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So, there's a certain point in a boy's life when his parents stop interpreting his imaginary friends as revealing his rich inner narrative and burgeoning creative talent and start holding hushed conversations between them about what if their child is hallucinating. Not that he had any personal experience with that kind of thing. Of course. Just, past a certain age there was a definite awareness that in addition to not seeing the five-headed snakes in the garden, his parents didn't want to hear about them either, and that aggressive disinterest extended to hearing about what Cose and he had gotten up to that day too. Kids are perceptive like that.

Not that anything like that had happened to him.

And anyway, it wasn't all fantastical animals and imaginary friends anyway. Cose was nice; a young boy his age with dark gold skin a shock of brown-silver hair, like he was greying at ten, and always looking like he had just gotten done tearing through the woods past the backyard -- leaves and twigs in his hair, shirtless, grass stains on his elbows and the knees of his pants. Cose was nice; his first real friend. Cose lead him on adventures into the forest, always ending at some hidden-away place, like an ancient shrine: a tiny spring welling up between two boulders, forming a natural pool; a ring of old trees, their trunks covered in a carpet of moss; a cliff side of flaking stone, with carved grafitti that went back years and years. Once to something that was maybe an ancient grave, a cairn with a goat skull on the top, cracked and yellow with age. They always felt like secrets.

But that wasn't the only thing he saw that was unusual; he spent more than a few nights curled up under his bed muffling his sobs in his stuffed animals as bloated, inhuman shapes lurched up and down the hallway, hearing their clotted, bubbling noises inside other sounds even in the middle of the day. And of course his mom just told him that the monster in his closet wasn't real.

And anyway, he had a much better handle on things these days. College, a job. Friends that other people could see! He'd told all of them his name was Tanner, and like hell any of them were getting a look at his school ID. He just did not have time to freak out, which meant his hallucinations could go fuck off.

When moving in: his dorm was in the back of the building, and his window looked out onto a stark cube of old growth forest, bordered by an overgrown sidewalk, all thick roots coming right up to the pavement, shadows pitch black once night fell. In the morning he'd mentioned the shadows from the trees messing with his sense of time to his roommate (Greg, nondescript and tedious but not fundamentally annoying to be around) and gotten a weird look in response, and out the window there was just a grassy quad, not a single tree in sight. The sense that the universe was just continually pranking him was annoying, but something he'd long since gotten used to; what was alarming was the way Greg kept shooting him looks after that, brow furrowing whenever he said anything even slightly odd.

There was one morning when he woke up and went out to class only to find the sidewalk covered in a river of churning insects, immense iridescent-shelled beetles, the crunch of their chitin loud as students walked back and forth, sharp-sour smell of bug guts in the air. Mike (had a single on the floor below, a stoner type, struck up a conversation that Tanner was pretty sure was trying to sound him out if he was a dealer right after orientation) came up and asked what's up and Tanner just shrugged, some excuse about enjoying the morning. "Class is in like ten minutes," Mike'd said, and then shrugged, heading off over the bug-infested sidewalk, crunching all the way.

One of the bugs had crawled up onto his knee, perching there a solid weight, thick barbed mandibles slowly waving in the air. It was immense, the size of Tanner's whole hand, beautiful. Its chitin shone in the morning sun, green-gold, with bands of violet-blue-black where it curved at the edges. He sat there for another minute, watching the churning insects before getting up, trying to be unobtrusive about setting the bug aside, and walked on the grass all the way to class.

Cose was definitely the nicest of his hallucinations. As far as he was concerned, Cose lived in the forest behind his parents' house, but Tanner kept thinking he saw him in crowds, dressed like a college student -- Cose had grown up with him, from a gangly kid to a lean teenager, showing up in faded blue jeans with torn knees: the skin beneath cut up and scabbed over, bumpy and prickly with stiff hair under his fingers that one night he'd leaned over, touched Cose on the knee, hip, weight shifting to send Cose slumping to the ground, Tanner over him. It was very quiet when they kissed, just the soft wet touch of skin on skin, Cose's head tipped up as Tanner pressed his lips down the column of his throat, hands skimming over his bare chest. He kept seeing guys with his build -- a little taller than most, dark, lean, shirtless or only wearing ragged undershirts, but whenever he looked again it was just... someone else, face all different.

---

"Dude, you wanna smoke up?" was what Mike opened with, and Tanner blinked at him slowly for a second. He was so tired his eyes ached, a painless pressure throbbing behind them. That was... not something he'd done before, for a few reasons, but burnt out after a night of staring at homework and sometimes having thoughts flit through his head without connecting with anything: sounded good.

Which was what he told Mike, which was how he ended up in Mike's dorm at two in the morning, shushing and giggling, Mike flipping his deadbolt down with a clack, like that would do anything but alarm everyone if the RA tried to get in. There were deadbolts on every door in the dorm and it just seemed like such a bad idea. Mike was sure it would "add security", which was part of why Tanner didn't listen to most of what Mike said.

Tanner studiously focused as Mike took a hit from his bong, holding it awkwardly when Mike held it out and trying to mimic the motion, heavy smoke suddenly in his mouth, burning down his lungs. He coughed, of course, and Mike smacked him on the back, but he had time to take a lot more tries.

Much later: the room was foggy, and the yellowish overhead light was too bright. He squinted, and the figure leaning over him resolved from a brilliant silhouette. It was Cose, which, otherwise might've been something to worry about, but as it was Tanner just gave him a goofy smile and pulled him into his lap.

