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Let’s get this straight. My name is Marco and my one goal in life is to fuck Bigfoot. I will accomplish this.

I wasn’t always like this. I was a decent kid, not too shabby in school, not at the top of my class or anything. I was fine, more or less. I played a lot of soccer, though.

Ending high school, I realized that my pet obsession with cleats and footwork, kicks and dances, was more than a little serious. I never really thought I was gay, I never really thought about sex at all, but there was this banner ad I saw, “SEE THE SOLES OF MEN – FREE FEET FOR YOU!,” with this picture of this shredded dude, sharp blue eyes and ruffled auburn hair, with his feet right on the camera. I could just make out the texture, the curves suspended on his sand-colored skin. I could almost feel his foot in my hand, I saw myself rubbing him, feeling the grooves rise and fall under my fingertips, drawing circles with my thumb over his big toe, arch in my palm. There were droplets of sweat just over his heel. I wanted my tongue on them.

It wasn’t weird or anything.

So I was pretty peeved when I found a dude to fool around with and he was vaguely nonplussed by the whole thing. He was a surfer, in the area for some short tourney or something. I had been walking into town to do some shopping, getting a few groceries when I saw a Pride concession. He was in some fetish bloc, sun glimming in his hair, and he looked like he had the future behind his eyes. He had this perfect stride, you’d think that he wouldn’t stop for nothing, like he was the Platonic surfer. He had his shirt off and I could see his abs, thick and intense. I felt myself walking towards him like there was some sense of magnetism between us, I didn’t even know what I was going to say. I wasn’t super experienced in cruising, so I was a little blunt.

“Do you want to fuck?” I asked.

“Sure,” he replied.

And that was that.

His name was Jack. He told me he wasn’t from around here, that he had only come to win some money, cause some trouble, and bounce, verbatim. He had this classic Californian tilt and this habit of ending all his sentences like they were questions. “Y’know what I’m saying bro? It’s, like, there’s this feeling of, like, hella exhilaration you just don’t get anywhere but the waves.” he said at one point, and I briefly wondered if I was fucking him or just the West Coast come anthropomorphic.

His hotel was nearby and the walk was fairly short. I’d look at him and he’d be smiling every single time, with this strict rictus that seemed excessive. I never asked if he was a stoner, but I figured that was it. We bounded the steps to his room and he closed the door. I turned to ask him something. He had a monster dong.

Protruding from his bush, layer upon layer of curly hair built into an almost forest, was this cock like none I had seen before. It reached his kneecap. The thickness and the girth seemed almost unhuman, it was a fucking baseball bat, studded with veins bulging at the skin. He was closing his eyes and reclining his head. His mouth was half open.

He let his head down and lifted his eye lids and let those previously unconcerned eyes drill down on me (ed. mention stoner lids). He was breathing with effort.

“Your turn,” he said.

I felt a little conscious. He had been shredded before, but seeing his body up close was an entirely different story. His muscles weren’t totally conspicuous, he had this classic, lanky swimmer’s build, but everything you could imagine, you could just make out. His abs were almost, but not quite, washboard, and he didn’t look like he had an ounce of fat on him.

Curiously, he had a lot of hair for a swimmer, but I didn’t notice that at the time.

He moved towards me with a possessed grace; in a second, he had a hand on my shoulder and his face, his long, gruff face was close to mine. I could feel his breath.

“You sure you want to do this?” He whispered.

“I’m ready,” I breathed, just.

His breath was on my face. His lips were on mine. He pulled me towards him with a surprising strength. Our dicks were touching, his over mine. He was pushing towards me. He was almost dominating me. He felt bestial, animalistic. His tongue took my palate, washing down the sides with vigor. A hand moved, from my shoulder to my neck. He was in control.

Hence I popped the question, when he finally pulled away from me, a single strand of spittle between us.

“Can I see your feet?”

I stammered. I don’t normally stammer, but pressed against the bod of this ersatz Adonis, I was doing a lot of things I normally wouldn’t.

He narrowed his eyes. I braced myself for the “no”. It seemed to float up in the space between us, like dust caught in rays of light.

“Why?”

I still had a shot. His hand relaxed back to my shoulder. His breathing was controlled.

“I have a,” another stammer, “fantasy.”

“What? Like, look. Marco. Marco, right?”

