Bearly Compensating
?Bearly Compensating
Written by Leo_Todrius
Art Trade with Therealphil
Bearly Compensating Written by Leo_Todrius Art Trade with Therealphil
Sweet smells of cherry blossoms and wild flowers drifted across campus on a warm summer's breeze. The long, flowing blades of grass in the quad swayed back and forth and laughter was as prevalent as the sunshine. Spring truly was an amazing time at college and for some it was a beautiful sight being seen for the first time. The doors to the English building opened up as the classes let out, pent up students flooding out into the sunshine and away from stuffy classrooms. Bikes were unlocked and ridden away; long haired young men hopped onto skateboards and rolled down the sloping brick sidewalk and onto the cement path, and in the midst of all of the bustle was Phil.
Phil was twenty years old, a foreign exchange student from Germany. He had been lucky enough to transfer in his sophomore year, almost unheard of for many. Phil adjusted the backpack hanging off of one shoulder with his books as his classmates filed by on either side. The young man was five feet and seven inches tall, a bit shorter than many of his classmates although he had been called adorable on countless occasions. He wasn't sure if that was a compliment, but it seemed sweet. His smooth brown hair was soft and relatively short, though it was long enough for a steady progression from back to front, his bangs dipping over his right eye, kept out of the way by the rectangular black framed glasses he wore.
Phil had a handsome face with gentle cheek bones, a defined chin and a perfect nose. His eyes were a clear sort of blue, almost aquamarine or a light teal. A thin chinstrap beard dropped down in front of his ears and followed his jaw line, a strip rising up from it over his chin all the way up to his lower lip. To further add to his look he had one small gauge earring in his left ear and two small silver balls glinted from above and below his left eyebrow. A similar but darker piercing rested on the right side of his bottom lip to balance the look out. Hanging around the young man's torso was a cool sherbet green shirt, faint lines running across it. Around Phil's neck was a thin silver chain, looped through a thick metal ring with a dense pattern on it. He didn't stand out so much as to draw attention unduly, but his friends could spot him across the campus without being wrong.
Phil stepped off of the brick ramp and onto the vast wide cement promenade that surrounded the quad. He looked around at the many trees that lined the quad, their large branches supporting lush leaves that cast shade on the English building. Beyond that was the grass of the quad, a few cherry trees on the other side outside the music building. Spring was always a beautiful time of the year and he enjoyed it back home, but seeing an American spring was certainly unique. It could be like the depths of summer one day and as wet as winter the next... but Phil didn't mind. He was enjoying life as much as he could. His classes were done for the day but it was time for the second aspect of his life, Wrestling Practice. Phil slipped the other strap of his backpack on and headed off, walking along the quad to the corner, taking the four stone steps down and heading off across campus to the gym.
***
The door to the locker room opened up as Phil entered, the subterranean layer of masculinity a bit encompassing. The locker room smelled like sweat, musk, effort and moisture. Occasionally there were whiffs of chlorine from the pool but they were few and far between. It wasn't the most pleasant smell in the world but it was something that often went along with being athletic. Phil moved in, opening his locker to hang up his backpack, slipping off his shirt. Other members of the Wrestling team were already present and in various states of changing. Steam billowed out from the shower where deep voices murmurs of jocks talking couldn't quite be heard. Others wandered around in towels. Phil set his shirt in his locker and then his pants, glancing around to make sure no one was watching when he slipped off his underwear and exchanged them for a jockstrap. He pulled the cloth up, letting it hug his package in place. He was running a bit late and he'd opt for the shower after practice anyhow, that was when he'd be grungier.
Phil reached into his locker and pulled out his wrestling singlet, feeling the lycra material against his skin. It was so smooth, so resilient. The burgundy red and the gold were vibrant colors, try colors. They almost made Phil feel like a superhero... At least until he was standing with his team. The other wrestlers were at least half a foot taller than him and almost double his weight, all in muscle. When he stood with them he almost seemed like a little high schooler in comparison. They sported dense stubble or even short beards, their hair shaggy and wild. They almost seemed like cave men. Phil had never been ashamed of himself, but he had always aspired to be more. He had joined the wrestling team to gain skill, prowess, technique. He was fairly good despite his size, but there weren't many people in his weight class. It was becoming harder and harder to find matches in his division and it was becoming harder to get the practice he wanted.