Cose was shirtless as usual, and he'd traded in his heavy leggings for a pair of skinny jeans that showed off his truly phenomenal thighs. He looked like a young god, his shaggy hair backlit into a brilliant silver halo, and his face all teeth. "Hey man," he said, leaning in until their chests were touching, his lips against the side of Tanner's jaw. "Been a while. You're a hard man to track down, you know."

"It's not even a twenty-minute drive," Tanner said. "How hard were you looking?"

"It's a little different on my end," Cose said, smirk pulling against the hinge of Tanner's jaw, and as close to admitting that this wasn't... that this maybe wasn't really happening, as far as "happening" meant something in consensus reality.

Cose ground forward, his cock rolling against Tanner's thigh, breath exhaling in a low, soft moan over the shell of Tanner's ear. Tanner whimpered. He flicked a glance over at Mike, who'd fallen back onto his bed at some point, one arm thrown over his eyes. He was still mumbling, or maybe snoring. Tanner wasn't exactly sure how sexual he was willing to get with someone else in the room, even if he was hallucinating the whole thing.

"Missed you," Cose all but moaned, hands wrapped around Tanner's forearms, rolling his lean body against Tanner's, the heavy hard weight of his cock jolting up and down his thigh, hair rustling in his ears. "You, Tangerine Moonlight Hope, would not believe how boring things were without you."

Tanner groaned. "It's 'Tanner' now. God. Please. But," he said, pressing a soft kiss to Cose's neck, "You too."

Cose was by far the best part of the hallucinations.

He tugged Cose to the side, pressing their foreheads together, sharing breath for a long moment, before he closed the distance and kissed him, tilting his head without breaking eye contact: meeting Cose's brilliant amber eyes when their lips finally met, only closing when he tangled his hand into Cose's hair, pulling them both to the side. Sprawled over the couch, pressed together from knee to shoulder, arms wrapped around each other.

Things went further than that -- much further; waking up in the morning bleary and parched, the sight of Cose on his knees, hands cupping his cock, lips spread around the tip as he suckled gently, yeah, that happened, but the night ended in a bleary smear, and even though he woke up with his jeans hanging off his ass, cock tacky, there was no trace that Cose had ever been there. Of course.

At least he woke up before Mike; he'd get no end of grief for... jerking off, probably? in his dorm.

Tanner got himself some water and pissed before tackling the job of waking up Mike, who flopped around groaning for what had to be five minutes before even getting so far as sitting up. All-in-all he thought he'd pulled everything off pretty well, except once they were both up and eating the Lucky Charms Mike had stashed in his closet, Mike had to go and say:

"So, hey, who was that dude in here last night? You were getting pretty, uh,"

and Tanner just blanked. "Um," was the best he could come up with, and that was after an incredibly long and increasingly awkward pause where he sat stock-still, his spoon dripping cereal onto the floor, Mike going progressively more wide-eyed.

"Dude. Did you just hook up with some stranger? In my room? While I was there?!"

Tanner's brain just wasn't up for this. He needed to fish for, oh, something like what the guy looked like, because the list of possibilities he could come up with went something like

1. some complete stranger came in and sucked him off and he hallucinated Cose's face on him the whole time

2. weed made his hallucinations real,

and he knew both of those were completely far-fetched and more than a little horrifying, which meant that he was just completely blanking on whatever the natural explanation was. "It's a little more complex than that," he said, because he at least knew he had to say something. "Did you get a good look at him?" he asked, intonation all this'll be a really funny story, I just need to know where to start rather than Please confirm/deny some physical description.

"You mean his whole," and Mike kind of outlined his head, "silver afro thing? I thought he was like eighty before I got a look at his face."

"Dude, it was like that when he was like eight years old," Tanner blurted, a bizarre mix of relief and confusion in his chest, and then, absently drawing lines through the ring of water his glass left on the table, burnt out and red-eyed, in the early-morning light of the dorm -- "So, the thing is there's a certain point in a boy's life when his parents stop interpreting his imaginary friends as revealing his rich inner narrative and burgeoning creative talent and start holding hushed conversations between them about what if their child is hallucinating." Only he said it with a lot more _like_s and _so_s and _um_s.

And so he told Mike everything in a rambling mess; the forest, Cose, the snakes and bugs writhing over the sidewalk he saw bi-weekly, the human-shaped things crawling through the hallways on the bad nights, the hollow voices echoing behind him.

"Holy shit, dude," was what Mike said after that was all done. "That's some heavy shit."

"I guess." Like, it was his life; he didn't exactly have a comparison.

"So, that was...?" Mike gestured at the couch.

"Are you kidding me? I have no fucking clue." And, the thought occurring to him, he got up and checked: "And the deadbolt's still down, so...?"

Mike was staring at him when he turned back. "Well..." he said. "Try not to dream up any of those monsters next time we get high, I guess." And that was that.

---

Mike was basically chill about everything, which was... a really nice change. And he was kind of cute, a little chubby around the waist, the muscles of his stomach shifting slow when his shirt rode up, which was all the time, because the two of them made kind of a habit of smoking up in the middle of the night. He was kind of -- he thought about kissing Mike, a little, except that just felt like cheating on Cose. Mike would get a kick out of that if he told him, probably; even if Mike was straight he wouldn't get mad about it. Nothing seemed to penetrate his implacable laid-back aura.

And he might've told Mike about it, ha ha, cheating on a hallucination, except he really did feel like it would be cheating. Which was kind of annoying.

