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Crossing the Lines

Written by Trickster_D and Leo_Todrius

The Clark Center was the university's pride and joy, both because athletics were the focal point for a school's public recognition and because the sports teams were the foundation of bragging rights between schools - and the university had really wanted to brag. The center was state of the art and top of the line. With over four floors and a side annex for the pool, the building catered to a wide variety of activities... but today the gymnastics team was practicing for the upcoming competitions.

Warm cream colored lights shone down across the wood floors. Crimson red mats surrounded the balance beam, the pommel horse and the rest of the equipment. The back wall was entirely made of windows, but the garden had disappeared into the inky blackness of the early winter night. All focus was on the task at hand.

"Come on, guys! We are not allowed to slack off!" Tyler Greenwood exclaimed in a jovial tone towards the rest of the team. Despite being only a sophomore, he was the de-facto captain of the gymnastics team, not just because he was a natural talent at the steady rings, but also because of his joyous and refreshing charisma that usually made everyone like him. Clad in a crimson and gold singlet that showed off his toned limbs and his impressive and defined physique, with his dark brown hair kept short for practicality and his piercing blue eyes shining in excitement, he was the perfect embodiment of youth and sportsmanship.

"If we were slacking off, Elf, do you think we'd be going to regionals?" One of his team mates smirked. The nickname had fallen into place thanks to Tyler's finely honed features; his pointed chin, his fair cheek bones and his ears being a little distinct. Compared to the nicknames he'd had in high school, it was certainly a step up. Tyler was well liked and well respected, helping the team head to its glory.

The sounds of practice echoed in the cavernous space, from those athletes whipping around on the pommel horse to those rotating and flipping between the parallel bars. It was a model of fitness, of agility and ability... and yet normally it was one of the least popular sports. People came to watch, of course. There was a certain following of women who liked to see fit men in tight red lycra, to see their muscles and fit bodies... even a few men, but it had never had the draw that football or basketball had, and that was an issue the school wanted to change.

The door to the practice room opened up as another young man entered. He was tall and skinny, his dark brown hair shaved short on the sides and left into a flowing sort of flat mohawk down the center, shaped almost like a wave. His lower ear lobes were stretched with small black obsidian studs and his upper lip had a modest but artfully sculpted mustache. The corners were waxed and curved up into small points, giving him an arty look. The young man carried with him a huge black camera with an arsenal of lenses, something that seemed to fit the black vest over the white undershirt and his black skinny jeans.

"Who's the hipster kid?" One of the athletes murmured.

"The Dean said he was sending someone from the Link over to do a story on us, raise our profile." One of the others commented. And, true to the popular concept the hipster lifted his camera and started taking some photographs of the team in action. While he had been a bit shy to introduce himself, he was an expert at capturing the right moment, highlighting the grace and skill of the team.

Two strong arms wrapped around the shoulders of the two gossiping athletes. "He's just doing his duty," Tyler mused, looking at his teammates with an infectious smile. "We should show him the best we can do, so that..." The captain of the gymnastic team suddenly fell silent, his eyes fixed on the young photographer; there was something about the hipster that perturbed and at the same time fascinated him. Tyler took a deep breath, filling his nostrils with the scents of the gym: everything seemed quite the same, the familiar mixture of sweat, chalk and wood... but nestled somewhere in the middle, there was a strange and unique scent, something unfamiliar to Tyler, musky and powerful and that was getting heavenly by the second... like an ocean washing against the shore, a mix of salt and sea and wood and earth... it ran through Tyler's veins, his heart beating a little faster.

"Um... Elf, everything's alright?" one of the teammates asked his captain with a perplexed tone. The other athlete seemed otherwise a bit taken aback by the unexpected silence.

"What? Oh, yeah, sorry, I got distracted..." he mumbled. He could feel something stirring inside his singlet, and quickly turned his back towards the other gymnasts, his face flushed in embarrassment; he certainly didn't want anyone to see him popping a boner right in the middle of the gym, but the fact that he felt likely to do just that was surprising.

The young man took another long breath, trying to calm himself down, and the mysterious and sensuous aroma wrapped itself against his face like a naughty tentacle; Tyler somehow managed to suppress a moan by biting his lower lip, but there was no denying it: there was something curious and really interesting in the photographer, something that had left him quite horny and - he suddenly realized - galvanized. It was almost like a drug, giving him more energy than he'd had in ages. His muscles felt primed, his senses ready. Even his eyes were dilating. With an abrupt gesture he raised his arm and waved it to attract the attention of the hipster.

"I will give you something picture worthy!" he exclaimed in a friendly tone, before running towards the spot where his favorite apparatus was hanging. An agile jump, and his callous palm grabbed the familiar grips; Tyler smiled, and started a spectacular routine, performing position after position with ridiculous ease and closing his exercise with a Maltese cross that was almost flawless. As he moved around, the world almost sparkled around him... He could hear the clicks of the camera, and every so often the flash would engulf him in light. It washed over him in an almost palpable wave. When he finally landed back on the ground, a tense moment of silence followed, before Tyler's teammates let out an incessant and cheerful clapping of hands.

"Damn, Elf!" Morgan, his vice-captain, said in his booming voice after a brotherly pat on the shoulder. "Do something like that at the regionals, and there's no way we can lose!"

Tyler beamed at his fellow athletes, but his eyes darted towards the tall, mohawked hipster without him even realizing it at first. He knew that the photographer had immortalized his elegant vaults. Well, I guess it wouldn't be strange to ask him for a copy of those pictures, right? he thought, excusing himself and starting to walk towards the young man with the camera.

He couldn't deny it to himself: that hipster was enticing and fascinating him; what was more, it was reawakening feelings that Tyler had accurately pushed in a remote corner of his heart since he had enrolled to college. He had wanted to focus completely on gymnastics, to start anew in a place where nobody knew his name and most of all the nicknames he had collected during high school, "fairy", "faggot" and "cocksucker" being the least offensive of the bunch.

That photographer, however... Tyler was feeling irresistibly drawn towards him, towards the irresistible smell he gave off. Tyler glanced around at his team mates, trying to see if any of them had the same reaction... but none of them did. There were no hot flushes, no flustered or furtive glances. Everything around him was continuing on as it had before without interruption or distraction - all but the photographer. He was reminded of his destination as he heard more shutter clicks.

"Team captain, trainer, volunteer and sophomore... Impressive resume." The photographer said. A quick glance over his stylish clothes gave Tyler a glimpse of the photographer's student ID card, a junior named Braden McKenzie. He continued taking pictures of Tyler as he approached as if it was some sort of runway shoot and Tyler was the model. Getting closer, the smell was more intense in the air. The musk was dripping off of the photographer and yet no one else could smell it.

Tyler felt his saliva filling his mouth faster, his ass clenching and unclenching. It was as if his body had forgotten about his promise and he was getting hit by withdrawal all at once. His body NEEDED this stranger... and Braden seemed unaware of it. He looked up from behind his camera with a very straightforward, innocent expression regarding the athlete with eyes so deep Tyler felt like he could swim in them.

"You flatter me... Braden, right?" Thanks to his remarkable self-control, Tyler somehow managed not to manifest through his tone and words the arousal burning in his veins like liquid fire: he sounded friendly and amicable, the epitome of a nice guy, although his voice broke down a bit when it came to spell the name of the charming photographer. The gymnast inhaled a deep breath through his mouth, trying not to smell more of the intoxicating scent, but some of it still made its way into his nostrils, warm and spicy and salty like a night of passionate sex on a deserted beach.

Braden nodded in reply, and for a moment, Tyler pondered whether or not to strike some poses to show off his enviable physique; he didn't even felt embarrassment for his clearly growing erection: on the contrary, he was secretly hoping for the hipster to notice his excitement, and maybe capture it thanks to his camera. His very presence not only was able to magnify the perceptions of the athlete, but it was making wonders on his carefully suppressed libido; Tyler had to restrain himself not to cover the distance separating the two of them and plant his lips on Braden's mouth right on the spot. The junior was still looking at him with a curious look in his amazing eyes, so the gymnast cleared his throat.

"Um, sorry, I tend to doze off sometimes," he explained before letting out a nervous chuckle.

"With your busy schedule, it wouldn't surprise me. You're so active and involved... But I was wondering if there'd be some time this week that, well, you might be free for an interview?" Braden asked. He still seemed oblivious of the powerful feelings he had revived inside the athlete, and the tone of his words sounded strictly professional.

"Well, as you said I am a very busy guy, and I'm afraid that my schedule for the upcoming week is choke full, so... How about tonight, right after this session?" Tyler proposed, hoping with all of himself that Braden would've said yes; now that he had found the mysterious photographer and his almost supernatural scent - the scent of freedom, of desire and pleasure, of everything that was good in the world - he couldn't bring himself to let him go. He thought at how good it would feel to sniff his naked skin and getting drunk and intoxicated of his heavenly aroma, to lick and nibble his pierced ears and to kiss those sensuous lips.

