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The Curse

Chapter 01

“A Latte Please"

Written by Leo_Todrius

Commissioned by Beardfull1

There were many shapes in nature, all splendid and unique; circles, spirals, tear drops and wedges. Out of the countless shapes, nothing quite mimicked the human penchant for putting things into boxes. The cubicles of AlphaHex spread out in geometric perfectioning, coming close but not quite capturing the majesty of a honeycomb of industrious bees. Early afternoon light spilled through the windows of the thirteenth floor, refracted by the cotton white walls of the cubicles before being absorbed by the gunmetal gray carpets.

The sounds of fingers flying over keyboards hung in the air like crickets singing their song, only disrupted by the occasional phone ring or bubbles rising unceremoniously from the water cooler. AlphaHex was a company that sat at the top of the curve. It was a forward thinking company that kept its feet firmly planted. It wasn't a trend setter, but it never fell behind. It was dependable, solid, able to weather any storm. It was a perfect fit for someone like Edward Davis. It was such a good fit, he was practically their mascot.

Edward was in his mid thirties, lean and fit but not overly built. Some considered him good looking, though his clean cut face and manscaped body made it a little easier for him to blend into a crowd. Those situated around Edward considered him a perfect cubicle neighbor. He was neat and orderly to a fault. His fair skin was kissed by just a hint of sun, allowing his green eyes to stand out in contrast while his dark hair was maintained in the same conservative haircut he'd had since he was five years old. Perhaps the most unusual aspect was that Edward had not yet settled down. The career gave him ample opportunity to date frequently, but it always wound up with sex and no interest in a long term relationship. It was the lifestyle that Edward found himself committed to.

The seconds had ticked their way by like the sands of a digital hourglass, bringing Edward's shift to an early and glorious end. His work was saved, his credentials entered into the company's time portal and he was off. Edward held his jacket over his shoulder, deciding the elevator ride down would be the perfect time to pull it on. He stepped into the elevator and turned, looking across the vast sea of cubicles at all the workers that had to stay until their work was done. Sometimes it was good to be the middleman.

The elevator descended, making Edward feel momentarily lighter than normal. He grimaced slightly. All these years and he still didn't get used to that feeling. He'd have to tell maintenance to adjust the acceleration of the elevator. The doors parted, opening up onto the lobby of AlphaHex. The floors were a beautiful mirrored pacific blue color, contrasting the creamy sherbert orange of the walls. As far as Edward was concerned, it was all a bit too garish, but he only had to suffer through it at the start of his shift.

With a head nod in the general direction of the security desk, Edward stepped outside. The street noise came crashing in around him all at once, along with the hustle and bustle of all the pedestrians on the street. Edward's somewhat raptured face tightened a bit with disdain. If the universe was fair, all of those people would have been in work or school as well, making it easier for him to enjoy his afternoon coffee and have an easy commute. He exhaled a bit and started walking, though his shoulder caught the arm of another individual, shaking them both with the impact.

Edward's green eyes darted to the inadvertent obstacle, sizing up the other individual - though even that took a few moments. The other man was huge, at least six foot two and a couple hundred pounds of muscle. Black hair cascaded across his shoulders in an untamed, unrestrained mane that blended into the robust, bushy, unkempt beard that dominated the man's well tanned face. The beard blew in the wind, contrasting the sharp inky sunglasses that hid everything behind them. The sheer size and aesthetic of the man forced Edward to take a step back, as if recoiling from his antithesis.

“Sorry about bumping into you, but maybe it was destiny." he said, his voice deep and sonorous. Edward's face screwed up in sheer confusion. The comment had knocked the chain of insults he was preparing right out of his mind.

“What do you mean, destiny?" Edward asked.

“You, me, here, now… You're getting off work, right? Or early dinner break? Maybe we should go get a coffee together, see what else destiny has in store." the man said, looking Edward over from behind his sunglasses. Once more Edward nearly recoiled. He couldn't believe his ears. Not only were they the cheesiest, most terrible pick up lines he'd ever heard, but they were coming from another man. Edward was as straight as they came.

“I think you might have shaken your head a bit too hard in that impact. I'm not interested." Edward said, moving to try and get around the man.

“Not interested and not sorry?" the man asked, turning to face Edward. The office worker spun on the heel of his expensive shoe, looking back at the man incredulously.

“No, I'm not sorry… You shouldn't have even been there. This is a reputable building, full of hard working people making an honest living. It isn't a place for whatever it is you're doing here. Maybe if you worked really hard, cleaned yourself up and tried to look presentable, you might pass muster to work in the mailroom of a place as nice as this, but unless that happens you should just steer clear and stay wherever the grubby hipsters are." Edward said, turning to try and salvage what was left of his afternoon. Each step he took seemed slightly harder than the last, almost as if something was pulling at him, tugging and twisting.

