Plague of Bears

Powering on. Initiating system start-up.

SABLE online. Please login.

Login confirmed.

Welcome back Mr. Director. Please enter command.

Activating project codenamed ‘Plague of Bears’.

Target species for project confirmed to be ursine. Not restriction on subspecies.

Target dimension for project has been set to random within project parameters. Target dimension allocated as ADMO-4BSLM

Transformative medium has been set to random and varied. Warning. This option will cause take random stimuli from the established pool and implement them all over the dimension without care and control. Due to this, there is a severe risk of societal collapse in target dimension and potential loss of assets. Do you wish to proceed?

Confirmed.

Emphasised themes will be the following:

· Muscle Growth

· Muscle Worship

· Penile Growth

· Testicular Growth

· Transformation

· Masculinity

· Body Hair

· Incest

· Male on Male homosexual interactions

· Mind Control

· Mental Manipulation

· Hypnosis

Applying security lock. This experiment should only be visible to individuals who are aged 18 or 21 or above based on their origins and local laws. Breach of terms will not leave the Nexus Conglomerate or the author liable to legal ramifications of any corruptive influences the SABLE Interface may cause.

Director’s Notes: “If I don’t see at least one reference to a ‘daddy’, I will be severely disappointed and someone is going to get turned into a cactus before they’re fired. Out of a cannon. Or a particle accelerator. I wonder how much damage a cactus needle would do when fired a near-relativistic speeds…”

Activating assets in 3...

…2…

…1…

***Project: Plague of Bears Starting***

The bar was mostly empty. It was just a dive bar in the middle of the city that no one really frequented but it was Butch’s second home. A dock worker by trade, he didn’t have many hobby’s other than hauling crates down at the docks and his time off was spent either at home sleeping off the beer he had drunk at the Briny Bear or at the Briny Bear drinking.

He sat in his usual booth, big, hairy arms stretched out wide across the back of the couch watching his kingdom closely. There were about maybe ten, twenty people in the bar in total including the bartender. Located in a dark alleyway that hardly anyone every frequented and with no evident signs pointing to it, the Briny Bear really was the epitome of the term ‘dive bar’.

But this bar had one special feature.

It was approaching ten o’clock and that meant that the big blackboard above Butch’s head was going to get a few new notches on it. The board was divided into two sides; wins and losses. So far there were dozens of white chalk marks on the wins side. Nothing on the losses.

The first challenger came up and Butch grinned broadly. It was a figure who had challenged him every week for the crown but so far had never had any successes.

“Back again, Davey,” Butch rumbled through his thick, black beard. He adjusted the red bandana he wore, making sure it was nice and tight to keep the sweat from his eyes. Davey was a big, burly guy. A construction worker with thick arms. Blonde hair but a little squat at about 5’4’’. Ever since he had taken up ‘Butch’s Challenge’, he had been more and more motivated to work out and it showed in his arms.

“This time, I’ll win,” Davey growled.

Butch laughed heartily and lifted up his right arm, setting the elbow onto the table. “You say that every week, Davey. You always end up buying me a drink.”

“Today will be different!”

So Davey set up his bulky arm opposite to Butch and they clasped hands. No one really paid much attention. The crowd usually didn’t gather until about the fifth or seventh challenger after he had been tired out a bit and people actually had a chance at winning. Still, there were a few curious onlookers and particularly those who were next. Their predatory looks constantly scanned the man with the sun-tanned, leathery skin with the big chain-link tattoo on his bulging arm just around his bicep. They were looking for weaknesses. Butch wasn’t going to give them any.

“Call it,” Butch said, grinning broadly to reveal his yellowed teeth.

“Three,” Davey breathed, likely mentally revving himself up. “Two. One! GO!”

They strained their muscles trying to push one another’s hand onto the table. The arm wrestling contest was in full swing and Butch did have to admit that Davey had a little bit more strength than perhaps a few weeks ago but it was all useless. He was still much stronger. Despite that, he couldn’t just let Davey win or finish the match quickly despite the fact that it was within his capacity. No, he needed to keep Davey interested. Make him believe he had a chance.

So he kept his arm steady, even inching back a little pretending that the construction worker was gaining some ground before he applied some pressure again and pushing their clasped hands back. Perhaps it was toying with his food a little bit he needed to keep himself and everyone else entertained, after all.

After a good minute or two of back and forth with Davey, he just shrugged his massive shoulders and slammed Davey’s hand against the table.

Any other day, that would have been the end of it. Davey would have grumbled about seeing him next week, probably threw a few threats his way, then wandered off for someone else to take up the challenge. But today was not a normal day.

Davey’s entire body shuddered and his eyes rolled into the back of his head like he was having a seizure. There was a flash of concern in Butch’s mind but the lack of worry from the others in the bar told him that the Disbelief Dampeners had been enabled. The project had finally activated.

His cub was growing.

Davey’s mouth fell open in a silent gasp and his entire body was wracked with spasms. No one else in the bar stood up to help. Even when Davey’s bronzed flesh started to bubble and undulate beneath his shirt, no one moved. They all acted like this was normal. Because it was normal or at least it was now.

The construction worker’s pinned hand suddenly erupted into a burst of fur, muscle and vicious claws. The huge paw was three times bigger than Butch’s but it lay flaccid and submissive on the table. Dense brown fur covered its entire surface save for the leathery paw pads on his palms. That fur rocketed up Davey’s arm, blasting over his large forearms and causing them to surge with size and strength. Thick muscles covered the entire limb.

Perhaps some fragment of Davey’s humanity remained and he desperately seized his mutating arm in an attempt to wrench it off, to keep the infection from spreading but it was no use. The brown fur slipped between his fingers, spreading all over his upper arm and shoulders. Muscles erupted from beneath his shirt and tore the sleeves completely to shreds. He let out a cry that was not quite human and thrashed his head from side to side.

