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Friday

1:33 am

The tip of the canine shaft seemed to wriggle, like a little nub or a tendril, inviting him to relax his sphincter and let the cock slide inside him. "What am I thinking?" he wondered, even though he knew the answer already. The penis sticking through the glory hole, canine or not, was what he'd been missing. His body knew it, and his mind was quickly catching up.

It pushed up against him, entering him surprisingly slowly; he'd expected the possessor of the voice and the cock to have been one of those rough customers, fucking away into a more or less unlubricated hole without a thought. That didn't mean it didn't hurt - well, more like burning - but his lips caught each other, between his tight jaws, trying to hold back the moan that he wanted to let out. Pain. Pleasure. It was somehow both at once, an ache he needed and a delight he was fearful of; he felt so vulnerable.

Vaguely aware that he had been wearing clothes, he glanced down. They seemed to have disappeared. It didn't matter too much; the dog cock was fixed a fair amount in his ass, and he thought perhaps it's just as well, since if there was a mess it'd be awkward having to clean it up afterwards.

"I wouldn't be worrying about the mess if I were you," the voice crooned, making him shiver like bugs had just crawled into his ear. The voice unnerved him, although it called to him. He had wanted this after all. He knew that much.

Warm flesh inched inside him. He could feel the cock throb along with the heartbeat of the man, animal or whatever was in between that was in the other stall. It made him excited, his own cock dribbling down. Something else also excited him: he had already surrendered his mouth to pleasuring other males, this was an escalation. A taboo. He groaned, the sound bursting out of him as the shaft's painful stretching of his hole seemed to lessen, the pleasurable rubbing of his prostate and whatever else was supposed to be enjoyable about being fucked in the ass seemed to well up inside him. He hardly needed to touch his cock. Instead, he sunk down, his hands resting on what he thought must have been dirty public bathroom floor tiles, shivers of pleasure running up and down his body.

"See what I mean?" the voice whispered. "I knew you liked messes."

The cock advanced, stretching him more, his body shuddering. Strangely, he seemed to be getting almost as much, if not more, pleasure from being fucked than his anonymous partner got from sliding into him. They rocked back and forth. The voice was silent, other than the grunts of a satisfied male fucking another male. He shivered, cock tensing up, drooling hungrily on the floor. He pushed back, his ring sensing something growing thicker.

Phantom hands wrapped around his shoulder, pulling him backwards. His feet slid under the separating wall. Around him were the legs of the mysterious stranger he had offered his ass to, but their warmth and hairiness only vaguely registered. His moans had grown, almost screaming as the knot slipped inside him. The next thrust was hard.

He didn't remember when he started ejaculating, but he must have: his body was shuddering, and hot fluids were pumping out of him excitedly. Even more, however, were being pumped in. The knot had locked inside him, his guts filling with a stranger's hot seed. He moaned loudly, an even bigger load pulsing out of him.

For what felt like an eternity, his cock and ass twitched, semen pouring in and out as his mind blanked from the rush of endorphins. His tongue lolled out of his mouth as he panted, his throat surprisingly still moist.

Yelping, he felt the cock pull out. The knot had deflated, but it still hurt. Hot jizz trickled out of his gaping hole, which struggled to relax, quivering.

"Give me your hand," the voice stated.

He reached up to take it, almost jerking it away as he felt claws and fur and all sorts of things that shouldn't have been on a hand. Feeling stupid, he knew he should have known the creature that had fucked him wasn't human - the cock was a very big, enjoyable giveaway - but it still didn't deaden the shock any.

His eyes lifted off of the ground, meeting those of the creature. Well, at least one of them: on top of the mass of muscle and fur that was suddenly standing beside him were three heads. Each very different, though they shared certain properties. The one on the right belonged to a rottweiler, and seemed strong and aggressive, but dumb; this one panted contentedly, a glazed, happy post-sex look in his eyes. The left one was similar, but was sleeker and somehow even more frightening; the doberman head's red eyes glared at him as he ran his tongue over his teeth. The central one, which looked somewhat like a husky with black and red markings, seemed the most curious and intelligently playful. That was the one that the voice came out of.

"Let's go back," the cerberus said.

Aiden couldn't stop, even if he wanted to.

His legs had slipped over the edge of the bed sometime during the night, and he hadn't noticed. His cock was swollen so much it seemed to be a big, dark blur, the head throbbing and his hips jiggling as they thrust into the bed, his shaft sliding along the edge of the mattress. The covers had been pulled out, and his dick slid along the exposed part. Slow warning bells went off in his head. He knew he should stop, long enough at least to pull the covers down.

But he couldn't.

Instead he sunk his fingers down into the mattress, grunting and thrusting like a mad animal. There was something good about this feeling. Resolving not to stop, he looked down. The darkness wasn't imagined: his cock looked to be cocooned in something black and shiny. His body shuddered as the realisation hit. It didn't even look like skin. It was more like the latex rubber he'd seen while browsing for porn. Curiosity, but not much else, had made him look. Now, though, just the thought of being covered by it was enough.

The latex-covered cock sprung to action, staining his bed with semen.

Aiden sighed, sense finally prevailing as he rolled onto his back, soaking his round, bare chest with his cum. Bubbling up, it oozed down him. His tingling mind wondered if it was more latex, spreading across his body. He giggled, his body squirming as he considered the idea.