“Remember those words when you experience how others live… Remember those words when the life you love so much is replaced with something else entirely." the man declared, his voice cutting through the air like thunder. Whatever had been holding Edward back suddenly let go and he stumbled forward, nearly crashing into yet another individual until he grabbed onto the guard rail of the subway stairs. Edward grunted with dismay as he pulled his hand back, bringing a long string of what he could only hope was masticated chewing gum.

The office worker flung the sticky substance off of his hand and turned around, his eyes searching the crowd to no avail. For such a tall, broad shouldered, hairy man he had disappeared in an instant. Edward stood there for a moment as people moved to and fro, parting around him like an errant stone in a stream. Eventually Edward had to admit defeat, release his rage and confusion and start walking. The exchange had been strange and unsettling, but he was finally off work and he had the whole evening ahead of him.

****

The further Edward got away from downtown, the easier it seemed to be. The crowds thinned out, the traffic got a bit better. It still wasn't exactly the sort of neighborhood that he enjoyed, but there was no denying just how good Mahogany Bay's coffee was. Edward exhaled a bit of his pent up stress as he reached for the door to the coffee shop, but as his hand touched the handle, he felt that same strange weightless feeling from the elevator that made him a bit queasy. Edward tried to shrug it off and opened the door, stepping inside. In the first turn of good luck since leaving work, there was no line. Edward moved up to the counter, a sparkle in his eyes.

“Hey, can I have a latte please?" Edward asked, though the employees didn't stop what they were doing. A young woman continued cleaning counters while the other was doing some sort of inventory. Edward didn't consider himself to be an unreasonable man, but after such a long day he at least would have liked some customer service. “I said, can I have a latte please?" Edward asked. Once again, it was to no avail. The office worker opened his mouth to ask a third time, but as he set his hand down on the counter he felt an unsettling jolt of static electricity. It seemed to crackle and climb up his arm before branching out through his chest.

Once again the weightless feeling filled the pit of Edward's stomach, his skin tingling and his head spinning. He didn't want a coffee anymore. He just wanted the world to stop spinning. Edward left the counter behind, stumbling toward the customer bathroom. He slammed into the door, sending it sailing open hard enough to bounce off the door stop and nearly bashe him in the shoulder again. Edward panted as he made it to the sink, grabbing onto the porcelain with both hands. He looked down at the sink to steady himself, but what he saw was anything but calming. His hands weren't his own.

The fingers were lankier, his nails longer. There were strands of hair growing from the knuckles and a wedge of hair at the outer edge of the back of his hand. There were even rings, mismatched and haphazard. There was a metal one worn smooth, a glass one, even one that seemed to be made of some sort of twine. Edward recoiled, stumbling backwards. It all had to be some nightmare. Maybe he fell asleep at his desk, or maybe Marcia's birthday cake had gone bad. Nothing was making sense anymore. Edward lifted his head and looked at the mirror, finding even more shocking changes taking place.

As he watched, his chiseled jaw seemed to blunt and broaden. His well groomed, perfectly cared for skin lost its cosmetic perfection. It seemed a little more rough, a few freckles appearing. The truly strange thing, if anything could be put apart from the rest, had to be the spreading shadow creeping across his jawline and upper lip. Despite the horror, Edward approached the mirror again, leaning in almost uncomfortably close to the glass. As he watched in close proximity, tiny hairs pushed through his skin like a morning dew. At first they were fine and clear, like frost on his upper lip, but as they pushed out a little longer, they got thicker as well and a faint bit of pigment began to spread up from the roots.

As Edward watched, the peach fuzz started to darken, becoming distinct enough to stand out as actual growth - the first facial hair he'd ever allowed. It stood out, and like some other language popping into his head, there was a momentary flash of pride instead of disgust. Edward despised facial hair, but the peach fuzz mustache looked… nice… and it wasn't alone. Edward lifted his alien hand to his cheek, running his fingers up and down over the shadow there. He heard the scrape, callous against stubble. He shook his head, trying to deny the truth, but as he shook his head, loose strands of hair fell across his forehead. That was enough to draw his attention upward, watching as his perfectly maintained, well groomed hair began to unspool. It pushed out of his scalp centimeter by centimeter, inch by inch. The uniformity of its color began to shift into a myriad of hues with some highlights bleached by the sun while the roots seemed even darker than he had started.

“I'm some kind of bum…" Edward whispered, though even his voice sounded different. It had a bit of gravel and grit to it, the sort of pinch of hoarseness that made you lean in and hang on every word. The weightless feeling in his stomach faded, starting to feel more grounded. It was an odd contrast because at the moment it seemed like the ground was getting further away. Edward looked down, watching the floor and the sink get just a little further away. He felt his back pop as it stretched a bit, his center of gravity shifting. Edward had been panting a little through the changes with his mouth open - a habit he felt strongly against - but as he inhaled and exhaled, he felt something very strange. As he breathed, there was the faintest tickle as the air blew in and out against his growing mustache.