The huge, mutated arm reached easily towards his chest, claws digging into his shirt. With one thunderous cry, he tore it clean off to reveal his thick, heaving pectorals. Each breath caused those muscles to grow and expand. The dense brown hairs rapidly spread across his shoulders and the shelves of his pecs, the fur blanketing the thick slabs of meat as the swelled in size and strength. His bright pink nipples blacked and grew nice, big and juicy just like Butch liked them.

The thick scent of man wafted out Davey’s form as he lifted his transformed arm, now many times bigger than Butch’s and fully capable of crushing the dock worker in a single blow. But Davey would never lift a finger against Butch. Not now. Not ever. The human’s remaining hand slapped at his pectorals, making the muscles firm up and bounce but also encouraging the change to spread.

It shot downwards towards his crotch and Davey threw his head back suddenly as an extra foot of height was added. With the stretching of his upper body, his abdominals were perfectly exposed, pressing up against his taut flesh. They vanished momentarily under a wave of brown fur but then resurfaced as a solid stack of eight firm muscles like a pair of columns holding up the rooftop that was his pectorals.

Davey lurched forward, pressing his head against the table. The fur spread underneath the remnants of his shirt into his back. With one, massive heave like watching a mountain lurch upwards, his lats erupted from the white fabric to reveal two huge mounds divided by his spine. Each one was covered in the dense brown fur.

There was a loud slap on the table as Davey slammed his still-human hand against the table. He tried to push himself up but even with all the strength he had built in the weeks that he had trained, it was nowhere near powerful enough to hoist his enormous frame off the table. That was quickly remedied as his muscles and bones rapidly expanded in a single, burst of flesh. He threw himself back against the chair, revealing his huge, tapered V-shaped torso covered in the brown fur and his last remaining arm losing all vestiges of humanity to match his right.

A loud moan left Davey’s lips, lips that quickly blackened and obtained a rubbery texture. His nose pushed forward. It took the rest of his face with it, pulling his features into a long muzzle while his ears were yanked to the top his head. His blonde hair remained even as the brown fur quickly enveloped his transforming face and covered his suddenly rounded ears. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying desperately to fight off the transformation but it was useless. When he opened them again, they still held the same baby blue that they always did but they were glazed over, a distinct level of stupidity in them.

The moan that came from his lips was nothing short of lustful as he reached down and dug his claws into his denim pants. He tore at them like a raving beast at the last morsel of food before starvation. With every shred of fabric that flew off, more and more of his humanity was thrown aside. It came into a head as his dick became painfully erect and started spurting his seed wantonly without ceremony all over the table, all over Butch. The huge dick thrashed and flailed, growing thicker and bigger than anything any normal human – or even any normal bear – could ever sport. It rose up to touch the base of Davey’s massive pectorals, spewing more and more seed without care. Each shot was another fragment of the former construction worker out of the perfect muscle cub.

Finally Davey was forced to let out one last roar as the last vestiges of his former self blasted out of his enormous cock and he kicked out his massive, fur-covered legs, knocking himself down to the ground and shattering the chair beneath him.

The cub moaned, hips still bucking from the ecstasy of the transformation.

“You’re going to have to pay for that, Butch,” the bartender shouted.

“Fine,” Butch said with a grin. “Unless you want to have a go at the challenge?”

The bartender shook his head and backed away.

Butch grinned down at his cub who had turned the thrusting of afterglow into wildly fucking the floor. “Cub,” he boomed and his pet lifted his head, eyes wild and eager to please. Butch puffed out his cum-covered chest. “Clean this mess up.”

The huge bear-man rose obediently and lapped up the seed that he had splattered all over Butch’s chest. Without being told, like the obedient cub that he was, the brown bear with blonde hair lapped up the seed on the table so that the next challenger wouldn’t have a slippery surface to work with.

“Good boy. Now get me a drink.”

The cub shuffled off towards the bar, cock still erect and huge bubble butt bouncing.

Butch would be eager to get a turn at that once he reached home. He plucked a piece of chalk from his breast pocket and reached over his shoulder added another mark on the chalkboard.

“Next!” he announced.

Another challenger brought about a chair and set his arm down, ready to challenge the king of the Briny Bear.

*******

SABLE Report

MCA-BT14 successfully activated. Transformative catalyst through arm-wrestling mildly successful. Reality and Disbelief Dampeners successfully applied. Due to the limited area of BT14’s ‘hunting grounds’, number of infected was relatively limited. However, within a month, over a hundred individuals were transformed thanks to previous challengers bearing a need to beat BT14. Commendation to BT14 for maintaining ‘loyal’ clientele.

Results were still below expectations, however.

Director’s Note: “Sexy though.”

*******

The idol was certainly very strange and one that Father Trevor McCormick couldn’t really say was aligned with his faith. Still, it had been a gift from one of his parishioners and he couldn’t turn down the little wooden totem especially since it came from a tribal heritage. In this day and age, every member of the priesthood was a face for the Church and anything they did was a reflection on the faith as a whole. If any priest, no matter if they came from some backwater ministry, rejected a gift especially one with ties to the original owners of the land, then there would be scandal. Rumours would spread and lies would be thought of as truth. Soon enough people would start to think he was as bad as any of those priests that molested little boys.

Father McCormick tucked the little wooden idol that looked like a bear into the pocket of his jeans beneath his vestments. Mass was over and now it was time for confession. He entered the large, wooden box that blocked out sound from the outside and took his seat. As was his ritual, he closed his eyes for a brief moment and said a quiet prayer to his Lord to calm himself and to steel his soul against what would come. A lot was said in this box and it had taken a lot to keep himself from being judgemental.