Looking back to his cock, Aiden noticed that the skin wasn't the only thing to have changed. The head looked deformed, twisting around itself before it smoothed out along the shaft. Around the latex-covered base was a thick fold of... skin? Latex? Whatever it was, the longer he watched, the more his erection disappeared into it.

His head started to throb then, as though his body remembered just how early it was. Sweaty skin crackling against the sheets, Aiden got up, stripping the bed and heading into the bathroom. He couldn't afford to put the sheets into the laundry, since his ejaculate still continued to dribble out of him, even this long after the first excited jolts.

Aiden didn't look forward to the Friday work morning.

3:09 am

George had been confused at first, as had, he knew, the boy he'd hired for the evening. Eventually, though, the had gone along with whatever was happening. Something had almost physically clicked, so they had ignored the strange changes to their faces and continued to have sex long after the session should have gone on for.

He called him the boy, even though he was, barely, of legal age. "There's a fine line between a sex scandal and a criminal investigation," he had warned his contact when he had requested his entertainment for this evening, "and anyone can survive the former if they're sensible enough." But at his stage of life, George couldn't help but think of most people as boys or girls, including those who were old enough to have children of their own.

But that didn't matter this evening.

Pushing forward, George felt his manhood slide into the boy's hole. They had lubricated it up once again, the flesh taut as a drum. His heart was pounding, and despite the early hour and the hours he felt no fatigue. In fact, he hadn't felt this alive in years. The boy had gotten onto the hotel room's bed in front of him, on his hands and knees, and he'd known what he wanted to do.

The creature looked like it was staring at him, but after a while he noticed it didn't have any energy in its eyes. "No," he thought, glancing at the thick, throbbing canine cock sliding out of it, "this is definitely a 'he'." He decided on still thinking of it as an "it" though, since it was inert. It hovered in space, its three different heads each facing in a different direction. He marvelled at the physique: this was one very strong dog-man, he thought, his fingers tracing over the muscles whose outline was visible even through the fur. It seemed to dwarf both him and his guide.

The boar-man announced, "This is the cerberus model. Strength is one of its defining traits, as I'm sure you've noticed."

His hands had reached out, sliding along the "sleeping" cerberus' model's chest, the firm lumps of abdominal muscle dipping them in and out. They came to rest under the heavy, round slabs of pectorals that defined the upper chest.

This time it felt different. George looked down. The veins in his cock bulged obscenely, darkening the length of his cock. Deep purple infused the shiny head as it slipped in and out of the boy's hole. He hadn't been a young man for a while, when the erections got tremendously hard in that earnest way, but he wondered if they had ever gotten that deep a shade before.

The changes weren't confined to himself: George noticed something about the boy's buttocks as he thrust between them. "Buttocks" had been generous; he had had a very flat posterior, but now it was rounding out. It would have made him harder to fuck had his cock thickening and growing not been able to keep up with it.

He looked at the

hairy posterior, the firm rump muscles covered in dark fur. A thick fluffy tail seemed to be suspended from the air by invisible threads; he tried to find out where they were, but apparently they were incorporeal as well. He didn't imagine the boy of this "dog" would necessarily enjoy being pet, but he slid his hands across the

smooth skin, or what had been smooth skin only a few minutes before. George felt the prickling of stubble sliding over his fingertips as he grabbed the boy's waist and thrust in again. Breath snorted out of his nose, the hot air seeming to steam even though the room felt swelteringly hot. Sweat dripped down, further lubricating his shaft as it plunged in again.

The boar-man connected him up to some kind of futuristic helmet. "Virtual reality's the future of entertainment! Well, maybe not, but you can at least see - and feel - what it'd be like to have this monster of a body for your own."

He slipped on the helmet. Everything was dark at first. Then he - and the cerberus - blinked. Eight eyes refreshed themselves. He turned his head - heads? - and looked down at his arms. Strong, dependable arms. He flexed them, enraptured by the way the cords of muscle slid about in them; his fingers pressed into his padded palm, the sensitive flesh retreating under the weight of his sharp claws. He thought he might have cut himself, but his body seemed self-aware enough to stop that from happening. Bending his knees, he felt his tail twitch as he trialled out his new legs; he jumped and ran around the room in a flash, his body barely noticing the energy that had been expended.

Finally, he just had to know: he grabbed carefully on to the canine shaft jutting out in front of him.

The boy moaned in pleasure. It wasn't for the first time that night, either, but this one seemed incredibly intense. George felt him shudder, could almost feel the young man's cock

"Good," George thought briefly. Had he not been with a whore, he probably would have moaned too. Then he moaned anyway, his swelling, darkening cock finding it harder to squeeze into the tight round hole he had paid for. Something was definitely happening to his manhood; although George welcomed it. It fuelled his ego, watching his cock become some lengthy, girthy black thing that stretched the boy's hole. He slapped at the buttocks as the rounded and plumped up; they felt good underneath his hands, and he gave them a predatory squeeze, before grabbing the boy's hips again.

His grip tightened, his hand sliding along the shaft, from the strange tip to the thick swelling that seemed to unnaturally bulge the base out. A vague memory stirred of some time, long ago, when he had seen one, but that was gone. There was only pleasure as he caressed his maleness, the thick veins on his shaft pulsing with the desire they throbbed through his body. It didn't take long; he seemed to already be incredibly aroused.

