budding instincts, humping at the mattress and digging the pre dripping tip against the sheets.

With a start, Marco awoke, feeling as though he were burning up, feverish and faint. Quickly dragging himself into his washroom, he worried that he had fallen ill. Upon entering, a familiar smell surrounded him. His discarded clothes still sat on the ground from where he had tossed them before. Groaning, Marco's hands automatically drew themselves towards his leaking erection. Unable to reason or think, he let his instincts take over, both hands latching onto his pulsating phallus. His hips began to move on their own, pushing against his stroking hands. Letting out an unrestrained moan, Marco's hands pulled the drooping foreskin farther and farther down from the glistening crimson tip until it was bunching up against the hairy bush at the base.

After every pump, an indescribable tightness wormed its way up from the base of his cock and out along the top. It felt like he was prepared to urinate, but lingered indefinitely, clouding his mind with pleasure from its sensitivity. In very little time, the whole room was filled with a sweaty musk that disposed of any coherent thought Marco might've had. Replacing it was an insatiable need to release the mounting pressure rising within his aching penis. The loose foreskin sliding around his turgid length began to tighten while simultaneously easing along better as the inside became smooth with lubrication. Hairs emerged from the bundle of flesh that Marco grasped. While the sheath started to form, hugging against his cock more, amplifying every sensation, Marco shuddered. The sensation inside reached a peak, right at the tapered tip and with a gasp, he climaxed, back arched, sheath jammed back.

Spurts of thick, opaque, pearlescent liquid shot out of his cock, some of it hitting Marco in his gaping mouth. Just like the musk all around him, the taste was enhanced, overwhelming his senses. Without thinking, he scooped up the remaining liquid from where it had deposited on the mirror, collected on his fuzzy sheath and slid down his still hard length, and proceeded to lick it off his fingers. His tongue's surface seemed to flatten, encasing his digits as he slurped up the salty, musky cum. Meanwhile, a shiver shot through his spine, which poked out behind him, forming a fledgling tail that wiggled with glee.

At last coming down from his lusty haze, Marco found himself panting, tongue poking out of his mouth where a string of thick drool connected to the wet fingers he was looking blankly at. It was another moment before he realized what he had just been doing. Stunned, he awkwardly stepped up to the faucet and calmly washed his hands, trying to ignore the sheathed phallus between his legs that continued to strain effortlessly with need, exposed tip coated with pre and ejaculate alike.

Just moving brought a jostling in his scrotum he never imagined before, giving his testicles a heftiness that encouraged the pulsing need above. Walking was going to be a lot stranger after this.

Marco knew with complete certainty that something was terribly awry, though every terrifically odorous breath tried to convince him otherwise. Trudging out of the washroom, Marco glanced at the clock. It was a few minutes past five. Sighing, he also knew that the following day was going to be a long one, though amongst his anxiety he felt a traitorous tinge of excitement.

Exhausted and horny, he collapsed back onto his bed and clenched his eyes shut.