"Sounds good. Do you want to meet in like, the locker room or at the University Center, or somewhere else?" Braden asked. He smiled warmly and in a welcoming fashion, and he'd spent his life trying to be kind... But for some reason it seemed that he had made more of a connection with this athlete. The eye contact, the presence, he felt as though they had known each other longer than they actually had. Braden just hoped that connection could translate into a good interview so he could get the boss off his back for a little while.

"How about your room?" Tyler blurted out. He immediately realized he had been too straightforward and backpedaled mere moments later. "I mean, I'd really want to see those picture you took of me doing my routine. Grab a copy of them, maybe." The gymnast did his best not to blush, despite his arousal and embarrassment. Braden cracked a wry smile, one that exposed his unusually sharp canine teeth.

"Well, any good man appreciates his own handiwork... And we wouldn't have to fight for computer time like we would at the lab." Braden said, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a pad of paper and a pen and wrote out his dorm name and room number before handing it to Tyler, "But you better bring a good story." Braden smirked. His words were so fluid and confident, so easy going and companionable.

Tyler did his best not to look down and betray his now visible arousal; he could feel his rock-hard dick pressing against the lycra and giving him a sizeable and quite outrageous bulge. He accepted the piece of paper, covered in a pointed and elegant handwriting, and beamed a wide smile.

"Well, better to tuck this away in the locker room. You know, the downside of singlets is that they don't come with pockets... See you later, then?" And without waiting for an answer, Tyler darted towards the dark blue door leading to the locker room; he felt a desperate need to splash some cold water on his face to calm himself down. Moving down the cement steps into the underground locker room, Tyler could feel just how much of an effect the strange man had on him.

Tyler's heart rate was slowing down, his breathing growing more shallow. He felt the heat radiating off his skin, leaving it far cooler than before. It was almost as if he was coming down from a high - and his body didn't like it. There was some small hole inside of him now, a most profound and strange hole that had not even existed minutes before. What was it about that student, that photographer that had changed so much in such little time? Despite his body coming down after the encounter, Tyler's erection seemed to feel harder than ever, clearly defined by the outline of his tight, form fitting red uniform.

"D-damn..." he moaned, tears forming in his eyes. No one else was around, he was alone in the empty locker room... But even if he couldn't sense the wonderful smell anymore, he couldn't get rid of his rock-hard cock. A trembling hand went down and started massaging the hot, tensed skin of his prick, and another small cry - this time of pure bliss - escaped from his lips. His fingers grabbed the cock through the stretchable fabric and started pumping up and down in reckless abandon, his breathing becoming progressively heavier; the thought of unloading the content of his aching balls inside the singlet and going back to his training routine with a dark, damp spot near his crotch for the world to see was so wrong and so erotic at the same time that Tyler reached the orgasm almost instantly, spraying strands of cum in his lycra uniform. The bright red fabric began to darken as pearlescent fluid began soaking through, the wet spot spreading wider and wider, running over his balls and down his leg in a shameless display of masculine prowess - and it was far more than he had ever cum before.

After the brief and intense afterglow had subsided, though, an intense pang of shame clutched his heart and stomach. Tyler let out a long, confused sigh and opened his locker in order to recover his spare singlet, the piece of paper Braden had given him still in his hand.

****

Braden moved around his dorm room quickly, feeling a bit of pressure. He'd gone out expecting a quick interview on the mats or at the UC, but everything had turned quickly to bring it back to his room - a room that had been neglected for several days. He picked up clothing from the floor and gave them a sniff before curling his nose at them, shuddering a bit at their potency before tossing them into the hamper hidden away in his closet. He wondered if he'd have time to wash them before Tyler got there.

With the clothes out of the way, Braden cleaned up his school work and stuffed it into his backpack, sliding it under his bed. His eyes scanned around the room some more before he tidied up a few last things and began to hastily make his bed. He decided against hospital corners and merely draped the comforter over the top, hoping to hide the mess beneath before he finally let out a long sigh of relief.

The pressure was off, at least a little, but Braden still wanted to make his guest comfortable. He pulled out a pair of chairs and set them up almost like he was going to conduct an evening news cast, but then he crossed his arms in contemplation. He hadn't spent a lot of time with the physically inclined. He hoped Tyler would have a good story. He certainly seemed charismatic enough though, there was almost something... adorable about his attitude.

A gentle but firm knock on the door threw him off his train of thoughts; he opened it, and found himself in the presence of Tyler, his short brown hair still damp because of his recent shower. He was wearing a pair of denim jeans and a striped polo hugging his toned chest, and carried around a big crimson and golden duffel bag.

"Hi!" the gymnast exclaimed, with a look of relief in his eyes. He had the face of someone on his way for the best party of his life, and his breathing was still a bit harder and heavier than the usual. "May I come in?"

"Of course, make yourself comfortable." Braden said, moving back to give the athlete access, "Can I get you anything? Bottled water? Sobe? Beer?" he offered.

How about you?, Tyler thought, and barely manage not to translate that sentence into actual words.

"Water is fine," he replied, taking a small and hesitant step inside. "I'm still 20, after all, so... no alcohol for me." He had always been pretty adamant about respecting the law, no matter what; he had never even skipped school once, not even after the bullying had become almost intolerable. "I, um... Hope I'm not bothering you, Braden."

"Not at all, I'm glad for the opportunity to help the school get to know you a bit better, find out what makes you tick. You're a bit of a rising star around here." Braden smiled. He leaned over and accessed the mini-fridge under his bed, extracting two bottles of water before he set them on the counter top by the chairs. Sitting down, he spread his legs wide without much modesty, inviting Tyler to sit across from him.

Tyler placed his duffel bag near the bed of the hipster and sit on the chair in front of him; he had tried to prepare himself for the inevitable resurgence of the feelings that the presence of Braden had reawakened inside him, but the incredible smell now wasn't only coming from his body and clothes: everything around them was impregnated of that intoxicating aroma, from the sheets to the chair where he was sitting to the floor and the walls. Each and every object around gave off the scent of an endless sea, of forests at night, of earth and wilderness and infinite freedom.

"Y-yeah..." the gymnast half groaned, half moaned in reply. "But it hasn't always been like this, y'know..." And then, even if the photographer was basically a complete stranger to him, Tyler Greenwood started telling him everything: about his dream of becoming a world-class gymnast, about the trainings he had endured since middle school... and most of all, about his homosexuality, about his first crush who had exposed his secret to his whole high school and the two years of incessant bullying that had followed until graduation. He talked until his throat was hoarse and his eyes were watery, pouring his heart out as if it was the most natural and right thing to do. "I'm sorry," he concluded with a small, almost embarrassed smile, the shame preventing him from looking Braden in his wonderful, brilliant eyes. "That... probably wasn't the uplifting and inspiring story you wanted to hear, huh?"

"Are you kidding?" Braden asked. He had been taking notes at first, but he had stopped just to listen after a while. He gave Tyler a reassuring smile, "You faced your demons, you kept going, you became strong and achieved this success. It couldn't have been easy at all, but... I mean... If I write this story, everyone's going to know. If you don't want me to put it out there, I'd understand. I know what kind of courage it took just to tell me after the sort of friction, the back and forth you've had to put up with in the past." Braden said.

Tyler shook his head. "It's just that... For the past year and a half, after I enrolled to college, I've accurately hidden that side of me, but... Being gay is what I am, and I think that I should be honest with everyone, or I won't ever be able to find peace." He sighed again, but this time he raised his gaze. "You are right, I faced my demons, and if I'll have to do it again... So be it. I think I am strong enough to do that." A tear trickled down his cheek, but his stare was determined and his words sounded true and honest.

"Has anyone given you strength since you've come here? Do you have the sort of support you need, or are you still yearning?" Braden asked, ever the reporter.

"No one here knows that I like boys. Well... except you," Tyler gave him a wry smile. "I guess you're the one giving me strength right now... Sorry if it sounds creepy." The gymnast let out another small and broken chuckle. "Even before, in the gym, when I noticed your scent, I..." Tyler went wide-eyed and fell silent, immediately realizing he had said too much. Braden, however looked slightly startled and intrigued.

"I... have a scent? I mean... Is it like my cologne, or... Is it bad?" Braden asked, lifting his arm, revealing his hairy under arm. He brought his nose close and took a few sniffs, his nostrils flaring wide. In that moment Tyler could see every shape of his muscle, the form of his arm, the gentle contours of his pit. It almost was oddly welcoming in a strange, perverse way. The gymnast let out a quite animalistic yelp and had to grab the chair until his knuckles went white to avoid jumping straight and Braden's armpit and tasting it with his thirsty tongue.

"It's... The most amazing scent I've ever smelled," he confessed, his face flushed like that of a small kid caught red-handed. "When I noticed you in the gym, I... Don't get me wrong, but I had to restrain myself not to run to you and kiss you right on t-the spot..." He gulped down a huge mouthful of saliva. "It's like... the scent of the ocean. So vast and powerful and full of promises..."

"You wanted to kiss me?" Braden asked, taken off guard, feeling a bit honored and excited and a little embarrassed. He licked his lips for a moment, "Do you still want to?" he asked, barely more than a whisper. Tyler didn't bother to answer by using words: less than a second later, his mouth was pressed over Braden's and he was forcing his hot tongue through the hipster's lips, savoring the salty taste of his drool, his raging erection pressed against the other's leg.