“What? Dude.”

“Marco. This is pretty hard to say and I’ve never told it to a stranger before but, Marco, you sound trustworthy.”

“You don’t…you don’t have to say yes if you don’t want to,” I felt overwhelmed. What the hell was he on about?

“Marco, I’m Bigfoot. I’m a Bigfoot shifter.”

“What?”

“You see what I mean?” his voice was just cracking a whisper now, our bodies still suspended against each other. It felt excessively domestic.

“Bigfoot?” I thought, “Bigfoot can’t be real. Is he joking?”

“We can have sex,” he added, “but you have to let me think about the foot thing.”

He slipped behind me. Two hands on my shoulders. “You mind?”

The idea of being taken this way hadn’t been on my mind, but it seemed a little sexy.

“Yeah. Let’s try it”

He let me down with a casual grace that seemed far from his bro nature. His hands drifted…slowly, from my shoulders, my back, to my hips. I could feel him grind, carefully, the brunt of his tool just against my hole. His hands folded down to my crotch, just cupping my cock. I felt my anus opening up, he was making his way in me. That’s when it hit me. His soft, massive hands, currently wrapped around my shaft, way too large for a surfer. His body hair, too much for a swimmer. I really was getting fucked by Bigfoot.

I had heard him grunting. I didn’t know how much grunting was typical for sex, but I could hear the grunting getting deeper and deeper. His soft, sinewy hands felt larger and larger, more and more calloused. This was it, the shifter in him coming out. I could feel his already thick, girthy cock getting larger and largin his veins rubbing against my virgin walls, pure heat in my ass. He started to pull out, and the open air felt like electricity. I turned my head.

To say he looked like a beast would be understatement. Gone was my otter. In his place stood a monster, tusks and fur, muscle and claws. His face was contorted into something apeish,, his shirt since ripped and replaced with a heavy suit of brown fur. He announced, with effort, “Me fuck you now!” My heart skipped a beat. Here was something bestial, commanding, powerful, and extremely, extremely well-hung. For a moment, I forgot about the foot thing. I needed to have his cock in me.

He turned me around, me now facing him, his tip just gracing the edge of my pucker. I felt a burning, dry need in me, to have him finish his penetration, but something animalistic in him made him relent. He regarded me with a queer grin. He hefted his cock with a string grip.

“You want? Me no give.”

He raised a foot.

Here it was, in all its musky glory. I could hardly apprehend it before he shoved it in my face, throwing the big toe just past my lips.

“Suck,” he commanded.

I felt the salty clefts and raises on the top of my tongue, and I could just make out that essential maleness before he forced it even further. I couldn’t help myself. I held that foot with my hands, gripping the mountains of beast fur on either side, and started giving lavish licks on the sole. I could feel the sweat in my mouth. This was the edge. I couldn’t imagine anything more. My cock twitched in the open air. It was full of blood, as full as I could ever imagine. I needed release. I couldn’t imagine anything else, nothing separated from this moment, in a room dirty with the smell of sex, with the overwhelming foot of a man in my mouth.

He pulled the foot out.

“You like?”

I couldn’t help but pant, I tried to nod but, caught in the throes of pleasure, I could hardly move. He dropped his heavy hand on my cock, rubbing it against my stomach for a bit. He lifted that foot again, wet with my saliva, and this time let it fall on my dick, thrusting the broad of my cock with his heel, wetting me with his sweat, my spit.

I wanted to cum. I couldn’t cum. This was it, apotheosis, it wasn’t getting any better, but the pressure from that foot had my cock in a state of limbo. I could feel it throb with my heart, duh-dum, duh-dum, duh-dum, but every beat felt like it was radiating inwards, like my orgasm was happening slowly, but all over. My body shook with pleasure. I was plateauing.

Jack, to his credit, didn’t mind. He kept grinding that foot, pleasuring himself with an unused hand, in dumb animal pleasure. I could feel my cock roll, sandwiched between my sweaty stomach and his bulbous, moist sole. I was being used. Degraded. I’ve never felt harder in my life. He let it drift between his two bulbous, hairy toes and played with me, giving me this tiny and consistent touch; just enough to pleasure, not enough to cum.

Suddenly, it stopped. My cock was unattended to. Just when I started to open my eyes and look up, a flash of white came beaming towards my face. A sock.

