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Badder Beer

An Alternate Buffyverse Story

Written by Leo_Todrius

Supported by my Patrons

Special Thanks to Zephyr10101

The old leather-bound book had been sitting for countless ages. The leather itself was the hide of a species not only long extinct, but also forgotten from the collective memory of those that dwelled on Earth. The pages were brittle with age, yellowed, but sustained by a magic beyond reckoning. They spoke of heaven and hell, of other dimensions, of a key that opened the door between those realms. They spoke of the loom of fate and destiny with threads being woven together to create a tapestry... but the weaving of one reality often led to the unraveling of another. One choice, one change of heart could ripple out across the ether, creating an entirely different series of events. As if it had a will of its own, the old leather cover slowly opened itself, displacing a cloud of dust into the air. The old pages began to turn, flipping through passage after passage before coming to a stop on a depiction of a most strange sight - a caveman being hit by an automobile.

****

The swirling chaos of the pub stabbed like ice picks into Xander's brain as he endured his trial by fire. While anyone else in Sunnydale had obtained a fake driver's license with the intent to purchase alcohol underage, Xander had the singular distinction of getting one in order to serve it. He had tried to impress upon his friends that this was a chance for himself to forge his destiny, though in his typical eloquence he'd managed to say instead 'Nothing can defeat the penis!' as a humorous punchline. It had come to nothing given the fact that Buffy had made up with her crush Parker and they had come to the decision to try to break his string of woman chasing.

When Xander had made it through the backlog of beverages, he decided to attempt to practice the skills he brought to the table. Seeing a rather lovely blond woman with a tapered bob cut. Xander felt reassured when he saw something extending from her mouth.

"Rough day?" he asked, extending a lighter out in anticipation of the fulfillment that would come with his newly acquired position. The young woman spun to face the bartender, a stirring stick withdrawn from between her teeth.

"No, it's been super. We accepted Melody's pledge and made her a sister of Beta Delta Gamma." she gushed, a dawning excitement blossoming from her eyes, "And our pins arrived today. I designed it myself." She added, tugging the edge of her blouse to reveal the enameled metal.

"You are so sharp." Xander said, obviously pleased with his pun. The moment of verbal victory was clouded as another of the college students swept up in a key lime green button up shirt, sliding directly into the young woman's view.

"Hey, Paula. You keeping this fine bartender from his duty? A man's gotta make a living." the student commented.

"It's all right." Xander said, an attempt to diffuse the situation. The patron leaned closer to Paula, disregarding the bartender's comment.

"So the guys and l, we're celebrating..." he began in hushed tones.

"I said it's all right. I'm due for a break." Xander clarified. This seemed to finally earn the attention of the student who turned almost incredulous eyes on the bartender.

"So what were you discussing? Maybe we can all join." he asked with a biting invitation.

"Colm, Be nice." Paula said, slapping her compatriot's shoulder.

"What? He asked coyly.

"Forget it." Xander said, realizing he may have bitten off more than he could chew.

"No, no. I rudely interrupted. It sounds like the two of you were having quite the meeting of minds." his verbal sparring partner said, looking back and forth between Paula and Xander, "Debating the geopolitical ramifications of bioengineering? You have a take on that?" Colm's question hung in the air for a moment with no witty jibes rising to Xander's arsenal.

"I've got beer. You want some beer?" Xander offered in an attempt at reconciliation.

"Uh, yeah. A pitcher of Black Frost. See, I think we have a perfect venue here for conducting a little sociometry. A bipolar continuum of attraction and rejection. Now, given your socioeconomic statuses, I foresee a B rejects A dyad." Colm commented, pausing for such a short moment that it could have been mistaken for taking a breath rather than giving Xander a moment to respond, "I'm sorry, let me clarify. You see, we are the future of this country and you keep the bowl of peanuts full. We are what these girls want... And, uh, four glasses." he added to punctuate his victory. The indignation, the superiority, the smugness... it all seemed to boil up inside of Xander until it took on the form of defiance.

"How's about I see some ID? You're not getting a drop until I'm satisfied-" Xander was cut off as his employer passed behind him.

"Just give him a beer." The gruff voice commanded.

"Thanks." Colm said with a modest shrug to Paula before they took their drinks and went off to find a table. Xander felt his defeat settling in a familiar way onto his shoulders. Alexander LaVelle "Xander" Harris was used to this. He was the normie, the townie, the groupie. He had no supernatural powers. He didn't even have bartender powers... at least not yet. The night was young and it was only his first night. It was a setback that it didn't come naturally, but maybe with practice it might.