Feeling a shock of terror, Edward looked back at the mirror, confirming his worst fears. What had started as stubble had not stopped growing. The hair had thickened and as he watched, it turned from a faint shadow of translucent brown to brownish black hair. Every strand darkened from root to tip and the longest hairs had crossed the threshold of his upper lip, starting to descend downwards, curving over the surface. It was unheard of, it was unseamly, it was… all him, all his, his mustache.

Edward reached up, running a finger across it, feeling how soft and slick and yet brittle the hairs were, as if they had a vitality and strength of their own. Feeling it gave him a chill. He reached up again, this time running a finger down each side from the center. It sent a surge of pleasure down his spine to his groin, his cock hardening and bloating. Edward felt sick to his stomach but horny at the same time. He kept stroking his mustache, and as if in response, it only seemed to grow faster. It slipped down centimeter by centimeter over his upper lip, coming down the corners of his mouth, passing the halfway point. It felt strangely good to pet it, to feel it, to watch it grow. He turned his head one way, then the other, seeing how distinguished he look - at least until he snapped back into his senses.

“No, this can't be me. This is a trick, a dream, a nightmare…" he whispered, but his voice was oddly cool and collected, even suave. It sounded like a voice off of talk radio, the sort of voice that put everyone at ease, the sort of voice that everyone could connect to. While Edward had been fixated on his mustache, the rest of his body had continued to shift and change, adopting an entirely new existence. His cheeks were darkening like the horizon after sunset as stubble pushed out, trying to catch up to the mustache that now looked as though it had taken a few months to grow. All of it was obscene, it was wild, it was uncouth, and it was… manly.

He had tried to fight it, to resist, but as his fingers left his mustache and touched the stubble on his cheek, it changed. Somewhere deep in Edward's head, some small switch had been flipped. His mustache was manly. It was a testament to his virility, his masculinity, his ability and achievement. It had taken time to grow and cultivate. It had taken restraint not to trim or groom it. It was a product of his efforts, patience, his body… just like his long hair, just like his thickening beard. All of it was a triumph, an effort in self expression. It was the physical embodiment of his own essence, and it was still growing.

The strange, hairy, ringed hand lifted up, calloused fingers feeling his stubble as it grew out, trying to turn into a real beard. If coaxing his mustache had paid off so well, surely he could enjoy this as well. Both hands massaged his cheeks, tracing across the stubble, feeling it grow from short and coarse to thicker and softer. As it pushed out, it darkened as well, coming in thicker at the corner of his jaw and his chin. He traced circles and spirals in it, feeling almost as if he was spinning.

Conflicting, dubious thoughts bubbled up in Edward's mind as he thought his current experience was like a time lapse video where a young man showed his year's worth of growth in a matter of seconds, except for the fact that he distinctly knew he had not known such videos existed mere moments before. He had avoided the unkempt like the plague, and yet at the same time he had distinct memories of spending an evening on the internet, pursuing videos of men growing out their beards, becoming their own men, becoming real men… like him. He wanted it, he wanted to keep it, and he wanted more...

A pang of weight pulsed from Edward's groin as his erection intensified. His shaft swelled and grew, fighting against the confines of his underwear. It pushed out longer, curving and coiling in its restraint, pressing outward tighter and tighter until something had to give. To Edward's surprise, it was the underwear. The iron grip of the expensive egyptian cotton undergarments suddenly let go as the thread count spread out, dropping in quantity and quality. The white fabric bled through with red and black as a plaid print emerged from it. The fabric slipped down his legs, giving ample room to his still-growing cock.

Edward's face scrunched up a little as he felt what it was like to wear boxers instead of briefs, but it was far from the only changing piece of fashion. The office worker's smooth, water repellant khaki's became heavier and heavier as the fabric itself reworked and reshaped itself into faded denim. It would have been coarse and rough if not for how often it had been worn. A new sound echoed in the bathroom as a metal chain spilled out of Edward's pocket, connected on one end to his belt look and the other sinking down deep to where his wallet had been.

“No…" Edward whispered, although his words were weak. The fight in his spirit had deteriorated, replaced by swirling mixes of memories and urges, or pride and self esteem instead of the tightly tamped down restraint. He was becoming a creature of instinct, of self pleasure, of needs. His fingers massaged and caressed his face, petting and massaging the maturing hair almost as if he was maturbating. If anything, it felt oddly better than masturbating. He coaxed the hair out more and more, watching it fill in and darken. It was like some perverted chia pet, but his face was the foundation for the growing foliage.