As Phil pulled on his uniform, his feet pushing through the smooth, tight legs and he pulled it up over his ass, he thought of how he had come to where he was.... Not America, but considering his current situation. Phil had started to try and compensate for his size by going to the gym. His arms had bulked up, he had gotten leaner and stronger, but he'd hid a plateau. No matter how hard he tried, he'd hit a sort of prime condition... and it crushed Phil. Despite his better judgment he had started looking into supplements; which ones were safe, which ones were easy to get, which ones had the fewest side effects, which ones were detectable on tests. All of his research had led him to a pharmaceutical scientist named Doctor Julian in the Californian deserts. He'd sent several letters and eventually Julian had responded. Phil had not only started receiving the supplements from Doctor Julian but he also was getting paid for being a test subject. It was the best of both worlds.
Phil pulled the shoulders of his uniform up, letting them hang snuggly over him. His nipples firmed a bit, pointing against the chest of his uniform. He stretched and shrugged, trying to relieve the pressure. Once more he glanced either direction before reaching into his backpack, withdrawing a small bottle. He unscrewed the lid and brought it to his lips, tipping it back. The contents oozed in with the consistency of honey, though the liquid was white and milky. It hit his tongue, the flavor musky and strong with a huge chemical aftertaste. Phil shivered. The stuff tasted disgusting, but he had already seen the benefits.
After his first two days of the supplements Phil had crashed through the plateau and started gaining muscle again. His biceps and triceps were bigger, his legs were thicker. He'd sworn he'd started to grow as well. Even his shoes felt tighter. It all was working and he would be able to catch up to his team mates, pull his own weight, stand on his own and be his own man. Nothing was going to stop him. Phil returned the bottle to his locker and shut it, spinning the lock before he strutted across the locker room and up the steps to the gym.
***
Phil walked across the gym, his feet moving across wood and blue gym mat, surveying the surroundings. An old battered radio blared popular music from the far corner of the gym, the sound bouncing off of walls and yet still not seeming to fill the large space. Most of the wrestling team had lined up for some free form sparring sessions to warm up and practice their spur of the moment responses. Phil stepped onto the soft blue gym mat and moved into line, coming to a stop next to one of the wrestlers that had usually been rather nice to him. Phil watched the wrestlers come together, grapple, near fall, escape, chase. It seemed pretty routine. There didn't seem to be any clear victor from the outset, it all seemed pretty fairly matched. Maybe things would go better for him today.
As the wrestlers sparred on the mat, Phil leaned forward to look up at the line of the team mates ahead of him. Two, four, six... It seemed that he wouldn't be sparring any of them, they would all be matched off based on when they had arrived. Suddenly the foam beneath Phil contorted and began sinking down. Phil turned to see the cause, coming face to nipple with the largest of his teammates, Brock. Brock was well over a foot taller than Phil and much heavier. Phil swallowed gently as he looked up at Brock.
Brock had jet black hair and his stubble was so dark that even when he shaved his cheeks seemed darkened with a five o'clock shadow. Brock looked down at Phil and almost emitted a growl. Phil looked back to the match. They wouldn't make him go against Brock, would they? They couldn't... Phil watched Jason and Issac go, then Peter and Zach, and finally Dmitri and Malcom. Phil tried to calm himself and focus. His supplements had been helping; he had more muscle strength and stamina. He might have taken longer naps but when he woke up he was energetic... He just had to keep himself from getting psyched out about it.
Malcom pinned Dimitri and then offered his friend a hand up. The two got up and headed off the mat, moving to the next one to start practice on specific moves that could be very important in a tight match. Phil looked back at Brock, hoping they could at least have a match that wasn't over before it began. Phil still remembered his first match with Brock. He was lifted up off his feet, held aloft by the man and then dropped onto the mat. He'd bounced half way back into the air before landing again. The move hadn't been legal at all but it hadn't left a good impression. He swore to himself that today would be different.