His sock.

“Anal?” He grunted, rubbing circles on my backdoor. This day wasn’t getting any better.

I consented. Two fingers immediately pushed their way though, stretching the edges of my walls, gaping my taut, wet hole open for the cool air. After that, I felt a warmth, a rough, and daft moisture past my anus and inside me. I didn’t have to look to see that he was using his tongue.

When the tonguing let off, I couldn’t help myself. I started puckering, getting needy for the dick. Suddenly, I felt myself floating, supported by two arms of wild, furry strength, being inclined towards a face that looked both ape and not. Two yellowed, wet fangs rose from his lower jaw, jutting over his upper lip. Two burning, violent yellow eyes stood where his baby blues once were. His head was wreathed by wild fur.

It came rushing towards me all at once. I was really going to get fucked by Bigfoot.

Without warning, he grabbed the sock and started shoving it further in my face, and I couldn’t help myself. I started taking deep, heady breaths of his intoxicating foot scent, before I felt that same, curious feeling at the tip of my anus. This time, it was warm. He slid into me, one arm wrapped around my back. I felt ready to blow. My cock was neatly nestled between us, right against the rough apeish hair of his body and the warm flesh of my abs. I couldn’t control it. He was pushing in and out of me, bringing an alien warmth into the deep of my ass.

He started to push in and out, thrusting himself further every time. I could feel my orgasm running up from behind me. I tried to say something to warn Jack, but when I started to learn forward, he thrusted himself on me, his rough lips sliding over mine and his massive, off-tasting tongue invading my mouth. I was thrown for a loop. My cock started throbbing and I could feel bliss pouring into me. I let his tongue take over and felt my orgasm slipping out from all inside. I matted his fur totally, I didn’t even have to look. I knew this was the hardest I’d ever come in my life. Something seemed off though. I wouldn’t understand what until I woke up.

So, I had passed out. No big deal, though I imagine it was a little awkward for Jack. Everyone feels pretty disoriented when they wake up in a strange bed, but it was extremely fucking weird to do it without pants on. Oh well. The sun was just setting, and it was light enough to stumble my way home and try to forget about it. When I arrived, threw the door open, and started disrobing for a shower, I felt a note in my pocket. It read, “Let’s do that again,” and had a crudely drawn smiley on the end.

It’s weird, but I felt a little longing, in that moment. I realized that I probably wasn’t ever going to see him again. He was a transient, after all.

I got cleaned up. I lied down. I felt unsatisfied.

I woke up to knocking. It sounded like someone was trying to break a hole in the door. I decided to freak out just a little.

The man at the door had a trucker hat and enough facial hair to suggest he wasn’t wearing it ironically. His eyes were wide. With any other facial expression, I’d be ready to deal with him, but something about the way he looked unsettled me. He had at least 100 pounds on me, and he looked like someone who worked out regularly. If he was afraid, what the hell was I going to do about it?

“Bigfoot,” he said, “is real.”

“What,” I said.

Oh shit, I thought.

-~-

His name was Horace. He asked me to come along with him – it was the dead of night and he had a truck filled with ‘paranormal investigators’ nearby. They were also wearing trucker hats. It was a terrifying fall night.

The truck smelled like stale cigarette smoke. There wasn’t enough leg room from the amount of trash that littered the floor.

Real professionals.

Here’s what Horace said to me, verbatim, after a long and awkward peel out from my place.

“Listen. You mundanes may not get this, but they’re real. Bigfoot, loch nest, vampires, all of them. They’re all real.”

I wanted to browbeat him but I remembered my recent fucking and just shut up.

“They’re here. You may not get it, but they’re here. Why…why are they here? Why would these,” he took a pregnant pause, here, and forcefully brought his grandstanding down, “things be living with us?”

“The government. It’s the government that’s doing this. They’ve in-fil-trated the highest levels of our government. All of them. All of them. Reptilians, werewolves, jersey devils. They’re here to breed us out. They hate humanity and they want to breed us all out. They’re being ass-iss-ted by the highest esch-e-lons of government to breed us out.”

It sounded absolutely fucking crazy.

He was right about the Bigfoot though.

