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Forbidden Fruit of the Loom

Written by Leo_Todrius

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Time was like a river, flowing endlessly from start to finish. There were eddies and currents where time seemed to move slower or faster, but it was rarely stagnant. In nature it worked like clockwork with seasons and cycles and regularity, but for humans... it was more complicated. For Drake Vargas, the end of the year brought the weight of unfulfilled expectations, responsibility and reflection. He'd graduated from high school with the intention of starting a career, getting out there and making his way... but things had not gone according to plan.

Drake stood behind the sales counter of Adam's EVEning, the town's most reputable adult entertainment and supply store. He was nineteen years old, his black hair styled up into a crest that stood up in front of the loose beanie precariously hugging the back of his head. His black polo was emblazoned with an embroidered apple with a snake coiled around it and his name tag had a label maker print out of his name and a little duck sticker at the end to fill up the rest of the space.

The idea of standing there, let alone working there, made Drake's heart race just a bit. He had gone through eight months of job application purgatory, lowering the bar each time. After all of that, he'd finally landed his first job... and it was in a sex shop. His training had covered inventory and cash handling. He'd ensured that the lubricant aisle was organized, that none of the vibrators were vibrating and that the exotic companion aisle was dusted so none of the dildos looked unused.

"Now don't worry, we don't usually get too many customers at once, and even if you do, most people don't really want you in their space while they choose." one of the co-owners said, his frizzy red hair tied back into a poofy ponytail.

"But if you get someone in here that really DOES want you in their space, if you know what I mean, and they won't take no for an answer, just text us or the private security company." the other co-owner said, running a hand across his hair, making sure the black pompadour was still artfully intact.

"It's pretty quiet this time of year anyway. Should be a good way to ease you in before our busy season." The first owner grinned.

"What's the busy season?" Drake asked.

"Valentine's Day." the other two said in unison. Drake nodded, realizing he had walked right into that one. The red head smiled, "You'll do fine kid, and just text us if you have any questions or anything. As long as you don't burn the store down, there's really nothing that can go so wrong that we can't fix." he said before heading for the door.

"Adam's pretty good at keeping things afloat." the other owner said, "I think the one bit of advice I have is that it can be really helpful for sales if you get to know a product personally so you can speak from a place of experience. You could try BSing some of it, but not everyone is that good of an actor."

"You want me to... get to know one of the products?" Drake asked. The co-owner shrugged a little.

"I mean, it's optional. I just know if you know something it is easier to sell it, and it can be anything. Doesn't have to be one of the headliners. We've got lots of stuff. Massage oils, candies, chocolates, even clothes." he shrugged. Drake relaxed a little, his eyes drifting over to the lonely clothing rack in the corner of the store before he nodded a bit.

"I'll keep it in mind, maybe there's something that would work out." Drake said. The co-owner smiled and nodded.

"You'll do fine. Just a couple hours with the chance for customers, then the inventory delivery, then lock up and set the security system. Easy peasy, fleshy squeezy." he smirked before heading out. As the door swung shut, Drake exhaled a bit, realizing just how much he'd been trapping inside. The store was empty, the night was quiet, and the streets were clear except for the occasional steady rumble of the street sweeper wandering its nomadic existence.

Drake made his way back to the ancient iPod that powered the store's music and switched it over to some Christmas music before turning it up a little more. Not everyone liked Christmas music when they shopped, but the store's theme was love and togetherness, more or less. His training had covered almost everything, and the store had not been touched by a single soul since they had finished. There were no items out of alignment, nothing left to dust or clean, and several hours until inventory would arrive. With Steve's suggestions fresh in his mind, it seemed the best thing to do was to try and find a product he felt comfortable endorsing.

Without anyone to massage, the lubricant and liquids aisle seemed like a non-starter. Drake tried the next aisle, but he didn't even understand what half of the items did. His dad had grown up as a farm hand in the small community outside of town. He had little doubt that his father wouldn't exactly be proud that his son was a peddler of sin. Drake sighed a little before he rounded the corner, straightening the stuffed animals on the end cap before trying the next aisle.

He'd gotten a look at the exotic companion aisle when he was cleaning it, but it had been so awkward he hadn't really had a chance to look at it properly. Now he stood before the plexiglass shelves lined with an assortment of dildos from half a dozen famous brands. It looked like something out of some strange niche internet fantasy novel with phalluses and vaginas from the whole animal kingdom and beyond. There were dragon and horse cocks, what claimed to be a horse pussy, and a few eldritch horrors that seemed like they could do some real damage if not used properly. While they were all well-crafted and extremely colorful, Drake decided to pass for the moment.

Coming around the last corner, Drake's eyes drifted to the same lonely clothing rack he had seen before. There was an overelaborate maid's uniform, a barely accurate police costume, and then several hangers full of underwear and other assorted lingerie. What jumped out most to Drake was the high contrast clash of black and white in a familiar striped pattern. The clerk moved over and slid the other garments back, getting a closer look. The zebra stripes were spread across a pair of boxers, but they weren't just any boxers. Drake reached out, his hand hesitating for a moment before he lifted the hanger up.