Phil walked out onto the mat ahead of Brock, feeling the mat sink down toward Brock behind him. He stayed just ahead enough not to sink, moving into the painted line on the mat, turning to face Brock. Brock lowered down, giving an almost predatory grin. Phil controlled his breathing. He was protecting his image, his pride. He would be an animal. Brock let out a roar and charged. Phil surprised himself by roaring back, charging forward as well. Brock swiped at Phil to grab him but missed, used to the other wrestlers. Phil grabbed Brock around the waist with both arms, squeezing him into a tight bear hug. Brock grunted in shock. Phil tried to push Brock back but when that didn't work... he started doing the impossible.
Phil's grip tightened, his feet braced and he started lifting Brock up. Phil's biceps and triceps tingled, his pecs throbbing, a sweat starting to escape his chest. The other wrestlers had stopped what they were doing, watching in shock as Phil lifted someone almost twice his weight. Brock grabbed at Phil's shoulders but Phil had already lifted him off the mat. Brock's legs dangled before Phil suddenly tossed Brock. Brock landed on the mat roughly, stunned by the shock of what had just happened. Phil grinned.
Brock wasn't prepared as Phil moved, grabbing his arms and rearranging them. Brock yelped as his limbs were pulled back and pinned. Brock struggled to get out but Phil moved to put his knee onto Brock's back. Phil felt exhilarated. He was panting, sweating, but felt victorious. He'd brought down the giant. His arms and legs seared with exertion but it felt so good. Even Phil's nipples were hard in excitement from what he'd just done. The other wrestlers broke out cheering in surprise and delight at Phil's accomplishment. Phil felt better than he had his entire life.
***
Phil strutted through the locker room, feeling like a million euros. The other wrestlers were clapping him on the shoulders, complimenting him, telling him how they couldn't believe how strong he'd been. Phil was grinning ear to ear. He was in no rush to get back to his dorm room. He didn't have much homework and he wanted to enjoy the moment. Brock had already showered and gone and before long most of the others were showering as well. Phil debated taking a shower. He usually waited until no one else was in there, but he was pretty sweaty.
Phil lifted his left arm, running a finger under it, feeling the tips of his trimmed hair there. His finger was soon coated in sweat... The sweat of his victory. Phil looked at his glistening finger, at the moisture collected there. He planned on wiping it off on his singlet, getting it out of the way... but his instincts demanded something else. Phil raised his finger to his nose and inhaled. The scent was musky, manly, the liquid form of his victory. A chill ran down Phil's spine. His mouth opened, his brain told his body to stop, but the body didn't listen. He extended his tongue and licked his finger. The musky sweat tasted so good, he popped his finger into his mouth and sucked it clean.
An electric tingle moved through Phil's body. His nipples grew hard again and blood began flooding into his manhood. Despite the jockstrap his singlet began pushing out. Phil felt very good... Very proud. He inhaled his own scent and the smell just made him feel better. A strange thought entered his mind. If he showered... that victory would be gone. It was a sad thought, but maybe he could enjoy himself before he had to get clean. Phil turned, moving through bank after bank of lockers, finding the most remote and seldom visited corner of the locker room.
He moved and sat down on the wooden bench, his back against the red metal lockers. Phil leaned back and brought his hands up, feeling across his chest. Clad in the tight lycra of his wrestling singlet, his chest was saturated with sweat. He squeezed his nipples, smelled his scent and moaned softly. Phil's mind flashed with a dirty idea. He pried his singlet apart and reached in, digging around until he found the clasp of his jockstrap. He unhooked it and pulled it out, setting the strap to the side. As Phil's uniform pulled snugly back around his body, he could see every contour, every detail of his manhood. Phil nearly drooled.