---

So after midterms (which Tanner just barely scraped by on, leaving him a wreck) there was a bit of a lull, the stress baking off him as he lay boneless in bed for half the day, only really interrupted when Mike would drop by, engage in some mutual glaring with Greg if he was around, and then drag him down to smoke up. A few days into that, it was kind of a testament to his improving post-test mental state that he decided to actually get up and go down to Mine, and that lead to Tanner making his way down at something like four in the morning and knocking on Mike's door.

Mike let him in, but the thing was -- more like, someone let him in: he didn't even recognize it as Mike at first. It was someone wearing Cose's clothes, the worn and grass-stained heavy leggings, the square loincloth hanging to his knees, the rope belts loose on his muscled waist. He had a goat skull covering his face, all old yellow bone; the horns loose and clattering in their sockets. The sharp planes of its muzzle jutted forward like a beak, and from its empty eyes Mike's eyes gleamed an unnatural gold-green. There were tufts of grey-brown hair erupting out from underneath, frizzy and thick like a mantle.

"Mike -- what? Cose?" he said, suddenly dizzy. "I think I'm hallucinating."

"You're not," Mike said, and his grin was all Cose, lopsided and wide as he leaned in, pulling Tanner forward and then pushing him down onto his bed, Tanner sitting at the edge. "Trust me."

"That's easy for the hallucination to say."

"I've been talking to Cose," Mike said, settling in Tanner's lap like Cose had that one night, although with Mike's blocky muscles he had to weigh a good fifty pounds more. And then: "And I've been talking to Mike too," in the same slurred intonation, mouth yawning in a grin, eyes definitely glowing. "Turns out we've got a lot in common."

"What?" Tanner just stared, hands wrapped around Mike's thighs, trying to tell if the fabric under his fingers felt particularly hallucinatory.

"He's just the right kind of host for me," Cose said, and then at Tanner's minute frown: "Don't get offended. I mean, in temperament. We click." he trailed Mike's hand over Tanner's side, curling around his waist. "I don't really wanna possess you, you know?"

"Possess? What?" He probably should have, but he couldn't find it in him to push Mike off him, whether -- whether this was Mike pulling some absolutely fucked-up prank on him, or Cose, what, actually possessing his friend? To get a body? Or -- whatever was happening. Mike's hands curled around him, the hard spar of his goat-skull mask pressing in a line across his head, hairline to jaw, and all he wanted was for him -- them? -- to keep touching him.

"I guess I should explain some things, huh?" Cose said, Mike's smoker's rasp catching, harsher.

"Please."

"So after I found you I kinda looked around. It got really boring without you around. I kinda gave Mike some visions. Dreams. Told him where my skull was and he took off without even having to convince him." Case said, tapping the skull with a hollow tok. "He was really eager. We both get ideas, you know. And with this I can do a lot more than just show up for particular sensitives." He tapped Tanner's head then, just above his temple.

"If you're gonna tell me all the hallucinations are just me tapping into the astral plane or some bullshit--" Tanner started, harsh, but Mike cut him off. Properly Mike this time:

"Nah man, I'm pretty sure you're just like, schizophrenic or something." He waved a hand idly in the air. "But some of them, yeah, I dunno, something like that. Like Cose."

"Yeah, I guess," Tanner said softly, looking up into their eyes.

"You know why I'm 'Cose', right?"

And-- Tanner remembered that. Early on in their friendship, if not the first time they'd talked. He'd asked the other boy what his name was, and then gotten tongue-tied trying to repeat it. "Cose is okay," he'd said.

"Seleukos," Cose said. "Is my name. I'm a satyr. For a while a forest spirit, but that got really old. Sometimes you meet someone you just... really wanna be with." He paused, grin wide and feral. "And sometimes there are bodies just crying out for a little more oomph. Like your friend Mike here." He leaned in, Mike's stubbled cheeks scraping his. "And honestly, I just really, really wanted to touch you. Properly."

Mike's fingers dragged up his sides, tugging his shirt up and over his head, his calloused fingertips scraping over the skin of his stomach, almost painfully sensitive. Tanner groaned into Mike's neck, arched up, grinding his cock against Mike's and almost instantly going boneless, the pressure pluming up through him. "Mike...?" he said, asking -- permission, maybe. To do some things with his body while he was being ridden by a spirit.

"Are you kidding me? You know when I asked you out after orientation?" -- "Yeah?" -- "Dude, I was asking you out."

"Oh." And then blushing, "Oh."

"Yeah, oh. And anyway, Cose is -- I mean, we talked. We're both getting what we want out of this. 'Cause we both want the same things."

"'This'?"

Cose -- or Mike, or even if there was a meaningful distinction to make at this point -- pulled his hands up, spreading them over Mike's hairy stomach, muscle hard under the padding. His thumbnails caught on the heavy rope laces, a thin fold of pudge just above the waist of his pants. "Why don't you find out?"

Even the heavy fabric of the pants couldn't hide the fat swell of Mike's cock, and Tanner reached down first, cupping his cock and grinding. Mike threw his head back in a moan, the line of his throat sharply visible. There was a kind of glow around him, Cose's brown-grey coloring gone bronze-silver in the light, like a smoggy shade wrapped around him, or partly fused together; Mike's solid body interpenetrating with the fragments of Cose's shade. They both -- all three of them, maybe -- reached for the drawstrings of Cose's pants, Tanner hooking his fingers under the laces and dragging them out, Mike kicking them down with a shimmy, naked underneath. His cock flopped out heavy and mostly-hard, flesh satiny-soft and thrumming under his fingers. He was uncut, cockhead red and slick, so sensitive Mike hissed and knocked his hands back when Tanner reached out with dry fingers.

