FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

[Readers, be advised: The following story contains mature themes not suited for all audiences, including but not limited to filth, weight gain and a somber tone.]

Further World Written by Leo_Todrius Anonymous Commission

Daylight Savings... It was an event as pernicious as tax time, maybe even worse since it came twice a year. The heavens rumbled with a great thunder storm, though Miles hadn't seen any of the flashes. His eyes were trained on the wet pavement beneath his pristine sneakers, his head shrouded in a water soaked, dark gray hooded sweatshirt with his school's emblem on the back. The eighteen year old watched the water split around the crisp white and black rubber, glad at least that the water wasn't muddy. His pale lips parted and he let out a deep, lingering yawn.

The weight of springing forward was the worst. Miles had heard his classmates complaining about having to get up an hour early, but none of them got up at five on a normal school day. He was always the first to school and the last to leave. Such was the life of someone with more extra-curricular activities than one could count on one hand. Miles turned and moved up the slight sloped walkway to his house, trudging up the steps before he stopped to unlock the door.

As Miles turned the key, he used his free hand to pull his hood back off of dark blond hair, blue eyes peering out into the distance. The clouds were as black as steel, looking so thick with rain that they almost looked like a solid mass. Miles sighed and shook his head before he moved into the empty house. He cast a quick glance to the kitchen, spotless as ever... It was easy to keep clean when no one ate there.

Outside there was another heavy rumble as the thunder struck. The house was dark save for the light from the street light and the faint blue glow of numbers on the microwave. Miles didn't need the light. He moved down the hallway for his room and pushed in, shedding his wet clothing off layer by layer. Normally Miles would invest hours in homework, keeping his grade the best in the school, preparing for college... but he was so far ahead, the day was dragging so much, he felt that he'd earned a break.

Beads of water ran down Miles' torso as he peeled off his under shirt, kicked off his shoes and dropped his pants. He peeled off his wet briefs and stood naked in his room, moving to his drawer for some dry underwear. Miles was five foot eight, slim and trim, just on the verge of being skinny without being too frail. He had no scars, no blemishes, just fair pail skin. Miles opened the drawer and paused, finding no trace of clean underwear. He grimaced slightly. There was only one option, though Miles hated it.

The teenager moved to his hamper and opened it up, pulling out a pair of used underwear. Miles was a bit of a clean freak and hated dirty clothes, but it was preferable to going to bed naked. With the pair of gray underwear slipped up around his legs, hugging his ass and his groin, Miles climbed into bed and closed his eyes. He listened to the rain on the roof and his window, the distant roll of the thunder and he slipped into a deeper sleep than he had ever felt. His consciousness dropped down to idle thoughts, to dreams, then utter nothingness. He felt nothing, he thought nothing.

In that absolute void of consciousness, falling further asleep than ever, the rain outside grew louder... the air grew colder and Miles pulled up tighter against himself. The covers felt strange, bristly and rough... Miles murmured softly in his sleep, his ears twitching - ears on top of his head. It was that inexplicable motion that stirred Miles from his sleep. He murmured gently at that, his eyes opening to see not his room, but the very close surface of the inside of a tent.

The cold made more sense. He was outside... Miles looked at the tent and reached out to touch it, freezing in place. The hand stretched before him was not human. Fine gray fur grew out of the flesh, coating the hand entirely and evenly. White claws extended from the tips and pink fleshy pillows covered the pads of his fingers and part of his palm. Miles looked at his palm, confused by how human and yet how canine it looked.

Miles felt almost hung over, his head aching and throbbing. Nothing made sense. Why would he dream that he was some sort of wolf man? He didn't watch horror movies, he didn't play video games... Miles was almost disgusted with his mind for playing such dirty tricks on him, but at the same time it all felt so real. He slowly sat up, cringing at his ears scraped the tent and he heard the sound of the vinyl being rubbed. His ears flattened against his head and Miles looked down at the rest of himself. His furry hands connected to furry arms disappearing into a black leather vest. The vest had several patches sewn on. There was an emblem of a wolf paw print, of a motorcycle, of a wolf skull with horns. None of it made sense to Miles, though it looked almost like a biker's vest. Miles tried to push that out of his mind, looking at the rest of his body. His chest was covered in slightly lighter fur, almost as if it was trying to be cream color and failing... and his legs were hidden in an old plaid sleeping bag. There were various items in the tent around him, a drab olive green army bag, food cartons. It was generally filthy. He was in hobo filth. Then it hit Miles. The cold, the tent... It couldn't be.

Miles pushed out of his sleeping bag, nearly tripping out of it as he stumbled into the open air. The rain came down, soaking his fur. He moved a few steps frantically, feeling his balance was off. There was a counter balance behind him, a thick and fluffy tail. Miles moved forward, looking for anything reflective to look at himself in. He was somewhere downtown, the buildings all closed up for the night. There were street lights and occasional cars, but the storm had chased almost everyone away. Miles had made it almost a block before he sensed movement.

Tucked in the corner of an entry way to an old movie theater there were two figures, huddled form the cold, kissing away. Miles moved up to them, wondering if he could find out what happened, where he was. As he approached, the figures broke their kiss and turned. Large rabbit eyes widened, floppy ears going limp. Their noses twitched and their whiskers flicked. They looked at Miles with dear and trepidation. The male rabbit checked his watch and murmured. The girl nodded and the two moved back inside. It was clear that they had just emerged from a movie given the popcorn kernels stuck to their shirt, but they had made up an excuse to get away from Miles. Miles had never been so taken aback before in his life.

He continued on past movie posters, glancing around at the cars. Their mirrors were too tiny and low. He needed something bigger... At the corner of the block, he finally got his wish. A canopy extended out over the sidewalk, shielding the building from the rain. The bakery was pitch black inside, so dark that there was more light from the street lamps and traffic signals. Using the faintly green light of the signal, Miles took a look at his reflection.

In the glass across from him was a five foot, eight inch tall wolf man with silver fur covering his body except for a blond shag of hair. His silver ears poked up through the hair, his muzzle was perfectly sculpted and shaped. He was wearing a leather vest and worn black jeans, but other than his strange wardrobe he seemed to be a wolf version of himself. Same proportions, same mentality. Nothing added up.

Miles knew how dreams worked. As the brain defragmented itself and transcribed short term memories into long ones, it randomly filtered information both new and old, causing the hodge podge of dreams. Everything Miles was experiencing was linear, stable, coherent. It wasn't a dream... Miles felt panic in his heart. He had to find a way to figure out what was going on... though the rumble in his stomach convinced him other things were at stake. He hadn't eaten since his last granola bar at three. He knew he shouldn't have gone to bed without eating.

He checked his pockets, pulling out a worn brown leather wallet. He opened it up and checked the pockets, pulling out a foil wrapper that was six inches across, holding the largest condom he'd ever seen in his life. Miles grunted in disgust and dropped it, poking through the wallet more. Inside were a few paper bills, gives... but instead of Lincoln, the face on the blue tinged money was a deer... Proud antlers, narrow muzzle, a deer man. Even more strangely, the depiction of his soft fur gave way to thicker, more bristly hair that was quite clearly a beard.

Miles reached up, running his fingers through his face fur. His reflection seemed perfectly even, but he could feel that some of the hairs in his fur were soft while others were stiffer. Perhaps the creatures of this world used trimmers for the equivalent of shaving... Just one more idiosyncrasy that didn't make any sense. Still, Miles had money and with money he could get food. The wolf man moved down the street, feeling the cold wind blow through his wet fur. He sighed gently, breath moving in and out of his nostrils.

It took a few minutes but Miles found a family grill that was open. He glanced through the window, seeing all the people inside. There were skunks, beavers, kangaroos... Every age, every gender. It looked quite wholesome. Miles opened the door and stepped in out of the rain, shaking his body a bit to get the water off. It had been pure instinct and Miles didn't think anything of it until he heard the water splashing against the plastic flowers, the wallpaper, and a disgusted gasp from some of the clients. Beneath his fur, Miles blushed.

"Sir... I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave." came a soft voice. Miles turned, looking to the man behind the counter. He was a bit shorter than Miles, a five foot and two inch tall badger man with round coke bottle classes.