Braden grabbed a hold of Tyler, pulling him more firmly onto his lap until their groins were pressing. Braden began lifting his hips, grinding and humping against the jock, tilting his head to deep the kiss. His hands slid up and down Tyler's sides, following every contour before one hand went up to the back of Tyler's skull, holding his head into the kiss possessively. Tyler felt the hipster's mustache tickling along his upper lip, but he also felt jolts of energy passing between their lips and groin.

Tyler's nipples responded at once, growing completely aroused. They pressed against his shirt like tiny diamonds, feeling every shift of the fabric. His cock throbbed and ached with its hardness, swelling longer and thicker than it ever had before. Even his balls felt like they were swelling. His body was on fire with a passion hotter than he had ever known, and it had been ignited from a mere kiss.

Braden kissed Tyler with a fiery passion all his own. He'd considered himself free and open in terms of love for some time, but never before had an opportunity presented itself so freely. Braden let out soft growls as he kissed the athlete, wondering to himself how limber, how flexible he might be... His own erection was growing rock hard as his fingers dug into Tyler's skin. He'd never felt a hotter, fitter, healthier specimen of man against his body.

After several long and hot minutes, Tyler broke the kiss and looked Braden straight into his deep fascinating eyes; the scent pervaded and permeated the air around them like a silvery cloud. Despite having masturbated in the locker room less than an hour before, his balls again felt heavy and aching and his cock felt impossibly hard and swollen; it twitched like it suddenly had gained sentience and a life of its own and was actively trying to escape the constricting prison of his underwear.

"P-please, Braden..." he panted, his eyes swelling of tears of gratitude, happiness and relief. "W-would you be my first?" Braden's eyes widened.

"Yo-Your first? What about high school, the nicknames?" Braden questioned. Tyler shook his head.

"No, it's true... I'm still a virgin. After I confessed to my first crush and got bullied for years as a result, I never felt, well... This way for someone. But the moment I saw you, the moment I smelled you in the gym... It was like the past four years of suppressed feelings had managed to break loose, and..." The athlete wasn't able to fight his instinct for much longer and went back making out with the hipster with desperate passion; he couldn't get enough of that mouth, of the sensation of Braden's waxed mustache brushing against his upper lip, of the long and dexterous tongue slithering inside his mouth like an agile and saliva-coated snake.

Braden murmured into the kiss, a hand reaching up to caress and pet the side of Tyler's head. He felt his jaw, his hair, his ear... an ear that was growing more and more pointed by the moment, elongating and shifting. With each stroke, Tyler's short, well maintained hair was growing a little longer as well. It was as if Braden was evoking more and more of his nickname, bringing out the elf inside.

"Yes." Braden murmured, his other hand slipping down, toying with Tyler's waistband before slipping inside. Tyler felt the alien feeling of a hand entering his pants, trailing through his groomed pubic bush, caressing the hard and long shaft before it began to close around it. It was almost as if his own cock was surging to compensate, to swell wider and longer but Braden's grip closed. A surge of energy rippled up through Tyler, making him feel a growth of confidence, of surety, as if this was the place he truly belonged...

Braden began to stroke his hand up and down, continuing to kiss Tyler. His tongue swarmed that mouth, tasting of salt and spice, of musk and earth, hints of chocolate and meat. Braden's tongue slipped across all of Tyler's teeth, but it almost felt as if the athlete's canines were swelling a bit longer with each lick, becoming more prominent. The passion surged through Tyler, but so too did a new heat. It burned in his veins like a fever, his skin growing moist as he started to sweat; it felt oddly sensitive and warm, as if his whole body had become just like his cock.

"F-fuck me..." he whispered in the hipster's ear, that was likewise getting a bit longer and pointier by the second. Tyler had never been one to swear, being a clean-cut and educated kid, but not having to restrain himself felt so good and so right in that moment... The freedom to express himself, to be whoever he wanted to be, to be gay without anyone judging him for that or calling him names, and to have sex with a charming and wonderful guy.

With a sudden gesture he pulled down his pants, and his erection rigidly bobbed up and down; it indeed looked at least an inch and a half longer than before, but Tyler didn't even noticed his apparently augmented dick: his ass kept clenching and unclenching spasmodically, and the athlete was feeling so empty down there, so in need to have a big veiny cock stuffed deep inside his pucker. He panted, letting out a stream of hot air from lips that looked a bit poofier and luscious than before... Lips encircled by short brown stubble that surely wasn't there until a couple of minutes ago.

"You are so fucking hot..." Braden murmured. He normally wasn't so forward, but he felt so intoxicated by Tyler's presence. He reached down and groped at his jeans, his hand fumbling with the button before he popped it open. His dark, thick bush seemed more dense than ever creating the perfect bed for his nine inch cock. His man meat was hard and furious, a deep red and almost purple with blood. With his shaft revealed, the most potent wave of musk yet washed over Tyler. It smelled of sex and sin, of hunger and need and masculinity.

"T-take me, Braden... I want to be yours..." he murmured, offering himself completely to the hipster. Deep down inside him, he knew that was what he had always been destined to do, the goal of his own life so far and at the same time the beginning of an extraordinary and irreversible turning point. Braden moaned, feeling more turned on than he ever had in his life before.

"You are mine..." He murmured before he grabbed Tyler by the hips and lifted him with a surprising amount of strength. Letting gravity work on the pants, Braden positioned his visitor and brought him down. Tyler's muscled ass cheeks were parted by the penetrating cock and then it hit him, the head finding the hole. Tyler's muscles tightened, his heart sped up even more. Moisture built from his pits, his chest, even his nipples. Braden tightened his grip and pulled Tyler down, filling the younger man with his achingly erect tool.

Tyler let out a vulnerable moan when he felt the hot and swollen dick head penetrate and slide into his warm asshole. He had thought it would've hurt, at least the first few times, but... The only thing he was feeling was pure and unadulterated bliss. It was so right having a dick... no, having Braden's dick inside him like that, as if it was a sword and his anus was its rightful sheath.

"Y-yes... I'm yours... Forever..." he whispered, lost in the never-experienced pleasure while wiggling his ass cheeks so that the hipster could bury his shaft deeper and deeper. Braden felt more alive than he ever had, grunting and growling, thrusting into Tyler like a bucking bronco. His shaft slid in and out with an odd ease. Even where it had been a little tight at first was becoming easier... but not because of any normal reason. Tyler was changing, that much was clear. Each thrust encouraged his ass to produce a thick, slick lube. Each thrust sent waves of testosterone through his body. Each thrust made him more and more addicted.

The fine hairs on Tyler's legs were darkening up, thickening and growing longer. Likewise, the hair under his arms was growing out from being well groomed, turning into a thick forest of hair. Even his eyebrows were thicker than before. On some instinctive level Braden might have seen the changes, but he was so turned on that none of it registered. He leaned in to lick his mate's chin, sliding his tongue up from the elfin point to his plump, juicy lips. The hot saliva clung to the brown stubble, nourishing it like water on new growth in spring. The stubble grew out longer and thicker, darkening.

Again Braden licked, then again, creating a stripe of hair - a soul patch - up the front of Tyler's chin. Braden let out another soft growl and tilted his head, moving to nuzzle and then gently bite the athlete's neck as he pounded his thicker, more curvaceous ass.

"F-fuck..." Tyler murmured, swearing again and not giving a damn about it; he could feel the Braden's teeth nibbling on his skin and the sensation was indescribably erotic, especially after he realized he could feel them getting slowly pointier and longer as the photographer indulged in biting his tender skin... until one of the canines - who could've as well be described as a short fang at that point - punctured his skin, drawing out some drips of blood and making Tyler moan again. There was no pain, only a incessant stream of pleasure traveling around his body through his veins and arteries and being sucked by Braden's lips.

Braden licked and suckled at the wound, tasting the salty, fiery blood of his new boyfriend. He murmured in surprised delight. It seemed he liked the flavor of everything that came out of that sexy man. Once more Braden's hand returned to Tyler's cock, locking around the rod. He began to pump it up and down, squeezing tighter and tighter. The pressure was intense, but rather than causing pain it seemed to merely deform Tyler's shaft - stretching it even longer, then wider beneath the firm hand. Tug and stretch, push and bloat. Braden was relentless, expanding Tyler's cock to four inches wide, then six... but it was so, so much longer.

Tyler's rod expanded beyond a foot long, almost a foot and a half. It was an incredible size for any man, but as the love making continued, it seemed less like the rod of a man and more something out of the movies. The mushroom shaped head began to taper to a point. Veins stiffened and hardened, the meat taking on almost something akin to ridges, and the very base began to expand almost like some sort of canine knot... but it wasn't canine, it seemed almost reptilian in nature.