I felt cowed, that I was so judgmental towards him when he was aware and I wasn’t. Was all that true? Was the government honestly supporting a sexual conquest of humanity? I really couldn’t say, but my earlier pretentions made me feel sick to my stomach.

There were two other men in the car: George, a thin, spindly and effete looking boy, seemed too in awe of Horace to speak up. He was wearing an undershirt, with a few conspicuous stains, and he looked out of the windows in wide-eyed suspicion every few minutes. He seemed like there was something essentially small about him.

The other man was Will. I couldn’t read anything on him. He seemed exceptionally cool and calm. He was wearing khakis.

The rest of the ride was without incident.

I felt outside myself.

The car pulled up to some forest. It was, apparently, where the Bigfoot ‘den’ had been located.

We filed out of the car. Horace hit the ground and bade me quiet. He was incredibly serious about this in a way that felt almost admirable.

He shot up in a moment, filled with complete apprehension.

“They’re here.”

I could just barely make out their shadows against the dark of the night. Four of them, thick, well built, and tall. We were entirely fucked.

I smelled them just after I saw them – years of masculine sex and fucking rushing towards me. For the second time that night, I felt like I was in the grasp of something far bigger and better than I could ever imagine.

I immediately got hard.

One of the figures seemed to stop awkwardly, midstride. He stumbled a bit before turning to face me and raising his hand. Jack? It had to be Jack.

Everything next seemed like it was a dream. I felt entirely outside of my body.

Will and George fled. I heard George running, half-tripping and trying as hard as possibly to barrel his body away from us, deeper into the wood. Will, I never heard, never saw. It was only later that I realized he was gone.

Only me and Horace.

When I looked over to him, I saw his mouth agape, his eyes almost glazed over, and his pants forming an extensive tent.

Cool. Cool.

I didn’t think to run. They were on us in moments, locking our arms behind our backs. I could practically taste the overpowering man-musk and I needed it. I felt like I was at my wits’ end.

Jack sauntered up to me, slowly, his thick prick swinging in the breeze, conspicuous globs of pre dripping out. I needed that dick.

I could hear Horace begging to be fucked.

Jack was now directly in front of me, his excited girth expanding and contracting with his heartbeat. He looked absolutely massive, half a foot taller than me and more stacked than a quarterback. I saw his monkey face pull a grin.

I was so hard I could hardly control myself.

“Please,” I begged him.

I could feel his overlarge tongue invading my mouth, drowning my own in his thick animalistic spit. I could taste the rich cum of his packmates and glorious spicy smell of their unwashed, monstrous cocks. A cruel, rough hand grabbed my bulge. A thick cock rubbed against my pants. I could feel the endless heat from the beasts everywhere. I couldn’t escape.

Jack pulled back from our kiss.

“You’re going to be one of you, you know that Marco? You can’t leave, knowing where we live.”

The other one dropped me, unceremoniously. Jack turned around, exposing his ass. He moved towards me with a deliberate slowness, using his hands to spread open his hole.

“Lick,” he commanded.

I found myself pushing forward, his ass hair tickling my face as his thick and overpoweringly masculine scent invaded my nose. He pushed back, and I found my mouth on his rim far sooner than expected. I could taste the phantom presence of cocks and cum galore, heady and spicy with years of sex. I started to scrape around, trying to get as much primal primate musk on my tongue. I could feel him tensing up, pushing his ass further and further. I kept trying to stay on that rim, to keep matting down his tender flesh with my tongue, but he was relentless. He pushed forward just a bit too hard.

I felt the world flip and turn. I was on my back. He was on top of me, moaning and groaning with delight, his malformed animal feet rubbing my bulge, tainting me with his glorious, sweaty scent. The pressure forced my face in, drowning my world in an endless smell of sex.

He was grinding away on my face, rubbing himself into me, forcing my face to pay praise to his masterful butthole. As I was trying to catch my breath and get up to speed with the foot service he was offering my cock, his ponderous, sweaty testes found their way into my open mouth. I could hear him scream.

I let my tongue wander every salty ridge and valley, tasting his maleness and trying my hardest to take it all in me. I felt my body throb. My tongue was growing, becoming larger and rougher to better take on all oncoming musky balls and cocks. My face felt a queer pressure. It felt like there was some unseen hand, grabbing every piece of it and pulling with as much strength as anything ever could, twisting and turning it foul and unhuman. I could taste so much more of him now.