****

It was a chemistry set that would have made Doctor Frankenstein envious. Beakers bubbled, distillers sent out concentrated liquid down long winding spirals. Flasks collected the product until it was time to move down the pipeline. Every color was represented in the modern day version of a witch's brew. How fitting it was all in the ancient, dusty cellar. Spider-webs clung to ancient fixtures. The only thing modern in the cellar were the kegs of Dark Frost beer sitting beneath the business end of the chemistry set, collecting drip after drip of the tainted concoction. It wasn't poison, no... the caring hands that ensured the progress knew that. It was an ancient magic, something to turn the tables instead of cleaning them.

****

"Chug, chug, chug, chug!" The chanting wouldn't have been out of place in the pub, though what set it apart was that Colm and his friends had apparently isolated a young man with a particular reputation when it came to UC Sunnydale's football team, or particularly what he did with them. The young man's dark hair was thick and braided, pulled into a loose ponytail of those braids. He licked a bit of foam from his upper lip, looking at the other young men that had singled him out from the crowd to join them.

"The thing that the modern day failed to realize is that all the socio-economical and psychological problems inherent in modern society can be solved by the judicious application of way too much beer." Colm said with his self-satisfied, smug grin.

"Black frost is the only beer." Hunt said with his deep voice, raising his mug before taking a sip.

"My parents always warned me that beer was the devil's brew." their guest of honor commented, the glitter in his eyes indicating that he might not particularly oppose such a thing.

"Evil. Good. These are moral absolutes that predate the absolution of malt and fine hops. You see, wait, where was I?" Colm asked, feeling a little more distracted than usual.

"Well, Thomas Equines and-" Roy's attempt to contribute to the conversation was cut off as the others declared unanimously 'No.'

"There will be no Thomas Equines at this table." Hunt declared.

"Keep your theology of providence to yourself frat boy." Cal commented.

"I was just drawing a parallel between-" Roy was once again cut off.

"Beer. Had the earliest morality developed under the influence of beer there would be no good or evil. It would just be kinda nice and pretty cool. Everything would be different." Colm said of his sudsy utopia.

"If you have such enlightened views, what do you think about breaking the stereotypical college romance? Breaking gender norms?" their guest asked, reaching up to brush a braid out of his face as he looked into Colm's eyes.

****

The hours had passed and the pub had started to thin out. Even without classes the following day, there were sports and lectures and other events that required a certain amount of rest from those attending. Colm's group, however, had deteriorated as they consumed a shocking amount of the Dark Frost beer. Their prim and proper postures had deteriorated to hunching forward, their limbs moving with slovenly precision.

"Stupid..." Colm murmured.

"No, you stupid." Hunt protested, punctuating his comment with a grunt.

"No you." Roy said, his brown hair soaked with a bit of sweat. A drunken chuckle erupted from all three as they traded their barbless insults. Xander would have assumed that having the night wound down would make his job easier, and in a way it had. The dishwasher was going, the bar was clean, the tables had been reset and he'd managed to clean most of the floor. Colm's group represented the last obstacle.

Xander considered turning the jukebox on, but he saw no reason to be civil with people that looked down on him so much. He slung a towel over his shoulder and headed over to the gathering.

"Alright, time to pay up and go home guys." Xander declared. The cogs and gears in their mind attempted a belabored turn as they struggled to recall what was appropriate for the situation. Roy reached into his pocket, extracting every paper bill he'd managed before throwing it on the table. It was a thick enough wad that Xander didn't object when Colm got up and stumbled away to the bathroom, disappearing inside. Debating the morality of taking advantage of some drunk college students, Xander began cherry picking bills out of the wad.

"Let's see, I'll take this one, and this one. And you know I've always had a problem calculating the tip and you guys being so dapper and brainy, maybe you can help me out. Okay great. See if your bill comes to thirty-eight dollars and people tip what, approximately thirty percent? That makes you tip what?" Xander asked. The question seemed to bring their thought process to a grinding halt. Roy's brow was furrowed and his tongue pushed against his lower lip, making it jut out in a way that made him seem more apelike. Cal responded to the mental quandary by tossing the entire bowl of peanut shells at Xander, sending them spilling across the table. After another moment's confusion, he slapped his hand down on the wad of cash and pushed it all towards Xander.

"You are so smart. This is so the right amount." Xander said, no longer feeling conflicted about taking advantage of them. His victory, however, was interrupted as he heard a thumping in the bathroom. The pictures on the wall swung a little with the impact. "Somebody didn't have their fiber today. Hey are you alright in there? Buddy?" Xander asked as he approached the bathroom.