"Sorry," he mumbled against Mike's shoulder, slobbering on his fingers before reaching back down, except -- Mike groaned, mouth hanging open, and drawn over his back like a second skin was the smog-spirit form of Cose, flaring out across his hips like thick tufts of fur. Mike moved, pushing Cose's pants down past the swell of his heavy ass, and groaned again as Cose's half-formed ghost body rocked forward, like he was thrusting into him, his glow sinking right into Mike's flesh.

Mike's cock throbbed in Tanner's hand. Cose thrust again and Mike's cock spasmed, Mike making a drawn-out bleating moan. Each of Cose's thrusts went straight to their shared cock, Mike's already fat cock throbbing thicker and longer, bloating in Tanner's loose grip, his cockhead slicking down Tanner's palm as he thrust into it. Hair prickled under his palm, dark brown fuzz growing up the length of Mike's cock, covering his length in goathair. His foreskin thickened, excess skin bunching and folding over itself halfway down his shaft, and the rest of his cock got even redder, raw skin jutting out from his new sheath.

Pre coated Tanner's hand, more oozing from Mike's cock each time the tip butted against his palm, a sloppy mess dripping down his wrist. The change was spreading out from his cock, his pubes spreading across his thighs and up his belly in a rippling wave, thick clumps of goathair covering his darkening flesh. Mike ached his back, pushing his ass out to meet Cose's illusory thrusts, and there was a sick pop from his spine, the bones of his hips warping as a nubby goat tail peeled away from his ass, prickling with silver fur. Mike lifted it, humping his still-growing cock up Tanner's belly, and then vainly back, Cose's spirit glow snapping up like it was fucking him deeper -- they were latched together, Cose's spirit clinging tight to Mike's body, rolling back and forth like he was making short, slow thrusts.

Dark hair spreading down Mike's ass cheeks, around his spasming asshole, thickening down his hairy legs. His stomach clenched, blocky muscles forming, softened by his fat but still immense, iron hard; only minimally hidden by his new fur. It looked like instead of finding a happy medium between Mike's thick body and Cose's lean one, they were just getting added together; every pound of Cose adding muscle and hair on their combined body.

Mike's cock throbbed between them, leaking wildly and inhumanly large. Tanner wrapped both fists around it, making a loose, sloppy tunnel, Mike rutting through from tip to sheath. He bottomed out, sheath bunched around Tanner's fingers, shockingly red cock slimy and drooling all the way up his chest, ending in a cherry-red tip. Mike wailed, cock suddenly spasming, the wet shlock of his thrusts stuttering as he ground forward, spraying a hot line of come up Tanner's chest, tracking across his cheek, and then again and again, pulses not letting up in the least.

His balls jerked, sinking down from where they were bunched up tight at the root of Mike's sheath -- not because he was done coming, but because they were just growing too heavy; the flesh of his sac too weak to furrow up against their growing weight. Mike wailed, fucking his increasingly-animal cock across Tanner's chest, spraying him with his never-ending load. Each shot was larger than the last, the cloudy white of his first few shots replaced with something heavier and oilier, a grimy yellow, with semisolid chunks that stuck across Tanner's skin in messy globs. His shaft bloated, swelling fatter and fatter until it distended into a bottom-heavy oval, the tube down the underside three fingers thick, a huge flange that twitched and pumped with each shot of rank satyr come. His cockhead, jarring against the underside of Tanner's jaw, twisted and stretched, becoming conical with an immense fat ridge, and his cockslit distended, its rim bulging out like an obscene mouth, gaping and flexing spasmodically, forming a loose, gushing tendril past the tip of his cock, lashing back and forth with every blast of come, sharp S-shaped curves spraying in all directions. Grimy yellow come splattered all over, fat dollops dotting the couch, clinging to the walls and wrecking the carpet.

Mike's cock finally spent itself, his distended cocktip drooling out the final thick sludge across Tanner's chest. He slumped to the side, sliding off Tanner to sprawl on the couch facedown, Cose's skull cockeyed, pants bunched at his knees, like he'd passed out after getting drunk -- something Tanner already'd gotten to experience, the night after midterms. Tanner shifted, his unattended cock digging against the front of his pants, aching more now than it had been with Mike/Cose rubbing against it.

Like he was reading his mind: "Gimmie a minute; that was way better than I was expecting." Mike's voice was muffled, mumbling into the couch cushion. His hips were raised, ass on display -- goat tail twitching, his titanic balls visible as a lumpy curve between his thighs -- and it took Tanner a second to realize that was because his cock was so huge it kept him from lying down flat.

Mike groaned, rutting against the couch -- his cock spat a gushing blast of fresh pre with a soggy squirt, splattering all up his chest -- and kicked Cose's pants all the way off while he was at it, his calves resting on Tanner's lap. He groaned, stretching his arms off the edge of the couch, toes curling up, and at the apex of his motion his feet creaked, flesh and bone warping against Tanner's fingers. Mike's groan tapered off into a moan, his breath coming faster as the changes spread down his legs, his hair thickening in waves, rippling down the backs of his thighs and terminating at his feet. Silver-grey light was piling up across his legs, soaking into his flesh and thickening his muscles, his thighs and calves swelling to monstrous size under his shaggier-and-shaggier fur. His feet popped, cartilage and bone crunching, partly fusing together, forming a thick tree-toed foot with two dotted pads on what had been the arch of his sole and now was just above his hooves. His toenails were growing out into thick hooves, giving him a doubly-cloven hoof.