“Yes…" Edward whispered, feeling drool leak both from the corner of his mouth and the head of his cock. His body was tingling, throbbing, aching with pleasure. The stubble got too thick to call stubble and thick enough for his fingers to grab onto. He began to tug and pull, trying to get it to come out, to thicken, to darken, to elongate. His cock was almost painfully erect in his pants, sticking out in a tight tent of denim. His face wasn't the only place growing hair. A dark spot caught Edward's attention as he looked to the top button of his shirt. He reached up to touch the button and it popped off, the collar splaying wide to reveal the edge of a dense forest of hair that no doubt went lower.

As the shirt was stretched open, the fine sky blue houndstooth texture was replaced with red and black plaid flannel. It shifted on his skin, feeling utilitarian instead of designer. The black in the pattern complimented his dark beard and his long, flowing locks as his mane spilled across his shoulders and down to his shoulder blades. The sleeves of his shirt tugged away from his hands, the cuffs rolling up on themselves, revealing flesh that darkened as ribbons of tattoos snaked their way around his wrists.

The changes were insidious, addictive, alluring. He nuzzled against his tattooed wrists, feeling the soft brush of his cheek hair, feeling how thick and luxurious it was. He made obscene faces, lewd expressions. Edward stood in front of the mirror looking at a completely different person. It hadn't just been his face or his hair that had changed, it was everything about him. His clothes were different, his style was different. He lifted his arm and took a sniff, realizing even his aroma was different. He smelled like a man, a man that might have very well been familiar with the wilderness. He cast one glance down, realizing that even his dress shoes had been replaced with Birkenstock sandals.

He reached up to rub at his temple, finding the feel of the random assortment of rings comforting against his skin. The changes that had started so abruptly had slowed to a crawl until he was left standing there in front of the mirror, but something still wasn't done. Something was still changing. It wriggled and maneuvered its way through his brain, seeping into every crevice, working its way around, casting its taint across his memories. Business school eroded away as new memories of liberal arts classes bubbled up. His calloused fingers started to twitch as they gained the ability to play guitar after many nights of practice.

One by one, then dozens at a time, his memories were shifting like some beautiful tile mosaic being built on top of a linoleum floor. His original life was there, being covered over by something new. He knew who he was, but he knew even more who he was now. The new memories were not nearly as plentiful as the old ones had been, and as Edward tried to look past the beard, past the hair and at the changed face he now owned, he realized why. He wasn't in his mid thirties anymore, he was barely twenty three. He'd shaved off more than ten years of his life while looking as if he'd never shaved a day in his life.

“Eddie! EDDIE! We're getting slammed, are you almost done in there?!" The call came from outside the bathroom. It was a woman's voice, the other barista.

“Give me a damn minute, Lilith, I didn't take my first break!" Edward, or rather Eddie, shot back. The ease with which it had left his lips was shocking, momentarily reminding him of how much had shifted. Edward looked at the mirror in horror, repeating back the strange events of the day in his mind once more. “Remember those words when you experience how others live. Remember those words when the life you love so much is replaced with something else entirely…" Edward whispered back to himself. It was haunting, it was terrifying, but it wasn't over, at least not yet.

A heat was building inside of Eddie's chest. He arched his back, moaning out louder and louder. His face tingled and then stung as his beard grew faster. His mustache pushed out further, dropping down over his bottom lip, hiding it entirely. The hair pushed out from his cheeks, nearly half an inch every second. Every trace of skin disappeared from his cheeks as the beard filled out, fanning wider like a mane or a crest, but gravity was its greatest ally. It pulled his beard doward as it grew out from his chin, his jaw, even his throat. The strands were long and togue, coarse and wide, full and bushy. It sprouted over his adam's apple, joining the longer strands from up above.

Eddie reached up, his ringed, hairy fingers grabbing onto his beard, giving it a tug, then another before he dug his fingers in, raking through it like a comb. He built the beard up and out, fluffing it, fawning over it, fanning it. It was wider than his ears, it was fuller than his hair, and it was long - so long. Eddie shuddered hard, feeling his beard brush his collar bone before creeping down another inch, then another. When it came to an abrupt and unceremonious stop, Eddie came. His longer, seemingly uncut cock erupted with enough cum to stain his work pants, soaking his lap. He grabbed onto the sink for support, desperate for breath, panting hard. His mustache rose and fell with each breath as he looked at himself in the mirror.

He had become a hairy beast, pierced and tattooed, looking utterly unemployable. His clothes were a mess, he was peaty and musky… and he'd never felt more alive. It was as if he'd spent his whole life floating around in helium balloons, never touching the surface and now he was grounded to the planet, to the people. He was all man and he loved it… although there was still a place for a little bit of refinement. While Eddie turned and admired his massive beard, he reached up and pulled his hair up with a practiced skill. A hair tie that had been waiting around his wrist was worked into place as he set up an artful man-bun while still having enough hair left over to reach his shoulders.