The door burst open unexpectedly, sending part of the frame and molding flying outward as it practically splintered from the force applied. The young, cocky man that had been Colm was something else entirely. His hair was long and stringy down to his shoulders, his mouth protruded over teeth that were too large. The brow bone above his eyes was swollen and full. His pristine lantern jaw was framed by thick, dense facial hair and neck and wrists hinted at far more body hair as well. He grunted and panted, chest rising and falling, his shoulders abnormally wide set. Xander opened his mouth to say something witty, but the blunt end of a piece of bathroom wall paneling came down to strike him in the head and send him crumpling to the ground.

The moment spun in Xander's head like stars, his brain feeling as if it was swirling around the outside of the toilet basin. Dizzy and nauseous, he started to bring himself back around. As he opened his eyes, he saw the caveman crouched above him, sniffing him. Colm seemed to be trying, in his limited way, to contemplate something. As the last of his memories burned away, he thought of the conversation they'd had with... what had his name been? The man that had slept with the whole football team... Whatever his name was, Colm felt a stirring. He leaned down and kissed Xander, pressing lips to this other male with the smooth forehead. Xander grunted and murmured as his mouth filled with the taste of hops and wheat and fermentation, the saliva thick and copious. Roy, Hunt and Cal were backing away anxiously.

"Oh God!" Hunt murmured.

"Let's get outta here!" Cal protested. Breaking the kiss, Colm let out a reverberating roar into Xander's face to assert dominance. Xander tried to roar back, but the alpha caveman's roar had awoken something in the others; something ancient, something primal. The roar echoed back through the generations, through their ancestors, rattling the foundations to their very humanity. Ancient genes were awoken and evolutionary traits were suppressed. Finite synapses went dark while the core instincts lit up like a promethean flame inside their limited minds.

Roy had already stretched and strained to get out of his shirt, but now as he hunched over, his perfect frat boy back bent and arched and curved, new hair sprouting across it. Helios pores began to produce a tangy sweat that smelled of hops and fermentation. Bones crunched and popped as they expanded, sounding from his spine as his shoulders widened. He had been playing with his bottom lip with his tongue for an hour, but now his lips grew puffy, irritated by the teeth beneath that were stretching taller, thicker, and stronger. They were teeth for tearing and gnashing and they gave Roy an ape-like protomuzzle.

The urge Rory had given into to rid himself of restrictive clothing suddenly felt undeniable in the others. They pawed and clawed at their shirts, unable to grasp the complexities. Cal grabbed at one shoe and tossed it across the room as he doubled over, clawing at his sock to free his foot. As soon as the bare sole came down, it crunched and popped and spread outward, his foot flattening and lengthening in moments. The other shoe grew painfully tight as the laces started cutting into the fabric. He kicked the shoe off with a grunt, standing on the end of the sock with his larger foot to hold it in place as he extracted the other. As his heel came down to the floor, it felt far more natural than the rest of their human trappings.

Hunt's brain felt like it was sinking into a tar pit. His skull ached and throbbed, burning up. He grunted and growled as his perfect black hair swept to the sides as his brow bone began to stretch and swell. It extended out over his eyes like a shelf, casting dark inky shadows into the sockets below. His skull thickened in general, making his cheekbones more pronounced. His face tingled and then burned as dark, coarse hair began to sprout down the cheeks, racing towards his chin. New patches appeared on his chest, but the heat hadn't stopped with just his skull reshaping. His scalp felt like it was on fire as his hair follicles went into overdrive. The straight, even, relatively easy to manage Indian hair he'd inherited from his mother became longer, stringier, even greasier.

Cal's snorts and grunts became howls as his brow bone pushed out, but he was distracted by the pops and snaps coming from his nose as it broadened and blunted. His lips peeled back, revealing his teeth. The upper jaw seemed to produce sharper teeth, each one yellowed with thick saliva and the remnants of the beer he'd guzzled. In fact, aside from the changes to the rest of his body, the buzz of the beer was still there. He continued to bear his teeth as they grew out, stretching his mouth around them. His jawline itched and then tingled as his beard grew out, a chinstrap that was uneven and unruly within moments.

Colm stood there, the heaving breath leading him to rise and droop like the ocean waves. He watched the others change so rapidly, becoming what they were meant to be. He felt a stirring in his loins as he watched them, smelling their masculinity, knowing they were the apex predators even if he no longer knew what those particular words meant. Roy, already the one with the least clothing, grabbed at his shoe and tore it off, tossing it as if it was some sort of offensive bear trap. His sock came next, then the other shoe, a furious shrieking coming until his bare, hairy feet came down on the floor of the pub. Rory hopped from one side to the other, hair spreading down the small of his back and his navel at the same time. His arms were wiry, furry, exposed.