"If its about the shaking, I promise not to do it again, I don't know what came over me." Miles apologized.

"Sir, I really must ask you to leave." the badger said, pointing to a sign resting on the counter top. It was the standard right to refuse service to anyone.

"What the hell did I do? I just came in here for some fucking food and I-" Miles froze, stunned not only at the words that had escaped his lips, but the inexplicable, sudden rage. His heart was racing, his muscles felt tender. He was breathing harder and sweating. Everyone in the restaurant was looking at him now, and it was only then that Miles realized what was wrong. The restaurant, the family restaurant, had been filled with herbivores and docile creatures. There wasn't one canine, no fox or lion, no meat eater at all. He was a predator species and they were prey. He could feel their fear, even smell it. It filled his lungs and his chest swelled outward slowly, his rib cage expanding while his arms grew a bit thicker. The waiter looked even more afraid as the wolf grew larger before him. Unaware of his own changes, Miles said nothing, turning to move out of the shop and back into the rain.

The cold and the wet felt almost refreshing after the restaurant. He could still feel his blood boiling with an anger that he had never felt before. It was as if he wanted to be furious and rip them apart, but he was too rational for that. Of course they were afraid of him, of course they were worried. He was a predator, a wolf... but were things truly so bad here? Were they afraid of a little young wolf like him? Miles shook his head. Maybe they didn't see him as so little. Even at his size, perhaps he was menacing.

Miles pulled his lips back, baring his fangs. He panted as he walked, flexing his arms inadvertently. It was hard for him to see, but his muscles had grown a little more. Pumped full of adrenaline, his biceps and triceps were thicker, his legs were a bit stronger... and the faintest thick bristle had started pushing through his fur around his lips, darker than the rest, giving him a faint dark ring of hair, barely noticeable.

It seemed like Miles walked for ages, passing through neighborhood after neighborhood. He didn't even bother to try the cafes or sandwich shops. H e needed a place where he would be accepted. Down the road Miles saw the dull glow of a neon sign advertising steaks and ribs. It was a man's place, the kind of place he never would have bothered to eat back home. Miles had to laugh at the irony. He had the heart of a lamb back home and he'd woken up as a wolf here... Was it cosmic balance? Was he evening himself out? Miles groaned, his head hurting. The headache seemed t intensify the more he thought. Miles knew all those thoughts on an empty stomach were probably a bad thing.

After another two blocks of walking, Miles reached the rib joint. He pushed into the shop and glanced around, feeling an odd mix of apprehension and relief. The apprehension was easy to place. He could smell meat, blood, beer and drool. The tables were full of huge guys. Some were muscled, some were fat, some were both. There were lions and Siberian tigers and polar bears all over the place and none of them gave Miles a second glance.

Miles moved in slowly, looking at them all. A panda bear had a split mustache that hung down past his chin on either side, beads woven into the hair. His black hair was braided back into a plait. He had a huge rotund belly and the fur on his arm seemed discolored with a silver yin yang symbol that grew out through the fur... A tattoo of some sort. The man chowed down on bamboo shoots, noodles and thick pieces of steak. A few rows down a lion with a beard down to his belly button tore into a half of a lamb on a plate, gnashing with his fangs.

Miles was disgusted... and all the more hungry. He licked his lips, his stomach growled more and he quickly scooted into a booth. There was a few moments of silence before a black fox moved out from behind the counter, his thick dreadlocks pulled into a pony tail, a foot long goatee hanging from his chin. His pointed ears were lined with the silver glint of earrings.

"What can I do fo ya bro?" the waiter asked.

"Uh, um.... Its my first time here, what do you suggest?" Miles asked. The waiter glanced him over.

"Luna special maybe. Pork loin, salmon flank with a pitcher of the house beer." The waiter said. Miles looked stunned.

"I'm only eighteen." he replied. The waiter shrugged.

"We could make it hard liquor for a extra five dollars." the waiter offered. Miles was even more stunned. Apparently drinking ages were different in this strange world.

"I'll... just take the special as it comes." Miles said, worried about making an even bigger fool of himself. The waiter nodded and moved off, taking his order to the chef and leaving the wolf in peace. Miles slowly closed his eyes and took several long breaths, trying to relax himself. If there was any chance he was dreaming, maybe going to sleep here would wake him back up at home, but that didn't seem to be the case. His canine ears were too good. He heard claws against plates, the clacking of teeth, the tearing of meet. Miles sighed and opened his eyes, gazing out into the rain, seeing an owl man with an umbrella wander past. Miles felt numb and cold and alone.

"Here ya go." The waiter's voice said, disrupting Miles from his thoughts. He turned, much to his surprise to see that the food was ready and set before him. The waiter shrugged gently, "Sorry it took so long." he apologized.

"So long?" Miles repeated back.

"Usually the chef can get it done in just ten minutes but we had a busy day. I'll discount the price if you want." The waiter offered. Miles was still a little stunned.

"S... Sure, that'd be great." Miles replied. The waiter nodded and moved off again to check on the other customers. Miles was left there, looking at his food. It had taken more than ten minutes? It felt like no time had passed at all, but that worried Miles. He'd known since his neurology class that the passage of time was related to the speed one thought at. If time was passing more quickly, he might have been thinking more slowly... But surely it was just him nodding off during his zen moment, that had to be it.

Miles shook off his concerns and returned to the issue at hand, eating. The food looked amazing and he was starving, but there was one issue... There was no silver ware. Miles was about to raise his concern when he noticed none of the other patrons had utensils. They were all using their paws. Miles shivered gently, still disliking touching food directly, but he had to get over it.

The wolf took a hold of the meat and lifted it up, bringing it to his muzzle. His nostrils flared, his whiskers twitched and he bit into it. The juices from the meat escaped as his fangs pierced the surface, dribbling down over his lips and down his fingers. The wet, warm, salty flow was like heaven to Miles and he took another bite and then another, tilting his head to tear at it.

As Miles grew more ravenous, his focus on everything around him began to fade. He tore and gnawed and chewed at the food, soaking his fur with grease, grunting and growling. None of the other patrons seemed to mind, they were his kind... There was no recrimination, no reproach, nothing to warn Miles that he wasn't being himself. Without his own sense of restraint and without restraint from outside, he tore into the meat like a beast and it started to have an affect on him. Miles dropped the pork loin and grabbed the pitcher of beer, bringing it to his lips before tilting it back. The amber liquid flowed in, refreshing with how cold it was despite tasting like maple piss. He coughed and sprayed some of it down his chin before taking deeper gulps, feeling more relaxed... but his body was anything but stable.

The changes started with a dull throbbing in his jaw. Miles attributed it to chewing tough meat, but the bones were actually stretching out and thickening. His muzzle had been narrow but now it was growing wider, squaring off in the front and flaring at the sides. The fur on his cheeks grew longer, sticking out in a bit of a shag. The juices flowing down his chin stained the thicker bristles, giving him the appearance of a slight goatee, but the juices didn't stop there. They dropped down onto his chest fur where more bristles pushed out like chest hair through the fur.

Miles finished the pork loin and moved on, chowing down hard and fast. Everywhere the grease fell, he seemed to get more manly, but it wasn't limited to that. His blond hair, with no reason to get messy, started to seem a bit more oily and unkempt, sticking up in places. His arms began to push out more, the flesh wrapping around larger biceps and triceps. Even his vest seemed to grow a bit tighter, but Miles didn't care. He bit and licked and sucked and drank his meal, taking it all in like a starving man. Even his spine ached and throbbed as it stretched, the vertebrae parting and expanding, giving him an inch of growth, then two, then three before slowing as Miles reached the end of his meal.

As Miles licked his claws clean and returned the bones to the plate, he felt an odd pressure in his stomach... One he had seldom felt before. It hovered at the base of his esophagus and Miles squirmed, not wanting it to be there. He bore down, felt the bubble rise up and his lips parted, releasing a thick belch that smelled of pig. Surprised by the flavor, Miles licked his lips happily, leaning back. He hadn't felt that good... ever. After a lifetime of eating right, he had to admit that pigging out felt good. He felt too stuffed, but very good. It was strange, if he hadn't been chased out of the family diner he never would have known the pleasure of just going at it.