The scent of musk was overpowering, gushing from Mike's cock, each slobbery burst wracking his body, more-and-more bestial grunts, hot slime soaking the couch and working its way down his balls, soaking into Tanner's thigh where it was pressed against Mike's.

Mike rolled over, cock swinging in a rubbery arc, draping unsheathed and half-hard up his newly-developed chest, and flopped off the couch and onto the floor. He kept one hand on Cose's skull, gripping the muzzle like the brim of a hat, twisting it around until his eyes shone golden-green out through the sockets.

His hands had gone through a similar change, fingernails dark and striated, with coarse brown fur sweeping up the backs of his forearms, a sharp shock of grey in a streak up to his elbow.

"Only a little more to go." His voice was rough, cracked deeper, and with a little bit of Cose's strange lilting accent.

Under the skull, his face already looked different -- nose thicker and upturned, the skin around his nostrils dark, like the wet pad of a dog's nose -- or a goat, Tanner assumed. All in shadow, it was hard to see the more subtle differences. Mike groaned, pulling the skull down, twisting it back and forth, scraping his hair against its roof with a sharp sound. Its loose horns clattered back and forth, shifting, and then with a crack the left one tore off, hanging the skull lopsided. Their merged hair was a sandy brown with silvery tips, tufting out the hole, except as Tanner watched something burst from under Mike's skin, a sharp curving claw --

Except, of course, it was horns.

His horn grew right into the hole Cose's old dead horn had left, and then a moment later his second horn shattered the right side. His horns were nubby at first, brown and only minutely curved, except as they kept growing (Mike/Cose's chest heaving, hands clenching Tanner's, letting out little whimpers of pain) they spiraled, coiling in a broad loop out and back, twisting into one-and-a-half full revolutions before they finally locked in place, filling the cavities of Cose's old skull perfectly. They were immense, their edges complex and chambered, like a spiral seashell, ridged growth lines dotted with spikes and spines at regular intervals.

The skull was locked over his head, wearing it like a helmet over his upper face. Tanner couldn't even see Mike's eyes: just a brilliant gold-green glow suffusing the sockets. His hair erupted out from the back of his head in a shaggy mane, brown-blond-grey, and from that mass the tips of his ears stuck out further, tufted and shaggy; a goat's ears. His lower face was distorted and brutish, nose pushed out in a shallow muzzle, jaw brutishly thick, and sharp with stubble, tufting out under his chin in a sharp goatee.

Cose -- or Mike, or whatever -- got to his feet, staggering for a second on his hooves before finding his weight. His hands clenched and opened, stumpy claws digging into the flesh of his palm. Sheath bicep-thick between his thighs, sharp cocktip peeking out, balls hanging to his knees, one lopsided ball a resting a half above the other.

The figure in front of him didn't look much at all like Mike any more, or even like the illusory body Cose had worn. Instead he was a few hundred pounds of some kind of demonic satyr, immense, skull-headed, skin shining with sweat; fur clumped together across his waist, a thick line reaching over the muscled gut of his stomach. His skin was piebald, dappled back and forth between Mike's pale skin and Cose's dark olive, dots and beads like someone'd gotten sloppy with a paintbrush. Hairy and chiseled with muscle, hooves the size of both Tanner's hands put together, reeking of feral sweat and sex.

He rocked back and forth, stable on his hooves, and grinned, reaching up with one hand grope up his stomach and chest, cupping his fat pecs for a second. "I really forgot how nice having a body is," he said, one hand lingering on his chest, twisting a nipple, the other cupping his mammoth sheath, working it back and forth over the base of his cock, coaxing the rest of it out from inside with a wet slurp. The limp length twisted to the side, hanging down past his knees, the wormlike tip leaking a constant stream of syrupy yellow slime, piling up on the carpet. He pumped his sheath, that alone bigger than his -- either of his -- entire cock had been before, milking out fat dollops of opaque off-white ooze, each one clinging to his cockhead until it grew too heavy and broke, dropping as yellowed pearls. The smell of each one hit Tanner like a wave, animal musk growing stronger and stronger with each pulse, wild and almost offensively rank, sharp and acrid in his nose.

His cock stiffened, twitching and dribbling slime, slowly unbending as it fattened until it was jabbing straight up from his bloated sheath, so thick around it took both of his immense hands to wrap around it, so long the tip nearly pressed against the underside of his skull.

"You like it?" Mike/Cose said, and when Tanner just kept staring he worried his lip, bigger canines digging into his lower lip. His posture shifted, unsure.

Tanner blinked, taking in the whole package: the gigantic demon-looking satyr in Mike's dorm, the room reeking with rank come, fresh ooze piling up across his hooves, limp cock flopping like an oversized worm. It was -- what he'd expected from Cose, or from Mike, was absolutely nothing like this. "Gimmie a minute," he said, still just staring. This entire thing could still be a hallucination, honestly.

"I, uh." Mike/Cose was blushing, taking a step forward only for his cock to swing out, slapping with a wet crack across Tanner's side, and then he flinched and jerked back, a flush across his cheeks. "Didn't really think if you'd freak."

It wasn't that he was freaking, exactly -- but that was when Tanner realized he should probably be saying that out loud. "I'm not freaking, I just... really, really wasn't expecting that." He was so hard in his pants he thought he might just die, and while that was more to do with the two of them moaning and groaning and coming all over him while writhing and naked than the part where Mike was turning into a nightmare satyr thing, well, he could take that. He swallowed, heavily, and as if in answer Mike/Cose's cock jerked, the twitch exaggerated on his oversized cock into a heavy lurch that sent it slapping up against one heavy pec and back down again, slinging slimy pre in a wiggling arc, splattering across the carpet and up the couch, one end of the gummy tendril instantly hot where it hit Tanner's pant leg, soaking into his jeans.