Tyler smiled, looking at the ceiling with unfocused eyes and baring his now pointy teeth in a manic grin. The same changes his dick was experiencing were happening inside his own ass too, making his brain release wave after wave of endorphins: he could feel Braden's cock enlarge and engorge right against his sensitive - but not so tight now - pucker, the pointed tip brushing against his prostate and then past it, the sensation replaced with that of the multiple dark ridges massaging his most sensitive spot. "It's... so fucking huge..." he murmured, his voice a bit lower and rougher, while he felt the hipster's dick extend inside him, reaching almost two feet in length. The athlete looked his mate right in the eyes, and saw them shining in a deep crimson red, a shade of color so enticing and so different than that of a normal human but so right and magnetic... It was like staring inside a deep ocean of blood. Even the scent given off by Braden's skin was getting more and more intense by the second, the scents of forests and salt water acquiring darker and more dangerous undertones.

Braden's head was lost in a heady lust, a lust so thick he was barely cognizant of anything more than his base pleasure. He fucked Tyler's ass relentlessly, feeling his cock shudder and throb. His time was running out, but he had to make it count. His hand came up to caress Tyler's cheeks and then right ear, his fingers massaging the base of the lobe. It would have been a romantic gesture, but Braden's fingernails had grown longer than usual and honed into sharp points.

A prick of pain pierced Tyler's ear, a throb and heat and then the cool leak of blood. The blood ran down both sides of his ear and dripped down to join one another at the base, but as the crimson blood touched it immediately froze, stiffened and expanded slightly. The circle of deep red, almost black turned into a perfect ring hanging from his pointed ear. Braden didn't understand what he had just done, what had happened... but it all started to hit him at once. The ears, the soul patch, the fangs, the stubble.

Braden moaned, groaned and tipped his head back, arching his back and lifting his hips. It was only a split second later until Tyler felt the blossoming heat radiating into his intestines and stomach, a thick copious semen like liquid rock oozing and filling and coating. At once his body felt as if it had been given what it needed, something to satiate the hunger... But Braden's cock wasn't stopping. It flowed steadily, pumping and flowing into the athlete.

Tyler felt like he was in a dream: his movements seemed slowed down and more difficult as if he was walking inside water, and even the sensation of pain in his now pierced ear felt muffled and distant... probably because his skin had already started knitting itself up. The only thing that mattered, the only thing that was moving at the right speed - at the perfectly right speed - was Braden, still pumping with his new monstrously wonderful manhood inside him.

With hazy fingers the gymnast collected some of his stringy cum and raised the coated fingertips to brush them on his boyfriend's face, just under his nose, as if he was trying to paint his waxed mustache white with cum. The sticky substance, however, behaved in a completely unexpected manner: it solidified into a circular shape, and became so hard it managed to puncture Braden's skin as it took on a metallic sheen.

The hipster moaned, half in pleasure and half in surprise because of the slight pain: he could feel something cold and heavy bobbing against his facial hair as he thrusted inside the athlete's welcoming ass restlessly, but he couldn't figure out what it was. Since Tyler had orgasmed, he brought his now unoccupied left hand to his face and tugged at the strange object dangling from his septum. With horny stupor, he discovered that a big steel nose ring how adorned his face, giving him a tougher, more thuggish look.

"FUCK!" Braden howled, his orgasm increasing in strength as he nearly went limp in the chair, shuddering in supernatural bliss. It was clear whatever they shared... it wasn't at all normal.

*****

"Earth to Elf! Earth to Elf! Can you hear me?" Morgan was waving his light brown skinned hand in front of the captain's face. He looked a bit worried, probably because it was the first time he had known Tyler that he had seen his team mate less than focused.

"Huh?" Tyler snapped out of his daze; he was still holding his duffel bag in his hands, despite the fact that all the other members of the gymnastics team had already finished changing. The day's schedule included cardio and everyone - instead of their usual singlets - was wearing crimson and golden gym shorts and compression shirts. "S-sorry, I was... Um..." Tyler tried to formulate a coherent sentence, but words were escaping from his mouth and mind like butterflies. Morgan moved over.

"Dude, are you okay?" The vice-captain patted on his shoulder in a brotherly manner, his liquid black eyes full of worry. "We need you in your best shape for the regionals!" Morgan added, trying to be reassuring. Tyler turned around and opened his locker with slow, groggy gestures, completely unaware of his co-athletes chatting and gossiping about him in barely audible whispers.

"Don't... Don't worry, Morgan. I'll be alright. It's just that I didn't sleep that well." To be honest, he hadn't slept at all: after the previous night's glorious afterglow had disappeared in a shower of faint sparkles and Braden's dangerous and intoxicating smell had somehow subsided, Tyler had quickly grabbed his clothes, redressed himself and run away from the hipster's room with his duffel bag without saying anything, his face the portrait of shame and embarrassment.

After having taken refuge in his own room, he had lied down on his bed and had stared at the ceiling unable able to sleep, still wearing the polo shirt and the jeans drenched with the scent of the photographer. He had kept replaying the scene over and over and over again in his mind: the kiss, first awkward and messy but then progressively sexier, him begging to be fucked and Braden eagerly complying, his ass getting penetrated with ease, and then... A strange, confusing blank full of moans, dense stringy fluids and sensations Tyler had never experienced before.

Tyler was left wondering if all sex was like that... If the afterglow was so intense that they lost the memories of the events themselves. He felt so torn and conflicted... Exhausted, certainly, but his muscles still felt great. It's like I had the most intense workout of my lifetime, but at the same time I feel so full of energy..., he thought. Even if he hadn't slept, he was feeling perfectly fine, at least from a physical standpoint.

Whatever had happened to him the day before, however, it had also changed him somehow: Tyler had spent two hours that morning examining himself in the bathroom mirror, and taking in all the subtle yet very visible transformations his body had undergone during the intense fucking session with Braden: his ears were slightly longer and came to a clear point, making him look even more like his namesake and adding a strange yet enticing note to his already considerable charm; he had tried to get rid of the beard, but after a couple of hours his cheeks were again covered in a short, hard brown stubble and the thicker soul patch down his chin hung down half an inch already, even when he'd shaved it all off..

His cock, however, had taken the brunt of the changes: he had reverted back to his usual shape (What a silly thought, he had mentally said at his own reflection, why should it be different? And yet, in a corner of his brain, a tiny but persistent voice was whispering to him about reptilian ridges and the swollen, tapered point scraping against the surface of his sensitive prostate) but it was still huge: he was nearly one foot long, even flaccid; even his balls were decidedly bigger. Tyler had squeezed them tentatively, and the mixture of pain and pleasure originated from the gesture had been enough to make the swollen purplish head of his cock leak some fat droplets of oddly thick precum.

Tyler had frantically browsed through the Internet, trying to find some logical explanation to what had happened to his body, but to no avail: even if he had had a sudden outburst of horribly delayed puberty, nothing could justify his cock doubling in size during the span of a single night... though if the condition wasn't life threatening, it was a rather pleasant change.

"Well, if you say so it must be true!" Morgan replied in the meantime, beaming him a huge smile. The Latino young man then looked at him with a pensive face. "Although, you do look different, Elf... Must be that earring you got!" The vice-captain nodded a couple of times. "It suits you quite well, to be honest... Wish I could get me some diamond studs too, but my abuela would probably disown me. Although, make sure not to wear it during regionals!" Tyler looked at him with bulging eyes for a second, but then shook his head.

"N-no, don't... don't worry. I'll take it off," he murmured, even if he knew it was a lie. He had desperately tried to find a way to remove the extraneous metal ring stuck into his right lobe, the earring he sure as hell didn't even remember getting; although, he hadn't been able to, for two reasons: the first, because the surface of the piercing was smooth and uniform, without perceivable attachments or any other way to take it off; more than an earring, it appeared to be another part of his body, as if it had literally grown from him.

The second reason, however, was if possible even stranger and more disturbing: when he had tried to remove the piercing, every time he had touched the dark red metallic circle with his fingers he had felt a jolt of pleasure in his groin. At first he had been confused and even a bit scared by that, but his tries of taking off the foreign object had quickly devolved into the most bizarre masturbation session ever: his fingertips had titillated and caressed the smooth, strangely warm surface of the piercing, eliciting deep moans from his plump lips; his cock had quickly filled itself with blood, swelling and expanding until Tyler had stared in groggy disbelief at his one and a half foot stiff rod that looked disproportionate and out of place, and at the same time so incredibly right...

The gymnast had kept brushing and rubbing the circular piercing with ecstatic abandon, and every stimulus he applied on the metal was immediately redirected to his colossal dick: it was like receiving an handjob by invisible ghostly hands. After a handful of hot long minutes, Tyler's asshole had clenched and unclenched with almost audible intensity and his ballsack had quivered, unleashing a torrent of dense seed all over the mirror. The orgasm had lasted for more than a minute, until the reflective surface had been almost completely obscured by what looked at least a pint of thick fluid, yellowish and gooey like jam. and it had released a smell not unlike Braden's.

Before he had realized what he was doing, Tyler had already licked half of the glass clean: the spunk produced by his new obscene dick had a richer texture, and tasted oddly... fulfilling, far more than breakfast foods. It was as if that was all Tyler had needed to nourish him for the day. Even his nipples had quivered during the orgasm as if they were trying to join in with the fun.