Slowly Phil's hand drifted down to his groin, sliding across the bulging flesh. His back arched as he gasped out, moaning more. He slid his hand up and down the red lycra, letting the moist fabric hug his shaft. He bucked his hips, pushing into his hand. Without realizing what he was doing, he grabbed his jockstrap and brought it up slowly toward his face. It hung there, an inch from his nose before suddenly he pulled it tight and inhaled. His lungs filled with the smell of sweat and musk... and then Phil's tongue extended, touching the fabric. Phil's mouth filled with the flavor of sweat. He sucked and slurped at it, groping himself before suddenly he gasped.
Phil's body shook with the intensity of the orgasm, his cock pulsing. A huge wet spot began spreading out in his uniform before the pearly white cum leaked through the material. Phil numbly dropped the jock strap to the side, panting hard, eyes gazing up to the ceiling in a drunken haze. He sat there for many minutes, hearing his teammates leaving the gym, unaware he was there. After what seemed like an eternity the sensation and movement came back to his body. Phil looked down at himself, seeing the cum running over his hips and dripping to the floor. Once more pride filled him. He reached down, gathering some of his seed on his finger, bringing it to his lips. The finger plunged into his mouth, bringing with it the taste of salt and musk and his seed... and yet another orgasm. Phil called out in ecstasy.
As more of his seed oozed out of his uniform and across his lap, Phil decided the shower was not going to be the thing for him. He loved his body, what it could produce. He wanted to keep on enjoying it. A sly grin crossed his face. Slowly Phil rose up to his feet again, advancing through the locker room row by row. He peered around the edges before moving quickly to the next. The sound of a scuffing foot caused Phil to slide back behind one of the lockers as one of his teammates walked along the next aisle. Phil's heart raced as he listened, carefully, until the click of the door and following silence indicated it was safe.
He continued to advance, having no more close calls before he reached his locker. He hastily opened it and pulled out his clothes, stuffing his underwear into his back before tugging on his pants over his wrestling singlet. The lap of his pants started to grow darker with the cum soaking through but Phil didn't care. He pulled out his shirt and slipped it on, trying to pull it snug. Phil dropped his shoes to the ground and pushed his feet in. They fit rather snugly but Phil didn't have too far to go. He swung his bag over his shoulder and moved out of the locker room back up to the gym rather than out to the lobby.
With a careful slow motion Phil opened the door, peering out across the gym. The vast space was empty. The mats had been cleaned up, no one was there. It was the perfect opportunity. Phil practically ran across the wood floor to the seldom used back door. It was locked from the outside but it made an excellent short cut back to his dorm. He shoved the door open and moved out into the evening. Phil felt the cool air on his shoulders, looking around with furtive glances. His sneakers squeaked with each step he took. Phil was not looking at the violet evening sky or the creamy glow of the lamps turning on across campus... He was wondering if anyone would see or know how naughty he was being.
Phil followed the path through the gardens behind the gym, moving over the creek. The running water was relaxing to Phil, filling his mind with images of camping, eating, fishing. Phil smiled dreamily and before he knew it he was heading into the parking lot between his dorm and the theatre. He moved up the incline, across the patch of grass in front and then Phil jogged up the steps onto the porch, grinning as he felt his full balls dangle in his uniform. Phil pulled out his student ID card and ran it through the slot, the door unlocking. He swung it open and moved in, passing through the foyer quickly to the stairwell in the middle of the building, moving up and around and out onto his floor. He passed several doors before he reached his own. He fumbled with his keys before he got the door open and lunged in.
Phil dropped his book bag, pulled his shirt off and tossed it to the corner and began unbuttoning his pants. He pulled the fly open, strings of cum connecting the pants to the soaked uniform. Phil grunted, dropping his pants, grabbing handfuls of the leaked cum, bringing them to his face. He licked his palms clean, sucked his finger, cum dripping from his chin. Phil lifted his head up to the ceiling and let out a roar, his eyes wild with lust.