Upon first glance, they seemed like any ordinary zebra print boxers might have looked, although they were a bit baggy in the front. Upon further examination, Drake soon saw why; the underwear had two pouches. Drake grinned a little. He'd seen commercials for the underwear that kept your package away from your body for comfort sake, making sure you didn't get sweaty or ripe. Drake peeked inside and, sure enough, found compartments for both his balls and his cock. It seemed that whoever the manufacturer was, they'd made sure the cock pouch had room for any size...

Drake considered for a moment, his eyes scanning the store. He'd be hard pressed to find a more innocent product to endorse, and they did seem really well made. There was no exposed elastic, the stitching was triple reinforced, and the cotton felt almost velvety soft. After just a moment of consideration, Drake made up his mind. He moved over to the counter and rung himself up, cringing a little at the price... Thirty-five dollars for one pair of underwear felt like a bit much, but it was paying his salary... which was paying for the underwear. With that done, he ran to the front door and peeked out at the parking lot to make sure no one was about to enter before he darted to the hidden employee bathroom in the back of the shop.

****

The well-worn skate shoes tumbled off of Drake's feet as he scrambled to change, dropping his black slacks next. His old pair of tighty-whities slipped off, leaving the nineteen-year-old standing in front of the mirror in nothing but a sex shop polo, black beanie and socks. He looked at his reflection, first at his boyish good looks and the well-groomed crest of hair before he looked down at his cock hanging down. While he wasn't the hottest kid in school, he had to admit he wasn't a crime to the eyes.

"Alright, let's see what we're getting ourselves into..." Drake said, pulling the sales tag off the zebra print boxers, pausing for just a moment before chuckling to himself, "Forbidden Fruit of the Loom... If I die on the job, it's going to be from a pun." he muttered before he pulled the boxers up. As the fabric hit his skin, it felt like a dream. His old underwear might as well have been sandpaper. These boxers were a sensual dream, and he wasn't even done yet. He tugged the waistband up into place before he peeled the front back and looked down.

The concept of underwear had never been that complicated. It had been a one step process until now. Drake tried to decide where to start before reasoning that he should work with his balls first given that they were further down than his manhood was. He reached down and found the pouch for his balls and eased them through into the soft, velvet embrace of the boxers. Then, with a careful hand, Drake took a hold of his cock - which began to stiffen in response - and fed it through the other gap in the boxers, sliding it down into its own spacious sleeve.

Drake removed his hand from his underwear and took a step back. The black and white stripes looked good on his well-tanned skin, showing off the contours of his ass and making his cock look way bigger than it normally did. No longer was it squeezed and cramped. It was a free-range animal with plenty of room to roam. He ran a hand over the bulge and smiled a bit with pride. So far there wasn't anything to complain about. It felt like heaven and he could already feel the temperature difference was much better.

The flow of time continued and before Drake realized it, more than a few moments had passed. He grabbed his slacks and pulled them up, zipping the fly and buttoning it into place before he popped his feet back into his skate shoes. Left with just his underwear and spare tag, Drake ran them back to his minuscule locker and stuffed them into his lunch bag before securing it and returning to the sales floor, taking a quick look around.

"No customers, but already one sale and one assignment completed." Drake said with confidence, feeling a little more certain of himself. He moved back behind the counter and turned the Christmas music up louder, grinning wider to himself before he grabbed the employee manual and started reading through it a second time.

****

To some, the idea of a job without much happening would have been mind-numbing. For Drake it just meant that he had an easy time making sure everything went smoothly. That being said, it had been somewhat concerning that in the entire period of time the shop had been open to the public, only two people had come in and they hadn't purchased anything. Steve had referred to them as 'sight seers' because they came in to see the taboo novelty of what was on sale. They looked at it like some sort of attraction, to see all the forbidden and freakish items, to dip their toe in the waters without committing to anything. They could giggle and whisper and cavort before heading off to whatever else was going on in the city. At least that, as far as Drake was concerned, had some glimmer of fun. Inventory delivery was anything but.

The huge truck sat in idle outside the back of the shop. The engine rattled and shook, the blue headlights nearly blinding against the pitch-black skies. The exhaust billowed out like smoke from a chimney before the vapor cooled enough to turn invisible once more. Drake had to supervise, but even when the delivery was done, there wasn't much to unpack. They had already filled every shelf and every slot on the sales floor. The driver moved his pallet jack back and forth, taking in stacks of boxes before eventually he rolled it onto the lift on the back of his truck, secured it inside, dropped down and swung up into the cabin before heading off. The blinding blue glow faded and soon there was just the faint twinkle of the red brake lights as it headed back onto the street, heading for parts unknown.