The next bit of refinement came as he withdrew a well oiled wooden comb from his pocket along with a small brown bottle of beard oil. The smell of citrus hit the air as the precious drops dribbled onto the comb. Eddie began the intimate, sensual act of combing the beard oil into his mighty mane. The tangled bush began to behave as the strands untangled, seeming fuller and longer. He worked it from the base to the tips, from his chin to his chest, from his cheeks out. When he was nearly done he added just a bit more beard oil and readied the piece-de-resistance.

Eddie dipped the comb into his thick mustache, working it out carefully, spending particular attention to the dangling sides of the handlebar like shape. He had gone from looking scruffy to being the pinnacle of a hipster barista. He could have been on the cover of magazines or websites or even framed art. It was a point of pride, of lust, of personal satisfaction. With one last check, Eddie reached over and grabbed his apron and pulled it back on, tying it carefully to cover the mess he'd made of his pants. His break was over, it was time to get back to work.

****

The sun had sunk beyond the horizon but the city had come together like a trillion fireflies frozen in an amber haze. The cold brick of the coffee shock was warmed by glass lanterns and well strung fairy lights. Headlights and tail lights rose and fell outside like a white and red sea, but the demand for coffee was never ending. Lilith had ended her shift but Eddie and Toby had continued on without her.

Somewhere far beneath the surface, Edward was there, witness and memory like a distant echo. Eddie, however, seemed like a practiced hand at nearly everything. His coffees were on point each time, he served up dishes from the bakery display in perfect proportions. He'd strummed a little tune on his guitar on break and his hand just seemed to find itself on the hip of many of his customers as he navigated his way around. That contact, that intimacy felt important. It also felt a bit flirtatious as well.

“I don't know how you keep it up, man…" Toby commented from where he stood. Compared to Eddie he was a bit new to the hipster aesthetic, but his thick earrings and soul patch seemed to be a modest start. Eddie, however, leaned against the back counter in a way that projected his hips forward.

“Keep what up?" he asked. Toby rolled his eyes at that.

“Going breakneck speed all day and then still having a nightlife. You've been on five dates this week with five different guys, right?" Toby asked. Eddie grinned with a bit of pride.

“I'm a beast, remember?" Eddie asked. Toby chuckled at that.

“A hairy beast, I remember." He replied, moving to start prepping the ingredients needed for the nightly rush. Eddie lingered for a moment, his brow furrowing as the memories of his old life swam up toward the surface for a moment, existing in tandem with the new one. Was this what that mysterious stranger had tried to teach him? How the other half lived? How much pleasure could be contained in a life? To Edward it seemed like a curse to have his perfect life stripped away and rewritten, but to Eddie it was a gift. He'd lived a good life, one full of pleasure and pride and few regrets. Eddie glanced at the clock, taking a breath.

“I'll get the last of this, you better take your break before I clock out." Eddie said. Toby smiled at that and nodded, fixing himself an espresso before he pulled off his apron and set it aside, moving to go sit down at a table. Eddie moved around to finish chopping and dicing and separating all the ingredients, getting a few orders ready for their regulars. A tiny bell jangled from the door as another customer entered. Eddie looked up, his head tilting just a bit as he set his sights on a tall, if skinny, drink of water.

The young man that had walked in looked to be barely over the age of eighteen. His blond hair was wavy, his face fair, and he had to be barely a hundred and thirty pounds despite being at least six feet tall. His white t-shirt was loose over his fit torso and his blue jeans were tight over his bubble ass. To Eddie he looked like an angel, a cherub, an innocent… a blank canvas in need of his wise guidance. Eddie waited, still and motionless, not wanting to startle his prey away. Predictably, the young man approached the counter with a wide smile and a light in his eyes.

“Hi, can I have a latte please?" he asked, coming up to the counter. Eddie smiled, his beautiful handlebar mustache glistening in the lantern style lights that hung down from the ceiling.

“I was hoping you'd say that." Eddie said, moving to start making the latte, “Big evening planned?" he asked as he grabbed the cup and started to fill it with the right blend of coffee.

“I just feel like celebrating a bit, staying up. It was a good week and I don't want it to be over. I know that probably sounds silly." The young man said. Eddie shook his head.

“Makes complete sense to me. Stay up late, party hard. I hope you like lots of cream." Eddie said. The blond man blinked.

“What?" he asked softly, looking at Eddie in a different way, at how he filled out his clothes and stood there with such presence. Eddie indicated the cup.

“Your frothed milk?" he asked. The blond blushed.

“Oh, yeah, of course… Yeah, lots of milk." he replied. Eddie gave an appreciative noise before he started to add the frothed milk. Despite this being his first day on the job, he apparently had quite a bit of muscle memory for it. He poured the milk carefully, watching the light beige color emerge from a sea of smokey topaz brown. At first he wasn't sure what he was designing until it became clear, looking like a bearded man with horns.