George_felt_ the orgasm_ripple _through his_body_.

"That's enough," warned the boar-man. He closed his eyes, his mind shrieking as he found himself back in his own body.

Finishing off with a final thrust, George's balls somehow found their way to provide him with another heavy spray of semen. This one went fully into the boy's ass, the young man seeming to clench the now muscular buttocks together to help eke out even more of his juices. Twitching and throbbing, he pulled out, as the two of them panted on the bed.

George looked down, the black, inhuman cock still throbbing as it retreated back into the extremely thick foreskin that wrapped around his base. He felt it slide down, through the internal organs that had shifted to accommodate his new shaft.

The boy sprawled on the bed, the sticky mess George noticed underneath him suggesting he had enjoyed himself as well. His nose sniffed the air, body shivering from the scent of sex. Getting up, he walked over to where he had hung his jacket. The wallet he used for times like these - where identity was harmful and cash was king - waited for him. Pulling out a stack of bills that should have covered the enjoyable night he had just completed, sticking it into the boy's hand before he gathered up his clothes and took them into the bathroom.

"The room's paid for until the morning," George explained. "Feel free to spend the rest of the night here." Normally George would have taken the offer out of the boy's earnings - people didn't get into his position by throwing money away - but tonight he was feeling surprisingly generous.

4:45 am

Fluorescent lights flickered overhead, coaxing Piers into yawning again. Exhaustion was beginning to bite into him now that he was getting close to the end of his shift. Sagging on the linoleum floor, he let his knees relax a little.

Stocking shelves was the worst part of the job. He didn't mind being at the till, except for when particularly annoying customers came in. Most people that shared the same shifts as he did seemed to have the opposite point of view: the customers were the enemy horde, coming in to inconvenience and frustrate them at every point. Piers didn't mind that, and most of the customers they got around this time of night were at least interesting to chat with. Usually some friends would swing by after a night out, hang out with him while he was in the store before they went to sleep the morning away.

Blinking to clear his head - Piers swore for a moment that one of the people walking through the store had had horns - he pushed up again, knees protesting as he continued stacking one of the lower shelves with cans. He felt his head grow heavy, the shelving unit in front of him looking surprisingly comfortable. The siren allure of just closing his eyes called to him.

Hot fluids continued to drip from his face. His mouth hadn't been large enough to contain all of the dragon's cum inside, even though he'd given a valiant attempt. The dragon ran one huge taloned digit down the side of his face; he felt his flesh buckle as the dragon took a sample of his cum, lifted it up to his huge golden muzzle, and gave it a taste.

"When you're done," the dragon suggested, "let's go somewhere else."

"You'd leave?" he asked, slightly confused.

"I'll come back eventually," the dragon insisted haughtily, "you're not my only concern. But I've got somewhere that I think you might like. Just let me know when you want to get out of this place."

Snorting awake, Piers blinked. He'd been started back into consciousness by some of his co-workers walking past. Quickly, he jammed the cans onto the shelves, pushing the empty pallet back into the trolley slot before moving on to another part of the store.

Piers' phone buzzed in his pocket. Generally you were supposed to leave your phone in your locker, so you weren't disturbed during work hours. However, the manager on the night shift was a cool old lady with a streak of colour in her hair, who seemed a lot younger than her years without trying too hard to fit in with the kids. She let them use their phones, but only if it didn't cut into them doing their work: everyone kept everyone else honest, otherwise they all lost the privilege.

Looking down, he noticed he must have missed an early message; two were showing on his phone. The first was from Billy: he and some of his friends were going to come over and see what was going on, grab some stuff. Piers sighed; Billy was alright to get high with, but he was one of those people who could get annoying after a while, and he wasn't too sure he wanted to meet with him just now.

The other was from Miles. Piers wasn't too sure about what to do about that either. After they had had sex in the showers at the university gym things had gotten very awkward. It hadn't been bad per se; it was nice, for lack of a better description, but nothing to excite him greatly. Miles, however, had had less experience, and was absolutely starstruck with sucking dick and getting fucked in the ass, or at least they'd done that until Piers was sure they were going to get kicked out with how much noise Miles was making.

"I'm ready now," he answered.

The dragon allowed him to climb upon his back, which gave him a giddy thrill. The dragon, while scaly, had a certain warmth about him, as though his life was producing heat. Having it wedged in between his legs made his cock erect, helped along by the vibrations that seemed to pass through his body coming from the scales underneath his rear.

"Hold on," the dragon warned, moments before he rose to his feet, speeding through the cave's entrance at a surprisingly rapid speed. They were outside, the sky ink-black, the large pale moon staring at them like a silver eye as the gold streak ran. Wind howled past his face, and he closed his eyes.

Piers blinked, suddenly feeling woozy like he'd come to a sudden stop. His stomach felt funny; abandoning the trolley, he tucked his phone back into his pants and raced for the employee bathroom. Locking himself inside, he let out a huge sigh of relief. His stomach seemed to quieten, but he took the opportunity to sit down on the bathroom. Despite being ill, he'd started to get aroused. "I just need a little time to cool down," he thought.