Colm, Hunt and Cal had more clothing on, but they each felt the brush of their newly stringy hair brushing their shoulders and felt the heft and weight of their swollen brows. They had been de-evolved, turned into lower life forms, but that lower life form came with benefits. They felt strong, powerful and incredibly manly. The trappings of society had been burned away, revealing only an untapped kinetic energy that had finally been set loose in the world. Even with the strain of such a rapid transformation, they felt like every muscle was ready to spring. With the distraction, Xander managed to get himself upright.

"Hey, easy. We're cool!" Xander said, retreating as they advanced, backing him into a corner. It felt different than being around four other men. These were beasts, barely above the level of animals. They exuded a primitive energy and a very real sense of danger. "Oh god..." Xander muttered before he reached into his pocket and withdrew the lighter he'd gotten specifically for this job. With a flick of his finger, a tall flame erupted from it. The cavemen let out shrieks and grunts of dismay, backing up.

"Fire bad... Fire... pretty..." Colm murmured.

"Fire angry!" Xander said, taking a lunge forward. The cavemen screamed and ran, bursting out of the pub and fleeing into the night. Xander quickly shut the door and locked it, taking only half a moment to recompose himself and run a tongue around his mouth. It still tasted like beer. Pushing that out of his mind, he headed into the back of the pub to find his boss.

"Jack! Jack! We've got a problem. The guys, they-they're some of the patrons are turning into cavemen!" Xander reported. The utter lack of regard on the proprietor's face was shocking in and of itself. His bald head glistened in the artificial lights, wreathed by the remnants of ginger hair.

"They've had it comin'." he said simply, lifting some more Black frost beer onto the counter. Did you know I've been taking abuse from snot nosed kids for twenty years? They're always coming in here with their snotty attitude, drinking their fruity little micro brews and spouting out some philosophy Like it means a damn thing. Thinking they're different than us." Jack vented. Xander set aside the fact that he'd been treated the same way, hung up on Jack's comment that they were different.

"They are now." Xander said.

"They ain't. That's the great thing about beer. It makes all men the same." Jack said as if he was espousing a universal truth. Xander shook his head.

"Why are we talking about beer? The guys are..." he trailed off, looking at the Black Frost on tap, the Black Fost in bottles, the kegs of it beneath the counter, "the beer..." he said in realization.

"Neat huh? My brother-in-law's a warlock. He showed me how to do it." Jack said with modest pride. Xander felt that nausea returning.

"No. Not neat. I served them that beer. I served everyone that beer!" he said, realizing he might get fired before his first day was over, "Uh, how much beer would you say a person would need to consume before they start seriously questing for fire?"

"Relax. It will wear off in a day or so." Jack said, continuing to restock the storeroom as if he hadn't just de-evolved a half dozen young men.

"In a day or so someone is going to get killed. You're a bad, bad man." Xander said before he threw his towel down on the counter and stormed out of the pub, intent to try and make up for the fact that he served the boys the tainted drink.

****

The night was young even if the world was old. It was a brave new land for the four cavemen as they ran across campus, feeling nature beneath their feet and the wind in their long, stringy hair. They played, they explored, enriching themselves in the habitat they found themselves in. Cal ate some leaves and Roy had to try them as well. They barked and grunted and whooped, rolling across the grass spontaneously before mantling up into the trees. When the branch eventually gave way and collapsed, Colm came tumbling out of the tree to roll across the grass again. Roy broke out into a noxious, chittering laugh that was grating as his beard and body hair ruffled in the breeze.

Feeling not only annoyed but also diminished, Colm lifted one of the branches that had fallen when he did and used it to club Roy across the head. The way he collapsed brought that same grating laughter to Colm's lips as he laughed at his victim before he turned and staggered after the others. They loped along with gangly arms and unbidden feet, unable to process something as modern as a sedan speeding toward them.

Colm stood in the headlights, trying with his feeble mind to process the stimuli as it tried and failed to skid to a stop in time. The car thumped into Colm and sent him sprawling backwards across the asphalt. Grunts of confusion came from the cavemen as they looked at this strange metal beast that had run down their leader even as the driver side door opened and another frat boy climbed out.

"I didn't see him, is he okay?" he asked in gripping anxiety. He turned to solicit their answer, only to see their primitive features... The brows, the vacant eyes, the body hair... He turned to run away, that act alone triggering the hunter instinct in the cavemen. While Hunt and Cal moved to start beating the car down with the clubs they had fashioned out of branches, Roy went running after the driver.

It was like something out of a nature documentary. The human ran in uneven steps while Rory loped after him on all fours, fists pounding the asphalt with a leathery persistence while large, hairy feet propelled him. He pounced and tackled the other driver, a student, sending them toppling over the sidewalk and halfway into the shrubs that bordered the street. The student turned upward to see a hairy, ape-like caveman and screamed, but Rory came down to kiss him. The scream was muffled as the oddly beer flavored saliva started to drip into his mouth. The driver's screams lessened, even as Rory's hands tore open his jacket, then his shirt. Rough fingers began to caress and massage the other man's chest before pinching and tugging at his nipples.