Once he was sufficiently prepared, he reached for the wooden panel to his left and pulled it aside to reveal the grating that separated himself from the person confessing.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” came the gruff rumble of a man.

“Confess my son,” he answered automatically. “In the eyes of the Lord, bear your soul and tell me all that burdens you.”

There was a soft swallow on the other side and Father McCormick braced himself for what was going to come next. He mentally ran through all the passages of scripture he had memorised. One of them would apply here.

“Father…” came the chocking sob from the other side. “I see bears everywhere.”

McCormick frowned at that but remained quiet and professional.

“I… I don’t know. They’re not your normal bears. They… they are man-bears. Men seven, eight feet tall built like tanks, covered in thick fur and with the head and claws of bears! They stride around amongst us like anyone else and everyone treats them like they are just normal citizens! I fear I may be plagued by demons or am delusional.”

The experienced priest’s frown deepened, increasing the creases across his weathered, pale flesh. His bright green eyes looked off into the distance and imagined a world where these bear-men strode amongst the average man and no one paid them any heed. It was a bizarre world indeed and he mentally wept for this man who suffered from such a delusion.

“Tell me what these bear-men are like. What do they do?” he asked sagely.

“They just walk around like normal but they are far from normal, father. Most are naked. Their cocks just hanging out for everyone to see!”

Now the world that McCormick envisioned became corrupted by the sight of ungainly dicks sitting between thick, tree-trunk-like legs. Little did he know, that stray thought set a seed in him that quickly took root and caused his dick to stir.

“Some wear clothing,” the confessor continued. “But they are so revealing and lewd! I once saw one of them striding across the street wearing nothing but what should have been a pair of gym shorts but it was caught up so tightly in his huge legs and his endowment was so big it might as well been a jockstrap or… or… a thong!”

Strangely, that image was even more arousing to the priest and he could not help but reach down towards his crotch and feel the rising wood beneath his vestments. The idea of bright red shorts so tightly wound around massive, vascular legs that gave the massive beast an even bigger bulge than any man caused him to sweat and shudder. The priest, in a very unholy manner, began lewdly rubbing himself, biting his lip to keep himself from gasping.

“Then there are some that just walk around with their unholy dicks erect like it was a flag that they’re proudly waving around!”

Father McCormick became overwhelmed by that thought. His mind was invaded by the imagery of huge, muscular bears striding around the streets, dicks erect, dripping with precum and with big, cocky grins across their faces. Eyes glazed over, the priest barely noticed that his already erect dick continued to grow within his pants, forming an unbecoming tent against his robes. The hand that he used to rub the growing mound shivered and morphed. His fingers grew bigger and thicker. Hard veins crawled over his aged skin, pumping more mass into his bones and muscles, forcing the entire appendage to grow bigger and thicker to accommodate the growing mass in his pants. Nails that had been manicured – the one indulgence he ever allowed himself – became hard and black and lengthened into large, sharp claws.

“Tell me more,” McCormick begged.

“They… They’re beastly!” gasped the confessor. “All of them these huge, hungry men who solicit other men for sex! One ever approached me and asked if I wanted to ‘be his cub’!”

McCormick imagined himself as one such bear. He imagined turning towards his entire congregation, spreading his huge, muscled arms and telling his cubs to get down on their knees and pray while he jacked off, striding across the aisles and spraying them all with his seed, ‘blessing them’ with his holy seed.

In response, his huge, mutated hand warped with the sound of crackling bone and stretching leather. Dark brown fur spread from his knuckles and swept up his arm. The veins that popped all over his pulsating flesh were not hidden by the initial sweep of fur but when the dense, grey fur that matched his steel-coloured hair came, they were completely hidden. Thick patches of grey spread from the back of his hands and swept up his forearms as they continued to grow. Within a matter of moments though his new hairy arms tore through the sleeves of his vestments, shredding them entirely to reveal the thick, muscled forearms beneath.

“F – Father…?”

“Continue,” he demanded. “Confess.”

“Y – Yes father.”

McCormick bit his lower lip to keep down a grunt as his biceps, thin and lanky, erupted with enough force to jerk his arm to the right. It tore through the remnants of his sleeves. Thick grey fur sprang up from his underarms just as the brown fur of his pelt swept over his boulder-like shoulders and crawled up towards his neck like the tender kiss of a woman – no, a man, a cub – on his muscled, sinewy neck.

“They have no shame, Father,” the confessor continued, his voice drowning out the sounds of the priest’s transformation. “They have sex out in the open! Two even caused a traffic jam when they rolled onto the street while fucking!”

McCormick could only think, ‘Fuck that’s hot’. That thought invaded his mind, simulated by the reach of thick, bluish veins crawling up from beneath his brown pelt, up his neck and into his skull. His throat thickened with the transformation, his voice deepening. A powerful pulsating erupted from deep within his skull. Each pulse pushed his skull out in all directions.

“Don’t stop,” he grunted. “Tell me everything!”

With his other, morphed hand, he clawed at his vestments and tore them clean off. His once-flat chest surged outwards into two huge pectorals covered in an downward facing triangle of thick, grey hairs as if pointing downwards towards his dick. His vision of his abdominals vanished behind the wall of thick, furry muscle but he could feel them popping outwards one by one, growing bigger and stretching longer to hide his belly button.

“Am I crazy, Father?” wept the confessor. “What demon possesses me to see these huge men fucking in the streets! Worse! I see those who take up their offers of sex turning into them! I saw a man suck off a bear in an alleyway and he burst from his clothes and became like them!”