The outcropping would have __had a marvellous view; it was too bad it was well into the night_ , otherwise the dark fog wouldn't have been hanging around, obscuring most of the land below. Rocks ground up against each other as the dragon's feet crunched down on them._There was something thrilling about being this high up, far away from everyone else. He slid off the dragon's back, walking over to the edge and peering over.

"I knew I was right about you liking this place," the dragon grinned. "I bet you'd love to have wings of your own, to be able to fly off and see everything."

He didn't remember much of the flight, he realised. Then again, there would be little to miss with how dark it was. He sat down on the edge of the cliff, feeling a rush as his legs dangled over precipitously.

"You could stay here," suggested the dragon. "You could be here forever with me."

Shaking himself awake again, Piers washed his hands and flushed the empty toilet so it didn't seem like he'd been in there doing nothing. He checked his phone, sending a message back to Billy.

"I went home sick. Catch u later?"

Piers suddenly felt lighter, as though he was flying. It wasn't much, but getting some time to himself - more or less - had been exactly what he needed right now. With no more excuses, he headed back to work.

Pushing the trolley down the aisle, Piers continued unloading the goods to prepare the store for the bigger load of customers that would be coming during the day. He got into a good rhythm, and sooner than expected the trolley was empty. "That's good," he thought; he didn't want everyone's phone privileges being revoked because he felt like shit.

Fortune must have been smiling on him, because just as Piers was heading back, the night shift manager came along to give a quick check down the aisle. "Hey Piers," she asked, smiling the way she did when she was going to ask you to do something. "When you've put the trolley away, go to the front. The morning shift's coming in." He knew what she meant: a lot of people with early starts to work were going to be coming through the doors any moment now.

"Okay," he answered with a nod, doing his best to ignore the tightness in his chest. Suddenly, stocking shelved didn't seem too bad.

6:21 am

Philip sat in front of the computer, doing his best to tap out an email. Pecking the keyboards with his middle fingers, the only ones that seemed to be of use - but still acting thick and clumsy - he let his aggravatingly useless arms fall to the side as he quickly read over what he'd written.

There was no way that he was going to be able to get into work today, no way he'd be able to stand up in front of his students and teach, or even try to maintain control, with his arms and legs as stiff and clumsy as they had become. He'd been up all night, tossing and turning until Selina had, not unreasonably, suggested he could sleep on the couch: she had work tomorrow as well. Philip was happy to oblige, but it hadn't ended up helping him. Neither had multiple showers, reading, or masturbating, which he'd managed to wrangle by sticking his hands between his wrists and pumping his worthless hands back and forth. Lately, he wouldn't have managed multiple orgasms, especially proper ones where he and Selina went at it, but his balls seemed to be on overdrive, causing havoc in his already chaotic body.

Judging that he'd penned an appropriate response, he left the email to sit, just in case he should get better in the next little while before he'd have to head out to school. He'd have to anyway: he was obligated to call in person as well, but the email made it easier to keep track of these things for the paperwork, and help made things clear for the times when sickness ravaged your speaking voice. That wasn't the case today, but he would still sound terrible on the phone.

Philip pushed back from the computer, bracing himself against furniture, door frames and the walls as he moved into the kitchen. The pain was getting worse, and he needed to do something about it. Shuffling along, he started the slow, laborious process of hunting for something. Aspirin. Codeine. Anything to take the edge off the pain and let him rest for a while.

Shaking hands stumbled across a packet of Lemsip, lying forgotten on the wall beside the tea bags and coffee. "That'll do," Philip decided, clumsily shuffling over with the electric kettle in his hands, humming to himself as water filled the hungry kettle's open mouth. Shuffling back, he slumped over the kitchen bench, resting his head on his arms until steam was piping out into the air not too far from his face.

The warm concoction was exactly what he'd been needing. Philip didn't want to risk spilling hot water everywhere, so he carefully drank it down there. The water had been a little too hot, but he was a desperate man. Shuddering with relief, he slowly made his way back to the couch, where he flopped gratefully on his back.

Philip could feel the weight of the bags under his eyes tugging his body down. He wanted - desperately - to sleep, but his body simply wouldn't accommodate it. Frustratingly, his cock seemed to relish the relief from pain, thickening up to deform the fabric of his boxers. "Again?" he asked his erection accusingly. He sighed, "Probably should take advantage of this now, make the most of feeling good and horny while it lasts."

He'd been feeling horny quite a bit, lately. It got to be quite embarrassing. Hopefully the frequent trips to the bathroom at work would help to bolster his case for taking a day of sick leave. Philip shuddered, thinking of the extra mess of paperwork that was going to ensue from his day of absence, but his body knew it had no choice. Just like he knew he didn't really have a choice when his arms dropped down in front of him, extending the swollen middle fingers on each hand to caress his throbbing manhood as he felt the aches in his body go away.

The wait wasn't long.

The gargoyle had landed somewhere off to the side, staring at him curiously as he shivered; not so much from the cold, but from not knowing how to deal with the situation. He was finding himself able to sort-of crawl around on his misshapen limbs. If it had been happening to someone else, he would have felt much better about things: more curious about what was happening. But it was happening to him.

The wetness didn't seem to last long. His plunge into the lake could have almost been forgotten had it not been one of the few large geographical features he could make out from the darkness. Trees were far more temporary, and for as far as he could see, that's what this world seemed full of this time of night.