Drake stood there for a moment in the brisk air, realizing that while his extremities had gotten cold, his mid-section was pleasantly warm. He had to give the underwear credit; they were for more than just show. They were quality, and that reassured him he had one product he could confidently tell people about. With a smile on his lips, Drake moved back into the shop and locked up, grabbing the clipboard. Once the inventory was checked in, it'd just be a matter of time before he had finished his first shift.

****

If forced to recall, Drake would have assumed he could count on one hand the number of times he had been up at dawn aside from waiting for the school bus. It wasn't his natural period of activity, but it was going to be. Adam's EVEning kept strange hours for an adult shop, especially one with so few customers... but a job was a job. His bosses were nice, the pay was better than fast food, and it wasn't food service. It wasn't even as hectic as normal retail, although the idea of dealing with a product return still sent shivers up Drake's spine.

Adam had shown up to make sure Drake clocked out on time and everything was in order and it had been a short trip home. The horizon was tinged with hints of amber and brown, even a little bit of green. They weren't the colors many people expected. They were the colors that came before the brilliant rose and peach. Drake didn't intend to stay up that long. He unlocked the front door to his house and slipped inside, not daring to turn on a light. He slipped his shoes off and crept across the carpet, not wanting to make a sound. His employment was a precarious subject with his father. His dad was glad he had a job, but there were too many questions about what it was or why the hours were so strange. He just wouldn't understand... and Drake didn't want to take the time to explain it.

When Drake made it into his bedroom, he felt a sense of relief at not having been spotted. It was like he had gotten away with something. It was a strange concept when he'd been so well behaved his entire life. Drake shook his head, wondering if staying up so early had resulted in his train of thought getting so easily derailed. He pulled off his beanie and ran a hand through his hair, trying to break up the styling product a bit before he yanked off his polo. He was about to throw it in a heap by habit before thinking better of it, grabbing a hanger instead to keep it from getting wrinkled.

Another yawn escaped Drake's lips as he unfastened his slacks and dropped his lunch bag to the ground, knowing his underwear was somewhere inside. As his slacks fell, he stood there in nothing but his socks and his boxers. Even though he was tired, Drake took a moment to admire himself, turning a little, looking over his shoulder as best he could. The boxers hugged his ass just right and the pouch made his cock look so big. Whoever said stripes were slimming had not been talking about zebra stripes. They made him look thick in all the right ways.

Drake stretched a little, though he winced when he caught a whiff of his underarms. He couldn't risk a shower before bed. If he woke up his dad, he'd never hear the end of it, so instead Drake crawled into bed. The sheets felt nice against his skin, but not nearly as nice as his new boxers. They were the smoothest, softest, most velvety thing he had ever felt. It was like a constant massage against his skin, cuddling his ass, stroking his cock, fondling his balls... Drake murmured a little, rolling over onto his stomach.

Without even really trying to, he started to gyrate his hips a bit, sliding up and down on the mattress, applying more pressure. He was humping his bed before he knew it before blushing, realizing how crazy he was being. Drake shook it off and rolled onto his back, pulling the covers tight, trying to forget about what he had been doing. It had to be the adult shop; it was already having an influence... but he could be strong. A job was a job, and that's what he needed to focus on.

****

"Hay." the voice cut through the air, shaking Drake out of where his mind had wandered to. He looked up, his eyes refocusing on the customer standing half-way across the store.

"Hay?" Drake asked in confusion. The broad-shouldered muscle thug scowled a bit more.

"As in 'hey, you, the guy that works here?'" he said. Drake blushed before he moved out from behind the counter and moved over.

"What can I do to help you?" he asked. Here he was, barely on day three and he was already zoning out. He'd have to be careful not to let that happen.

"Do you have any more of that Orc-ganic Muscle cream?" the customer asked. Drake bit his bottom lip for a moment before he rounded the corner and moved down the liquid aisle, heading into the massage section before he crouched down, reached through a gap in the product and fished around a little. The muscle thug leaned around the corner, peering out from beneath the brim of his snapback cap, admiring the clerk's fit ass where it waggled. As distractible as Drake was, he wasn't bad eye candy. After some fishing, Drake slid his arm out, clutching a tube of thick olive-green paste with a weird split pronged top.

"Last bottle. I'll make sure to order more." Drake said. The muscle thug seemed appeased.

"Do you know if it comes in bigger bottles? I've got a buddy I'd love to share it with." he said, reaching down to scratch at the tent in his shorts subconsciously. Drake grinned a bit knowingly.

"I'll see what I can do." he said. The muscle thug grinned brightly and followed Drake to the register. It wasn't long before he was rung up, the product bagged, and the cash exchanged. The front door chirped as the thug excused himself and returned to the jacked-up truck outside. The engine roared to life before it sped out of the parking lot, leaving Drake alone once more. He sat down on the chair, but it didn't feel quite right. He felt higher up than before, and with a less secure perch. He shifted side to side, but it just seemed like his butt wasn't fitting the chair in the same way. Drake shook his head, deciding it all had to be in his head. The real question was why he had been thinking so much about grass and hay all day...