Miles opened his wallet and put out more than enough money for the meal and a tip and was about to leave when he saw the pitcher of beer sitting there. It was all for him after all, part of the wolf special. Maybe wolves had a higher tolerance for beer. Maybe they were better at it than other species. It wouldn't hurt to try after all. Miles reached for the pitcher with the express purpose of draining it. ****

Step by step, Miles staggered down the street. The road seemed uneven, or perhaps it was his balance. Whatever it was, Miles grinned. It felt good to be drunk, almost liberating. Miles chuckled at nothing in particular, staggering along before he paused. Something wasn't right... There was a discomfort and Miles didn't like discomforts. It felt almost like a burp but it wasn't in his throat. Given how good the belch had felt, Miles decided to just use the nearest muscle to bear down on the pressure until it went away. Much to his surprise, the hot wetness soaking through his jeans revealed that the pressure had been his bladder.

Still having a shred of decency, Miles quickly unzipped his urine soaked jeans, fished out his pulsing cock and aimed it at the nearest brick wall. The stream of amber looked much like the beer he'd just consumed, but it came out with such force from his tapered, bright red cock. Miles looked at himself, giving himself a few strokes idly, surprised by how nice his manhood was before he felt a tap on his shoulder.

"Sir, you can't be doing that here." came a deep voice. Miles turned, his stream of piss moving with him to douse the Doberman standing before him... a Doberman in a black police uniform. Miles looked at the Doberman's face and then his legs soaked in piss before giving a sheepish smile. ****

The jail cell rattled as the door slammed shut, hitting the lock with a loud clang. Miles' ears flattened against his head and he snarled at the abrasive sound. It was clear from the pain in his head that the beer was starting to wear off... and reality was sinking in. It was his first day in this strange world and already he'd scared innocent people, gotten drunk and gotten arrested. His body felt stiff and sore like living a hard life had taken its toll. Miles was so ashamed of himself. He wasn't sure what had come over him, but it seemed like he was making one bad decision after another.

"I get it... you know." Came a deep voice from near by. Miles turned, looking to the corner of the cell he shared with another man. The bear looked to be thirty eight, six foot nine and several hundred pounds. He had on huge blue jeans and a red and black laid shirt, a grizzly beard hanging from his wide face. There was even the faint glint of gold rings in his ears.

"What do you get?" Miles asked almost aggressively, not wanting to be sized up by another criminal.

"Sewing your wild oats, marking your territory... It's good to do it while you're young. It just doesn't work when you try to catch up for lost time." The bear said.

"Is that what you tried to do?" Miles asked, leaning back. The bear chuckled.

"I guess I gave away too much of myself kid... I'm a drunk, horny old bear that lived in the closet far too long. I got a bit careless with how I went about things." the bear commented.

"You buy too many hookers, get an undercover one?" Miles smirked, though the words still seemed strange out of his mouth. His pronunciation was loose, his word choice vague. He tried to sound smarter but the words just refused to come out that way.

"In a manner of speaking, I went into a skunk brothel... They could smell it on me for days. Even then, getting fired and a divorce, I couldn't stop. Being in here is the worst part though, I'm getting withdrawal... I just... I need something in me, you know?" The bear moaned, his small tail twitching, "You want to help a honey bear out?" he asked after a moment. Miles was taken aback.

"What?" he murmured in shock. The bear stood up and moved over to the cell door, peeking around before he loosed the button on his pants and lowered them. A wide, fat bear butt was exposed, covered in burly fur. The tail hiked up and he reached his paws back, spreading his cheeks to reveal the pucker beneath.

"Come on, the guards will be occupied for minutes... You're a young, virile wolf. I know you guys like to fuck in packs, but can't you put that rod to good use? Fuck me hard like the vicious mutt you are?" the bear panted.

Miles was shocked and disgusted. He'd never been subjected to the sight of another man's ass, let alone been asked to fuck one, but something strange trickled through his body. His cock grew hard, swelling fast. He was in jail, and to his surprise he wasn't the one that dropped the soap. He was supposed to be the dominant, the aggressor.

Miles panted slowly, his tongue hanging out over his black lips. His instincts slowly got the better of him but he tried to fight it. The bear expected him to be the aggressor, to fuck him sill.. It was in his blood, wasn't it? Miles rose up onto his feet, a paw working his pants before his fat hard red cock emerged. The cock still smelled of piss from his encounter with the cop but Miles didn't care. He moved forward, coming up behind the bear.

The bear was so much bigger than him in every way; taller, stronger, bigger belly and huge cock, but he wanted a wolf to mount him. Miles' cock started to drool and he reached out, taking a hold of the bear's hips with both of his paws. He gripped tighter, moved to guide himself in and then he felt it, the pointed red tip of his shaft squeezing into the pucker, edging ever deeper. Tue bear moaned deeply, thrusting his ass back as Miles went forward.

"You're so good at this..." The bear moaned. The pride was like fuel to Miles' ego. he was good at this. The wolf thrust in and out, building up momentum and rhythm, not wanting to stop. The bear's ass squeezed his cock and Miles pushed it in deeper, but something else was going on as well. With every thrust of his cock, with every moment of the bear believing he was an expert, Miles felt his cock begin to swell longer and thicker. His balls grew too, filling out their furry sheath. Miles' cock pushed past eleven inches, then twelve, then fourteen... but it wasn't just his cock that was changing.

Miles' body continued to shift, taking on more attributes. His claws grew longer, better for gripping. His paw swelled wider for the same reason. The muscles in his arm bulged quite a bit to hold on all the better and the muscled physique Miles had gained started to soften around the stomach, the flesh pushing out just a bit. A layer of fat covered pristine muscle, hiding how powerful he truly was. It was only natural though. Hanging out around bears would cause one to eat like a bear after all.

A small voice inside Miles told him to stop. He was a good boy, a clean cut and decent individual. This wasn't him, this wasn't who he was. The world around him was toxic, it wasn't his fault he was doing so many bad things. He tried to stop, to slam on the breaks against it all... but his hips kept going forward. His boots grew tight as his feet began to swell, but more than that he felt his aggression rise.

Miles moved, his maw splitting as he clamped down on the bear's neck. While the bear's fur was thick enough to protect him, he could feel the sharp points of the fangs. He reached back and grabbed Miles' head, holding him there, running bear fingers through his greasy hair... hair that was turning from dirty blond to brown by the moment, matching the dark hair that was pushing out on his face.

From the silver fur came dark brown bristle, a goatee dropping down from either side of his mouth and covering his chin. It stood out, it was distinct, it was part of being a bad ass... something Miles embodied all the more. he was full of lust and rage, covered in hair and smelling of sweat and man. he worked the bear's ass until the bear was clawing at the wall, calling out.

A wet spot formed in the bear's pants from the cum he leaked, the orgasm causing him to shudder and clench down around Miles. Miles kept thrusting as fast as he could despite the changes in pace, but soon his body responded on instinct. His cock pulsed and his seed gushed out, filling the bear. The bear moaned, falling to his knees, panting. The change in position caused Miles' cock to pop out, his seed spraying the plaid shirt down. Miles had never felt more masculine before in his life... and in that moment he never wanted it to stop. ****

The sunlight upon leaving the police station was harsh, harsher than Miles would have expected. At least the rain had stopped. The police had been rather understanding given the severity of pissing on an officer, letting him off with a warning. Miles wondered if it was some sort of canine solidarity. He didn't understand the social roles in this world at all... this new world. It had taken a moment longer to think of the world around him as being other than his own. Miles promised not to lose sight of that fact again.

It felt a little strange leaving the police station without the bear, but the bear had been involved in a few too many crimes for a warning. Still, Miles couldn't shake the feeling that he wasn't all that bad. Miles had always felt that criminals were completely unlikable, evil people that did evil things. He'd never been on the other side of it. Maybe they were like him and made a few mistakes, or like the bear and had a bad run of luck. The one thing Miles was thankful for was that he hadn't had to sleep in the tent again, but that wasn't going to work forever. Miles needed a way to survive.