He would have guessed it would have been horses: he'd heard an unfamiliar sound, but one that he'd vaguely recognised coming closer. Hooves hit the ground, the sound partially muffled because of the grass, and distorted from his own memories of hearing horses by stepping on soft dirt rather than hard pavement.

They emerged from the darkness: huge, muscular beasts, shimmering with the heat of life. They weren't shy, coming right up to him to sniff him out, see what he was about. The first one headed right up to him, sniffing his body all over before proceeding to the lake to drink. The others came, each giving him a gentle greeting, before slowly walking over to drink.

He winced, not so much because of the pain there was - there was almost none - but because it should have felt painful. His eyes had been on the hindquarters of the drinking horses, their tails flickering. He'd just noticed that all the ones he could see were stallions when it had begun. His chest heaved and stretched, the stance he'd been forced into becoming more comfortable as his body started to take on an equine shape.

Philip moaned. His cock dripped, pre-cum sliding down between his fingers. He really shouldn't have been able to get off this way; all he was doing was rubbing himself with two fingers, and no grip or warmth to entice him further, but he'd be damned if it wasn't working.

Some of the horses studied him now, their large dark eyes seeming to mirror the universe around him as he grunted and groaned, feeling his body elongate, chest stretching out. Standing became more comfortable, though in a way he was unfamiliar with and that made him nervous. He stared at the stallions. "Are you doing this to me?" he wondered, tilting his head towards the gargoyle, still impassively watching him as he transformed, "Or is it all because of him?"

The stallion in front of him whinnied in answer, then seemed to calm, and sniff him over again, this time slower and more deliberately, as if it was checking to see that the changes were doing what they were supposed to. Thick nostrils pressed up against his skin, thick rubberly lips stretching to let the huge teeth pull at the skin, which miraculously hadn't snapped or torn as his body had continued to grow. He was getting to be closer to the size of the stallions now.

"You're a handsome animal," he complimented, hoping to shoo it away, but it didn't seem to want to move. He looked down, feeling a strange quiver of pride as he realised he was shaping up to be a rather good-looking piece of horseflesh himself. "I guess if I've got to be a horse," he thought, "I'm glad I seem to be a healthy-looking one."

Muscles rippled under his skin: it was a little hard to tell, since black hairs crept across his body, but he could feel their weight and strength, the pale light making him stand out of the shadows showing off the folds and peaks of his body. A shudder passed over him, running from head to toe.

By the time he seemed to be finished - "For the time being at least," he thought - he was clearly as large, larger even, than most of the stallions in the herd that had come to greet him when he arrived. He licked his lips; they felt suddenly dry.

Philip shook, orgasm sending a tremor through his body.

He sniffed the air, the musky scent of the stallions washing over him.

7:57 am

Blake's eyes wandered around the train. He hadn't really been looking before, but there seemed to be a lot of really hot-looking guys early in the morning. Most of them were like himself, construction guys heading in to work in clothes covered in dust or oil or whatever else stained your clothes. Lots of shaved or bald heads. Lots of tattoos. He noticed some piercings too, and his mind came up with some places he might be able to see some more. He had to be careful when he looked at bulges though, but he was pretty sure his mind would do a whole lot better.

Some of the other guys were hot too, Blake thought. Guys in suits, for example; he could tell some of them must have worked out some. Some of the littler guys he imagined being those slender little runts who ended up having huge cocks that looked gigantic on their bodies. Some of the fat ones probably had nicer tits than some of the girls he'd banged.

After last night, the cork had been popped: Blake was fully into guys. It was definitely a new thing; he'd had no interest in it before, but he could see some advantages. With a guy, you knew where you stood. You could do almost anything you wanted to with a guy that you could with a girl, apart from the one thing that, while good, always carried the risk of ending up with some baby you didn't want, and even if you did the bitch would go psycho, just like his ex. "Fuck that bitch," he grumbled under his breath, stretching his jean-clad legs apart, feeling his cock and balls shift around in his boxers as he changed positions.

There was a guy whose body caught Blake's attention in particular. He was young - the university hoodie he was wearing tipped him off to a pretty close estimate - and buff. The hoodie had been unzipped all the way down, the singlet clinging to him. His smooth skin shimmered with precipitation, making him glow as the firm young gym-fed muscles shifted around. His face was pretty enough, sure. It was the smell, though, the post-workout musk that had caught Blake's attention.

Sniffing the air like a dog, Blake imagined what the guy had been doing at the gym. Maybe he had been lifting weights. Blake worked out at home - he was debating with himself if keeping that up was a good idea - and usually had one of his mates spot him. He imagined spotting this guy, grabbing onto the bar, straddling over him, grinning down as he rested his junk on his face.

It was too bad the guy didn't seem to be interested, Blake thought. The train shuddered, slowing to a stop. With some disappointment, he watched the young guy get up off of his seat. Blake glanced out the window; the university's logo was up beside the sign with the station's name on it. He wondered what it'd be like to go to one of those university parties. None of his friends had gone, but he was always curious about how easy the girls were supposed to have been. Now, though, he was more interested in seeing if any of the lads were interested in doing some "experimenting".