"Duuuuuude? Are you still there?" Tyler was ripped from his extended flashback by the hand of Morgan waving mere inches from his nose. "Are you sure you don't want to take a break for today? You seem... off. I'm worried about you." Morgan said. The captain of the gymnastics team shook his head again fervently.

"N-no, I... I really need a distraction, or else..." While he was saying that, Tyler dropped his pants in a quite clumsy gesture and began to ransack inside his duffel bag in an attempt to fair a pair of shorts, but a chorus of giggles made his stop and lift his glazed eyes: his entire team was staring at him... and more specifically at his groin area.

"Damn, Elf, I didn't know you were hiding a python in there!" Clayton, a tall and wiry blonde jock exclaimed, pointing at him with a sausage-like finger. "I'm sure you can get all the ladies... Well, at least those who can take a beast like that!"

"Charles Darwin would be proud... You must be specialized to gain access to the deepest pussies." Shaun, a nerdier teammate mused.

"We may call you Elf, but down there you look more like an orc!" His best friend Travis added.

Sure enough, as if on display, Tyler was standing there with his foot long soft cock. Even flaccid, it was as wide and as full as most men could achieve after an hour of teasing and playing. There was little doubt he was the biggest man on the team. The captain looked down, and for a moment he appeared to be as shocked as his fellow athletes; in a fit of supreme embarrassment, he put his pants back on and grabbed his duffel back.

"You lead the team for today, Morgan," he murmured to his perplexed vice-captain. "You're right, I don't feel good at all. Sorry," and he ran out of the locker room, his face flushed and his breathing heavy.

"Go, Elf! Find a pussy!" Clayton shouted at his back, eliciting an hysteric laughter from half of the team.

Yeah, I have to find someone, Tyler thought, his legs pumping as fast as they could. I have to find Braden. And just the mere thought of the hipster - of his hipster - made his giant dick start inflating inside his underwear...

*****

Braden had spent nearly a day in bed, having wonderful dreams. Every so often he'd drift toward the surface of wakefulness, but he pushed it away, rolled over and humped his bed until he drifted back to sleep. He'd missed a day of classes but it had been oddly easy to dismiss their importance. His bed felt so comfortable, his room felt so right, it was his domain and he was king of it... but he was hungry. Braden's stomach let out a fearsome growl and he murmured, sighing gently before his eyes opened at long last.

He gazed up at the ceiling, his brown eyes tinged orange. He lifted his arms and let out a long, lingering yawn. The underside of his arms had grown even hairier, his pits a dense jungle of moist hair... and his open mouth was full of two prominent fangs and a sharp, longer than typical tongue. He begrudgingly slid out of bed, his feet coming down onto the rough carpeting, his long toenails snagging the fabric before he took a step and freed it.

Braden stumbled over to the mirror to get ready to go out into the world, but he stopped before his own reflection. His normally quiffed hair was suffering from an extreme case of bed head and his mustache had frayed out in his slip with a mix of drool and pillow. Braden reached up and ran his down his cheeks, encountering a thick brown stubble across all of them, even the underside of his jaw and the upper half of his throat.

The hipster was a bit surprised at how fast it had grown, but he was damned hungry. He couldn't afford for a full beauty session. Braden opened his drawer and extracted a brush and started working it through his hair. With his free hand he opened a jar of product and brought some up, applying it. His hands had gotten used to the mechanical movement of working his hair into that perfect wave, that flow, that streamlined look.... but there was more hair than he was used to. It was longer and thicker, more luxurious - though the shaved hair on the sides of his head wasn't any longer.

Braden was forced to compensate by giving it more volume, taking it higher and flaring it a bit, even draping it down the back of his neck some. It felt almost like some sort of hyena crest with how far back it went... but at last it looked presentable. The hipster closed the jar and reached for the mustache wax, screwing off the lid before he got a bit on his fingers. He brought it up to his face and worked it through the hair, stroking it in, stroking the hair more - and more. His cock twitched and thickened as he did, giving him intense pleasure... until he bumped his septum ring.

His cock shuddered and let loose a thick stream of yellowed, pudding like cum onto the floor. Braden gasped at the sensation, shocked. He couldn't remember entirely what had happened before he had slept, but he knew he'd had the most mind blowing sex of his life. Had they gotten drunk after? Had they gone to get piercings? Braden reached up and stroked the thick metal ring that was almost thick enough to block his nostrils entirely. He threw his head back and produced another pint of semen that piled up on the floor, releasing its unearthly musk, nearly squirming around with the active sperm inside.

Panting, Braden slowly recovered his strength before he looked back at his reflection with half lidded eyes. He numbly started to work on his mustache again, only to realize it too was longer. He stroked the outer strands, played with them... He was about to curve them up into their typical shape, but there was so much more to work with he tried something new. Using the wax, Braden carefully sculpted the side of his mustache down... down past his upper lip, then his lower lip. He mirrored the process on the other side, giving himself for the first time in his life a sort of handlebar mustache.

The new shape framed his lips, almost as if highlighting where a man's lips were supposed to go. It made him look less trendy and more masculine, almost like a thug or a biker. Braden was left admiring his mustache, stroking it a bit before he paused, looking at his reflection and then at his hand. Normally hairless, even his hand was demonstrating new growth. Each finger had a few wispy hairs right past where the palm ended, and there was a patch of hair off to the outer edge of the back of each palm. Between the stubble, the hair on his hands and his pits, Braden was looking far more beastly... and he loved it.

****

In his quest for food, Braden had not made it as far as the cafeteria across campus. His hunger pangs and sense of smell had instead led him down three floors to the basement of his building. Fifty years prior, each dorm had a kitchen to make food for its own students. When that had fallen by the wayside, it had been converted into a recreational area with optional simple kitchen for the students. There was a huge television, a variety of gaming consoles, an air hockey table... and a large fridge that had once been well stocked.

Braden salivated openly as his teeth gnashed through purloined bacon and ham, turkey and beef. He'd raided the fridge for all sources of protein but it didn't seem to be enough. He wanted more, he wanted it all. Bits of food and sauce got stuck in his stubble, highlighting it even more before his oddly long tongue slurped it up, not wanting to miss a drop. Some girls had fled as Braden entered, almost as if his presence made them feel ill... But no others had dared to enter, none had challenged his feeding frenzy.

The door of the room opened wide once again, however, making the feral hipster raise his hand from his savage banquet for the first time; not because of the sound, but because of the smell accompanying it: the familiar and sexy scent of his rightful mate, of his boyfriend, of the only other person in the whole campus who was facing the same changes. Suddenly, despite what he had just finished gulping down, he felt the bites of hunger all over his stomach again... But this time, he craved something that couldn't be found in a fridge.

Tyler was standing on the threshold of the room, his duffel bag abandoned near his feet. In the few minutes it had taken him to run from the gym to the rec room, his changed had advanced a bit without him even noticing: his usually close-cropped hair were longer, but not uniformly so; while the sides of his head still sported a buzz cut, there was a decidedly longer stripe of hair in the middle, not remotely long enough to be a proper mohawk, but well on the way for that. His already icy eyes had taken a more metallic and piercing sheen and a shade of blue that made them look like something out of a contact lenses shop; even his ears looked even longer and pointier, and the mysterious dark red piercing in his right lobe fatter and shinier, as if the slow transformation the jock was undergoing was feeding it and giving it more power.

Tyler panted, half because of the run and half in arousal: like a damp flower, a dark spot bloomed on the left leg of his pants, right where a oddly-shaped bump revealed the presence of a dick too big to be real. The gymnast stared at the hipster with unfocused eyes.

"I don't know why... But I knew... You were here..." he whispered between a huff and a moan. "We have... We have to talk, Braden... What's happening to us?" Braden stared at the athlete for a long moment, panting gently, his own eyes barely focused. He let the chicken wing fall from his fingers before he moved over. Stride by stride, Tyler realized the hipster was taller than before... hairier, more muscled, bigger in every way. Braden stopped inches from Tyler, still panting softly. The athlete was even sexier than before, causing a stirring in Braden's pants that reached his right knee.

"Who... Who cares what's happening? This is the best thing I've ever felt. You, me, we were destined to be this. Can't you feel what we're bringing out in each other?" Braden asked, leaning in, their lips an inch apart. Tyler could feel the hipster's hot breath on his skin. As if to emphasize his point, Braden brought his palm down to start rolling it around the bulge in Tyler's pants, gently kneading the meat beneath. The athlete bit his lower lip with a pair of canines that looked more like vampire fangs.

"Nnnngh..." he moaned. His brain was already starting to get hazy and lost in the absolute pleasure the mere presence of Braden was enough to evoke... But something inside him - a shadow of his former, innocent self - was urging him to remain focused. "No... I... I at least want to know, Braden," he said, in a tone that sounded progressively less shaken and broken. "I want to know what are we turning into." But he's right, this is the best thing ever, he admitted to himself. He was more than ready to give into the change, the bliss and the absolute and boundless pleasure of what he and Braden were experiencing... but first he had to know.