Phil fell onto his back on his bed, grabbing the bulge in his pants, grunting and moaning, thrusting his hips into his hand. His shoes groaned on his feet, the leather getting tighter as he wriggled his toes. Phil's hands massaged his bulge, his knuckles growing hairy, his palms growing wider. Phil reached down, fishing around for his bag. When he didn't find it he grunted, climbing out of bed. He walked over to the bag, his shoes squeaking. He crouched down and tore into it, fishing around before pulling out his bottle of supplement. Phil grunted in delight, opening the bottle and tipping it back.
More of the honey thick syrup drained into his mouth, exploding with flavor. Phil gulped it down before dropping the bottle, grabbing at his wrestling uniform to try and get at his manhood. He stretched and tugged the fabric before, surprisingly, it tore. The fabric snapped back away from his body and Phil wrapped his hand around his hard, cum soaked shaft. He worked his hand up and down, up and down, faster and tighter. The bed groaned and creaked as he bounced on it, fucking his head. He worked in a frenzy, beads of sweat forming on his brow. Phil panted, moaned, and finally let out a huge roar of delight as his cock began spraying cum freely.
The first rope of semen splattered across his face, running down the strip of hair beneath his lips to drip from his chin. Phil opened his mouth and let the next splatter directly in across his tongue. He savored the flavor and growled happily, milking his cock for all it was worth. After a few more shots of cum he fell limp against his bed, his eyes rolling into the back of his head in pleasure before he passed out.
***
A steady glow came from Phil's alarm clock, the red numbers clicking over from minute to minute, displaying the time of 2:03 PM for the moment. A steady snore echoed on the walls, Phil still passed out cold. He had slept so deeply he might as well have been hibernating. With each snore his chest rose high and fell. His sneakers stuck out from his blanket, dangling off of the end of his bed. Phil started licking his lips, dreaming of an all-you-can-eat fish feed at the college cafeteria... Despite how deeply he was sleeping, an itch on Phil's cheek pervaded his sleep.
A huge hand came out from under his blanket, the fingernails a deep tan color, thick and long, honed to pointed tips. The hand came up to Phil's cheek and he moved to scratch the itch. His claw trailed through a short bushy beard, scratching an itch vigorously before the claw broke the skin. Phil grunted, jarred awake. He looked around blearily, feeling a hot wetness on his cheek where he had scratched.
"I made myself bleed..." Phil murmured in dismay. He threw his blanket off of him and froze in shock, seeing a body that was not his own. Despite having his head all the way at the top of his bed, his feet were hanging off of the other end. More than that, a huge, hairy barrel chest and a wide waist extended down from his head, leading to burly legs that were so hairy it might as well have been a layer of fur. The remains of his wrestling singlet were beneath him, tattered and burst. Lying across his lap like a well fed eel was an enormous manhood. It had to be at least eight centimeters across and over twenty five centimeters long... It wasn't even hard yet.
Phil grunted happily, one hand moving to welcome his huge cock to his body, the other moved across his chest. His fingers sank into a forest of dark brown hair, feeling the lengths and denseness. Then Phil cursed, feeling something poke his skin again. He lifted his hands up, realizing the cause of the mysterious bleeding came from his thick fingernails. They were practically like claws! Phil couldn't just lie in bed any longer. He had to see what had happened. He swung his tree trunk like legs out of bed and put his feet onto the floor before he cringed.
"Stupid shoes..." Phil murmured, feeling how tight they were. He leaned over the bed and untied them, tugging at the laces before pulling. The show didn't want to give way, having to spread wider just to come off. Phil slid his shoe down inch by inch, eyes widening. The hair on his legs didn't stop at the ankle, it kept going. A soft pelt of hair covered the top of his foot. Phil couldn't believe how tightly his foot had been wedged in. He had slid it off far enough that it would have come off in the past, but he still had several more inches to go. Phil kept pulling before at last his huge, hairy foot was free. He held it in his hand, gazing at its immense size.
Phil looked at his giant foot, guessing back home it would have been at least a size forty-eight and a half. In the states that was a fourteen. As if impressed by its brother, Phil's other shoe throbbed and the shoe burst, the leather and strapping falling apart, a puff of dust coming from the shoe as it broke. Phil kicked the broken shoe from his foot, lifting it up as well. All his toenails had grown darker, longer, pointed. He wiggled his toes, grunting in satisfaction. He loved his huge, hairy feet... He loved himself, but it was still time to see what was ahead of him.