He was rock hard when "his" stallion came over from its latest conquest, cock still dribbling cum onto the grass. While the other stallions were busy going at it, "his" went over and sniffed at his erection. The horse's big nostrils snuffled, breathing in and blowing hot air that tickled. He moved his hands away from his crotch, petting the big animal's muzzle. He tried to go back to jacking off, but the stallion's muzzle jabbed him in the chest.

"Hey!" he exclaimed, poking at its nose with his fingers. "You've had your fun, can't you let me finish?"

Apparently "no" was the only answer to that question that the stallion would accept. He was impressed by its drive to go after what he wanted, even if it meant being a huge dick about it. It kept knocking him with its head until he grinned at the absurdity.

"Fine," he laughed, "we'll do it your way."

Feeling his balls start to ache and the aching immediacy in his cock dissipate, he climbed on the back of the persistent animal. He laughed again, looking around him as he noticed he wasn't the only one "riding" a stallion.

"I guess this is what you're after?" he asked the horse, not yet able to stop giggling about the situation. "I hope so, because I don't think I'm equipped for what the rest of you have been up to, and I'm pretty sure I don't want to fuck a horse."

The stallion answered by shaking his head, and he started a fresh round of laughter. Underneath him, the horse started to move, taking its time to sniff at some of the other rutting stallions of its herd, as they spilled their juices and swapped roles or partners.

Then they were off, galloping quickly. He clutched at the mane, the blue flames licking painlessly over his fingers. His erection came back as his body bounced and slid back and forth on the stallion's back. Scents of the beast's fucking wafted over his nostrils, somehow despite the air blowing across his face. His heart pounding in his chest filled his ears, looking through the darkness as they ran across the plains.

Laughter spilled out of him.

Blake's eyes snapped open; he hadn't realised he'd nodded off on the way to work. He hadn't felt that tired, although he wasn't sleeping as well as he used to. It was the dreams, he decided, the ones he couldn't quite remember, but that kept him tired but at the same time made him feel very relaxed.

Glancing around the carriage, he noticed a couple of people giving him strange looks. Mostly girls, but Blake could almost feel the guys were looking too, only trying to make it seem like they weren't. Most of them, anyway.

"Probably just paranoid," Blake thought, glancing around him. He couldn't see anything else, and the muffled giggle he heard made him feel like he was missing something. His eyes roamed around again, convincing himself there wasn't anything funny around him. It must have been on him. He quickly brushed his hand over his face, wondering if maybe he got something stuck to it when he fell asleep.

Shifting his legs finally convinced him of what people had noticed: the front of his pants was vastly distended by a big, earnest erection yearning to be put to use. Blake blinked at it, wondering why he hadn't noticed it. "Morning wood," his mind guessed, "from falling asleep." Ogling guys had seemed to make him even hornier than usual, and he already had a very healthy appetite for sex.

Blake started to laugh.

There wasn't much he could do about it; he couldn't hide it now that everyone noticed it, and he found he didn't mind. He already knew he had a big cock. "Everyone must want to look since I'm hung like a horse," he thought as he laughed, feeling an odd shiver that made his spine twitch.

Laughing was strangely relaxing, making Blake feel light-headed. The laughter itself was a bit strange, it was almost like barking: short, sharp and fast. It didn't sound like him at all, aside from when he got stupid when getting drunk or high, maybe. It seemed to feed off itself: it didn't help that the laughter drew even more attention to himself, and the "problem" that stubbornly stood proud in full view of everyone on the train.

Blake was still laughing when the train pulled into the station. He stood up, giggling like a mad-man as he seemed to delight in trying to brush his cock up against the other people getting off the train. They all avoided him, though he told himself, "That's a tough job." He groaned, feeling pre-cum ooze through the front of his boxers.

"Glad I didn't go commando today," he thought, then started laughing all over again.

9:33 am

After having a look around at the dizzying myriad of tents that seemed to be littered around for the festival, or orgy, or carnival, or whatever this was, he started feeling a little claustrophobic. This many tents took up almost all of the room: sometimes he found himself walking through a tent that had been put up over the main thoroughfares.

A break in the tents brought a fresh blast of salty air, and he looked back down the beach to the sea. Checking his hand - the entry stamp was still very visible there - he gave himself a smile and headed back down to the beach. As lurid and interesting as the camp was, there was something that felt enticingly naughty about going off the beaten path, and doing something unofficial.

Waves crashed up on the beach, as his feet hit the sand, his weight making them sink down as the grains worked their way between his toes. His naked body stretched, his arms brushing over the wild sideburns that flowed down his face like dark water. Stepping out, he went as far as the waves coming in, feeling his feet being slowly buried and enjoying the fresh bite of the cold sea water over his feet.

A sound drew his attention; a naked youth, another fellow reveller, was walking down towards the beach. He hadn't been noticed yet - for some reason, the young man was more interested in the sea - and that allowed him to get a good look. It looked like a good swimmer's body: toned smooth muscles, strong arms and legs, big feet and almost hairless with what looked like a freshly-shaped head glowing with the light escaping from the confines of the never-ending party happening not too far away. He checked the crotch: even that was hairless, which seemed to make the big, juicy cock seem even larger.

"Enjoying yourself?" he asked.

The young man seemed almost startled by the noise, turning to look over at him. Brushing the back of his bald head, the young man grinned sheepishly, big white teeth sparkling from his mouth. "I thought I'd just have a look while I catch my breath. I really like the sea."