McCormick’s hips bucked and with it, his huge cock erupted from his pants. It rose up to slap him on his muzzle, making him lick his lips at the taste of his own precum. His bright green eyes lost their kind, sagely look and after a quick blink, became consumed by lust, hunger and a need to spread his gift.

Still licking his lips, he kicked off his shoes as his legs erupted from his pants in a burst of brown fur, muscle and flecks of grey that made him so goddamn sexy. His grey pubes rose up to form a sexy treasure trail that touched the tip of his chest hair. His immense balls jostled madly beneath him as he kicked out, legs brushing up against the doors of the confessional box and his immense frame rising up to fill the entire box. His hot, heady musk filled the box in its entirety, his massive cock pressing up against the little grate that separated him from the confessor.

“Father, what should I do?”

McCormick grinned savagely.

“I’ll tell you what you should do, cub,” he growled. He could smell the sudden fear from the man on the other side. With one thrust, his huge, pink cock broke through the grating. He could feel the man’s stunned lips around his dick.

“You’re going to suck this holy dick!”

And with that, the entire ministry of Father Trevor McCormick began its descent into beardom.

*******

SABLE Report.

MCA-BT24 successfully implanted artefact MCAt-BC1009 into the church. Resistance to the transformation was very little and stimulus came faster than expected. BT24 reported disappointment that he could not have been there to witness the subject’s transformation but admitted to having enjoyed watching an entire church filled with zealous men line up to ‘take of the seed’ of the Father. Curious how the transformation quickly spread afterwards. Religious propaganda is very powerful indeed.

Results exceed expectations.

Director’s Note: “Maybe I should form my own religion…”

*******

Kevin was bored as hell. He thought a like seaside vacation on some sunny beaches would be amazing. It was the sort of thing that one always dreamed of. Sun, surf and sand, that sort of thing. It should have been a relaxing week. Nothing to do except lounge about in some pools, maybe swim in the beaches, go snorkelling or maybe even golfing. But Kevin was the sort of guy that lived a fast-paced life. If there wasn’t doing something, he would quickly grow bored. He couldn’t even stand patiently in line without fidgeting or tapping on his phone.

So a week-long vacation where he wasn’t doing anything was a very poor choice for him. He found his mind constantly racing. When he lounged about on the beach on a beach towel, he would spend maybe fifteen minutes at most before he had to do something else.

It was not a very relaxing vacation for him.

He was just returning from a quick thirty minutes doing some laps in the large open-air pool. The kids were starting to filter in, crowding the pool, and that meant he couldn’t swim around in some relaxing silence without bumping into someone or getting hit on the head by some stray beach ball. Besides, he was already starting to get wrinkly so he needed to do something else.

Unfortunately, that was just thirty minutes gone from his day and he had so much more time left to do something. It was day three of his visit to the island resort and now he had nothing to do except perhaps go to the buffet and eat. Again.

As he passed the foyer of the pool, his eyes were directed at the arcade made exclusively for kids. All the blinking lights and flashing colours would appeal to them, after all. What caught his attention, however, was the photo booth sitting outside of the arcade. It was one of those corny devices where you stepped inside, pulled over the curtain and took a series of photos. Designed exclusively for little kids, teenaged girls and maybe the lovey-dovey couple, Kevin would never have thought about spending money on it except he really had nothing else better to do.

“Might as well,” he sighed to himself.

At least it would kill five minutes of his time.

Somewhat dried and not really caring about how he looked, he took his portly, hairy frame into the booth and shut the curtain. There was a simple console in front of him which was flashing and telling him to flash his room key over the reader. It would charge his room directly. Taking the plastic card that sat in the lanyard hanging around his neck, he waved it over reader and the display let out a loud beep telling him that the payment was accepted.

He had expected to be asked to select a frame or a filter for the picture but instead, a timer instantly appeared on screen starting from three.

“Wait, what?” he began.

Then one hit and –

Fwash!

Kevin gasped and immediately blocked his eyes. The flash was blinding and it stunned him. But no more than the sudden gut-wrenching feeling. He immediately glanced down at his rounded, hairy belly. With a sudden jerk like someone punching him in the gut, his belly jerked into him as if someone had turned on a vacuum cleaner inside of his belly. He was left suddenly breathless as about fifty pounds worth of sitting at a desk managing other people instantly vanished leaving him with a surprisingly slim waist. Even when he breathed out again, he was surprised that his belly remained quite flat.

“What the hell…?” he began.

He didn’t notice that another timer had started.

Fwash!

“Gah! What the fuck!?” he roared. And it was a true man’s roar. His surprise mounted as he clutched his throat and felt all the fat bubble away beneath his fingers and suddenly get replaced by taut, sinewy muscle. For a moment, he felt comfortable gripping his neck in both hands but without warning, his neck pulsed outwards and pried his hands apart leaving a distinct Adam’s Apple that was clearly visible.

His eyes went towards the screen and just before the display switched to the timer, he caught sight of himself. The person staring back at him was different. The guy was athletic, high cheekbones shining through his tanned flesh and with a cocky smirk. His salt-and-pepper hair had turned completely black and his eyes seemed a little brighter, dark shadows surrounding them having faded away.

Three…

That wasn’t him.

Two…

Was it?

One…

FWASH!

Kevin was thrown back against the seat like he had been slammed back against it. While he body was pressed against the seat, his cock came bolting out. It was like an immense force was pressing its hand up against his body and every part of his essence was being pushed out through his cock. His terrible lime green and white Hawaiian-style board shorts became tented. He was left slack-jawed, gasping for breath while his dick grew and grew in his shorts. It strained the fabric and he could feel one of the buttons brushing up against the sensitive flesh.