All of the belongings that had been taken from Miles were returned upon his release, including a pocket knife he didn't know he had. Miles withdrew the leather wallet and flipped through it once more. There was less money now but there were a few other items; a Califurnia state ID, a social security card, and a red horn membership card, whatever that was... but each card listed his name as Miles Silvermane.

Miles looked down at the cards with a weary sigh. Dreams didn't have documentation. They didn't last so many hours. Wherever he was had become his reality. He had to think of a way to get back, to restore his life to what it should have been, but he had to survive too. At least with an ID and a social security number he had what he needed to in order to work. He just had to find someone that was hiring. ****

Normally the library was a very docile place but the front doors opened and people rushed out of the way, escaping the high pitch shouts of the librarian. Miles scurried out, his ears flat as he was hit with a newspaper. The librarian, a matronly old shrew of a mouse, was irate.

"You think you can come back in here again after what you wolves did last time? You're thugs, you're miscreants!" She squeaked. Miles had his shoulders hunched from the beating of the newspaper, feeling angry that anyone would think of him that way... Just because he was big and strong didn't make him a thug, did it? Miles got to the base of the stairs and looked back at the rat woman in disdain. She hissed, "Go!" she added.

"Fuck off ya' old crone before I snap that twiggy neck of yours!" Miles barked back, baring his fangs. The woman shivered at the threat but stood her ground. Miles turned and stocked off down the street, his shoulders still hunched. The position accentuated just how big his shoulders were, though they grew thicker as he moved. His neck widened, his vest grew so tight that the buttons strained. There were even soft glints as tiny jewel studs appeared in his wolf ears, diamond studs and the most expensive thing he owned.

Miles tried to quell the constant sea of anger and brutality he always felt, though he was becoming less and less successful. He thought working in the library would suit him. He'd been academic all his life, but no one was giving him a chance here. He was a wolf and they wanted nothing to do with him. They didn't care how smart he was, all they saw was a thug... and if they saw nothing but a thug, maybe he had to get a job where that sort of behavior was tolerated... or even expected. Miles had to try his hand at a very different sort of option.

The wolf strode down the street, trying to figure out just what kind of job that might be. As he walked, though, there was a musky scent, the smell Miles had come to associate with his bear cellmate. It was the smell of someone in heat, needing to rut and fuck and drool and moan. Miles reached down to grope himself as his canine phallus bloated and slipped out of its sheath into his pants.

As Miles came around the corner, the source of the smell became obvious... In the back of the alley there was a scrawny eighteen year old squirrel wearing a Jamaican colored beanie cap, his black hair straightened, a t-shirt emblazoned with a weed leaf across the chest. His tail was huge and fluffy and he'd tried wearing jeans sagging far too low. Miles panted gently, the rational part of his mind snapping off. Rational Miles was gone, it was only Silvermane. The wolf moved forward and the squirrel looked up, afraid at first before he saw the wolf groping himself. The squirrel felt even more afraid but turned on at the same time.

"I... I can't help it." he moaned, feeling so horny.

"I can." Miles growled, coming up. He took a firm grip of the tail, lifting it out of the way, revealing the squirrel's pucker. The teen moaned deeply at that but then whimpered.

"Be gentle, please?" he whispered. Miles snorted.

"No promises." he murmured, revealing his own shaft through the fly in his jeans before he thrust in. The squirrel squeaked in surprise, feeling the cock was too big but oh so nice. Miles started sliding in and out, fucking the squirrel boy harder and faster, his paws gripping his furry hips. The squirrel squirmed and writhed, basking in the mix of pain and pleasure but Miles honestly didn't care. In his mind there was nothing but the search for pleasure, the acquisition of an ass to fuck. The squirrel was nothing more than a sex toy and that inhumane perception began to warp Miles even further.

While harder to tell with the furry beings than humans, Miles seemed to grow a bit older. His fur lost a bit of luster, his body hunched a bit more with the weight of time. Miles wasn't just a teen taking advantage of another teen, he was an older man jaded by life. The thicker pubic fur on his chest began to spread out, the buttons strained all the more and then they popped, his vest sliding open to reveal a broad chest and a rounding belly. Even Miles' hands changed before the squirrel's eyes, becoming wider and longer and sharper.

"What's... happening to... Ohhh!" The squirrel moaned, aware of the change but powerless to do anything about it. He panted hard, feeling like he was being ripped in two as the wolf tried to get his jollies. Miles fucked into the squirrel hard, lifting his head before letting out a resounding howl. As the howl left his lips, his hair darkened from brown to black, as did his goatee, the hair growing out wilder and more unkempt around his face. He was becoming a hulking brute, all muscle and meat and hair... and he came well before the squirrel boy.

Copious loads of cum pumped into the squirrel, loading his guts down with semen until his eyes glazed over with a haze. The wolf pulled out slowly, the squirrel slowly slumping before him. As Miles' cock continued to gush out, spraying the boy's face with come, he felt a moment of horror... not only at what he'd just done, but how far he'd slipped, how much he'd changed already.

"Are you okay? I'm so sorry, did I hurt you?" Miles asked quickly. The squirrel panted, gazing up at him.

"Are all wolves such a good fuck? Can I... can I be your bitch?" he asked. Miles' eyes widened and he backed out of the alley, turning before he moved the other way. he wasn't even sure where he was headed, he just had to get out of there... But why was he in such a hurry? Despite the shock, Miles' mind was already starting to get fuzzy again. He was getting out of there... because he didn't want commitment, he just wanted a good fuck. That had to be it... But that wasn't him at all, that wasn't who he was.

Miles grabbed his head, rubbing at it, groaning sharply. He was a good boy, a good student. He knew he was changing, failing, becoming corrupt. It happened most when he had sex. That seemed to be the key. If he was going to hold onto himself for any length of time he had to avoid sex, avoid beer, and avoid anything that might set him off. He had to work hard not to lose the rest of who he was. ****

Five days had passed, thankfully without much incident. Miles reached up and pulled the draw string on the little light hanging above the cot he'd been given by the construction foreman, illuminating the little room at the back of the trailer. Miles stretched and yawned, his paws grazing both sides of the trailer before he got up and turned, though his raging erection smacked his alarm clock, sending it hurtling off the table. Miles groaned deeply.

Every morning he'd woken up with an erection and every day it lasted longer than before. His sheath was always plump, his nipples were always hard and his prostate seemed to be throbbing with need. Blue balls was an understatement, but Miles couldn't give in. He had to remain true to who he was, to be the good boy. One glance in the mirror showed he was anything but.

Miles moved over and grabbed the open bag of cheetah puffs, pulling out a handful and stuffing them into his maw. His sharp teeth had no difficulty puncturing the inflated kernels of potato, jerky and cheese. Fragments rained down from his mouth, falling on his rounded belly. His weight had been climbing steadily since his arrival in the strange world, but the less he had sex, the more he seemed to eat and his changes were taking a turn. His chin was rounded, his pecs were starting to sag... He was looking less and less at his physical peak, but ever the large and in charge wolf.

With great effort Miles stuffed his cock into his pants and zipped it up, exchanging his leather vest for a stained white wife beater. It was almost the dress code for the job Miles had gotten, working on the construction of a new warehouse to hold food products. Miles had to grin at that, at least he was doing something related to what he loved. He pushed out of the trailer and let out a long belch, earning a chortling laugh from some of the pigs and the rats that worked the site. Some had beards, others had short cropped fur... they all seemed somewhat sketchy, but Miles had learned on his first day that the sketchier the person, the fewer questions and concerns they raise. It was the only way to live, really.

"There's the big wolf on campus!" came a bellowing grin just as a brown furry arm wrapped around Miles' head. Since waking up in this new world, Miles hadn't had to deal with many people larger than him, but Bruno the bear was certainly an exception. He was six foot four three hundred pounds and a one man wrecking crew. Miles tried to wrestle out of Bruno's grip, but the maneuver only served to bring his muzzle into the bear's armpit - a very sweaty, musky pit.

Miles' wet rubbery nostrils flared, his mouth hanging agape. He huffed and puffed, his lungs filling with the stink of body odor. It was so ripe, so raunchy, and in a strange way so male. He tried to pull his head back but the bear chuckled, making him smell the pit... But Miles wasn't trying to escape the headlock in disgust. The smell was turning him on. His cock throbbed, his nipples ached. He was so very horny.