"Me too," he commented, walking over to the young man. "What's your name?"

"Gage," the young man answered.

"Well, Gage," he continued, getting so close he could feel the warmth radiating off of his body, "have you caught your breath yet?" He reached out, grabbing on to the big, limp cock hanging between Gage's legs. Immediately, he felt it start to stiffen; he pulled on it gently, coaxing Gage to join him on the sand.

They rolled over each other. He enjoyed the vigorous strength of youth in Gage's body as it pressed up against him. He enjoyed the feeling under his hands as he slid them over the firm back, feeling the muscles twist and flex. He really enjoyed the feeling of their cocks smashed together, both growing hard. Not even the feeling of the weird growth in the middle of Gage's back: the lump that steadily grew, as Gage pressed down on him, into a thick, triangular fin.

His eyes met Gage's. How had he not seen just how black Gage's eyes had been? He could see himself looking up into them. "Now I can see why you love the sea," he stated.

Gage blushed, stammering, "I don't know what you mean."

"A shy monster-boy," he thought, using the window to shimmer down. The thick cock slipped easily between his lips - he knew what he was doing - and Gage moaned approvingly. He heard Gage's fingers dig into the sand, finding nothing solid to hold on to but needing to try just in case. He sucked and slurped, his hands grabbing tightly onto Gage's firm buttocks. Sucking until his jaw ached, he leaned back, moving his hands around to keep Gage's cock dripping warm fluids. The young man even tasted of the sea.

"Don't you want me to, uh, do anything to you?" Gage asked, his black eyes shining and an adorable blush creeping over his face. "I want you to enjoy yourself too."

"This is what I enjoy," he insisted, putting the dick back into his mouth, wriggling his face deep right down into the hairless crotch. It was hard to tell whether the scent was coming from Gage, or from the sea. He wasn't stupid; from what he'd seen and felt, he was pretty sure Gage was turning into some kind of shark-man. Most likely a very hot one.

His finger crept into Gage's asshole. Gage noticed, but didn't protest. He was glad; he enjoyed it when guys would just let things happen, not getting too worked up over things. Even though Gage was becoming part fish, he suspected, his insides were still nice and warm. His finger found Gage's prostate; a few gentle probes told him that, even if Gage had been enjoying himself back in the camp, that he was the first to find the magic button.

Tarun groaned, rolling out of bed. He hated waking up, especially when it was from what had clearly been a very good dream. Fragments still stuck in his head, but it was his hard, hot cock that told him all he needed to know. "I want to go back to sleep," he grumbled.

His sheet slid up his body as Tarun thought about last night, the dream slowly fading from his mind. Max had been exactly what he'd needed. It was just too bad it was professional, and ended once the money ran out. He would have loved to have had someone this morning, to help him work off the erection that had sprung up over night. Max had been fun, but his price was too high to really wear him out.

Tarun pondered getting his own boy-toy. "That might be hard," he thought, his hand sliding off his chest and over his face. He felt younger, and seemed to look it, going by how smooth his face was this morning, but the one thing that was suffering was his wallet. "Ugh! Why do I have to have so many expensive habits?" He needed to get back to work, and fast.

Groaning, Tarun got to his feet, letting the sheet slide across his body and down to the floor. It felt dramatic, like some big reveal; Tarun enjoyed it, even without an audience. He groaned again: even if he was still horny, the rest of his body lacked energy.

"Coffee," Tarun grunted, stumbling into his bathroom to splash some water on his face. Turning his head from side to side, he smirked, watching the water drip down his youthful face. His eyes caught a drip, strangely enhanced; it fell down into the sink.

Tarun's gaze shifted to a small resealable plastic bag, filled with mysterious pills. "Where had I gotten these from?" he thought, trying to remember. He knew, more or less, what they did: they kept him alert and awake, so he could keep up with the equally chemically-stimulated young people that he partied with and worked to impress.

His hand wrapped around the packet, feeling the plastic crinkle and the firm lining of the pills press into his hand. Tarun knew he shouldn't take them: he had only just gotten out of hospital after all. "But I need them," he told himself.

Someone banged on his front door, yelling for him. Tarun jumped, the bag dropping out of his hand and into the open toilet. "Fuck!" Tarun swore, looking sadly at the pills. He reached over to save them, his hand freezing in place.

"Flush them," his mind suggested, "find a new hobby. Like collecting toyboys." Tarun sighed, yelling out to his guest, "Alright, but you better be prepared, because I'm naked!"

11:09 am

Takeo huffed in his seat, staring inactively at the screen in front of him. He was supposed to be paying attention to the tutorial, to help him catch up with some of the classes he'd missed because of his job. But his mind wasn't on coding: it was on the client he had last night.

Normally Takeo didn't enjoy himself, usually not that much. Especially with gross old men. But that one last night had power. He was probably someone important, sure, but that wasn't the power he thought of. The vigorous way he pounded his ass, the feeling of that big, strange black cock sliding into him, which was odd because the guy was about as white as a Brit could get. It felt so good in his mouth, though, and in his ass.

Takeo shivered, his pants feeling tight. That wasn't entirely because of the erection though; he was sure his butt had gotten thicker, more muscular, since that last load the old dragon had pumped into his ass. His first thought, when he noticed it as he cleaned up in the hotel room's bathroom, was of pride: he'd been looking at firm, round asses like that one in pornography ever since he'd started watching it, and on football players before then. His second had been more practical: was this going to cut down on his appeal to his clients? Mr. Brooks might not be as thrilled as Takeo had been to find out.