Without thinking he could only seize the rising rod, pulling open the buttoned front to let the rising monster out. His eyes were drawn once again to the screen where this time his visage seemed morphed, twisted and changed. There were a pair of sunglasses sitting atop his head, an earring in his left ear and a faint, white beard covering his cheeks.

Before he could give it another thought, the timer appeared again and he found himself rapidly jerking his meat as the numbers counted down to one when the next flash would come.

Fwash!

This time, he didn’t even blink and the light pierced his retinas, burning away the man that had once been Kevin. There was no pain when his left ear suddenly sprouted a golden earring or when they started moving towards the top of his head and became covered in light dusting of black hairs. The set of sunglasses that appeared nestled perfectly on his thick, lush, black hair that grew all the way down his back like a wild mane. His skin prickled lightly with the growth of the same white hairs that quickly spread across most of his body. The only exception was his forearms, calves and chest which became covered in a dense black fur like his head.

A moan left him with the growing pressure in his cock. That pressure built up inside his entire body like there was something trying to emerge from deep inside of him. He could not resist it and simply seized his dick and madly ran his growing hands over its length while his eyes remained fixated on the image on the screen in front of him.

Muscles grew beneath taunt skin. With each pump of his member, his arms grew big, thick and meaty. His pectorals jostled happily with each movement, tightening up, broadening and transforming into two huge plates of fleshy armour topped off with a pair of bright pink nipples. The growth crept towards his balls as well and while every tug of his dick pushed the beast out through the rest of his body, every push pumped it into his balls and forced them to grow bigger, rounder and filled with more and more juice. His legs were forced apart to the point where with their own growths into huge tree-trunk like lengths, began poking at the edges of the curtain.

Three…

There was a knock from the outside.

“Hey, you almost done in there?” came a voice. “My son wants a picture.

Two…

“Almost done,” Kevin rumbled back. “One more picture.”

One…

FWASH!

Kevin could only grin as his cock blasted the last traces of the man he used to be all over the display, his hips rocking back and forth with each blast and shaking the entire booth with his ecstasy. His muscles erupted into spheres of huge, vascular masculinity tempered by a wave of white and black fur. The last bits of the human vanished beneath an ursine muzzle and a cocky grin that wouldn’t have fit behind an office desk and was better suited for the beach where he could flex his muscles and let the sun’s rays gleam off his perfectly straight fangs.

The lanyard around his neck almost completely vanished between the cleft of his enormous chest. Thick sinewy bands sprung across the black fur that covered his chest and swept down his brawny arms. Hands that had once started to show the strain of working a keyboard burst into huge tools for lifting and flexing, nails transforming into blunt but still brutal claws.

He was forced to duck down as his new head brushed up against the roof of the photo booth and he let out a booming laugh with the last squirts of huge, thick cock as the last photo sprang up. All the camera could take was his huge chest complete with the thick set of abdominals covered in white fur that contrasted against the shelf of his pectorals that were outlined by black fur.

The Kevin that had been bored was no more.

He could not stand up. Not in the booth. All he could do was brush aside the curtain and shuffle outwards sideways. The father didn’t even bat an eye at the sight of the massive sixteen inch boner that the eight foot panda bore. The son, of course, looked up at the beast in awe, jaw open. Careful not to smear any of his cum on the kid’s hair, he used his other paw and ruffled the light brown mess with a grin.

“Have fun, you two,” he said with a wink. “Hope there’s enough room for you two to fit.”

The father rolled his eyes and ushered his son into the photo booth while Kevin plucked out the string of photographs that were just for him. Of course with him being so big, there was no way he could fit in any of the frames but he had fun flexing his muscles at each one. The first two showed his arms, big, vascular and with the white shark tattoo emblazoned on his biceps. The third was just of him baring his big, rounded rump at the camera. He was rather pleased that his bright, pink pucker was on display as well. Maybe he found his new profile pic. Well… at least on the dating sites. Then again, the fourth one showed his fully erect member. That had been an awkward position but somehow he had managed to fit all sixteen inches and his melon-sized balls in the picture. Of course, the last one was just his chest, perfect, sculpted, a stark contrast between pecs topped with pink nipples and the Herculean marble-like abdominals.

He let out a booming laugh and made to tuck the photos into his shorts when he realised he just went around nude. As long as he had the lanyard around his neck, he didn’t really need anything else.

“Didn’t think this through,” he muttered to himself. “Eh, fuck it.”

He tossed the photos aside and stutted proudly, cock out, towards the beach.

No one gave him a second glance.

After all, half the population of the beach consisted of bears.

*******

SABLE Report.

MCA-BT45 managed to implant MCAt-BC1477 into the resort. Conversion and transformation is incredibly fast and mental alterations take hold very quickly. Within a span of about five minutes, a subject can be converted. Unfortunately, due to the current era and technological advancements, the delivery means is highly outdated and given the location, this will only see seasonal use. Ultimately, transformation numbers are gained more out of secondary exposure than direct from the artefact.

Results are below expectations for direct transformation but meet expectations for indirect.

Director’s Note: “I want a copy of those photos.”

*******

It was the first class, first period of the first semester of the new year. Normally, that would involve wide-eyed students eager to learn something or to begin their freshmen year with a bang. But Ethan had been informed just earlier that his entire class consisted only of sophomores. Most of which belonged to one of the schools many sports teams. College was a bitch like that. Anatomy was meant to be available to all levels but the reviews had come back last year warning that it was ‘too hard’ to memorise all the parts of the body. One would think just memorising names would be easy especially for a college predominantly focused on sports and bred athletes.

Sadly, Ethan found himself struggling year after year wondering if it was really worth it to teach these meatheads things about their bodies that could potentially cripple their athletic career. All they wanted to do was bash heads, drink beer and flex their muscles. Not an intelligent bunch amongst them.

“Are you going in?”