With his lips parted, it was easy for the wolf's tongue to slip out, plunging into the moist fur, giving it a quick lick. The taste was so wrong and exquisite, it was enough to send the wolf over the edge. Miles shuddered, a wet spot forming in his pants... but that moment of pleasure came with a painful reminder of who he had been. Miles remembered his good boy life and the thought of licking some guy's pit sickened him. He summoned the rest of his strength and pried the bear's arm off before he turned on his heels and stocked back to his trailer.

"Awww, come on man, it was just a bit of play!" Bruno called out, "They always said to pick on someone my own size!" he added just as Miles slammed the door behind him. Miles hoped the display would buy him time to 'cool off' but he knew they'd come see if he was alright eventually. He had to get it over and done with. His clawed fingers worked his fly and button, Before long his precum soaked sheath popped out, the fur still wet from his earlier leaking... leaking that still seemed to be taking place.

Miles watched a steady drizzle of liquids leak from his cock. It seemed he'd reached breaking point. He couldn't hold off any longer. He had to let off some steam. Miles dropped down into his old, ragged chair with a grunt, one paw wrapping around his cock. He started to work it up and down faster and harder, his other paw reaching into his bag of puffs. He scooped up a handful and brought them to his mouth, crunching into them with his deadly predator fangs.

Crumbs of the orange snack dropped down onto his rotund chest and stomach, the gratification from the two activities compounded. Miles had to admit, it was a wonder he'd held off for so long. It felt so damn good to be giving in... He worked his cock, he ate, and then he did more of both. He was so focused on his pleasure that he hadn't noticed the return of the burning tingle, the spread of heat in his body. Each gulp of food brought with it an extra pound of flesh, his belly starting to widen, his pecs filling out more into man boobs, but it wasn't just that. His angular, streamlined predator muzzle was starting to widen. His cheeks rounded and sagged a little, giving him faint jowls that were counter balanced by extra flesh beneath his chin. His head rounded on the whole, his wolf ears dwarfed a little. Even his pants strained as his thighs widened, but his entire body seemed to be swelling. His shaft was no exception.

Miles had been at half to full erection for days. It hadn't taken long for his puffy red cock to reach full intensity, but once again it seemed to be stretching and growing, hardening and expanding to new limits. The shaft stretched longer and wider, the pointed tip extending outwards. The constant stream of pre turned from clear to a yellowish white. He surpassed eleven inches, then thirteen, then sixteen. His cock was incredibly endowed, but then so too were his balls. They had once been the size of kiwis, though now it seemed oranges were more appropriate. His sack was heavy and rotund, creating lots of sperm to swim around in hi semen... But it wasn't just his balls. Every gland, every duct, even his prostate... It was all working to produce more and more and more. It seemed to match Miles' lifestyle.

The chair groaned as Miles did, the wolf stacking on the weight quickly. The fur along his jaw bone started to get bushier and more wiry. The curls pushed out through his otherwise smooth fur, dense and darker, giving the wolf an illusion of a chinstrap beard. The beard disappeared into the dark shaggy mane of his head, his former roughness turning into a pure untamed look. The beard filled out, covering some of his fat, making it look even thicker. Miles panted and groaned, feeling on top of the world... at least until he heard a knock at the door.

"Go away!" Miles roared.

"I know why you ran, wolfy." Bruno's voice came from the other side, "I know you want me. The good news is that you can have me. All you have to do is let me come in." Bruno said. Miles was quiet, jacking off, eating, considering. Masturbation was great, but the chance to have sex with another living body... It was too hard to pass up. Miles wasn't even sure why he had waited so long, his judgment clouded b the pleasure.

"Get in here you fuckin' tub o' lard!" Miles called out. The door opened and Bruno moved in, his plaid shirt unbuttoned to reveal his own belly, his stained jeans sagging. The wolf lurched up onto his feet, a larger effort than it should have been. Miles' weight was surpassing his muscles' ability to keep up with it. His breaths were a bit labored but there was an extreme power to being so big.

As Miles approached, Bruno turned around, looping his fingers through his pants before he pulled them down. As the waistband descended, a thick furred ass was revealed in all its glory. The bear tail wiggled, the cheeks were pulled apart by two claws and the pucker quivered with anticipation. Bruno peeked over his shoulder with a wry grin.

"If you're gonna fuck me, you're gonna need to lube me up with that juicy tongue of yours." Bruno said. Miles considered. It seemed like a fair trade considering he'd get a good fuck out of it. Miles dropped onto all fours and advanced, bringing his muzzle up between Bruno's cheeks. His nostrils flared again as he took in the scent; woody, nutty, musky and earthy with just a hint of honey. Once more Miles' lips parted, his tongue extending forward to taste forbidden flesh, but this flesh was far more forbidden than an armpit. He felt the wrinkled flesh of the bear's anus and pushed the tip of his tongue through, forcing in deeper and deeper.

Bruno grabbed onto a bookshelf for support, groaning as he felt everything taking place. Miles had started slow and curious, but his curiosity quickly deteriorated as his speed increased. He worked his tongue in and out, slathering it up at first before he started to get more creative. He looped his tongue, slithered it like a snake and used his lips as if he was making out with the bear's ass. Miles didn't care that the bear wasn't the best at hygiene or a faint brown smear was being worked across his nose and staining his fur. For the first time, his desire for sex and food seemed to be coming from the same place.

Bruno grunted louder and harder, digging in with his claws as the wolf ravaged him. Miles licked and sucked and slurped the hole, ramming his muzzle in deep. The bear held on for dear life, but even his grip wasn't enough to hold everything in place. There was a slight squeak and then a warm moist wave of air passing over Miles' jaws. If the cheeks hadn't been parted already it would have no doubt made a massive sound, but with Miles there the fart was both silent and deadly sexy.

The wolf's eyes rolled into the back of his head as he was engulfed. The smell permeated him, soaking his fur. His body seemed to respond in kind, his pits growing moist with sweat, his ass getting hotter and thicker. Miles started to smell unclean, as if he hadn't washed in even longer, but that didn't matter. Miles was so turned on, he couldn't hold back any more.

Miles pulled his head from Bruno's as, his paws gripping into the furry brown hips before him. It wasn't long before his pointed canine phallus was painting the bear ass with precum, all while Miles lined everything up. The pointed shaft probed the hole, the wolf grinned and pushed forward. Miles lifted his head and let out a light howl as he mated the bear, fucking in and out, faster and harder. Bruno groaned and grunted in delight, amazed that the wolf was so big. he had to be over a foot long, a size that was very impressive... but then again, Miles was impressive over all.

After a life of being the biggest, Bruno was starting to get concerned. Miles had a lot of mass to him with that belly and chest and those ass cheeks and hips. The momentum he used to thrust was getting faster and harder, almost as if his fat was flopping back and forth to keep in time with the sex. Bruno grunted, pushed more into the book shelf, coming against it harder, the trailer lurching. Bruno straightened up, squeezed against the wall but Miles wouldn't stop. If anything, he was fucking even harder.

Bruno groaned and grunted, Miles howled and groaned. The two huge men went at it, pillars of flesh and temptation, sweating and stewing in their own juices. Bruno was starting to get a little scared of what he'd gotten himself into, but the fear and the pleasure were a potent combination. Soon the bear let out a roar of his own, saliva sticking to his fangs as his fat cock spewed cum all over the porno magazines that filled Miles' shelves. Miles felt the bear's ass quiver around his cock, bringing him to his own orgasm.

The howl rattled the windows, the wolf's claws digging into the bear's hips. Miles kept thrusting even as he came, filling the bear's guts with hearty wolf spunk. Bruno nearly collapsed, holding onto the shelves for dear life, shocked by just how amazing it all had been... not realizing just how much Miles had grown during their sex, or just how deeply that wolf cock was embedded inside of him.