A lump began to form on the driver's groin and Rory broke the kiss to let out a triumphant shriek and scream of delight. He leaned in and began to nibble and bite the driver's neck with his strange, caveman teeth. The driver began to grunt and pant, hips pressing upwards, trying to hump the other. Confused at first, Rory grunted and shrieked in understanding before he began to tear at his own limited clothing, revealing a swollen, bloated, firm uncut cock and almost furry balls. When he tore at the driver's pants and boxers, he fished out an equally hard, though more modern phallus.

For a moment Rory didn't seem clear what to do with it, but after his conversation at dinner, he kicked off the remnants of his pants, brought his furry ass cheeks to slide up and down the length of the other man before he slowly lowered his haunches. Rory's shrieks and hoots grew wilder as he felt himself stretch over the modest member, but he grabbed onto the driver's hair with both hands and resumed kissing him roughly. The other wriggled uncertainly at first until his hips began to involuntarily rise and fall, thrusting deeper and deeper. The kisses he shared with Rory went from reluctant to eager, then hungry, even desperate. His lips swelled up over sized teeth. Sweat began to leak from every pore. His shoes grew tight and constrained too much, and the brow bone that had been so perfectly groomed became bushy and began to push out.

Kissing, biting, fucking and humping... It had taken only moments for Rory to pass on the curse of the Dark Frost beer. The driver was exhaling breaths that smelled of beer and suds. His cock stretched and thickened inside of Rory's ass. Buttons popped off his polo as the collar tore downward to reveal thicker, meatier pecs. The jacket constrained around his shoulders until stitches popped and fabric tore, revealing his thickening arms.

"So good..." The driver moaned, his voice uneven and stilted.

"Beer good!" Rory replied affectionately, feeling a longing for that foamy, sudsy goodness.

****

Xander had stormed out of Jack's pub with such defiance, such conviction, such... what? He knew he had been supposed to do something, to warn someone, to get someone's help? But who? Thinking gave him a headache. He'd become a bartender to connect with people, to prove his worth. This had gotten out of hand quickly and surely he could... he could what? Xander slowed to a stop, leaning a hand against a tree to prop himself up. He grunted and winced as his hand grew larger, each finger thicker and calloused. He winced, eyes squinting as his brow bone began to swell, darling the space around his eyes.

A groan of pain snapped Xander back to the moment. He turned to see Colm laying in the street, nursing what was likely a set of bruised ribs. Xander moved toward him but stumbled, his gait feeling off. His shoulders slumped, his arms dropping lower at his sides until he sort of loped along. His shoes felt cumbersome, like an afterthought. Xander crouched down on his haunches next to Com, reaching out to gently poke at him. Colm shirked in pain and ape-like defiance, slapping Xander's hand away. Something inside Xander's mind snapped at being rebuffed again. He tangled his fingers in Colm's long, stringy blond hair and pulled him up into a forced kiss. Colm tried to fight it, but the connection was there. Within moments their over-large lips were parting and oddly thick tongues were tangling.

Xander was greeted with the worst case of beer breath he'd ever encountered. Colm's saliva was like alcoholic gel, practically capped with its own foam... and he couldn't get enough. He kissed Colm, drank in that heady taste, moving to straddle the prone caveman. Despite his injuries, Xander started to hump and grind against him. Even hurt, Colm returned the favor, humping upwards. Xander sniffed and snorted against his partner, giving into the kissing. His years of woman chasing melted in this primal desire as he helped lift Colm's hips upward and started humping at his ass, revealing belatedly there was too much in the way.

Colm grunted and roared in dismay that their love was being interrupted as Xander tore his belt off, ripped open his pants and reached in to withdraw an absolute club of a cock. Even as he watched, his foreskin grew longer, inching over the head of the cock as the length grew broader and wider and thicker. He gave it a few strokes until the skin retracted again and moved to bring Colm the blessings of his member when he let out a frustrated grunt and began tearing at COlm's pants with both hands. Colm made sounds of equal parts pleasure and pain as his injured body was manhandled in such a way, but as his pants were torn asunder, he shivered in pleasure as Xander stroked one of Colm's very hairy legs and lifted it over his shoulder, then the other.

A sigh of odd contentment escaped Colm's lips as his ass was presented to Xander so easily, then a gasp of pleasure as he started to be speared open by it. Xander's thick, swollen brow furrowed in concentration as he inched his way in further and further, grabbing onto Colm's legs for leverage. When he started to get it right, he began to thrust farther and deeper, picking up the speed. Colm grunted a little, but the position actually seemed to alleviate the pain from the car crash.