For a long moment Eddie looked down at it, almost as if the design was looking back at him, but he couldn't stay there forever. The barista snapped himself out of it and moved over, setting the latte down before he reached and rested his hand on the young man's. There was a static shock, a connection, and the young man's blue eyes seemed to dilate and open wide, giving no resistance as Eddie looked deep into them. It was almost as if Eddie's irises were pulsing, throbbing with energy and soon the young man's were too.

“You want to party with me tonight, see how much cream I can give you?" Eddie asked. The young man nodded eagerly, a drop of drool leaking from the corner of his mouth.

“Yes sir, very much sir…" he whispered. Eddie growled with contentment, feeling as if the predator in him was going to have a very good meal. All he had to do was wait out the last few minutes of his shift and this morsel would be all his. He stepped away to finish cleaning up, leaving the blond to drool over him for at least two minutes before he remembered he had a latte to savor.

****

The door to Eddie's apartment swung open, shuddering as it hit the aged rubber doorstop affixed to the brick wall. It was the same place, the same building, but everything about it had changed as well. There were posters instead of paintings, mismatched lamps instead of a designer series, and the aroma of a man's man lingered. The two bodies stumbled in, a tangle of groping hands, intermingled arms, and wrestling tongues. Eddie kicked the door shut, stepping out of his shoes as their twisted tango headed straight for the bed.

“Eddie!" The blond yelped as the back of his knees hit the edge of the queen sized mattress and he fell onto his back. Eddie took the opportunity to shuck the rest of his clothing until he was standing in his hairy, tattooed glory. There was even a tattoo of an anchor just off center of his groin, peeking out from the edge of his bush.

“I'm ready to froth some milk, Brian." Eddie growled before he yanked off the blond's jeans with such gusto that it sent his shoes flying across the room. The underwear went next, though Eddie didn't even bother to remove the twink's t-shirt. The hipster came down atop him, leaning in for another kiss… but it wasn't just any kiss. As Eddie came down, their groins pressing together, their chests tightly squeezed, their lips met. Between the gravity, the angle, or perhaps some other law of physics, it was just enough that several of the bristly hairs from Eddie's mustache poked Brian's upper lip and the skin around it started to tingle.

The blond moaned, his back arching. Eddie loved seeing him like this; so thirsty, and not for another latte. The barista grabbed onto one of Brian's legs and lifted it up, running his hand down the long, supple slope of his leg before he grabbed the other and raised it into place, letting it anchor over his shoulder as well. Eddie's long, full, apparently uncut cock was more than ready. It was a fact that rang like a distant echo in Edward's mind. He was straight, he was a clean cut guy… but he wanted this, he needed it, he hungered for it. Nothing was going to stop him.

Eddie thrust into Brian, his cock spearing that virgin ass wide. Brian's back arched, his legs tightened over Edide's shoulder and pulled him closer. The barista grinned as he started to slide forward and back, in and out. At first it was just a little at a time, but he was building momentum. The deeper he slid, the more he felt at home. He rammed his cock deeper and deeper, watching Brian squirm… but he wasn't just squirming, he was… growing.

At first Eddie thought it was a trick of his eyes, the way the streetlights were filtering through his apartment window, but now he couldn't deny it. At first it had been a shadow creeping across Brian's upper lip, but as he watched the shadow turned from fuzz to stubble and then hair. It was a little darker than the hair on his head, sort of a dishwater blond, but it was coming in thicker and thicker.

That one change, that one detail, that one mustache transformed Brian in an instant. He wasn't some inexperienced, innocent twink. He had a flare of masculinity. He had cultivated and grown it, wearing it with pride almost like a flag to signal to the world who he was and what he wanted. Eddie wanted it too. He wanted to give it to him. He thrust in harder and deeper, using the angles, using the legs draped over his back, spearing into Brian's ass until he was buried to the hilt.

“Yes! YES! FUCK ME!" Brian howled, reaching up to grab onto Eddie's arms. As he did, his own arms started to burn and sting. Eddie howled as he felt his tattoos burn and tingle and throb, wriggling around on his arm, moving like living snakes made of ink before they started to seep into Brian's, spiraling down across his hands and wrists before coiling around his forearms. The ink took root, spreading out on its own, creating a living tapestry of leaves and vines and flowers. He had tattoo bracers of a jungle with thick, throbbing, suggestive looking snakes coiled around plump, juicy apples.

Edward was amazed and transfixed, but Eddie couldn't stop. He didn't want to stop. He wanted to push Brian along and make him the man he was born to be. The barista fucked the twink harder and faster, letting the heat of friction build hotter and hotter inside him until it was nearly boiling. Brian's heavy, hard cock slapped against his stomach, stretching out like clay. Each impact made it longer and longer until it reached his navel, then stretched longer still.

A stinging, burning, amazing sensation pumped through his veins with each heartbeat. It percolated in his nipples first, then his belly button. Brian called out, moaning in pleasure and pain combined, finding it too much to bear until, with the slightest pinprick of relief, the pain died back as two metal bars appeared through his nipples. Metal caps oozed around the tips before hardening. A similar sensation came as a ring formed, looping out from his belly button.