"So, Mike...?" he said, staring at the utterly transformed body.

The saytr laughed. "Man, I think you got the wrong idea about what's going on here. It's not just like, one or the other switching off." He flexed again, cupping his swollen pecs, thumb rubbing back and forth over a fat, broad nipple. "Both of us all the time, since, well..." he grinned down, teeth sharp and bright under the brim of his skull. "Fuck, we both really wanted this. Mike's a kinky little fucker. We think alike, that's what I meant when I said 'compatible'. And otherwise... I mean, who doesn't disagree with themselves in their own head sometimes?

"But if you're looking for something to call me, Seleukos works." Tanner's brow furrowed, and he continued. "I mean, I wasn't that attached to 'Mike' anyway. Or 'Cose'. C'mon Tangerine, I figure you get it."

"Oh my god, never call me that," Tanner said, but by rote; his voice was hazy, reedy. He couldn't rip his eyes from Seleukos' abs, thick and heavy and moving every time Seleukos shifted his weight. Shaggy hair ran down his stomach, fanning out into fur above his sheath, and his cock a fucking crowbar, listing to the side.

Yeah, he could do this.

Seleukos took a step forward, standing right in front of Tanner, hands wrapped around the base of his cock: aimed level at his face like a cannon. His pre was spicy and rank, a dizzying rush singing through his body with each breath.

"I-- can I?" Tanner said, arms taut like he was pushing against the cock's magnetic field, exerting all his strength to keep from getting pulled flush against it.

"You're kidding, right?" Seluekos whined again, a warbling noise that peaked when Tanner's hands slid up his hairy calves. "You're like, most of the reason I'm here." He pumped his cock, shaft distending around his tight grip, flaring fatter. Thick blobs of slime spattered Tanner's head and shoulders with sharp cracks. "Do whatever you want."

His hands caught a flabby string of pre, a cloudy yellow-white, and stretched it between thumb and forefinger: it stretched, drooping slowly, minute tremors as the gummy cords making it up snapped and stitched back together. Seleukos groaned, cock spraying a messy blurt of pre all across his side, most of it missing him entirely and hosing the bed down.

"Yeah, I always wanted to suck off a... weird goat dick?" He caught another fat pearl of ooze, rubbing it between his fingers: almost pulpy, thick gummy chunks bursting between his fingertips, thinner fluid sluicing down his wrist in syrupy strings. He swallowed, slow. "Pretty sure." His voice cracked.

Seleukos whined -- bleated, more like it. "Please," he said, cock jerking up, pre gushing down in stringy lines, like hard rain. Tanner figured he should stop giving him a hard time.

Tanner's knees hit the carpet with a thump before he was even aware he was moving, knees pressed right against Seleukos' hooves. Tanner's hands wrapped around the satyr's stout feet, shaggy fetlocks enveloping his fingers. His stout fingers clasped Tanner's shoulders, and his cock swung back up, twitching and slapping his his chest with eagerness. The gargantuan goat dick bobbed and twitched in front of him, his head level with the sheath; the tip high above him, drizzling pre in thick, slimy droplets, showering down across his head like rain.

"Are you really gonna--" Seleukos started, cutting off in a bleat and a full-body spasm as Tanner's lips dragged across his shaft.

Tanner's clotted moan drowned out half of what Seleukos was saying; sinking against his cock while he was still talking, lips spread around the fat base. The heated, spicy taste burst into his mouth, potent and heady, and he found himself lapping up and down the heavy flesh, lips spread around its curve, smearing his gummy pre all across his lips and chin as he tried vainly to catch all the mess drooling down his shaft. It was spongy, dimpling under the pressure of his lips. Veins rose to the surface in sudden flares, internal tremors sending blood pumping up and down the throbbing length. Seleukos wrapped one hand around it, much higher up, crackling wetly as he worked his brutish fingers around his fat shaft; the other touched Tanner's face, palm resting on the arch of his brow, his fingers stroking down his cheek, completely covering one eye. Hot ropes of slime slapped across his face, jiggling from the tremors running through Seleukos' body; so thick they bounced off his skin once, twice, before finally sticking, drooling over his closed eyes; squelching between him and Seleukos' palm.

Seleukos groaned, kneading his cocktip with his free hand, gushing goopy ropes of pre, smearing across his hairy fingers in a thick mess. Tanner suckled on the base, spit drooling over his lips. Seleukos' balls pressed against his chest, filling the space under his chin; two huge lopsided orbs that churned and rolled, jerking up in sudden contractions to slam against the underside of his jaw. Tanner grabbed Seleukos' trembling flanks, fingers lost in the thick fur. His mouth was wide open, tongue pressed flat against the bulging, veined flesh, thick cords of pre piling up in his mouth and flooding down his face even as he gulped again and again, throat clogged by the thick ooze.

Seleukos petted Tanner's head, letting his cock slump forward; its full weight hit Tanner's face, not with a smack but simply with a wet slop, the underside of his shaft distending against the side of his nose; the crest of his brow. He smeared his fingers through Tanner's hair, sticking it together in wet clumps.