****

A gentle breeze blew through the worksite, weaving through the steel beams that criss-crossed and made the framework for what was to come. Miles sat on one of the beams, his wide ass starting to ooze over the sides. He had come outside to clear his head, to think about what had just happened. It had felt great to fuck Bruno - beyond great. He felt bigger and stronger, and he was. He'd changed again. That dread of realization filled the former human to the bone.

He'd come to the work site for more than just the fact that they accepted him, it gave him a chance to be constructive, to contribute toward something. What had happened instead was a disgrace. He'd missed work for a good fuck, he'd slipped down deeper into whatever he was becoming and there was no tangible gains. It was all for self gratification... but boy had it been so good.

The concern on Miles' face ebbed a bit, replaced by a dull grin. He had been rather good at the fucking. Bruno had cried out for more and more. To be that powerful, to be that sexual beast... Miles grunted sharply, reaching a paw up to rub at his head. He couldn't lose himself to this, he had to remain focused, to hold onto his moral fabric with all of his might. Miles took a few breaths to steady himself, though he heard the echo of cloven hooves tapping across a metal gantry near by.

Miles turned, spotting one of his co-workers. Phil was one of the pigs, standing at five feet tall. He had a bit of a gut on him, cloven hooves and a wide fat snout. His bristles were shaved short, leaving him with little more than stubble. Unlike most pigs, his tail was long and straight, hinting at his boar ancestry. Phil rubbed his left arm with his right hand a bit.

"Hey Miles, a few of the boys and I were going to head out for a bite to eat. You wanna come? Might make you feel a bit better after calling in sick." Phil offered. Miles had to resist the urge to snort. The only thing he'd been sick of was the idea of working when he could be having sex. Still, the offer of food was impossible to resist, especially if he didn't have to pay for it.

"Sounds great to me. Just as long as it ain't one of those family friendly places that gets all up in my shit." Miles muttered, climbing off the beam he was on with great effort. Phil smirked.

"Nah, you should like it. Its a relaxing enough place." Phil smiled. Miles got his paws back on even ground and started moving for the parking lot, though as he passed Phil, Phil had to turn his head and exhale quickly. The pig couldn't believe how much Miles stunk, and he had a tendency to play in his own muck. The pig rubbed at his nose, his eyes watering a bit. Phil briefly considered uninviting Miles, but pigs still had to have some hospitality, even for wolves. He followed after the massive beast, hoping the restaurant would at least be well ventilated. ****

AJ's Diner had become a regular haunt for the boys of the construction site. Miles had wished he'd found it sooner, rather than running into problems at family establishments. AJ was one of sixteen possum brothers, all of whom had become truckers except for him and he'd wanted his brothers to have somewhere to come in when they were on the road. The place offered everything any trucker might want, from greasy bacon to greasy sausage to thick puffy cakes and green bean casserole. The menu was eccentric and the clientele varied.

The restaurant was filled with not only truckers but also bikers and a few construction workers, Miles and company among them. He'd been invited out to eat by three of his pig co-workers, Phil, Bill and Mack. The pigs were in their early thirties, trying to support their families and afford the payments on the new homes they'd built. They'd invited Miles as an act of kindness, though they were starting to grow concerned that they'd made the wrong decision.

Working on the open foundations of a building was different than being in an enclosed space. The air was full of the smell of wolf sweat and body odor. As if that wasn't enough, Miles was eating so rapidly and with such lack of regard that his food was dribbling down his chin, staining his shirt and building up enough trapped pockets of gas that the only solution seemed to be belly rumbling belches. With each belch that left his lips, along with particles of food that landed on Mack's snout, the other customers were growing more disgusted.

Miles poured more gravy onto his hash browns before using his spoon like a shovel, picking up huge hunks. He felt an uncomfortable pressure building in his ass and, thinking nothing of it, bore down. His ass cheeks fluttered together, making a particularly wet and juicy fart sound. The pigs looked around even more nervously, but they weren't the only ones. AJ had been getting more and more complaints.

The hand towel came down on the counter, the apron was untied and the possum moved around, coming closer on his rat like pink feet. His thick gray tail whipped around behind him as his ears honed in on the chronic offender. He sized up the booth, seeing the three nervous pigs in their overalls and baseball caps... and the big, fat wolf across the way. It seemed like some sort of fairy tale gone wrong.

"Sir, I must ask you to keep it down. You're disturbing some of the other guests." AJ said. The pigs looked at the possum and then at their wolf co-worker. Miles kept on eating, not listening to anyone for a few moments before he looked up, cake dribbling from his chin. He looked at the pigs and then turned, realizing the comment had been directed at him.

"Me? You want me to keep it down?" Miles asked in shock. He could have sworn that this was an inclusive place, and even if it wasn't, he'd come in as a customer. Surely he had rights.

"Yes sir, please, for the sake of the other customers." The possum added. Miles slowly lifted his mug of beer and tipped it back, taking several gulps before he let out a long and lingering belch. The possum's body stiffened.

"Miles..." Mack murmured.

"Sir, we reserve the right to refuse service to anyone... And I must ask you to leave." AJ declared. The three pigs started to slide out of the booth, no longer wanting to eat with their coworker. Miles slammed a fat paw down.

"Some fuckin' little sign on the wall ain't gonna tell me what I can and can't do. I'm here with hard earned money, all I want to do is eat in peace with my friends. You can't kick me out!" Miles yelled, alarming several other customers. The wolf turned, looking back at the pigs, "You three, get back here!" he bellowed. Phil looked back at the wolf with shrunken shoulders.

"Give it up man, its time to blow this joint... You can't act like that in public... or with friends." the pig said before he moved off with the others. Miles' lips curled into a sneer, his rage building again.

"Well fuck y'all, who needs ya anyway." Miles growled.

"Sir, if you don't leave now, I'll be forced to call the police!" AJ said, his entire body rigid.

"And if you don't step back, little man, I'll use that rat tail of yours to floss my teeth with." Miles snorted in return. ****

Once more Miles had heard the heavy rattle of the jail cell door and felt the cold dank confines of a cinder block cell. He'd put up a fight, of course, but he hadn't expected the cops to be a gorilla and an alligator. The wolf had been trespassed from the property, forbidden to return. Charges had been filed on half a dozen accounts. None of them made any sense to Miles. There was no way there could even be a law about being obnoxious in a restaurant.

The wolf sat on the bench of the cell, his fingers curled around his fat canine sheath. He'd been caught up in his own head, not thinking about anything else. Across the way a dog with a red bandanna tied around his black hair snarled, his earrings dangling from his ears.

"Vato, put it away... You ain't in yo' apartment." The dog cursed. Miles looked up and chuckled.

"What if this is my home now? My own bit of territory? What are you gonna do about it, pup?" Miles asked/. He'd never been so brace as to pick on bullies before, let alone gang members. The dog across the way growled and stood up. Miles looked at him without fear, but what he did next caught the dog by surprise. Miles relaxed his muscles.

There was a pause and then a golden stream of wolf piss arched out of Miles' cock. The smell was acrid, like the piss had been pent up for days, but as it hit the dog across the way and soaked his clothes, the dog gasped in shock, looking down at himself. Miles kept pissing and pissing, feeling a general relief. He wondered if that was part of the reason he'd been hard for so long, and then he wondered what the point of saving it for a bathroom was. It was a waste of time when one could just let loose, and it seemed to be working in the present situation.

"GUARDS!!!!" The dog whimpered, backing off, moving to the cell door. He whined an yelped, his bravado falling apart, "Guards!" he pleaded. Miles chuckled at that, leaning back against the wall of the cell, his stomach growling in desire for more cheetah puffs. A few rooms down the hall, the police chief stared at the video in shock before he realized his junior officers were smirking. The gorilla gave one a slap across the shoulder.

"This isn't funny. We're not here to gain amusement. We're here to make the society a better place." The gorilla said. The monkey's tail twitched.

"But he's tanked out of his gourd, he's a repeat offender, he's already had four cell mates request transfers and now he's pissing on people..." the officer commented.

"And if we throw him in jail just like this, what hope is there? He'll just do this to everyone else we put him with. We need a better solution, a way to help this poor soul." The chief said. ****

Tick, tick, tick. The sound of the small clock on the mantle was as steady as a metronome. Doctor Langley's office was quite refined. The shelves were lined with clinical psychology books, the brown leather couches were in pristine condition and the fireplace even had a small fire in it, crackling away. It was warm inside, but outside the clouds had grown dark again with another storm, rain pelting the many paned windows.