The voice caught him off guard and he turned to his long-time associate, Miles. The guy worked for some corporation that Ethan had never heard of and that Miles often brushed off but he had always been there to support Ethan ever since they had become neighbours in the apartment building.

“Just nervous,” Ethan laughed softly. “There are students in there. Sophomores. At this stage they’ve already become jaded to college and are just taking my class to get the credit. They don’t actually care for what they’ll learn.”

“Uh-huh. And you’re hoping the tie with cute little, cartoony ducks will help make you at least more sociable?”

He grinned sheepishly at Miles. “Think it’ll work?”

“No,” answered his friend bluntly. “Ducks? Really? You’re just being weird.” Miles reached for his own tie, a simple, solid black ornament that he pulled off swiftly and handed to Ethan. “You’re a college professor, Ethan. You hold the future of these kids in your hands. You don’t have to get them to like you. At most, you spend six months or so teaching them and then they’re gone. You’re a consummate professional. You command them. Their lives, their fates, is decided by not by how you teach but how well they listen. You’ve earned your degree, you’ve made your living. They play by your rules.”

Ethan gave Miles a shaky smile and pulled off his own ridiculous tie and pocketed it. With swift, practiced gestures, he put on the offered tie. “Thanks, Miles. You always know what to say. Beer after work?”

“I’m sure you’ll be busy with your new students,” Miles said with a smile. His friend turned around and waved a hand over his shoulder. “Have fun, Ethan. And remember, you’re the alpha in that room. They get in line or they go home. Hell, don’t give them a choice.”

Those words were encouraging if ethically skewed but Ethan appreciated it nonetheless. He pushed open the door to his classroom. Already, the seats were filled. Despite being considered a ‘hard class’, the semicircular lecture theatre was always packed. Well… at least for the first few lectures. Afterwards, students would start drifting away.

So Ethan had to make an impression.

“Welcome to Advanced Anatomy,” he bellowed, his voice carrying all the way to the end of the lecture theatre even without the use of the microphone. He had never had such command in his voice and he enjoyed the stunned look on the students especially those dumb idiots over at the back wearing the letterman jackets.

“Hey bro!” one of the guys near the middle said. He lifted a meaty arm. Looked to be a wrestler. “I thought this was Introduction to Anatomy.”

“Bullshit.” Ethan had never sworn to his students before. The effect was instantaneous, though. Everyone in the class was instantly attentive. “There is no introduction to anatomy. You live. Your breathe. You move. That’s your introduction. By the time you fucking crawl, you’ve had your introduction. If you feel you’ve missed out on something, take off your clothes, put on a fucking diaper then go suckle on your momma’s tits but more than anything, get the fuck out of my class.”

His students didn’t even dare to exchange glances in shock. This power, this sense of command, it felt right. Miles was right. He was the alpha in here. This was his territory.

He scowled at them all and took up positioned behind the desk. “What I’m going to teach you is how the bones, muscles and organs that you meatheads take advantage of every day works. You can trust instinct all you want but if you want to keep yourselves from tearing something or breaking something that’ll end your shitty sporting careers before they even start, you’re going to fucking sit there, you’re going to listen and you’re going to take notes. Understand!?”

There were a few nods but nothing else.

“Well? Where the fuck are your books? Your laptops? I told you to take notes!”

The class instantly began scrambling for their bags. Even the big, athletic students who were used to handling balls were fumbling around like dumb apes.

The command he held over his class was simply intoxicating. He could smell their fear and it gave him strength, fuel to keep going. Ethan turned his back to the students, showing off that he was confident enough to expose himself like that. More, it was to hide the growing erection in his pants. The power he held was more than intoxicating, it was arousing. He picked up the piece of chalk from the board and began writing.

As he did so, his entire body shuddered. The grey suit he wore groaned and stretched loudly. Muscles beneath the fabric tensed and gurgled, feasting on the intoxicating rush of power that came from dominating these men. Each muscle worked hard to rapidly metabolise the energies it was being fed. Ethan’s body temperature rose rapidly. Sweat stains immediately formed in his armpits and doused his chest, forming a v-shaped stain across his perfectly pressed, white shirt with his black tie the only thing dividing it.

He rolled his shoulders, lifting his arms slightly in a vain attempt to cool off. An alpha’s stench seeped out of him and wafted into the rest of the room regardless of the air conditioning like a gaseous ghost eager to possess any unfortunate enough to catch a whiff of it. That meant everyone instantly fell prey to his musk. All men, their hormones were instantly sent raging and each man sported a boner, eyes fixated on the growing back of their professor with looks of lust and desire.

Ethan felt it all and he bit back a moan as the power from his new thralls radiated out from his bones and pushed his muscles further and further out. His grey suit jacket tore at the seams, forcing him the shrug it off to reveal the sweat-drenched shirt beneath. Already, the shirt was tightening around his immense frame and even without flexing, the growing v-shaped torso was clear and visible to class. Contrasted against the dark blackboard, he his growth and development was unmistakable.

A dominant male needed to do more than just smell like the alpha and Ethan lifted his gargantuan arms to give them one terse, double-bicep flex. The moment he did, the fabric of his shirt shredded to pieces. His biceps exploded out of his white shirt as huge, vascular mountains. Forearms shredded the remnants of his sleeves leaving him only with wispy cuffs that dangles from his broad wrists, just barely holding onto their integrity. Despite his exposed flesh, though, he didn’t feel the chill of the air conditioning. Instead, he felt the cool breeze brush through the thick, white fur that covered his limbs.

Grinning to himself, he lowered his arms and unleashed a crab flex at the blackboard, flexing his back at the students behind him. The tensing of muscles caused his lats to tear his shirt down the middle like he was a butterfly emerging from his cocoon. Whether anyone realised it or not, when Ethan straightened, he did so to his new height of ten and a half feet, dwarfing anyone else in the room.