His hips hunched, barely shifting but enough to send his cock swinging. He dragged his fingers back over Tanner's head, pushing his fat shaft across his face, and in a series of fractional motions Tanner lapped further and further up the bent shaft, lips fastening around his bloated veins, mouthing across thick rubbery flanges, back and back as Seleukos angled his cock forward, until with a shock they fell apart; Seleukos' hand pulling from Tanner's head with a slurp, Tanner falling back on his ass, hands leaving Seleukos' haunches to reflexively catch himself. He let out a shocked grunt when his ass hit the carpet, blinking open his scum-coated eyes just in time to catch a spurt of satyr pre right across the face, fresh from Seleukos' cock: both hands now angling his cock straight forward, its weight pulling it down in an uneven arch, aiming it so the fist-sized head was bobbing right in front of him, his flushed and swollen lips nearly brushing the lashing tip.

Tanner parted his lips, catching the squirming tip, cheeks puffing from the abrupt burst of pre: for the first time all of it flooding directly into his mouth. He choked, coughing slime back across Seleukos' shaft.

Seleukos groaned, the noise sharp and abrupt ripped up from his chest. He stroked his cock with both hands, moaning again when he pelted Tanner right in the face with another gush of pre, completely drenching him in a goopy layer of yellowish slime, filmy planes of ooze tangled between them, frothy bubbles spitting from Tanner's nose and mouth as he gasped for breath. "Please," he said, cupping Tanner's face in his hand, swiping through the mess and smearing it in globs from chin to hairline, film collecting in syrupy lines, burning down Tanner's throat in dripping lines.

Tanner gulped, wrapping both hands just under Seleukos' flared cockhead, lips pursing over the distended tube of his cockslit. He opened wide, mouth open wide, lips pulled away from his teeth, and gulped, the rank heat of Seleukos' cock suddenly the only thing in his universe, pulsing and spitting, already overflowing his mouth with rich, spicy fluid. His cheeks bulged, high-pressure bursts of pre squirting around the sloppy seal of his cockhead, more sluggish lines oozing from his nose as he choked and gagged on the flood. Head tipped up, eyes shut against the mess coating his face, Tanner slowly sunk down on Seleukos' cock, bruised lips spreading and spreading until his whole face was distorted, straining to cram the entire meaty swell of that satyr cock into his mouth. His throat gurgled, tongue jammed against the floor of his mouth.

Seleukos was dazed, staring unseeingly up at the ceiling, mouth open, grunting and huffing as Tanner took in his cock. Tanner gulped non-stop, unable to keep up with the flood of pre -- Seleukos' cock shuddering with each fresh pump of pre, sharp wheezes squeaking out from Tanner's throat between sputters and coughs, spitting most of his impossibly-copious issue down the length of his cock, thick blown-bubble clusters of pre forming along the plane of his crooked arms, coated in scummy layers of churning froth. Seleukos' moans resonated through his, cock carrying the vibration into his teeth, rattling in his bones as he grunted and bleated. The noise was punctuated with a heavier burst of pre, Tanner coughing and spitting up, grimy pre squirting from his clogged nose, face coated in slimy ooze.

He smeared his hands across his face, scraping flabby tendrils of slime off his chin, and squinted up at Seleukos through bleary eyes. The satyr's burning eyes met him, and his cock lurched, knocking Tanner's head to the side, a messy waterfall of slime pouring over his bruised lips. He choked and sputtered again, vainly swallowing, and drew back slow, his lips bulging around the flare of his cockhead before, with a prolonged crackle of slime, they bowed back over the bloated cockhead, a messy mass of slime burbling out with it. He huffed and gasped, thick cords of yellow slime drooling from his panting mouth, painting the wrecked carpet in thick dollops.

Seleukos' cock was glazed, the space between them a mess of goopy tendrils, cords of slime sliding across their skin and fur with every motion; Tanner's gags and coughs sending the entire messy web jiggling. His hands found his shaft, pumping raggedly as he leaned in, cheek plastered against Seleukos' sheath, the constant spurts of pre gushing over his shoulder, soaking the bed in a few spurts, the sound of the impact getting wetter and wetter until it was a saturated drizzle.

"Oh, fuck, Tanner." Seleukos' hands groped across Tanner's shoulders, dragging through cords of slime, finding the back of his head and pressing it flush against the junction of his thigh, Tanner's bruised lips kissing the sloppy folds of his sheath. He rocked forward, fucking his cock along the side of Tanner's head, his balls kicking up, slamming into his jaw like getting smacked with a pillow wrapped around a brick. "Fuck, Tanner!"

His entire cock bulged, every vein a finger-thick squiggle bursting out from the almost pulpy flesh, his muscles spasming, sending his cock lashing wildly as the first gush of come shot with the force of a fire-hose, a slashing line of tar-thick ooze that rebounded off the bed before hitting across the wall with a sharp crack, and then again and again, Seleukos bleating and warbling, hips hunching , fucking the final few inches of his cock along Tanner's face, lips spread along the pulsing underside, tongue flattened around the immense tube, kicking back against his mouth with each shot of rank satyr seed.

Tanner snuffled, nose still clogged with pre, tasting nothing but heavy bitter-salt in the back of his mouth even as he laved across the base of Seleukos' cock, drooling into his bloated sheath. Seleukos groaned again, teetering forward, hands winding in Tanner's, pinning them up against the edge of the mattress as he bent forward, thrusting across Tanner's face -- he took a wobbling step back, stance widening; more animalistic: dragging his cock until the flared tip popped over Tanner's shoulder, the wormlike tip spraying a gush of hot slime across his face, tarry and thick, grimy yellow. He bleated, fucking his spurting cock over Tanner's face, slinging rancid come in all directions, webbing back and forth over his already-glazed face, practically tethering him to the bed with the weight of his load, fingers spasming just before each pulse.