On one end of the room, Miles sat most uncomfortably. Part of his discomfort came from being in such a clean, cultured office but his clothes weren't helping any either. His sleeves were tight, his shirt riding up on his belly, his pants bulging in all the wrong places. It was as if they'd tried to squeeze a doll into clothing from a much smaller toy. As Miles fidgeted with his clothes, a Siberian tiger sitting in a high backed chair took notes on the whole encounter.

"Miles, did you hear my question?" the tiger asked.

"What?" Miles murmured, looking up. The tiger restrained his impatience.

"I asked why you didn't leave the diner when you were asked to, what you were thinking at the time." the tiger repeated. miles stopped fighting his tight clothing, looking at the white furred analyst.

"I was thinking... that it was unfair, that this was just another place that wouldn't accept me... I was a good boy once, a human boy. I didn't do anything to deserve this, and now I'm..." Miles stopped. The word wouldn't come to him. He used the word a lot before, a word that sounded like ostrich...icicle.. Now Miles' head just hurt trying to find the word.

"Hu...man?" The tiger asked after a moment. Miles looked up before chuckling.

"Yeah, normal... No fur, member of the primate family. I went to bed and woke up here and everything went to shit. Everyone fuckin' judgin' me based on the way I look." the wolf muttered. It sounded strange to be coming out of a five hundred pound, greasy stained wolf, but the analyst was focused on something far more specific.

"So you believe that you went to sleep as this... hu-man, then woke up in your present state and that everyone is judging you for the way you look?" the analyst asked. Miles growled.

"Repeating my shit back to me ain't gonna help, bro,." Miles muttered.

"I'm sorry Miles, it is just that I have your records right here... Dating back to your birth. They cover everything, your disruptive behavior in primary school, your year in juvenile detention, your arrests for petty theft, public lewdness..." the analyst said. Miles shrugged.

"Then maybe reality is changing... Everything around me bending as I change." Miles said. The analyst slowly tapped his pencil with his clawed fingers.

"What seems more logical, Miles... That reality itself is bending around you, or that you built the concept of your past reality as a shell to protect you from what you've become? This fantasy of a well behaved being of another sort, perhaps it was a crutch to enable you to return to these imagined roots and become a better person. If that's your goal, there are other ways to go about it. We can help with your lack of social awareness and empathy, as well as your anger management problems." Doctor Langley explained.

"I ain't got no fuckin' anger management problems you fuckin' cat!" Miles cursed back, bearing his fangs before he huffed, trying to reclaim his breath, "I... I was a good boy, this place... it..." Miles tried to explain, but his head ached and throbbed. He didn't have the brain power to work through it all. Doctor Langley pulled out another paper pad and started to write on it instead.

"Miles, I think in time that I'll be able to help you... But we can't leave you in jail in the mean time. Between funding shortfalls and over-crowding there just isn't room, but I think that I have a much better solution in mind. There is a half way house that has experience in helping patients with... issues similar to yours. They've got a room open and I'd like you to take it while we work together." Langley explained.

"What about my job? They'll lay me off if I miss another shift..." Miles murmured. Langley shifted a bit.

"I think right now what we need to consider most important is getting you well." Langley said. Miles said nothing at that. He'd become distracted, at first by the rain, but then by his reflection in the mirror. He was a fat, nasty wolf... but as he looked at his reflection, it seemed more and more like what he expected to see looking back. Had it truly always been him? ****

The half way house was a strange experience for Miles. It was an older house, probably from the thirties or forties. No doubt it had once been quite expensive with three floors and a basement. There were ample bedrooms and two living rooms. The downside to the ample space was the narrow doorways. Every time Miles came up to one, he had to turn sideways and squeeze his girth through. The raccoon showing him around seemed to be aware of that discomfort and was growing more nervous with each room he showed the wolf.

"And this is our main living room." the raccoon boy said. The floors were wood paneled, the shelves filled with innocuous readers digest books. On the couch there was a nineteen year old frog boy with tattoos over his moist skin, rocking forward and back gently as he watched a talk show with a panda woman giving out loads of gifts. "There are four hours of watch time available each day, and-"

"Only four hours?" Miles asked, gritting his teeth a bit as he reached down to scratch his ass without concern for anyone else.

"Well, between your sessions with Doctor Langley and physical therapy, there-" Once again the raccoon was interrupted.

"Physical what now?" Miles murmured.

"Exercise, try to get some of that weight off." The raccoon said. Miles' wolf tail bushed. He stepped forward, forcing the liaison to back up against the wall. Miles pushed so far forward that his wobbly, fat belly pinned the boy to the wall.

"I didn't sign up for no diet, boy... Now, where is the kitchen?" Miles asked. The raccoon squirmed, trying to get free, looking even more concerned about the question that had just been posed to him.

"Th... The kitchen is off limits, meals will be brought to your room." The raccoon answered. Miles stepped back with a disgusted grunt.

"You ain't gonna let me watch the tube, you ain't gonna let me eat... This is worse than jail. At least there they let you do whatever..." Miles murmured, looking over at the tattooed frog, "Hey, sponge skin, wanna fuck?" Miles asked. The frog looked up, licking his lips with a very, very long tongue.

"He's a poison dart frog, you don't want to do that... Besides, there is no fraternizing between patients." The raccoon said with nervousness.

"I don't wanna frabberdize, I just wanna fuck him." Miles said, not understanding the more complicated words.

"No, I mean... No sex between patients. It doesn't build an environment of healthy living." The raccoon whimpered. Miles let out a long sigh, followed by a long, wet fart.

"No TV, no food, no sex... Can I at least sleep?" Miles asked.

"I never said No TV or food, just that..." he sighed. Being rational wasn't going to get him very far. He decided to continue, "Your room is the first door at the top of the stairs on the left." The raccoon said.

"Good." The wolf said, turning and moving up the stairs. His outrage at being placed in such a place got him up a few stairs, but soon the effort of lifting five hundred pounds weighed heavily on each leg. The stairs groaned, his body maneuvered slowly. All the mass he enjoyed on the ground seemed a hundred times worse when it came to moving up the stairs. He huffed and puffed, his heart pounding in his chest. He finally made it to his room and nearly broke the door off the frame as he burst in.

The raccoon was left standing at the base of the stairs before the door slammed shut. He looked around before pausing, eyes widening. Everywhere that Miles had walked, there seemed to be puddles of yellow piss. He moved around in disbelief before looking at the stairs. Sure enough, rivulets of urine ran down the steps like he was constantly leaking. It was disgusting... but Doctor Langley had made a personal request. The raccoon moved to get a mop, hearing the wolf move around upstairs.

Miles wobbled over to the bed and sat down, feeling the springs sag beneath his mighty girth. His ass cheeks alone were bigger than his human body had been to start with. He was huge, a monster... But Miles could barely remember any of it even when he tried. The memories of his human life were like big thoughts and it just hurt to try. Maybe the Doctor was right... Maybe he was just trying to build a better life for himself with some delusion, but if this half way house was the way to a better life, eh didn't want anything to do with it.

"So what if people don't like me? All I need is my cheetah puffs... and a good fuck." Miles murmured. He'd been able to get those without much effort before. It seemed like every time he tried to improve things, they just got worse. This half way house was awful... No bed was worth the price of a diet. Miles slowly rolled over, looking out of the window. He was a story up, though there were some shrubs below... They looked almost like pillows in a way. Miles started to think of his life before, of living in the tent, of scaring people when he tried to blend in.

Outside the room there was a gentle thumping as the raccoon moved up the steps, coming to the door. He knocked on it, a soft crinkling coming from the packages in his arms as he knocked. He waited for a moment for a response and then knocked again.

"Miles? I have a change of sheets for you... I thought, maybe, you could use some plastic sheets to try and-" there was a sudden groaning on the other side of the door, the groan of windows long painted and nailed shut. The raccoon gasped, dropping the sheets as he threw the door open. The window was full of a huge, wiggling fat wolf ass, stuck through the frame. Miles dug into the brown wood siding of the house before he pushed and popped himself free.