Brian thrashed around on Eddie's cock, panting and sweating and drooling and moaning. His perfectly quaffed hair was a mess, flying around with each bounce, each thrust, soaked with sweat… but that only acted as fertilizer. Just as Eddie had experienced, Brian's blond hair was growing out at a phenomenal and accelerating pace. Centimeter by centimeter, inch by inch, growing outward in long golden waves. He groaned hard, his shoulders curving, exposing his chest as his hot blood tried to push to the surface, bringing something else instead.

It was faint at first, almost like tiny freckles emerging from skin, but the discoloration came from hair rather than pigment. It was patchy for a moment before filling in. The smooth, sleek chest became adorned with a growing mass of blond hair, almost like moss on a river's stone. The hair came in denser and thicker, spreading outward from the crevice between his pecs before reaching all the way to his pits. The hair there pushed out much faster and longer, soaked in his manly scent, carrying his pheromones to anyone close enough to take them in.

Edward had always been alright at sex and Eddie had been great, but this was something to an entirely new level. This wasn't just sex. This was art. This was perfection. This was power. Eddie tilted his hips to increase the friction, intent on making it as wild as he could. Brian moaned hard, his voice deepening a little as his Adam's apple became more pronounced. Another glint of light caught the metal forming in his septum as a small ring curved into place. Brian leaned back, his mane of hair falling a good seven or eight inches from the nape of his neck. Eddie knew it'd make a handsome man bun, just like his.

The idea clarified in Eddie's mind, realizing his purpose, his instinct, his need. He wasn't just mating, e was creating another of himself, introducing Brian to the amazing life of a self assured, handsome, gay bearded barista. The idea appealed to him. He kept going, giving the young man everything he had in more ways than one. He ground and shifted, trying to hit every pressure point, to stimulate Brian's prostate, to make him cry out with delight and passion and pleasure, and then started. Eddie began to feel the most amazing orgasm of his life.

It started in his brain and his groin at the same instant, traveling with such speed that he couldn't begin to calculate it. While it blossomed across his entire sense of perception, his ample cock began to erupt with jet after jet of his own hot, frothy cream. He sprayed it deep into Brian but he did not stop thrusting and he did not slow down. He churned it inside of him even as he came, pushing it deeper and deeper and bringing out the young man's changes all the more.

What had started as a respectable mustache was becoming more and more audacious by the second. It fanned outward into perfect teardrop shapes before curving at the edges, dipping doward, creeping lower and lower as it became the perfect handlebar. It framed his eager mouth even as he cooed and moaned with bliss, feeling his own orgasm approaching and bringing with it far more pleasurable changes. The tingling that had started on his upper lip caught like embers on the wind, bringing the burning, throbbing pleasure to his entire face.

Eddie moaned deeply with each and every thrust, unable to stop himself as he thrust in over and over and over and over into that wonderful ass. He watched stubble blossom on Brian's cheeks, his chin, his jaw and even his throat. Every time Eddie's cock pushed in, the hair pushed out longer. Each time Eddie pulled back, the hair grew as well. It was as if he was pumping Brian up, and Eddie wanted to see how far it could go. The barista used every ounce of his strength to keep up despite his orgasm, watching with such wonder.

As much as he wanted to keep hanging on, Brian's grip slipped from Eddie's powerful arms. He fell back onto the bed in a pool of his own silky hair. His hairy chest rose and fell with powerful breaths, his tattooed arms sprawled out, his legs still angled up and over Eddie's shoulders. Brian's cock began to throb, pulse and then sputter his pearly seed as he felt that cock drive so deep into him that he could swear he saw a lump appearing and disappearing in his hairy stomach. He looked up at Eddie with such lust and need, his head swimming in it all.

Eddie was hard pressed to think of a time he had seen anything quite so beautiful as how Brian was maturing, how he was changing, how he was growing. The stubble pushed out of his cheeks with determination and grit, turning from a five o'clock shadow to a stubble beard, then something quite tangible. The awkward patchy phase was over in seconds and the aspiring grower phase ended soon after. Brian's beard was striving to catch up to the majesty of his mustache. It was making great strides.

Everything seemed to be drenched in a haze of bliss for Brian. He was drunk in ecstacy, cumming across his hairy chest from his impressively long cock. He looked up for a moment at the man reaming his ass and for an instant he swore he could see three men; a handsome barista, a clean cut young buck, and a bushy bearded demon with powerful horns curving up like the crescent moon. In that moment Brian came so hard, shocking himself. Everything that had come before seemed like a prelude, like precum - though it had clearly been semen. The thick sauce splashed across his belly, his chest, and it would have hit his throat if not for the growing curtain of bushy, black hair descending downward from his chin. It unfurled and unfolded, it grew so fast it almost poured. Every follicle felt as if it was having an orgasm of its own as it pumped and pumped and pumped, producing hair.