That hadn't been the only thing to change, Takeo had noticed. He rubbed his muzzle: he'd checked it out in the mirror. He looked like a weird, hairless dog; other than his hair and eyebrows, the rest of his face had changed but hadn't grown the fur that really would have suited it. Glimpses of it showed off in the darker spots on the monitor. The muzzle wasn't ridiculously huge, and he thought it was relatively handsome and dignified, and the teeth in it were sharp and glistened when the showed through his lips. Big ears sprang up from either side of his head, twitching as his muscles got used to controlling them. The dark nose tipping his muzzle twitched; he could even smell better, including the scent of his crotch which seemed to yearn for more, even after last night's ravaging.

Snorting, Takeo watched as a bit of the monitor fogged up. The changes were clearly noticeable: he could see them plainly, and from the comments last night the client had too. The client, though, had also been going through changes. Takeo had initially wondered if maybe everyone had started transforming, but when he'd poked his head out, seeing everyone else normal had worried him. He'd tried to hide his changed appearance, but when he got caught out everyone just acted normally. The only people who could see his transformation, apparently, were other people going through the same thing.

Takeo rested his head in his hands. "Any time's too early to be dealing with this much stuff," he thought.

"How did you enjoy that?" the satyr asked.

The dragon had gone, but he was left sprawling naked on the bed. The satyr had moved on top of him, lying across his legs, long fingers sliding over his cock,which was simultaneously sticky from having recently orgasmed and hard and throbbing as though he hadn't even touched himself in a week. He remembered seeing somewhere that young people buzzed with the need to fuck, but it was never more apparent than right now.

"I don't know," he finally answered. "I'm not sure what to think..."

"I understand you're worried about a lot of things," the satyr explained, leaving the cock to stand at attention, choosing instead to play with the round balls underneath. "Family. Work. School. It all seems so stressful."

He had to agree with that sentiment. His head throbbed even just thinking about it all. That didn't even include some things. An ache spread across his neck and shoulders; he hoped the satyr would leave his cock alone - well, not really, but there was nobody else - and give his neck a massage.

"Wouldn't it be easier if there was more of you to deal with it all?"

Other than the throbbing, incessant ache, there was no pain. He knew there should have been, and maybe there was, but the satyr's mouth had enveloped his cock as soon as he'd finished talking, distracting him.

His shoulders pushed out, making way for his neck to thicken. Confusion swirled through his head: broad shoulders certainly looked nice on men, he knew, and thick necks tended to be on strong people. But he wasn't strong, so why did he need such a thick neck?

Then his thoughts became clearer, and he sighed. His two new muzzles opened. He panted, gasping for air as they pushed out of the lumps that had branched out of his neck. Letting himself be distracted by the blow job, he reached up, scratching at the underside of the two new muzzles, feeling the nostrils breathing in slowly as they got used to existing. His mind twitched a while, and he closed his eyes. After a blink, he opened them: all six of them, somehow all combining effortlessly in his head into one large range of vision.

Three long tongues started to dangle, dripping saliva all over his newly-thickened neck.

Takeo bolted up, almost forgetting to log out as he quickly used his backpack to cover his crotch. Carefully sliding out, he turned his new heads from side to side: nobody had noticed, not growing the new heads, or the moans he was sure he'd made, or the fact that his crotch was now a sticky mess, even through his jeans. "Fuck," he thought, "how can they not smell that?" All three of his noses noticed the strong musky scent of cum.

Wondering if perhaps it was all in his head - heads, he corrected himself - Takeo quickly escaped to the relatively private confines of the bathroom. The campus was a maze; the computer labs seemed so archaic now that almost everyone had a laptop, but since not everyone did the tutorials mandated using one of the labs that had been shoved into one of the campus' random corners. It meant the bathrooms, fortunately, were mostly empty.

Takeo loosened the top of his shirt, glad he had brought something with buttons since the collar needed to be wider. The two new heads that had somehow grown fast and unnoticed didn't look like the one that was now in the middle. One was big and beefy; it looked like it was ready to fight, but he could tell there was something it wanted to do more and that was fuck. The other one, far more angular, was the more ruthless, but disciplined, one.

"What the fuck am I?" Takeo wondered. "What's happening to me?" Not one of his heads was able to come up with an answer.

Going into one of the stalls, Takeo grabbed a whole roll of toilet paper and set to work cleaning up the sexual fluids that had stained his pants. Shimmying out of his pants, he removed his underwear, which had gotten most of his ejaculate. Since they were practically sodden, there wasn't any point in wearing them. His right hand picked them up, bringing them up to the nose of the big dog and sniffing his scent.

"That's not really helping," Takeo admonished; his central head seemed to be the one that wanted to do most of the talking. The left head growled, and the right one growled back.

Takeo forced himself to breath, all three noses sucking in air, all three mouths opening wide, tongues lolling out. It cooled him down, which he met with relief. Cramming the cum-soaked underwear into an otherwise-empty pocket of his backpack, he continued to sit on the toilet, wondering exactly what he was going to do.

None of his heads offered up any solution.