The two were grunting and huffing in moments in the street, the intoxicant coursing through their veins. Xander's bronze and silver Hawaiian shirt grew tighter and tighter. A button popped off and bounced off Colm 's chest, then another. As the silky material pried apart, a hairy, growing chest was revealed. Every breath made Xander's abdomen larger, his pecs fuller, his nipples perkier. Without his belt, his pants sagged down over two half globes of a bubble butt that was darkening like the waning moon as brownish-black hair swept across it. Xander's arms darkened with more hair, as did his legs.

While most of the cavemen had torn off their shoes during the transformation or shortly after, Xander's limited mental capacity became aware of a growing pain on his heels. He'd run after the cavemen in his sneakers and now they were having to contend with rapid growth. Xander's feet had stretched longer, wider and flatter. His heels were now pillar foundations for his towering form. The shoe stretched, twisting under the torque until it could bend no more. One popped off, then the other, revealing Xander had not worn any socks for his first day of work. The rank smell of faintly beer scented feet filled the air as he wiggled toes, each digit now sprouting a small flock of hair.

Colm grunted harder and harder, but he forced his full eyes open, looking up at the man that had been Xander. Without drinking the beer directly, he'd gotten a contact-drunk that changed him. More than that, without his head being clouded by the complex thinking associated with Colm and his 'think tank', Xander was succumbing faster and harder. His brow was the thickest of all the men and his brownish-black hair had grown from a perfect crown to an uneven, jagged mane that rapidly slunk down toward his shoulders.

Dark stubble blossomed not only on Xander's jawline as it had with the others, but also a mustache that curved around his projected, distended teeth. His hair hit his shoulders and kept going, even as more buttons popped off his shirt. As the silk came apart, it revealed a dense forest of fur across his chest and stomach - hair that was no doubt equaled by a forest on his back. His sleeves caught, stretched, popped and then tore as his chest grew and grew. Colm started to grow fearful, realizing Xander was getting bigger than he and all of his brothers... but Xander didn't want to dominate with force when he could dominate with lust.

The grunts and growls escaping Xander's mouth grew deeper in pitch as he thrust up into Colm deep enough to rock the blonde's body. Xander's stringy black hair now spilled over his shoulders, reaching the small of his back while his facial hair was bushy and thick, coarse and descending past his Adam's apple. His fingernails were milky and thick, his back arched and his hips bowed. Xander had devolved just a little bit further beyond the others, but it had given him an advantage as he thrust into Colm.

To say love-making was an art form might have been true, and it might have required a certain amount of sophistication. Xander showed no subtle graces as he rutted with Colm, shaking the blond caveman with thrusts until he was delirious with pleasure. Colm's thick caveman cock began to spew thick, gooey, syrupy semen all over his hairy stomach and chest as his eyes rolled into the back of his thick skull. Xander kept going with no awareness that Colm had climaxed, maintaining his efforts until he, too, came inside the man that had insulted his intelligence. Xander let out a drooling moan of pleasure as he came, feeling every brain cell focus on pleasure rather than cognition. If he had been in his right mind, Colm might have asserted that he had been right - there was no good or evil, and he felt pretty nice mounted on the dominant male's cock.

****

Jack had always found the sensation of people putting money into his hand to be gratifying, but it was icing on the cake to know that frat bros were paying him to dumb themselves down into the degenerates they truly were. Jack smiled a sharp smile as the brunette tight end tilted the dolly back and rolled the tainted keg of Dark Frost beer away to serve to all of his fellow students. Jack eased the door to the cellar shut, slipped the money into his pocket and turned to examine the still that was working its magic on the catalyst.

"I'm a bad man..." Jack chuckled at Xander's words as he moved over, his shrewd eyes examining the countless ingredients as they bubbled and swirled and collected, vaporizing and condensing all over again. "I'm just a man, after all beer makes us all the same." he murmured.

Jack's examination of the still slowed to a stop when he saw one of the vessels was empty. His brow furrowed in confusion as he tried to run through his head what was missing. There weren't supposed to be any empty parts of the chemistry set. He reached out to touch the bottle but pulled back in shock at how hot the glass was. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong! Before Jack could pull back, the empty tube exploded. The glass shrapnel traveled outward in every direction, smashing through all of the other glass vestibules and tubes as it expanded outward. Jack dove to the dusty stone floor of the cellar to try and protect himself, though he felt the sting of a half dozen cuts.