Ethan rested his huge, white paws on the blackboard, lifting his rump at the students so that they could get a good view of his ass. He tensed his glutes and they came together with an audible slap. The seat of his pants immediately tore with the gesture, revealing a fuzzy, white surface with a nub-like white tail sitting just above it.

He could smell the arousal from his students.

It was time to get the lesson started.

He tore off the remnants of clothing off him leaving only the black tie which again formed a contrast against the sculpted, white-furred chest that supported the big polar bear’s thick neck and broad, ursine features. The professor then turned towards his students, exposing his massive erect cock for them all to see.

There wasn’t a single human in the theatre.

“This how this class is going to go,” he boomed, flexing an arm at them. “Each of you get five minutes to worship me. You’ll get a taste of this alpha male. You’ll love it. You’ll commit every vein, every sinew, every crevasse and every muscle to memory. Those that make me cum get extra credit. You pass the moment you can take this two foot monster in your ass or down your throat. Any questions?”

All the bears in the theatre shook their heads. He wouldn’t tolerate a lack of response. Besides, he could tell they were all excited. Each of them had their cocks out, tips drooling precum all over their desks.

The rumours had been right.

Advance Anatomy was hard.

“So.” He grinned at them. “Who’s first?”

*******

SABLE Report.

MCA-BT09 memetic transformation abilities fully tested and achieved full metamorphosis both physically and mentally within ten minutes. Effects took hold in less than a minute. Spread is quite considerable given the alpha personality embedded by BT09 but this could be attributed to the nature of the subject and not the agent. Given the target population, the spread of his particular strain has become quite endemic. Containment to prevent cross-contamination of other agents and their tasks is advised.

Results are above expectations.

Director’s Note: “Test the intelligence of the ‘betas’. I don’t want any of them losing their individuality over this deployment.”

*******

Marty was exhausted and he was pissed. School had thrown him a couple of failing grades and it was his senior year so he couldn’t really afford those. To make things worse, the manager at the bistro he worked at hated his guts and had him stay up until closing which pissed him off to no end. He was just glad his dad wasn’t home or he would never be able to relieve some stress by shutting off the lights, grabbing the pizza and cola he had ordered and then parking himself in front of the television with a controller in his hands.

This was how Marty unwound.

He brought up Tour of Duty VII, basking in the opening sequence of the first-person shooter which allowed him to take a few bites out of the pizza and drain some of his soda before diving right into multiplayer mode.

Sadly, his normal squad mates were absent. They all bore weird excuses on their profiles like, ‘Sorry. Can’t be here. Please BEAR with me’ or ‘Feeling a little GRIZZLY. Offline’. He just shook his head and went to join some random skirmish.

It came as a surprise that only one person decided challenge him. Not that surprising. He was pretty good at this game. The guy’s tag was some nonsense. ‘MCA-BT99’.

Wiping the grease from his hands, he shoved on his headphones, pulled out the mic and got himself ready.

“Hey, good to see someone online,” he greeted jovially. “Hope you don’t mind me wiping the floor with ya. I’ve had a bad day.”

The guy on the other end laughed. He sounded older. Maybe a guy in his twenties or something just off to relax after a day at the office. “No problem, man. Hope I don’t drive you off from this game.”

“ToD VII isn’t a game, bro. It’s life.”

“If you say so. Ready?”

“Bring it on!”

It was a simple one-on-one fight in a map Marty was familiar with. He chose his loadout; he loved to pick up a shotgun and just charge at the opponents. When the map was this big and with only one player, it would be stupid to just camp out and snipe. The game would just get boring that way. Today, he was the hunter.

The match began and with twenty minutes on the clock, he charged through the deserted urban landscape with a grey overcast eager for some blood. It wasn’t a minute in when –

BANG!

The sound was a sniper round and he immediately whirled his character around only for him to hear the tell-tale beeping of a grenade being hurled at him. He immediately moved, diving for an alleyway for cover. Then there was movement out from behind a dumpster and before he could stop himself, BT99 was out from behind cover and slashed his throat with a combat knife.

The screen went red and the words ‘You Died’ flashed on the screen.

“Whoa! Damn!” Marty laughed. “Nice moves.”

“Thanks.”

This was going to be a challenge, he could tell. He was excited and his blood was pumping. Strange that but he didn’t care. He was positively excited and on the edge of his seat.

He respawned and this time, he actually caught sight of his opponent ducking into a building and managed to get a few shots at him. He threw a grenade into the building to flush BT99 out and slipped on his thermal visor. He bolted into the building a moment later in time to see his enemy rushing up the stairs. Feeling like a hunter chasing his prey he foolishly followed.

Just a few steps onto the stairwell and he noticed the shadow of his opponent flash against the wall. Too late did he realise that BT99 had vaulted over the railings the floor above and landed behind him! Just as he turned –

Slash!

And the screen went red again.

“Damn! You’re good!” Marty laughed. It was odd but with his blood racing like that, he found himself actually getting hard with excitement. His muscles were tense and he was gripping the controller fanatically, eyes glued to the screen to the exclusion of all else.

“I try.”

Next round and BT99 was already two frags ahead of him. Not bad. But he could still catch up.

The round began and he lasted all of two minutes before he caught BT99 cornered and began closing in for the attack. His opponent did the weirdest thing, though. He threw a grenade at his own feet and Marty realised this was going to be a sort of suicide move! Before Marty could back off, the grenade went off and another frag went to BT99. Just as the screen went red, he noticed his opponent just marching over his corpse and rushing away.

“What the fuck!? How the hell did you do that!?” he demanded.