"I don't know what this is... or what's causing it. I was a foster kid growing up. If it's genetic, we may never know... But why? Why do we have to? Fuck... Tyler, I need you more than I fucking need to breathe." Braden moaned before he slowly lowered down to his knees before the athlete and leaned in, nuzzling the wet spot on Tyler's pants before he began to lick at it, trying to draw out its moisture. A clawed hand shot up, snaking into Tyler's shirt and up his surprisingly hairy stomach before fingertips began assaulting the fat, semi erect nipple on his left side. Tyler began breathing more and more heavily.

"M-me too," he murmured. "I w-want to fuck, Braden. Again, and again, a-and again. Whatever you're doing to me, w-whatever you're turning me into... It feels so fucking good..." His clumsy hands unbuckled his pants and forced them down along with his underwear, exposing his dick, as fat and wide as a beer can. As if the cock had recognized the presence of its soulmate, it started twisting and developing ridges, its mushroom tip deforming into a tapered point and its coloration darkening. "D-damn..." Tyler moaned, tears swelling in his eyes. "It's so full of cum it hurts..."

"Then let me help you..." Braden whispered, his demonic tongue sliding out, smearing thick sticky saliva over the huge rod. Like a painter, Braden coated the shaft from one end to the other, leaving no spots untouched... and then the warm, welcoming lips of Tyler's lover began spreading over the cock. Inch by inch he advanced before he felt the back of Braden's throat. It was rather disappointing at how little had fit into the hipster's mouth, but then Braden surprised his lover.

With a slight tilt of the head, Braden made room for Tyler's long rod to slide with surprising ease down his tight throat, virtually all the way to his stomach. The mustached man buried his face in Tyler's groin, using his throat to massage Tyler's meat in a most inhuman way. Tyler clutched his fingers and buried them in the dense unruly hair on the hipster's head.

"Oh, yes... Suck my cock..." he murmured in rapturous pleasure, his voice gruffer and more masculine than before. Under his palms, he could feel the ears of the hipster elongating again: more than those of an elf, they looked like those of a goblin or of another devious, twisted creature straight out of someone's nightmare; the athlete smiled, showing a set of fangs, and tapped from the power he could feel mounting inside him, a dark flame swelling inside his chest that he couldn't possibly understand... at least yet. He sent his will through his hands, like a blast of pure energy, and felt a series of tiny bumps inflating right from Braden's skin; mere moments later, the hipster was sporting two ladders of small jet black rings, going up from his lobes to the pointed tip of his devilish ears.

Braden grunted as his skin burst and the bumps revealed themselves to be piercings, but the grunt merely vibrated the demonic cock lodged in his throat. Braden began bobbing his head up and down, back and forth, using his throat to try and milk his boyfriend of his tainted seed. He worked like a machine, up and down... and each thrust brought more power into Tyler, more fire and passion. The hair in the strip down the center of his head was growing longer, bumps were forming in his nipples, and his skin was even taking on a redder tone, contrasting with the icy blue of his eyes.

Of course, since he was milking corrupted precum thanks to his rapidly mutating internal organs, Braden's body and appearance were steadily changing too. The skin on Braden's forehead became irritated, the flesh swelling over two tiny bumps that grew and grew. The flesh became tender and redder, struggling to hold on until finally the pressure was too much. Two sharp, dark spikes broke the skin, freeing a few drops of blood as they escaped. The soon-to-be horns jutted just mere inches out of the hipster's head and then stopped, as if feeding on a demon cock wasn't enough for them to completely develop. The studs in his lobes inflated and fattened, stretching his skin until they were at least three inches wide; blood red pigment emerged on their surface, tracing the shapes of five-pointed stars surrounded by perfect circles. They had evolved into plugs sporting bona fide pentagrams, giving the hipster an even more wicked look.

Braden tugged and drew on the shaft, assaulting the lumps on Tyler's nipples, feeling the skin struggle and lose the battle. Two thick metal rings emerged, each with a diamond shaped metal stud sliding around on the ring. It was as if their bodies were unlocking a deeper potential... one that had been in them all along. The stubble on Tyler's face grew, the soul patch becoming longer. The brown in his hair even started to change, lightening and bleaching down the center strip before highlights of icy blue began to appear... but Braden was unaware of it all

He kept sucking on the athlete's rod even as Tyler's fingernails stretched back into claws, as his feet ached and throbbed, as so much of his body was changing at once. Tyler smiled in wicked joy; the stimulation provided by the slimy dexterous tongue of Braden was simply irresistible, and it didn't take long for his huge rod to reach the point of no return: the cock, still trapped inside the throat of the hipster, pumped squirt after squirt of powerful corruptive cum inside Braden's stomach.

Braden gulped and swallowed, then he relaxed his throat and let it spill in. It coated his esophagus, it piled up in his stomach. It filled it up and soon the cock was pumping it into an over full space - and yet Braden still swallowed. His shirt grew tighter and tighter, and then it began to raise up. Braden's hairy stomach was revealed, his abdominal muscles slowly fading away as the stomach began distending.

The orgasm went on for minutes, until at least a gallon of man juice had been sprayed directly into the digestive system of the devilish hipster; Tyler, his cock still erect, slid outside of his boyfriend's throat and looked down at him with his icy blue eyes, a fanged grin on his face.

"Nice tongue you have there," he whispered in a tone dripping debauchery. "I think I want one myself..." The gymnast grabbed Braden and forcibly pulled him back onto his feet and they were soon kissing. Tyler's still human tongue forced its way inside the other's maw; the taste of his own spunk in the mouth of the hipster sent Tyler over the edge, and he could feel his tongue evolving and extending to match its twin. The two appendages started a complex and slimy dance, as if they were sealing a dark contract between their owners.

Minutes passed, minutes that felt like an eternity before finally the kiss ended. Tyler looked at Braden with his head slightly tilted to the side. Braden's eyes had changed again, his pupils now the vertical slits of a reptile, red on the outside and black in the center.

"Look at you, my wonderful boyfriend..." he murmured, stroking the abdomen of the hipster with a clawed hand. He had filled the stomach of his mate with litres of cum, and now Braden - instead of his flat belly - was sporting a round, prominent gut. His under shirt had ridden up, allowing the belly room to expand before him. The presence of the stomach was in direct contrast to the societal norm. It was large, round, and defied fashion. It spoke to a life of debauchery, sloth and sin...

"This is so hot..." Tyler murmured, his hand sliding over the slope of his lover's stomach before he turned around and bent over, exposing his ass to the hipster. "Fuck me, Braden. Fill me with your cream... I want a big and sexy belly, just like yours." Tyler smirked. Braden let out a deep growl of satisfaction. He moved over and massaged his ass cheeks.

"But what about your perfect gymnast body?" Braden asked while teasing one of the jock's pierced nipples and eliciting a series of lecherous moans. Tyler shook his head.

"That was the past, Braden... My present and my future are with you," he said. That was all Braden needed. With a quick few strokes of his shaft, the two foot ribbed demonic rod was back at full mast. The heat radiating off of it was palpable. Braden wielded it like a sword, back and forth before he brought it to its target.

Like an arrow entering its quiver, the tapered point of the demonic shaft began pushing between Tyler's cheeks, against his tight ring of flesh and then deep inside. Tyler felt it fill his ass, his hips, sliding upward toward his stomach. It made its way with ease, with confidence. It was as if his body was made for just this moment - and in a way it was. Braden grabbed onto Tyler's hips harder, getting a good and firm grip as he began to slide back and forth. He moaned and grunted, leaning along Tyler's spine. The athlete could feel the fangs at his neck, his shoulder, even his back. Braden placed love bites all over as he picked up the force, filling Tyler deeper and deeper.

"Yeah... Fuck me, stud..." Tyler repeated like a mantra. The idea of discarding his own self, his own physique and his own morals was getting hotter and hotter with every passing second. He couldn't wait for his washboard abs to be transformed into a big belly, and to squeeze that gut against Braden's while they made out sloppily with their long mutated tongues.

His ass quivered in bliss and started producing a constant stream of lube-like gel, yellowish and dense; his internal organs were becoming so much simpler and more effective, the only thing he needed to survive from now on being Braden's devilish cum. That of course meant he didn't have to shit anymore, making his ass cleaner and at the same time easier to be violated and fucked at every occasion.

Tyler grinned again, this time in sudden awareness; he finally knew what he and Braden were turning into: horny, powerful gay demons with big bellies and huge cocks, ready to corrupt and transform any man unlucky - or lucky - enough to taste even a single drop of their devious gooey cum. That's so fucking awesome, he said to himself. Living in complete freedom, never being bound by anyone or anything ever again except each other, twisting this world in our personal lustful hairy paradise...

And yet, the changes of the two young men were far from over: there was still so much humanity left in them for the two to call themselves proper demons, but that was bound to change soon. Braden kept up his pace, working fast and relentlessly. Tyler could feel the power surging in him, as if he was being pumped up like a balloon. The pressure built in his forehead, becoming a dull ache, a throb and then a piercing, stinging pain as two small horn nubs erupted from his skin, curving forward and then up.