Jack felt his heart thumping in his chest. All that work, all that effort, all that money and time invested... maybe it would be enough, but he hadn't planned for it all to come to such a rapid end. He looked up at where the chemistry set had been. Sure enough, it was destroyed. A few flasks remained, but most of it had been reduced to bits of glass and... a drip fell on Jack's forehead, running down to the tip of his nose before dripping to the floor. One drip was followed by another and another. Jack's eyes widened for a split second in shock, but then he couldn't remember why that was a bad thing. After all, he wasn't hurt, he was... The thought drifted off before Jack could grab onto it. The moment of fog invading his brain was suddenly replaced with an intense and burning pain.

A growl left Jack's lips as his brow tightened again, his eyes clenching shut. As he braced, his brow bone pushed out from his skull, the bone thickening and expanding rapidly. His eyebrows grew bushier and more unkempt as the shadows crept over his eyes. His heavy breathing came with his jaw hanging open and slack before he tipped his bald head back and let out a roar. As he called out in primal anguish, his teeth grew hot and soft, expanding wider and thicker and blunter. Their size made his lips push out around his teeth even as his ears grew slightly rounder and fuller.

The white polo Jack wore grew tighter over his shoulders as they curved and arched, a hunch forming to his back. His blunt fingers clawed and scraped at the stone floor as hair sprouted from his knuckles. His exposed arms, already hairy, were quickly becoming coating in almost fur. While his bald head still glistened, the hair that ringed the bald spot began to grow out longer and stringier, descending in waves. His face bristled with new stubble, darkening as centimeter after centimeter extruded. A pop came, then a snap, then tearing as his polo began to split out. Bulging, beefy arms emerged from torn sleeves. His rapidly filling out chest popped one pectoral free, then another. The polo tore down the front to reveal a swelling muscle gut that put all of the students to shame.

Jack grunted hard, using his left foot to kick off his right shoe, then vice versa. Freed from their confines, his old socks were stretched tight over wriggling and streaming feet. His toes flexed and bent, the arch of his feet curved, and his heel began to expand. The fabric expanded as far as it could until the knitting started to become almost translucent and reveal the flesh beneath. The relatively groomed nails became rougher and thicker, creating just enough friction that the back and forth movement of his toes wore through the end of the sock. In a sudden burst, long and thick primitive toes emerged and made room for the expanding feet.

More bones popped and snapped as Jack's hunched shoulders became more prominent. His knuckles swelled and his fingers thickened. Hair bristled down the entire slope of his back and peeked out from under his arms. He let out an animalistic grunt as he pawed and clawed at the remnants of his clothing. The scraps of shirt were torn away, he struggled out of his pants, he kicked like a trapped animal until one of his torn socks flung off his foot and skidded across the floor. In moments he was on all fours in his holey underwear, a beast made of hair and bone and muscle. Hot breaths blasted through his protruding lips, the shelf of his brow bone casting shadows over his inset eyes. His beard glistened with the natural oils his body produced and his string hair, at least the ring of it that crowned his head, brushed his shoulders.

Jack forced himself up to his feet, wobbling slightly as they continued to grow. Cords of ligaments bisected the top of the foot as it took on its new shape. They were full and large, shapely and long, a foundation that this predator's stocky body could launch from. Jack looked around, his eyes finding the world around him a bit of a wonder. In a cellar that was mostly stone, cobwebs and broken glass, the pile of strange rectangular green leaves drew his attention. They were so perfectly uniform and the leaves had faces on them. Jack lifted the stack up, looking at it. His brain tried to recall what it was. These things had been important to him once. He took an experimental sniff. It smelled like cotton, paper, sweat and weed. He snorted a bit and tossed the wad of cash, the bills fluttering down across the cellar floor. Jack let out a frustrated screech before he lumbered to the basement door, heading up the steps to find food, to find pleasure, and to find others like himself.

****

The campus of UC Sunnydale had been growing perpetually louder. There were hoots, hollers, the sounds of cavemen and those affronted by them. To the frat brothers of Alpha Cap, it sounded like a party they were all too eager to join. Tables had been set up in the common room with triangles of red solo cups and an arsenal of table tennis paddles. Complex apparatus had been established to allow the brothers to partake in beer bongs and other alternative methods of consumption. The music was blaring and the boys were shoulder to shoulder.

The kegs of Dark Frost beer chased as they were tapped and hands eagerly started working the pumps. Copious amounts of the foamy amber liquid came flowing out, filling cups and mugs, steins and pitchers. Youthful lips opened wide as the tainted brew poured back. Swallow after swallow, the young men took down the beer. What had started as a cohesive sea of masculinity began to grow rougher around the edges. Shoulder bumps were rougher, impacts were taken as slights. Grunts and growls were exchanged. The changes crept across the throng of men as they grew warmer. Some stripped off their shirts, revealing fit and firm bodies. Some were virginal, others had tattoos. Shoes were likewise discarded as bare feet sunk into the ancient shag carpeting.