****

Normally it was hard for anyone to adjust to a new schedule, but for Drake things seemed to just be an exaggeration of his normal cycle. He stayed up later, he slept in more. It had been difficult for his father to accept his hours, but his mother had pointed out how hard he'd been pushing for Drake to get a job and he had. That little bit of respite alone was enough to give Drake a little bit of relief. He yawned a bit as he glanced over at the clock, seeing it was a little after noon. A bit early to get up, but he was still adjusting.

Drake slipped out of bed and stretched again, the early afternoon sunlight shining off of his well-tanned skin - although there were a few spots along his ribs that seemed paler than usual, almost like stretch marks. The nineteen-year-old reached down to adjust himself, finding his hand gliding over the ever so soft, ever so perfect zebra boxers. He murmured a little, both at how nice the touch was and at just how big he seemed to be. The difference was like night and day. He never knew how much tighty-whities had been holding him back.

Drake grabbed his pants and a shirt and headed to the bathroom, heading for the shower when he slowed to a stop, looking in the mirror, a grin spreading across his face. He'd settled on his style a while back, using product to get a nice little crest or spike of his black hair up front before trapping the rest in his beanie. It was unique, it was different, he made it work... but rather than getting bedhead by crashing before washing the product out, it had given him a bit of a fauxhawk.

The hair running down the middle of his scalp was standing up taller and thicker than the rest. Even if he'd tried, he doubted he could make it look that good on purpose. Debating his options, Drake decided he could skip the shower that day. There was nothing wrong with smelling like a man for one day, right? He grinned as he started pulling his pants on, buttoning them in place before carefully maneuvering the shirt over his coveted improvised hairstyle. Something told him it was going to be a fantastic day.

****

A steady buzz filled the produce section of the grocery store, radiating from the fluorescent lights, the freezers and the old speaker system. The produce was stacked in pyramids, each a vibrant color drawing the eye... and yet Drake's attention seemed to be elsewhere. He'd circled through three or four times, half because nothing seemed that appealing and half because he found himself fixated on the stock boys. There was one sporting a short bushy beard, wearing a black and white checkerboard print shirt with spacers in his ears and another with a man bun and bushy sideburns, wearing a ratty long sleeve t-shirt and jeans that looked like they belonged on a drummer in a band... and Drake wanted them both. He didn't just want them both, he wanted them at the same time.

Drake could just imagine how well the bearded stock boy's mouth would fit over his cock, his hairy face disappearing into his bush while he made the other clerk scream out in pleasure as he got his meat licked and suckled. Drake's breathing got hot and heavy as he visualized it in graphic detail, feeling his own cock sliding down further and further into the sleeve of his zebra print boxers until the impossible happened; he felt his cock hit the bottom.

There was confusion for a moment before Drake looked down. The boxers offered some defense against public erections in that they directed his shaft down rather than out, letting it slope over his balls and along his leg. There was a noticeable bulge, but it was at least sort of possible to dismiss it as just a trick of how things were hanging in his pants... but for the first time since getting the boxers, Drake felt as if he had filled them all the way and he knew that wasn't possible.

Feeling the burning heat of another blush reaching his cheeks, Drake started moving his shopping cart again. His intention was to leave the produce section entirely, maybe cool off in the dairy section, but as he was about to leave, he caught the aroma of something sweet and earthy, something hearty and heavenly. He stopped and turned to see packages of sprouts... There were alfalfa sprouts, there were bits of lemongrass. It was a whole wall of vegetation. Drake took a big whiff, his nostrils flaring wide before he reached out and started pulling several of the packages into his cart. His stomach rumbled with hunger, but at last, he had found something that seemed like it would satiate his needs.

****

Day by day, it seemed like the job was getting easier. It helped that there were so few customers, though it seemed like the closer Christmas came, the more business was picking up. Maybe there really were a lot of people on the naughty list after all. Drake had been relaxing more and more as most everyone seemed quite friendly or shy. His bosses seemed happy and his first real paycheck was just a few days away. The friction had even died down at home, although his dad did seem quite curious about his occupation. It seemed that 'retail' and 'selling things' wasn't going to cut it for long. Drake just hoped he'd be able to bring home some money before his dad figured out where he really worked.

It seemed like the real witching hour of his shift was dinner time. People that planned ahead came in earlier, people that were operating on impulse came in later. It was a good chance to restock, reorganize and regroup... except that Drake had already done all of that. He sat on the stool behind the register, tapping his feet on the lower rung, drumming his fingers on the counter in time with the music. It was half-way between his first break and lunch... and he had to pee. His bladder had filled abnormally fast. It felt like he could piss like a racehorse. He'd been holding it, but it didn't feel like it was going to last an hour.