I kept sucking his smelly, hairy maleness until he pulled up. I lied there, not looking straight at the starry sky. I looked down to see him fumbling with my pants; I was hard beyond words and it seemed like he caught onto it. When he pulled my cock out, though, it was much longer than it should’ve been. 9 inches of animalistic meat greeted me, furry and thick beyond all recognition, stained with the juices of his dutiful foot.

He sat, now, just across from me. As I tried to sit up, one of his mates took the chance to straddle me, bringing me inches away from his relentless bush. I took the base of his shaft in my mouth, tasting along the veins and thick meat. His hands swung around to the back of my head, pushing me deeper into his toolkit. He was groaning, guiding me along his length, when I felt something like an electric pulse on my dick. Moist and warm. I didn’t have to look to tell that Jack was there, my dick trapped between the arches of his foot, as he gave me gingerly and premeditated rolls up and down. A proper foot job.

The stranger draped his cock over me, forcing his balls closer to my mouth, hooting more and more excitedly. Just as I was about to take them in, I felt his titan hands grip the back of my skull and pull me in, stuffing them as far down my throat as they went. Wasn’t enough. I let my tongue take the underside of his soda-can-thick dick, tasting his scent. I looked down to see my nose, formerly human, disappear; in its place, a flat ape’s crevice. New lusty scents made themselves known, I could taste the near vinegar of the apeman’s sack in relentless precision. It was impossibly strong.

The first orgasm hit me out of nowhere, the last cups of my human seed spilling out all over Jack’s feet and my thighs. My cock throbbed. I still had ammo to shoot.

Jack gave my dick a few wet and sticky rubs, grinding his feet into my meat. Suddenly, he stopped. The creature above me pulled my head from his bush, too. He looked down at me. I was suddenly aware of the fact that all of them were surrounding me, standing tall and looking down upon me. I felt two furry hands on my chest. I fell again. This time, onto a waiting Sasquatch. His arms locked mine in place. My pants were off in moments, his warm package rubbing right against my ass. I struggled to get it in me before I looked up and saw Jack, now standing above me with the rest of them, slowly jerking it over me.

“Bukkake, Marco. The last step until you’re one of us.”

Something in me wanted to leave, but something bigger wanted me to stay there, to bask in the musk and emissions of these men’s men, to become their fuckslut forever.

I could feel the cock against my taint, rubbing up and down and pulling pleasure out of me. I was out of control. I was going to cum again.

As I struggled, I could feel my body ache and turn, muscles expanding and compounding on themselves. I felt a shrudder take me, from head to toe. My mind was filled with thoughts of camaraderie and endless fraternity fucks; of my place at the feet of these monsters, serving and licking, fucking and being fucked. I could smell their animalistic desire on them. I could sense how much they wanted to fuck me, in that moment, an overwhelming emotion that made my cock tingle in the warm air of the circlejerk.

My whole body shook with change, fur manifesting on my open skin. I could feel it take me in, like a blanket, gripping that disgusting fucksmell close to my being. I could smell the sex on me. This was exactly where I was supposed to be, there was no escape. I felt the cock enter, straight to the hilt, hitting me right where it needed to. At that exact moment, I could feel warm droplets of pre start to mat my fur down, smearing me with the lusty essence of Jack’s mates. My mates.

“Now!” Jack shouted, as countless Bigfoot feet covered me, smearing cum into my fur. Toes, heavy with the salt and sweat of the session, invaded my face, forcing themselves onto my tongue. I was so close. I could feel the streams of cum ascending from my balls, another river of pre making itself known on my skin.

That’s when Jack put his foot down. Right on my cock. He pushed it towards my chest.

The next minute was pure bliss, the Bigfoot pistoning in me, my orgasm riding itself out on my chest in face, and all in a crowd of feet. Endless feet. More feet that I could ever handle.

Then, the cum, raining down on me, showering me in the affection of the creatures I’d never before known; marking me as one of their own. A Bigfoot.

We would lie there, on each other, radiating warmth for another hour. I looked down at myself to confirm, yes, I was covered in Bigfoot semen, and, yes, I had become one of the beasts. Jack’s was lying on me, trying to catch his breath. I asked him what was next. Would could possibly come after all this.

“Just, like, wing it dude.”