The blue highlights in his hair became more intense as well as it began to lift up, becoming stiffer, rising into the crest of a mohawk all on its own. Tyler felt Braden continue to give him love bites all over his neck and back, although the pain on the left side of his neck began to tingle and blossom as the skin darkened. Lines of ink formed a dark tattoo, another pentagram in plain sight. With all of that, Braden was far from over, but it was clear he was infatuated with his work.

Braden grunted and moaned louder with each passing moment, his demonic eyes drinking in Tyler's changed body. With a few more lewd thrashes, Braden hissed in delight as his huge cock pushed into the base of Tyler's stomach, distending it slightly. Tyler could feel the tip pushing against the muscle wall of his abdomen and realized just how perfectly streamlined his entire intestinal tract had become. Braden reached around with one hand and took hold of Tyler's cock while the other reached around to rub over the bulge, then to tease his pectorals... and then it happened.

It felt almost as if a hose had been turned on high, but it wasn't water coming out. A thick stream of gooey, sticky yellow demon cum was erupting from Braden's cock, pouring into Tyler's stomach. Surges of heat and pleasure and energy spread through his body as he was nourished by it. The muscles Tyler had worked so hard to get began to swell with ease. His biceps and triceps expanded, his thighs thickened, and his pectorals fattened up. At first it was all muscle, but soon a soft squishy layer began to coat everything.

Tyler's pecs rounded somewhat, his fat pierced nipples sticking out further than before... and his stomach was rounding beyond all of that. It bulged out and swelled up, stretching and stretching. He could feel the cum sloshing around inside as he stored it all up. Every so often his body would utilize more and nourish his changes. The horns on his head began to throb again, feeling almost like a flaccid cock starting to grow erect. They pushed out and up, oozing out of his skull, taking on more length and weight. It gave him an odd pride to feel the weight of them on his head, taking a conscious focus to move around... and then the tingling covered his face.

The athlete's hair had remained short on the sides of his head, buzzed around his ears and up the sides. The stubble on his cheeks had pushed out to be as thick as his head hair, giving a seamless transition from one form to the other, but it seemed his face was not content with that. The facial hair spooled out of his skin, growing wilder and bushier. The stubble expanded outward and downward in all directions. The long soul patch disappeared into the growing mass.

In moments Tyler was the proud owner of a short, untrimmed beard and a tall blue mohawk, but the beard just kept growing. He felt the curls of hair creep down over his upper lip, the sides of the mustache dipping down, disappearing into the rest of the unruly mass. It expanded down past his chin an inch, two, four, then six. He felt it sliding down his throat, the ends starting to tickle against his collarbone. It was the most unbridled form of masculinity he had ever felt.

Years of shaving seemed like an imbecilic joke to him now, the idea seeming preposterous. Why would anyone limit such pure unadulterated bliss? Why would anyone deprive themselves such a status symbol? After all, wasn't bigger better? Now he had a big demon dick, big demon horns, a glorious belly, a tall mohawk and a big fucking beard.

While his apparently unending orgasm went on and on, changing his mate more into a creature of sin and depravity, Braden was feeling the euphoria of transformation too, coursing through his veins like black blood. His epidermis started prickling and pulsating gently, as it took a more leathery, rougher texture, the skin of a true masculine man; not only that, but the color itself was darkening swiftly, until his body wasn't pale anymore, but instead sporting a rich, deep shade of green, intense and profound like the heart of a forest.

His hair, both facial and bodily, went into a frenzied overdrive at the same time: it was like watching a patch of trees growing at unthinkable speed, as his swelling pecs and huge belly were covered in a veritable pelt of red hair, dense and virile. The hair travelled down, creating a fat and large treasure trail that finally blossomed into a huge bush encircling the base of his cock, and enveloped his trunk-like legs, while his calves became rock-hard and powerful and his feet started twitching and becoming warmer, as if a yet-unseen change was going to hit them very soon.

On his head, the already edgy and wild hairstyle became more and more outrageous, the singular strands of red hair cementing themselves one against the other without any need for gels or other products; before his orgasm had had the time to subside, Braden too was sporting a mastodonic, two-feet tall mohawk towering over his progressively inhuman head.

"S-shit..." he whispered, his tongue slipping out of his mouth and leaving a generous trail of spicy saliva over his upper lip. Like a line of trees waiting for water to grow, the hipster's mustache came to life as the corrupted fluid soaked the strands. The handlebar stache became fatter and thicker, worthy of the most badass of the bikers. Right under Braden's lower lip a dart of steel burst through his skin, sliding out and thickening, evolving into a shiny chin piercing with a black diamond stud right in the middle.

"Ooh... Fuck yes!" the hipster murmured in a deeper, sinfully smooth voice, feeling his stubby horns coming to life again; it was like having three dicks instead of one, dicks that were perpetually hard and ready... The two horns extended inch after inch outside his cranium, black as the night; differently from those of the athlete, they curled on the sides of Braden's head in perfect spirals, the proud, heavy and massive horns of an adult ram. The soon-to-be demon gently stroked one of them while his cock - still buried inside Tyler's ass - sprayed another big load of jelly-like cum in response.

Braden panted and moaned, thinking back over his life... To his time in foster care. He wondered if he had always had this power to corrupt and to be corrupted, or if it took Tyler. Were they two sides of the equation? Did they need each other? Well, that was a silly question. Braden wouldn't imagine living without his partner. They were halves of a unified whole now. Braden leaned in and began licking Tyler's sharp, pointed ear as a clawed hand reached up and began raking down through that glorious, full beard.

A thousand strings of pleasure shot off in Tyler's head as he felt it, a physical connection to his deepest masculinity. Tyler could feel the length and width and heft of his beard, as if its size was as important as his cock.... Its thickness, how pillow-like it was. It was like his body was sensationalized, as if every part of him was tied into graphic, intense sexual pleasure... and neither of them wanted to change that.

The strongest link, however, was still between Tyler and Braden, a link between two friends, mates, brothers and fellow creatures of darkness and sin. As the former gymnast felt his beard empowering him and making him horny, Braden's chin tickled and prickled, thick crimson hairs puncturing his now green skin and already braiding with each other like aroused lovers. The goatee started small, but it quickly got longer and longer, as if an invisible force was pulling it from the very inside of the hipster's head; it was luscious and wavy, and hanged from his handsomely rugged face like a waterfall made out of manly fur.

With each passing moment, Braden continued to fill Tyler. His athletic physique was forgotten, replaced with one of bulk and brawn. His belly extended out before him, sloshing with semen and muscle and fat. His arms were thick, his shoulders broad. He didn't look anything like he had before. He was born anew, with new purpose... and somewhere, deep inside, what was left of his soul felt itself careening toward the most intense orgasm he'd ever experienced.

Tyler smiled, showing his wild and deadly fangs. He knew that once he spilled the next dose of cum, his changes would be complete and final, his new nature become permanent; he didn't care anymore about his past self, the pathetic and frail boy using gymnastics to escape his own problem because he was too scared to face his real self, and wanted to get rid of it as soon as we could. He focused on the pleasure coming from his butthole, on Braden's still hosing cock brushing against his swollen prostate, on the indescribable bliss of being a sinful and depraved demon...

His gigantic dick throbbed, spraying the sofa and the floor in front of him with his gooey, corrupted yellow sperm. And, along with the spunk, the dismembered remnants of his former human soul, of his now useless set of morals and of his weak and scarred mind were expulsed from his body, leaving him as he had always been destined to be: a wild, savage and majestic dark creature, full of cum and power, ready to warp and change the world as he pleased. Tyler's long dripping tongue lolled out of his mouth in ecstasy, and a big, black barbell suddenly came into existence through the appendage, clicking with every dexterous and sickening movement.

Now a true demon, the former athlete smiled again, the cock of his rightful mate still buried inside his ass. "Fuck yeah, this is life..." he exclaimed with a satisfied sigh. His icy blue reptilian eyes darted from the spunk on the floor to his duffel bag, lying abandoned against the door of the rec room. As much as he would've loved to go around naked, showing his glorious and burly body to the whole world, they needed clothes before facing the rest of the campus... And Tyler was going to make sure they fit.

****

The sun had started to set, but it seemed to be taking its time. It lingered just above the horizon, painting the sky in shades of blood red and fiery orange. The glare was intense, shining off of the windshields of the various cars and trucks on the lot. It was rather beautiful really, at least to Braden as he walked. Each step seemed deliberate as the heavy boots came down. Braden looked so different than he had before, even if his demonic traits had gone partially dormant.

The former hipster was six and a half feet tall and weighed several hundred pounds of muscle and fat. His Mohawk stood tall and proud in defiance of gravity and his plump, tough lips were surrounded by an intense, thick mustache that arched over his mouth before dropping down below his chin. Beneath his lower lip was a long, heavy goatee that was braided together in thick strands, marked by a sharp, long metal spike that seemed prone to stab anyone that got too close.