A snort of air blasted from Drake's nostrils as he admitted defeat. He sprung from the stool, ran over to the door, grabbed the little card that said, 'be back in 5 minutes' and stuck it to the door as he locked up before darting back to the back room. He'd barely made it past the first door before his hands were fumbling with his fly, getting the button undone. Drake stumbled into the little bathroom, got the light on with his elbow, and grabbed at the waistband of his boxers. It took a moment, at first because it seemed like the waistband didn't want to let go, but then came the onerous task of extracting himself from them.

For the first time, the brilliant idea of underwear with pouches seemed like a bad idea. He had to get himself out of them rather than just lower the whole thing. He began drawing the boxers down, finding it difficult given that his body's natural reaction to holding the tide back was to get kind of hard. Drake pulled himself out as he drew the boxers down, but every inch he withdrew, there just seemed to be more. Drake's brow furrowed in confusion that quickly turned to wonder. There was more in there than there should have been, more to take out... He had a handful of his shaft, as much as he'd ever had, and there was still more in there... that idea alone started to make him harder.

"What the fuck..." Drake whispered, pulling the boxers down lower with his left hand while pulling his cock up with his right, doing a strange sort of plié move. When his member finally pulled free, it flung up with an audible smack against his stomach, coming shockingly close to his nipples. Drake stood there with zebra print boxers around his knees and the largest cock he'd ever seen held aloft by his palm. For a split second he forgot why he was even in there, but then his body reminded him with a well-placed pang from deep inside his abdomen.

Drake waddled over to the urinal, brought his second hand up to help support himself and then tried to release. The change in pressure felt alien and strange, but after the initial oddity there came this welling sense of physical gratification before a laser focused, high pressure amber stream of urine erupted from his immense tool. It hit the urinal with such impact that he had to take half a step back to avoid splattering on himself, but with a bit of careful guidance, he kept everything in the zone.

With the utmost emergency being taken care of, Drake was left with a mystery quite literally on his hands. He looked down at his cock with dumbfounded wonder. It wasn't just twice as long as normal; it was almost three times normal. It was his, arguably, with the same veins and the same cinnamon skin tone, but it was fatter and MUCH longer than he'd ever even imagined. It wasn't just big; it was a monster. He was hung like a horse... or a zebra. With his bladder still half full, Drake looked down at the boxers around his waist. His ass felt so cold without them, even the air didn't feel as soft against his skin as they had. They'd been the best fit of his life, hugging his package.

"My balls!" Drake whispered before he reached for them, though it was enough to nearly make a mess as he peed. He cringed and grabbed back on, keeping himself steady. After what felt like an eternity, the last spray left his cock. With a gentleman's tap to get rid of any excess, Drake gently let go of his mighty member and reached down. With a simple examination, it seemed that his balls had been given the same treatment. They were engorged, plump, full, and so very soft. Drake let go and took half a step back, reaching up to wipe the sweat off his forehead, taking off his hat. His black hair sprung up along the center, carrying on the crest he always had with the bedhead fauxhawk he'd been noticing more and more.

Drake stood there for a moment, looking over in the mirror, seeing how his hair stood up... like a mane... He let out a sound as he wriggled out of the boxers, kicking them off, stumbling a few steps back. He looked down at them in shock, at their bold pattern on the dull cement floor. They were just underwear; how could they have an effect like that? But it wasn't a second puberty, it wasn't something in the water. What else could it have been? Somewhere outside he heard a slight thumping, the sound of a hand knocking on glass. He had customers...

"Shit, shit-shit-shit." Drake whispered before he decided to grab his boxers, throw them in the cupboard and tug his pants back up. He took special care as he zipped up so as not to catch anything before he took a deep breath. Whatever was going on, he couldn't lose his job over it. He had to get back to work. Drake put on the best poker face he could before he wandered back out, moving to the front door to unlock it and let in the waiting customers.

****

The after-dinner crowd had come and gone and business was trickling down once more. One customer had come into the store in the last half hour, but he had kept mostly to the movie section, purchasing a handful of volumes and asking if Drake had any greenray movies. Drake confessed he'd never heard of them and the customer left with disappointment. As silence reigned supreme, Drake found himself on his cellphone, combing through the Wikipedia article on zebras.

"Low-quality vegetation, mostly grasses..." Drake murmured, thinking back to his grocery shopping. He scrolled down further, finding himself in the reproduction section, "Harems?!" he muttered to himself, blushing even more furiously. As much as he didn't want to believe it, all of his recent habits seemed to be held in common with zebras. There was something about those boxers that had triggered something in him. It was terrifying, confusing, and yet sort of amazing. He was bigger than almost every product in the store. If he could piss like a racehorse, if he was hung like a racehorse, then the real question was what else could he do like a horse?

The idea excited Drake, making his enormous cock swell tighter in his pants, snaking its way down his pant leg since it was no longer contained by his undergarments. The question remained, what would he do? If a few days had changed him that much, what would a few more do? He couldn't risk it, at least not until he knew more. Did his bosses know they were selling questionable merchandise? Drake's eyes widened and he moved to jump off the stool, though his tailbone caught the rim. He stumbled a bit but managed to get out from behind the counter, running over to the clothing rack only to realize the only outfit left was the naughty maid... all of the other pairs had already sold.