Brian's eyes glazed over with more pleasure than he could fathom as his beard pushed out from his cheeks and dropped down lower toward his chest. He didn't look like a twink anymore. He was a man, a man's man, Eddie's man. He had reshaped him, reformed him, recreated him. Here he was in all his glory covered with tattoos and piercings, with hair and cum, gay and horny and perfect. Eddie's orgasm eventually subsided and as it did, he slowly lowered Brian's leg down off his right shoulder, then his left. He let Brian descend into the afterglow in a more comfortable position as he leaned down and gave him one last kiss.

As their lips met and their mustaches meshed together in a hairy interlock, Edward could feel the imprint of a new life sinking into Brian. He had created himself in another, or rather he had poured Eddie into someone… Brian was now the down to earth, content, self assured hipster barista that could play guitar, woo any man, and make a perfect latte every time. The feeling was surreal, spiritual, even supernatural. Edward's head spun so much that he had to drop onto the bed next to Brian, panting as the world spun and he felt that strange lurching feeling in the pit of his stomach as if he was descending the elevator once more.

****

Ticking… That was the first thing Edward heard. Ticking and street noises… Ticking, street noises and sunlight. It was early morning judging on the angle and the shade. Edward opened his eyes wearily, seeing very familiar Egyptian cotton pillow cases that matched the sheets and the comforter in their silver hue. Edward's eyes darted from his bed to his lamp, a designer lamp with a ladder of helixes climbing up into a rectangular papyrus lampshade.

Edward sat up in bed, his head feeling lighter. No hair cascaded across his shoulders, no hair brushed against his chest. He looked around quickly, taking in his apartment. The rough brick walls were plastered over and adorned with expensive paintings of Japanese trees casting cherry blossoms into the wind. There were no bookshelves, only shoe shelves holding dress shoes… He had his old life back.

The clean cut thirty year old swung his legs off the edge of his bed, sitting there for a moment as his mind tried to process. Had it been a dream? A fever dream? It had all felt so real, more real than anything else he'd ever experienced in his life. It was tactile, every sense so rich, and yet… he had his life back. He lowered his head, expecting to feel his beard against his chest. Instead it was a baby smooth chin against his chest.

Never before in his life had Edward felt so conflicted. He was relieved that everything made sense, and yet… it had been such an unbridled pleasure to be Eddie, to be the barista, to live a life so confidently and so certainly. Maybe that was the lesson he could learn, that even if someone as scruffy and unkempt as Eddie could be happy, maybe he could be too. Edward gave a quick glance at his clock. It was early, maybe too early… but that wasn't anything a good cup of coffee couldn't fix.

****

Steam wafted up from the storm drains on the street corners, combining with the vapor spilling out of traffic as it puttered along the roads. Edward slipped out of his apartment, pulling on his suit jacket, moving down the sidewalk. Edward walked with more caution and curiosity, looking at the other people as people rather than obstacles. Rather than trying to cut through narrow gaps, he waited to let people pass. Something about it felt more magical, almost like a work of art. Even the way that the sun came in, saturated with gold and ruby and rust. Everyone was moving along as if they couldn't see it, everyone except Edward and… the bearded man.

The figure stood, leaning against the green guardrail leading down to the subway. His thick aviator sunglasses reflected the morning dawn, glowing bright and hot. His bushy beard blew in the wind, ruffled and full. He wore a suit but from patterned graphite colored cloth, the undershirt and tie all the same color. He had on dress shoes, a nice watch, Edward's watch. Edward's eyes widened as he realized that that man, that figure had taken his life, his job. He opened his mouth to say something, but someone walked in front of Edward and broke his line of sight. That split second was all it took for the man to disappear.

Edward slowed to a stop, his sense of wonder and mystery halted by the revelation. Moments passed and the sea of people drifted around Edward on both sides, coming in a never ending stream. He had been lost in thought, running every hypothetical and every possibility until something different, something distinct cut through it all. A deep, gutteral, earth shaking growl erupted from something powerful nearby. It sputtered and puttered, it throbbed and it chugged. The windows of the storefront vibrated, but so too did Edward. He could feel the sound in his body, in his lungs, in his bones.

The thirty year old turned to see a man on a motorcycle pulling into traffic. Even when it disappeared behind a truck, Edward could feel it in him. The vibration felt so good, rippling down his spine, settling in his groin. His balls began to swell, his cock began to harden. A dopey, drunken grin crossed his lips as he felt the vibration making him feel so big and so manly. As Edward grinned, he felt the vibration climbing up higher and higher until it took root in his cheeks, a familiar tingling spreading. There was a moment of fight in Edward's mind, knowing he should run away as the curse took hold again… but another part of him, a growing part, knew just how good it would feel to give in.