Braden had a steady grin across his lips, feeling the heft of his septum ring, earrings and nipple rings swaying as he walked. The sensation was intense, constant stimulation to his most sensitive body parts. Even the parts that weren't pierced felt amazing. His belly, his arms, his legs. He wore a thick black leather vest with spikes on the shoulders. It showed off his hairy chest and rotund demonic belly, as well as the thick pleasure trail running up from his groin. His legs were covered in thick, well used black denim faded on the knees and groin and ass. Braden felt proud. He was metal, he was wild, he was free... But he wasn't alone. Tyler was right by his side.

The former jock, the innocent young man hiding a tragic past was no more. Walking alongside Braden was a big, burly and manly punk, equally as impressive and outrageous despite being a couple inches shorter: the difference in size was enough to be noticeable, and spoke well of the relation between the two: Tyler had been the key to unlock the changes, but the power had always been inside Braden after all... It was fair for the former hipster to be the dominant one in the relationship. Even though the two of them were the meanest and more menacing duo the campus had ever seen, Tyler knew deep inside him that his role was to be Braden's faithful bitch demon for all the eternity and beyond.

He too was sporting a huge, apparently impossible mohawk, of a shade of electric blue that seemed designed to hurt eyes for how intense and garish it was, just like his glorious, pillowy and wiry beard. The earring stuck in his right lobe was now bigger and fatter, shining red like coagulated blood; having metal piercing his ear, tongue and nipples was one of the most awesome sensations ever, and Tyler only regretted not having decided to try it sooner.

The clothes he was wearing looked brand new and shiny, as if a pale shadow of the clean-cut, no-nonsense kid he had been still lingered around somewhere in his new, instinctual soulless mind. The biker jacket, black and polished, was heavily studded and left open, his fat pierced nipples and heavy belly for the world to see; a thick spiked dog collar hug his broad neck tightly, an implicit sign that he was the submissive one of the couple. A pair of slick black leather pants hugged his trunk-like legs, ending into a pair of heavy combat boots, of course dark and shiny too. The pants underlined every curve of his massive and enticing backside, as well as his mammoth cock pressed against the skin of his crotch and leg.

The two came up to a pair of motorcycles near the edge of the lot. Braden murmured in desire and turned, grabbing Tyler's head. He leaned in and brought his lips to Tyler's. Their beards meshed and teased each other as they rubbed and Tyler felt the sharp chin spike pierce through his beard and tickle at his chin. Their saliva was thick and spicy, practically intoxicating as they swapped it before finally Braden broke the kiss.

A demonic hand slipped down and brought down the zipper of Braden's pants, releasing a cloud of thick, potent musk before the claws dipped in and brought out the fat, veined head of the immensely long shaft. Braden fed it through the fly before it was jutting out before him, but for once it wasn't intended for Tyler. Braden turned to face one of the bikes and lifted his shaft up, giving his next target a bit of a look.

It was likely one of the professor's bikes, a Harley Davidson with a bit of a classic design. Before his change, Braden had always liked the look of the Kawasaki Ninjas with their sleek design, but now the Harley sang to him. Its exposed engine, the metal elements... it was almost right, but still not quite perfect for the demons they had become. Braden gave his cock a few strokes, back and forth before his cock began to gush with syrupy thick yellowish semen. It sprayed out and splattered onto the motorcycle, beginning its work at once.

The metal began to sizzle and steam, the chrome finish bubbling and warping. Braden watched the chrome finish etch away, revealing a strange and dark metal beneath. It reflected the light much in the same way, but it was a darker pearlescent black beneath. The semen spewed and dripped all over it as it continued to pour, moving from the gas tank to the seat. The leather widened and shifted, turning from brown to a deep black. The seat elongated enough to hold two if necessary, but gave enough foundation for someone immensely large. The leather seemed to weather as well, showing the signs of being well used.

As the constant flood of demonic seed reached the engine, the most drastic changes started to take place. The carburetor swelled larger, the channels thicker. More cylinders appeared and more capacity sank in. It expanded beyond the abilities of any motorcycle ever made before, taking on a design no human had ever thought of. Even the muffler shifted, growing fatter and wider.

Braden took a few steps forward and began to douse the front of the bike, watching as his seed transformed the most important part. The bars holding the wheels began to swell and stretch, moving forward, giving the bike a bit of a chopper feel. The single headlight bubbled and sizzled as it split like a cell dividing, widening into two. The light flickered, giving off a faintly red light. The black metal shimmered as white paint began to appear, taking on the emblem of a white skull with fangs and curled ram horns.

With the change nearing completion, the excess semen seemed to soak into the metal and leather itself, disappearing - stored for an occasion it might be needed. The bike itself had become a tool for corruption, just like its rider had. Its mere presence was enough to give the parking lot a far different vibe.

The bike Tyler had chosen to claim for himself was an old and quite battered dirt bike, the paint scraped off and even some rusty spots here and there; after the former jock had fished his massive shaft out of his skin tight pants, it took him just a couple of sapient strokes for the giant corrupted organ to spray some gooey man juice. Tyler let out a deep moan that sounded more like a bellow, and watched the shabby bike being hit by his cum and starting its inevitable change into something more suitable for his new rider.

The remains of pale green paint sizzled and dissolved into thin air as did the few spots of rust, revealing a uniform and extremely slick blood red covering; just like Braden's ride had changed to match the rows of piercings on his ears, Tyler's new bike seemed made with the same metal of the ring dangling from his right lobe.

The former gymnast kept massaging his cock, not even remotely reaching an orgasm and yet ejaculating freely all over the bike: the vehicle kept sizzling and mewling under the rain of demon cum, and each and every part twisted and elongated, giving it a more streamlined and aerodynamic look and making it look like something straight out of a sci-fi movie. The seat was long and wide, perfect for the new massive buttocks of its rider, and the red leather had a sheen and smoothness that made it look more like latex than anything else.

The engine itself mutated and evolved, becoming very similar to the stomach of its owner: it no longer needed fuel to move, just a generous dose of Tyler or Braden's spooge every now and then. The two devilish motorbikes were becoming more and more akin to actual living beings than simple machines, bound to their riders in a quasi-symbiotic relationship; and - Tyler was sure of it - any guy wild or foolish enough to accept a lift would have certainly found himself very different once having gotten off....

The handlebars contorted and twisted on themselves, taking a ribbed, bumpy shape that on a superficial look would've made them look like horns... But that in reality was a good replica of the inhuman dicks Tyler and Braden sported while in their true demonic forms. The headlights became narrow and slit-like, shining of the same metallic and soulless blue of the eyes of their owner.

The two new demon bikes couldn't look more different from one another, and yet they both possessed a hypnotic, mesmerizing power that would've certainly drawn teenagers and young men to them, inviting them to touch them, to smell them, to ride on them... and to be changed by them forever.

"Well, my love? What do you think... Are we ready to ride off into the sunset?" Braden asked, his voice deep and gravely as he gazed into Tyler's electric blue eyes. Tyler took a step forward and planted a long, slimy kiss on his lover's lips, his pierced tongue exploring every nook and cranny of his mouth.

"Of course, partner. We have places to go and young, unsuspecting men to show our way of life... I'm sure they'll love it, once they have tried it!"

"Maybe we'll come back here some day, check on our old friends... But I think right now I want to get the open road beneath us, put some distance out there, see what this country has to offer." Braden grinned, returning the wet and messy kiss.

"Yeah," Tyler nodded. "I have to grant some wishes around here, after all... Give Morgan the pair of studs he craves so much, for example. But right now, I want to explore this world with you... There are so many things that we can do for it and the guys inhabiting it, after all!" And he concluded his sentence with a wicked, and yet joyous fit of laughter.

Braden smirked, looking at his boyfriend with pride... but it was time to get going. He swung his thick leg over the seat of his bike and settled down. The bike sagged a bit with his weight before the shocks kicked in. As Braden brought his groin flush with the front of the bike, the leather parted and a slimy, dark orifice opened up. Braden nudged his bulging fly into the hole and it clamped on and began slurping away, dissolving the crotch of his pants and drawing his cock down into the bike itself. Braden moaned, his eyes half rolling back in his head as the bike came to life, the lights shining brightly as a deep, rumbling growl erupted from the engine. The growl was deep and low, almost operating on a subconscious level, creeping into the minds of any male within earshot. It was a sound inspiring a yearning for freedom, for anarchy, for chaos and lust...

Tyler followed his mate suit, climbing on his own almost alien vehicle and letting the moist, inviting hole in the front of his seat slurp and gobble down his monstrous penis. He had lived the first twenty years of his life in fear and denial, trapped inside an inane existence he didn't belong to... Until Braden had shown him the way, the right path just beyond the lines he had unconsciously limited himself into. As he started the engine of his ride, he thought at all the others kids and men in the country being unsatisfied of their lives, and couldn't help but grin. It was time to free some wild spirits and teach them how to live... for the rest of the eternity.

The two bikes headed out of the parking lot and onto the street. The wind blew over them, parting around their mohawks and blasting past their pointed ears. Minutes passed and they were heading out of the city and onto the freeway, the lingering sunset still washing over them. The growl echoed across the landscape, fading away behind in their wake just as their former lives had dissolved. There was no way of telling where they would stop next, but it was clear that they had crossed all lines at the boundary of humanity and found something far more profound.