Once more he rose onto his feet, this time not stopped by tight shoes. Phil walked across his dorm room naked, moving over toward his closet. A mirror was hung between the closet and the bed, reaching down almost to the floor. Phil stepped in front of it, turning to admire himself. He realized for the first time that there was no slack space between the top of his head and the mirror. He had grown... a lot... all over. Phil held out his arm, flexing. His hairy biceps bulged, his triceps throbbing. A dense forest of fur jutted out from under his arm. Phil moved to flex and show off with his other arm.
As Phil admired his body, blood flooded into his manhood. Its ten inches began swelling longer and thicker as he got aroused. Phil reached up and pinched his nipples, moaning happily. He then realized that his tummy, if anything, was a bit softer. Not much, but it seemed to lack the definition the rest of him had. He moved his hands to investigate, groping the tummy before grinning. He had perfect abs, they were just beneath a thin layer of fat. He grunted happily, pausing as he noticed another change.
He hadn't been paying close attention, passing it off as stubble or shadow, some optical illusion... but it wasn't. As Phil leaned in he realized his cheeks, his upper lip, it was all covered with a short but dense beard. The chinstrap he had before, the strip down his chin, they were even thicker giving him a wild mane framing the beard and a wicked goatee tuft hanging from his chin. Phil reached up and molested his manly beard, stroking it and feeling it. He let out a deep moan and then felt a tingling spread over his body.
Phil gazed into the mirror, watching the round top of his ears grow fuzzy, tiny soft hairs pushing out and covering them in a downy coating of brown. The claws on his hands and toes stretched longer and got thicker. Phil reached to massage his chest and stomach, feeling the thick body hair spreading out there, getting denser on his huge and muscular arms. Even his tailbone throbbed and pulsed, pushing away from his body before it started to wriggle. More brown fur pushed out from the little bear tail, waggling away above supple, ample ass cheeks.
While Phil was breathing in his musk, his nose darkened and widened, the base pushing up a bit. The pale flesh darkened as his nose grew moist, the nostrils changing, shifting into a bit of a bear nose. Smaller hairs pushed out between his eyebrows, giving him almost a sort of unibrow. Even Phil's teeth were changing in his mouth, becoming more suited to eat fish. Phil gasped in sudden sensation as his ribs began spreading out and his shoulders widened. The bones creaked and shifted, contorting and spreading. His legs stretched longer and his arms followed suit, bulging out more. Soon Phil was taller than the mirror, wider than it, stumbling back into the center of the room.
In a deep growl of satisfaction, Phil massaged his hairy chest, his hairy stomach, his gigantic feet clawing at the carpet, a foot long cock jutting out from his body. His cheeks tingled as the hairs there pushed out longer, curling around, stretching. His short, dense beard was becoming a longer one, hanging from his face. The hair on his head grew longer, getting shaggy and wild. And after such rapid changes, his body began to return to a sort of stability. He stood in the middle of his room, not growing or changing any more. Phil panted gently, taking in huge amounts of air before exhaling again. He moved over in front of the mirror, crouching down, peering at himself before he stood up again. He moved over, putting his broad back to the door, using his hands to measure the difference between the frame and himself.
"Almost seven feet tall..." Phil said, nearly laughing in glee. He moved over to his bed and knelt down, realizing it was a lot harder to get so low. His clawed hands fished around underneath before pulling out a scale. Once it was set up in the center of the room, Phil stepped on. The numbers flickered around before settling on 350 pounds. Phil knew it was almost all muscle, although his bear belly was kind of sexy. Phil moved over to his computer, sitting down in the chair. The office chair groaned before the clamp holding it up a certain height broke and it descended to its minimum height. Phil rolled his eyes.
"Well, I'm taller now anyway..." He muttered, opening up the internet. It was time to buy some bigger clothes, maybe a brand new wrestling singlet too. He could barely wait to share himself with the world.