"Oh boy..." Drake whispered to himself, feeling the immensity of the situation circle around him like a hungry lion.

****

Tossing and turning was a new experience for Drake, but he wasn't just wrestling with his conscience. Without the zebra boxers, he was wrestling with his own monster as well. It seemed that no matter which way he was laying, his cock was ready for play time. He'd tried laying on his stomach at first, but the weight and friction had only roused its attention. Laying on his back left it resting there, draped across his stomach, begging for attention. On his sides, it just seemed to throb and bounce with his heartbeats. Drake groaned and growled, his black hair getting soaked with sweat and sticking up more. No matter what he tried to do, ignoring it didn't seem to be working. He'd have to face it head on.

With a grunt, Drake rolled onto his back, snorting a blast of air through his nose. He reached out with one hand, then the other, lifting his cock up. In the dim moonlight it seemed almost bigger, somehow. It was a monument to masculinity, a tribute to his virility. It would have been the envy of every porn star in the movies that he sold... and it was his. Maybe all he had to do in order to get some sleep was to let off a little pressure, a little steam? Drake started to lift his hands up the length, then back down. Up, down, up, down. It was natural, like the tides. His cock seemed to like it, growing to full attention. In moments his pillar was as hard as stone. Drake picked up the pace, getting more into it. He lifted his hips up, he let his ass drop down. He gyrated and thrust, working out more, starting to bounce on his mattress. He shuddered, a leg kicking in the air a bit as he went at it. Sweat beaded across his brow. His bush glistened in the light of the moon. His nipples were as hard as diamonds.

As the pleasure and friction increased, Drake's mind began to wander. He thought of all the hot men he'd been seeing lately, from the grocery store clerks to his customers. He thought of high school friends, movie stars, then all of them together... The idea of a harem seemed quite appealing, and he would be their stud, their stallion. He grunted more, panting hard, feeling that fever pitch climbing higher and higher. His balls throbbed, his cock ached, his urethra flared. As he felt that glowing, gleaming, golden euphoria blossoming in his brain, it was tainted by one terrifying realization. If he came now, and if he came there, and if he came with half as much intensity as he pissed, he was going to destroy his room with no way to clean it up.

With split seconds to spare, Drake did the only thing he could think of. He sat up in bed, pulled his cock down and plunged his lips around the fat head of his huge cock just as his load erupted. A powerful jet of salty, musky cum filled his mouth with such intensity that it leaked out around the corners of his lips and nearly made him gag... But he wasn't done cumming. Another spurt came, bulging out his cheeks. He knew if a third came, it would go up his nose. Drake did the only thing he could and swallowed. As that silky, sticky, thick cream slid down his throat, a hunger he never knew he had begun to satiate. It was like the nectar of the gods. It was thick and plentiful, manly and perfect. It was like ambrosia.

A dull, drunk, satisfied expression glazed across Drake's eyes as he sucked himself off. Gulp by gulp, he filled his own belly, nursing off his own cock. His concerns melted away, his fears and worries were erased. He was a stud, a stallion, and he couldn't fight it. This had just been the start. He had to see it through. He had to give in. If his boxers were the forbidden fruit of the loom, it was time to leave the garden...

****

Late afternoon sunlight streamed through the uppermost parts of the windows to the shop, allowing narrow bands of illumination into the otherwise obscure and obfuscated store. The owners stood by the register, discussing the pros and cons about supporting the development of a full dungeons and dragons style roleplaying game that required the implementation of sexy dice, their conversation heated and animated. It was so nerdy and so passionately enjoyed that on any other day, Drake would have loved it... but this wasn't an ordinary day.

The nineteen-year-old had showed up to work a bit early and had left his bosses to their devices before quieting away to the back room. He closed the door behind him before easing into the bathroom, ensuring that door was shut as well. The light was flicked on, the cupboard was opened, and Drake reached in to extract the evidence. The boxers had been right where he had left them, rumpled and coiled up from being rolled down and tossed haphazardly.

"All of this fuss over a bunch of cotton." Drake whispered to himself. It had been quite the effort to get from his house to the adult shop without waking the beast. He'd had to force himself to eat some of his mom's breakfast despite being full to the brim from the night's exploits. He wanted to be disgusted or horrified with himself, but he couldn't. Simply put, the boxers had made him feel better than he ever had and embracing that part of himself had brought him a strange Zen. If the boxers were forbidden, he wanted them all the more.

Drake carefully slid off his shoes, lowered his pants and then grabbed the boxers from the counter, straightening them out. They were so soft, so sleek, the black and white stripes so fashionable. Drake never wanted to be apart again. He lifted one leg up and slipped them down, feeling it glide through. Then he did the same with the other leg. With a firm grip on either side, he tugged them up. The boxers were such a perfect fit they nearly made a pop sound as they cupped and held his ass, pulling the cheeks apart to make room for the swollen protrusion coming from his tailbone. With the back in place, the matter came down to just getting the right fit up front.