Tanner's mouth lolled open, a red target for him to hit, flooded and overflowing with ooze even as he swallowed again and again, Adam's apple jerking through the layers sluicing down his throat as Seleukos just groaned and bleated again and again, hips hunching forward, mindlessly fucking Tanner's face. He groaned, listing forward and losing his balance, pinning Tanner with his bulk, cock pinned against his chest and still spraying, forming a solid river of come that flooded down the bed, streaming around Tanner's head like he was a rock at the edge of a waterfall, just coming and coming, hands still intertwined pinned up against his stomach. His hips kept jerking, his abs greasy and dripping, fur in clumps, grinding over Tanner's head, balls slapping his chest with wet cracks, coming to rest and slowly peeling away with each thrust.

Seleukos flopped over, breathing hard, one hand slipping out from Tanner's oiled grip. Tanner squeezed his other hand, Seleukos' brutish fingers squeezing back, come oozing out between their fingers with popping squelches. His hooves dug into the carpet with a similar sound.

Tanner dragged a forearm over his face, a built-up flood of come pouring across the back of his arm, forming a single immense cord that drooled down across his hip, drooling into the waist of his jeans, a hotter heat soaking into his still-hard cock.

He was still hard. His entire body felt wrung-out, heavy, and being half-immersed in satyr come-- it was like rising out of a mud bath, clinging to him in huge globs and strings.

"Dude, you okay?" Seleukos was just lying there, staring up at the ceiling when he spoke. Tanner craned his head to look, grimacing as the motion send thick cords of come sliding across his skin. "I think I kinda overdid it."

Tanner spat and swallowed, the sensation of come dribbling over his plush lips almost hypnotizing. They felt glossy, so swollen any crease in the skin was smoothed out, and so sensitive he couldn't contain the low gasp when his fingers slid over his lower lip. "You think?"

The carpet around him was piled with come, the opaque yellow slime spreading out, the cords that splattered down slowly losing form and smearing together. He snorted, shooting ribbons of gunk from his nose, and the inhale was saturated with rancid musk, heavy on his tongue.

"You get off?" Seleukos flopped down boneless, cock -- still coming, somehow, spurting out thick blobs of cloudy yellow slime, smearing them across his hugely-muscled chest -- flopping to the side, inhumanly huge and still pulsing. He didn't wait for an answer, just reached down, groping Tanner's tented jeans. He leaned in, lips worrying the lobe of his ear, fingers slipping down his soaked skin, peeling down his sodden jeans.

Seleukos tipped his head to the side, angling to keep the spur of his skull out of the way, kissing him wet and open-mouthed, and then swallowed, lapping up the mess of his come drooling all across Tanner's face, bleating out a moan as he drank straight from Tanner's mouth.

Seleukos slid a hand into his boxers, peeling the soaked fabric back from around his achingly-hard cock, and just about the second his fingers wrapped around his shaft Tanner was coming: the sloppy friction, the pressure ringing his cockhead, enough to have him crying into Seleukos' mouth, entire body jerking forward in dazed, aborted thrusts, heat gathering in his cock and spilling out in slow waves.

"Sorry, I-- got a little carried away," Seleukos said, arms wrapping around his chest, pulling them close. "M'not really used to this body." His cock, never quite soft and still leaking, twitched against Tanner's side, writhing like a snake. "Fuck, you wanna go again?"

"You gotta be kidding."

"It's, uh. A satyr thing. Insatiable."

"Gimmie a minute, at least." Tanner let Seleukos toy with his softening cock, fingers squelching through the mess -- they were both completely soaked with his load, hair and fur plastered to their skin, Tanner's jeans saturated, the wet spot basically a few feet in radius, splatters and tendrils all across the room. The wall behind his bed was practically cratered.

"I'm still not sure I didn't just hallucinate all of this," he said. His throat rasped, rough. "You're only getting a pass because--" and he had to stop to have a coughing fit, half-swallowing some of the mess that got caught in his throat; Seleukos scrambled to his feet -- well, hooves -- and handed him his water bottle before settling back around them; Tanner took a swig. "Because I never hallucinated anything even close to this shit before."

"Well, in the morning, when I'm still here, that be good enough?"

"I mean, I once had snakes on the ceiling for a few days, but yeah, I guess," he said, and then, more pressingly as it occurred to him: "Wait, in the morning, still like --" he knocked against Seleukos' skull, a hollow tok, fingers sliding over the rim in a caress. Even the brim of his skull was dripping come.

"Well, yeah, I mean this is me now, that's kind of what the whole new body thing was for."

"So..." Tanner said slowly. "Classes?"

Seleukos went rigid, arms suddenly locked around Tanner's sides. "Oh fuck!"

"Seriously? ...Seriously?"

"I didn't think that far ahead!"

"How far did you think ahead, exactly?"

Seleukos leered at him, cock dribbling a fresh squirt of pre up Tanner's chest. "Mostly just the sex part."

Tanner rolled his eyes, a faint smirk playing over his lips. "So, I'm guessing you don't have some magic to clean up the mess either." Like on cue, a string of come hanging from the ceiling finally snapped, hitting the floor with a crack. Seleukos flinched.

If ever a seven-foot-tall, skull-headed demon satyr monster could look alarmed, Seleukos did. "Oh, fuck!"