The conversation slowly dwindled, the words exchanged becoming simpler and simpler. One of the frat bros started poking at the speaker, growing more irritated by the thumping sound. Perfectly groomed crew cut and bowl cuts began to grow longer, unseen, unkempt. Smooth cheeks bristled with stubble and everyone began to run their tongues over their teeth and lips, sensing subconsciously that something was off and something was wrong... but still they drank their beer. Gulp after gulp, cup after cup. They staggered and they swayed.

The loud music stopped as one of the frat bros screamed and stabbed a hockey stick through the speaker. Sparks erupted and silence fell across the room. The frat bro that had attacked the speaker turned to the crowd, his forehead swollen and irritated, his lips puffing out. He eyed them all down before he let out a deafening roar that shook him from his broadening shoulders down to his abnormally loud feet. The roar was like a battle cry, calling the troops forth. All the other young men began to double over, to cry out, to grunt and growl. Their shoulders swelled, their muscles thickened as their biceps and triceps expanded. Their tapered flanks filled out and their feet began to grow.

Dozens of young men de-evolved from handsome examples of the nation's future, rapidly becoming examples of their species' past. Their brow bones thickened, their hair lengthened, beards filled in and body hair spread down arms, backs, shoulders and chests. Some began to tear at their own clothing and a few tore at others'. One of the frat bros, Ashton, had barely gotten his shirt off when he felt something press against his groin. He looked down to see the caveman his roommate Colby had become. Colby was sniffing at Ashton's crotch, his curly black hair now straightening out and falling down along his cheeks across bushy sideburns. Colby was so fascinated that he didn't even look up at Ashton. He just opened his lips and began to lick at Ashton's boxers.

A sniff and a runt came from Ashton, his green eyes curious and pleased by this turn. His hair had been dyed a lime green, but as it grew out the dye faded to a faint seafoam color. Unlike the others, the hair growing from his chin was coming in faster than the rest, creating a bit of a goatee. He shuddered a little as his brow bone pushed out, making it harder to think. It was as if as his skull grew outward, it was compressing his brain at the same time. Still, he looked at the strong male now licking his boxers. He'd... wanted this... Yes... He'd had a few male mates before, and being put in a room with Colby, he knew the other was lying to himself about wanting girls. All it had taken was some beer and he was finally being himself.

Ashton reached down, tangling one hand in Colby's dark hair. Colby grunted and snarled, shaken out of his revelry. He began to shriek and swat at the hand that caught him - at least until Ashton reached down to peel his boxers down. A long, hard, blunt uncut cock swung free. It looked like a club, as thick or thicker at the end than the base. It was salty and musky and full, growing out of an incredibly dense forest of hair. Colby stopped struggling. He leaned forward, sniffing the cock a few times before he began rubbing his face up and down the length. His brown eyes fluttered shut and a look of deluded rapture crossed his primitive face. Even as his brow bone finished growing in and his beard grew out, he slathered the cock all over his cheeks, his chin, his nose and his forehead. He worked his way back to the tip, opened his lips and began taking it in.

Ashton threw his head back, using his hand to roughly pull Colby's mouth back and forth across his cock. Colby began to gag a little as the thick club hit the back of his throat, but he soon adapted his posture. Ashton let out a low rumbling growl as his cock began to squeeze down Colby's throat, sliding in and out like a sword finding its sheath. The other frat bros had been distracted at first, but seeing how much fun Ashton was having, they began to hoot and grunt at each other. One of the frat bros started to reach for Colby to take him from Ashton, but another punched him in the face without warning, sending him toppling to the floor. Another laughed in hysterics at the action but a third grabbed the spectator and kissed him soundly.

What had started as a sea of platonic frat boys began to descend into lustful anarchy. Their diminished mental capacity knew only base drives of pleasure and need. Newly naked bodies covered in body hair rubbed and ground. Large feet brushed against one another. Thick, full cocks found strong asses and hungry mouths. It was not the first orgy Alpha Cap had had in its long history, but this was the first one that included only its members fucking each other. As errant cavemen were spreading out into the city, this frat had become a hotbed of cavemen sticking entirely to one another.

There were still a few moments of violence as one partner was slighted by another or one man wanted to insert himself in another's coupling. The confrontations were short and brief with hitting, swatting, but more often than not the inclusion of all three together. The air grew hot and steamy, smelling of sweat and musk.... Above everything else, though, there was the telltale odor of fermented hops turned into that foamy beer that college students seemed inextricably connected to.