It should have felt strange to plunge his hand into his underwear so many times in his workplace, but it WAS an adult shop after all. He took one firm, plump, oversized ball and slid it through the lower pouch and off to one side before following suit with the other. With his sack firmly in place, it became time to deal with the python. Drake took a hold of the head and positioned it at the pouch slit inside the boxers before he started feeding it through like some elaborate garden hose.

Inch by inch, his meat sunk down into the sleeve. He felt its silky, smooth, sleek embrace... but it seemed to be embracing a bit too tight. It was snug, almost too snug. Drake grimaced a bit, still trying to get his cock in there. The more he pushed, the more the boxers strained. The pouch filled to the brim; the tent stretched out as far as it could go. Drake grunted, trying to push it in more and more, but it just didn't seem to want to go. Drake grunted hard and gave it one more push, feeling the waistband tighten around his waist until he heard a loud snap.

At first Drake wasn't sure what happened. He looked down and saw the elastic band on the tile, but the boxers were still in place... at least that was what he assumed at first. To be correct, the stripes were still in place... His muscular ass was striped with black and white; his hips were striped with black and white, even his balls were covered with a fine layer of velvety smooth white fur... but the boxers were on the floor. The fabric had landed a short distance away. Drake looked down in shock, taking a step to the side. His long, impressive cock gave one long swing to one side before arching back like a pendulum. It wasn't covered in cotton anymore, but it had taken on a new hue.

Drake stood there, looking down at a waist that had undergone a radical shift. His mammoth member was jet black from base to tip. His hips were in zebra print... and it was spreading. At first it seemed like an optical illusion, but the curvy stripes that covered his midsection were stretching downward like dripping paint. New layers of fur bristled out from his skin. His cock was slowly lifting upward, hardening from all the attention. Drake murmured to himself, backing up until his back was against the wall. He had brought this on himself. He'd gotten gluttonous, greedy, he'd bought into the sin and now there was no turning back. Drake moaned, grunting hard, feeling his heartbeat in his cock.

As much as he wanted to fight it, one hand drifted down, taking a grip of that thick meat. The other hand soon joined it. By instinct alone, his hands began to slide back and forth. He could feel how thick he was, how heavy, how dense. Each thrust of his hands seemed to pump more blood into his cock. The skin was tough and dark, but the more he thrust, the more it engorged until the mushroom shaped head of his cock began to firm and tighten, losing its curve. It blunted and flattened, flaring outward, extending past the diameter of his shaft. The urethra was larger, matching his cock. Drake moaned out loud, his voice echoing on the tiled walls. He looked over at the mirror, watching himself manhandle his horse meat. There was no denying it. He wasn't human anymore, at least down there. He was a stud, a stallion. He was hung like a horse, or rather a zebra.

The aches and pains that had been filling his tailbone for a week reached a critical point until, all at once, the pain seemed to subside. Every ounce of restraint his body had been applying came out all at once. Inch after inch of tail descended behind his perky black and white ass as the tail filled out. A tuft of black hair emerged from the tip, forming a bit of a whip-like end. The spreading fur had continued its downward descent, wrapping around his knees, then his legs, advancing towards his toes - or at least what had been his toes.

Drake looked down, unable to stop from masturbating, but still shocked by what he saw. It was very hard to put boxers on while shoes were on, and he had been in such a hurry to get to work that he'd neglected to wear socks. His bare feet were planted on the floor beneath him, but in that proverbial soil it seemed something new was growing. His toes looked slick and soft; the flesh spongy. It had clung and stuck together before the skin regained integrity, pulling the toes together. As the skin fused, the bones segmented and shifted. His toenails turned from pearly white to boney ivory and then dark brown. The keratin forming them oozed outward in a shocking display before the dull bathroom lights began to shine off of something solid rather than liquid. His merged, wedge like toes disappeared as the hoofs formed and thickened, ringing around his feet. They coated the tips as his anatomy shifted before he began to feel a bit of heft picking up beneath him.

The transforming teenager lifted one leg and brought it down, then did the same on the other. He was standing taller, almost by an inch. His hooves filled out as his ankles changed. Whatever he was becoming, it had to have a good foundation. The striped fur crept down what had once been his ankles, taking root all the way up to the edge of his hooves. The frizzy bush around his huge cock softened into a gentle plume. From the waist down, there was no denying that Drake was a zebra. He had the stripes, he had the package, he had the tail and the hooves... but other than a rather gratuitous treasure trail of black fur climbing up to his belly button, it seemed like that was going to be all of it... at least until Drake looked up in the mirror.

The clerk had been so fixated on his lower extremities that he had not taken the time to realize that the stress he was going through physically was taking its toll and turning him grey before his time - or more accurately, white. A streak of white had appeared in his hair above his left ear, looking sort of like a sort of swirl. A few more appeared behind it, but only where his hair had been shaved short. The crest running down the middle stayed pitch black, and the hair seemed to be standing taller and prouder than before.