He tumbled down into the bush, breaking branches with his mighty girth, a shower of leaves going everywhere. Still, he was a wolf. He stumbled back up to his feet and grinned at how efficiently his plan had worked. The raccoon ran to the window, sticking his head out of it, eyes wide. His tail trembled, his muscles tensed. He seemed about to beg Miles not to run away, but he knew that would be in vain. Miles lifted a paw, flipped the raccoon off and bolted down the street as fast as his fat legs could carry him. The raccoon turned, rushing for the front door, eager to catch up. ****

Miles felt as if he was in a storm, a fog of self doubt an conflicting memories. He didn't have the will power to control his mind at all, let alone his body. For a five hundred pound wolf reeking of ass and sweat and cum, he'd made it almost two miles from the half way house. He'd made it out of the edge of the suburbs and back downtown. He'd left a trail of piss and cum and there had been sightings of him, but the one aspect of strength Miles had left was his will to survive.

His nose sniffed the air, waiting for the scents of the police to pass. Miles moved from shadow to shadow, eluding everyone, stumbling along. His yellow eyes glanced up, spotting the family restaurant where everyone had been so rude to him, where they'd made him feel like an animal... But was he an animal?

Fading flashes of his life as a human were mixed together with memories of being a slob, being a grimy wolf pup, living his life in the light and in shadow. Miles grunted and growled rubbing at his head. As he staggered along, his fat ass cheeks rippled as a fart escaped. It felt good to let loose of so much, but a wetness formed in his well worn underwear. There was little doubt that the wolf had just soiled himself.

Miles strained, trying to hold onto what made him, him. He tried to grasp life as a human, but bit by bit it was disappearing. The world already remembered him as he was now and his past life was almost long forgotten. Miles pushed on, knowing that he had to get further, to get to where it all started.

He passed the alleyway where he'd found the squirrel in heat. He rubbed his cock in delight, remembering those times, but time for that had passed. He huffed and heaved, feeling the sheets of fat on his arms weighing him down like anchors. He had traveled so far, done so much... but all he really wanted was a good meal and a good fuck. He licked his lips a bit at that, rubbing himself, unaware of the growing bulge in his pants. His cock was stretching yet again, much like the rest of him. Miles looked around, hearing the sounds of thunder in the distance. He didn't want to be caught in the rain again so he turned into an alley, only to come to a stop. He smiled slowly, bearing his fangs as he saw it... Home sweet home. ****

Days had passed and another storm had come and gone. The weather was starting to get a bit better, though an increase in temperature brought with it more smog and the scent of feted garbage... but to Miles, that smell meant home. His tent had been reconstructed in the back of an alleyway, the walls stained with yellow and pearl colored fluids. With great labor, the wolf squeezed out of the front flaps. Getting to his feet was quite an effort, one that wore him out by the time he managed it. He shuffled forward, step by step with shoulders hunched forward and hands dangling at his sides.

Miles' His jeans crinkled as he walked, caked with cum and food and piss. He reached down to grope himself, causing the steady stream of urine to switch over to cum for a few moments. It seemed he was a constant faucet now, though he had a choice of what came out. His constant dribbles stained everything he touched, but his clothes had long since given up trying to adapt to him. They were the only part of reality that showed his lost potential, the hope that had once existed.

It would have been hard for anyone to recognize Miles now, at least if his existence hadn't seemed to weave itself into the world around him. Days of living on his own had given him time to eat anything and everything he wanted. His chin sagged more, making his once narrow wolf muzzle as round as a cow's. His torn and ragged shirt barely served as anything more than holding his man tits in place, thick curls of nasty fur sticking out of what had once been a nice fur coat.

Miles reached up to rub at one of his hard nipples before he opened up the dumpster next to his tent, inhaling the heady aroma. There was old corned beef, rotting cabbage, old cheese and stale bread. It was perfect... but it was only the start. Miles picked up half a can of stewed tomatoes, the sauce having thickened, and dipped the bread sticks into the nasty sauce.

The stale sticks softened up and were brought to Miles' mouth as he bit into the stuff, biting and chewing, the slime coating his teeth. Even his mouth had started to deteriorate, his fangs turning yellow and green in a few places, his saliva thick. He looked as if he'd walked into a steel brush bush with his wiry hair and his body wobbled around with all its extra fat.

A trash can lid was loaded up with more rotten food, set out like a smorgasbord. Miles lurched over to an old broken recliner thrown out by an apartment dweller, the wolf dropping down into it. He'd done it a few times, but this was one time too many. The chair gave out at once. The sides split, the fabric tore and wood splintered. Miles dropped down onto the pile of rumble with a grunt and then a belch... but he didn't care. The loss of the chair was no big deal. Miles was so far inside his head, he didn't think about the ramifications of his lifestyle. Destroying property, even his own didn't matter. All that did was eating, drinking, fucking... though it'd become harder and harder to find anyone willing to fuck him.

Miles considered the options available to him, ranging from chronic masturbation to forcing someone into having sex with him... but the latter seemed like a lot of work, and if there was anything that Miles despised now, it was work. He'd become a creature of habit and pleasure seeking. The good boy that he had once been was gone and forgotten. In its place was a thick husk of a wolf, made up of societal expectations and fears. He was a dreg of society and he didn't care.

The wolf kept eating his purloined meal, though with so much weight on his body it only added to the display. It was impossible to swallow and breathe at the same time but that didn't stop Miles from trying. He snorted and coughed and sputtered, his shifting weight pressing on his colon and bladder. His farts and burps and peeing was all essentially involuntary at his present weight, reducing him to little more than a seething mass of bodily reactions. His piss and cum tainted the alleyway, the stench wafting out into the street.

Other furs walked by, catching a hint of the aroma... but none of them stayed, lingered or dared to look. He was a homeless wolf, a wild canine, a vagabond and a parasite. Looking at him would mean acknowledging that society had such problems, that people could slip through the cracks like Miles had... but no one knew quite how far Miles had fallen, or that he preferred the cracks in the pavement to the nooks of society trying to help him. Every thought of the half way house or the pretentious tiger analyst brought Miles a bitter chuckle, his double chins waggling as he laughed.

It was all a world beyond him, a world further away than he could hope to reach. He didn't understand the rich furs, the nice furs. It seemed like it was all a lot of effort for no reward. Life was so much more gratifying when one did whatever they wanted, wherever they wanted. Somewhere deep in his cholesterol coated heart, Miles hoped there'd be another guy out there that felt the same way... but he wasn't going to go looking. He had everything he needed.

Crumbs of moldy bread and blackened banana peels slid down Miles' chest, the wolf's chin dripping with a mixture of half a dozen slimes. His lips were puffy and rotund, there even seemed to be a few warts that stuck out in places. He opened his mouth and let out a deep, sickening belch, the gas almost visible that he released. e lifted the now empty garbage can lid and gave it several long and lingering slurps before he left it on the ground, struggling back up to his feet.

After a few gasps to reclaim his breath, he staggered back to his tent, groping his groin again. The pants strained before the fly gave out, unleashing a foot and a half long, slimy sheath. A dark purple canine cock pushed out slowly with a gush of smegma plopping to the ground like day old pudding. The calloused paw wrapped around the meat and worked it up and down even as he got down to crawl into the tent and pleasure himself.

Miles rolled onto his back and spread out, his cock sliding against the angled side of the tent, smearing goo across it in strings. The fat, dirty wolf loved his tent. It smelled just like him. He inhaled the scent and brought his other hand up, using both to jack off, his foot paws sticking out of the base of the tent. He thrust his hips upwards, feeling his fat ass come crashing down again.

Up and down, faster and faster, harder and tighter. The wolf grunted and snorted and roared, feeling as if his cock was growing even more in his hands... and it was. Nothing had stopped the change. Every bit of his lifestyle was adding on, piece by piece. His well used cock pushed to eighteen inches, then twenty, then twenty two. Before long he started to spray his tent with rancid yellow cum, the fluids raining down over his massive belly. As far as Miles was concerned, life was good, even if it was just him.