Drake reached up to brush his hand over his mane, though his hand paused. His fingernails had turned to a brown and then finally a black, just as his hooves had. It seemed there was no getting away from the monochromatic style. Drake turned, finding similar white swirls on the right side of his head. He turned one way, then the other, back and forth, admiring his mane. He leaned into the mirror a little closer, looking at the tips of his ears. They were a bit more pointed than they had been before... Not enough to make anyone doubt his humanity on that alone, but it was just different enough. Leaning in that close to the mirror made him scrunch up his face, his mouth open a bit, and soon his attention drifted to that.

"Not my teeth...." Drake whispered, opening his mouth as far as he could. While he hadn't completely lost his canine teeth, it seemed that in general they had all blunted and flattened to a degree, giving him the equipment needed to enjoy his new diet more efficiently. Drake took a few steps back, getting a look at the new him. He had given into temptation and now he appeared to be a part of the animal kingdom, maybe even the sort of beast that might have once been in the garden of Eden. Drake looked down at himself, then his shaft... his huge, Amazon, stallion shaft. Whatever happened next, he had to at least finish.

Drake hoisted himself up with both hands, plunging his lips around the fat, plump, pert equine cock that the forbidden boxers had bestowed upon him. He began to suck and slurp on the tip as his hands rose and fell along its length. There was no time for subtlety or grace as he went at it. Even his stance was provocative, his new hooves making him stand in a way that showed off all of his assets. Just a quick glance up to the mirror was enough to push Drake over the edge and once more he was force feeding himself zebra cum.

He tried his best to swallow it all, but it came out so fast and with such volume that he eventually had to let go, allowing his fountain of jizz to come splattering down into the urinal. It would be a mess to clean up, but at least it would be contained. Drake rode the high for several minutes until his balls finally subsided and his cock let out the last few drops. Drake panted, his heart racing. He was in the middle of a sex shop as some half human, half zebra creature. There was no denying it, but it wasn't exactly the outcome he'd ever anticipated for himself. Through it all, though, two questions remained. What would come next, and had this happened to anyone else? It seemed that the answer to both of those questions rested with the people that had originally ordered the unusual merchandise.

****

Gentle, tender steps were taken as Drake moved out from the back of the shop. He'd managed to get his pants back on, though they were rather ill fitting with his horse meat and tail. There had been no hope to get his hooves into shoes. Still, it was just enough cover to give him a fleeting chance of going undetected. He navigated down the liquid aisle, past the massage creams and the lubricants, approaching the cash register before his eyes fell on yet another unexplainable visage.

The shop's owners stood right where they had been when Drake went into the back to retrieve his boxers, but they were no longer themselves - or, at least the versions that Drake had come to know. Adam stood there defending his point, serious and focused, but each time he spoke, a thick red and cream-colored tail swung behind him, the black tip grazing the floor. Added to it, his ears were different too, sticking out in fuzzy beige points that contrasted his frizzy red hair.

"Red panda..." Drake whispered to himself, his eyes moving over to Steve. He was still solidly built and stocky, but now Drake could see why. His carefully groomed hair had stripes in it, but so did his cheeks. His strong arms were crossed, his hands ending in claws. Even his nose looked different. It was a little harder to place, but after a moment Drake realized that Steve reminded him of a badger.

"Hey man, I just wanted to say thanks." A deep, gravelly voice came from behind. Drake gasped as he spun around, nearly stumbling back as he came face to face with someone that looked as if they had stepped right out of the boss's D&D game. The customer's head almost seemed too small on his broad shoulders, his t-shirt so tight it was cutting into his beefy, tattooed arms. A thick chain hung around his neck and a snapback hat was pulled tight onto his shaved head. All of that Drake was used to, but it was the ardent green skin tone and the thick tusks protruding from his thick lower lip that caught him off guard. After the initial shock ebbed, Drake's brain started working again.

"The... orc-ganic muscle cream?" Drake asked. The orc grinned wide and clapped a meaty hand onto Drake's shoulder.

"You have no idea how hard it is to find. You're a lifesaver." the thug said before he bowed his head to the owners and headed out. Having spotted the exchange, Steve looked up.

"Hey, Drake, you bought that Forbidden Fruit of the Loom underwear, right?" the badger asked. Drake went pale at that, almost as pale as his white stripes.

"I thought I'd take your advice and try to speak to something I had experience with..." Drake said, frozen in place in the middle of the store. Adam looked a little concerned.

"We just got our backorder shipment in if you wanted a pair that fit better. I'm sorry that all we had before was small." Adam explained. Drake's jaw slowly dropped at that.

"Those were SMALL?!" he asked before looking down at the bulge in his pants. If that was what an ill-fitting pair of Forbidden Fruit of the Looms could do, he couldn't even begin to imagine what a larger pair was capable of.