“Body armour, bro.”

“Fuck!”

Marty ground his teeth in frustration completely unaware that in doing so, he was filing them into sharpened fangs. His grip on his controller was so tight that veins were popping up all over his skin. Not just on his hands either. Those veins popped up along his scrawny arms, along the insides of his thighs. But he was too focused on the game, too much in the zone.

No matter how much he tried, however, BT99 kept beating him. And he grew increasing frustrated. Not only at his clearly skilled opponent but at himself. He was better than this! Yet every minute, he was constantly being defeated and that red screen kept flashing in front of him. Each time those two accusing words appeared in front of him, Marty grew not only is irritation but also physically.

BAM!

You died.

Marty shook his head in frustration. His head was aching and he wrenched off his headphones, unwilling to chat with BT99 anymore as he considered that a distraction. In truth, his skull had broadened. Freed of the confines of his headphones, his ears were free to move to the top of his head and round off into big, fluffy, radar dishes. Eyes so focused on the screen, he never noticed his nose pushing out in front of him, partially obscuring his vision with its rounded, black nub or when his lips jut forward as rubbery, black lengths that barely concealed his massive fangs. He wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, ignoring the dense, black fur that spread across his features and started crawling down his neck.

SLASH!

You died.

He let out a frustrated growl that was several octaves deeper than his voice should have been. However, his thickening neck contradicted that as did his broadening chest and shoulders. The heat of frustration – and sexual arousal – started to cause his sweat to soak into his shirt. During the downtime before he respawned, he pulled off his shirt, exposing his huge, muscled chest that hadn’t been there when he had stepped in through the door just a few minutes ago. Thick black fur covered his pectorals with two, pink nipples like rounded caps marking the tops of the huge monuments.

BOOM!

You died.

Marty lashed out with his legs like an impudent child but in doing so encouraged his claws to erupt from his socks. The fabric weakened, his immense feet could finally burst out of the confines of his socks. The pants he had been wearing shredded right down the seams. Huge calves covered in shorter black fur were exposed and his massive thighs quickly followed afterwards. The shreds of his pants and underwear clung stubbornly to his crotch where his throbbing dick was begging to be let out.

CRASH!

You died.

Marty let out a thunderous roar and threw his controller to the ground. Blinded with rage, he threw his head back, flinging is enormous arms to his sides and just screamed at the top of his lungs. The deafening, primal cry shook his entire house. His cock erupted from the last pieces of clothing he wore, shooting outwards to its full two feet in length and blasting his seed out in a gush that would’ve put a fire hydrant to shape. The sticky, gooey flood splattered all over his TV screen, turning the deep red of the death screen a bright pink.

Exhaustion suddenly hit the newly made bear and Marty slumped into the couch, panting, heaving and adoring the feeling of his monstrous dick slapping against his massive nine foot frame.

“Hey man, you okay?”

Marty’s keen ears picked up the voice of BT99 from his headphones. Suddenly, he couldn’t be mad anymore. He just couldn’t Instead, he felt like he should be thankful. He reached down and awkwardly angled the microphone towards his muzzle.

“Yeah bro. I’m good. Listen, good match. You’re winning. I think I’m done for the night.” He lifted his huge, muscled arm and flexed it a couple of times, adoring the sight of his bicep rising and falling at his command. “Might hit the gym. Yeah. I’ll do that. Work on some real guns.”

“Sure thing. Good game.”

Marty grinned. “Good game.”

He set down his headphone and got up, suddenly full of energy and not at all caring that he was fully naked and covered in cum. His eyes went to his controller and with a smirk, he picked it up and opened up his profile. There, he left a message underneath his tag so that the rest of the internet would know that he, too, had become a bear.

‘Gone to hiBEARnate.’

*******

SABLE Report.

MCA-BTN00B deployed successfully. The artificial intelligence was able to invade a popular multiplayer online game and initiate transformation sequences across the globe within minutes. The resulting spread was endemic but within expectations. Curious that all those affected obtained a sort of ‘fraternity boy-style’ personality. Suggest spreading the reach from First Person Shooters to Massive Multiplayer Online Role Playing Games to better study mental shift phenomenon.

Results meet expectations

Director’s Note: “Sounds like the start of the Beta-Upsilon-Rho Fraternity.”

*******

Peter rarely had to shave. Having blonde hair meant that his hair was quite light and even his facial hair followed suit. Being naturally hairless meant that he sort of had the look of a preteen even after he already had an eighteen year old son. An eighteen-year-old estranged son who was now just showing signs of a moustache and who needed to be taught how to shave.

Harrison was about to go for his first college application and like his father, had never had to shave before in his life. But this was a very important day for him and he needed to look presentable. He couldn’t get by with the scruffy high schooler look for this. He could grow out his blonde goatee again once he got that application.

It was rare that Peter ever got to play the father since his son had grown up but at the very least, this was one moment of father-son-bonding that he could cherish. So long as he didn’t end up cutting himself.

“Okay Harry,” he began, gesturing at the sink.

They only had the one bathroom sink in their apartment so they had to share. He stood there in only a singlet and his black slacks while Harrison, a little more confident in his body despite being a skinny ‘hipster’ stood with just the towel over his waist and still wearing that awful woollen beanie despite having just come out of the shower. It wasn’t exactly a style that Peter approved of but he was a strictly hands off father.

“First thing you do is wet the hairs a little to make it easier for the shaving cream.” He reached down, turned on the sink and splashed his face lightly. The faint beard had taken two weeks to grow out and even then, it was barely noticeable. Harrison had the advantage of having grown out his goatee over the course of a few months.

“Alright,” Harry said, doing exactly the same thing.

“Next, we apply the cream,” Peter said and applied some of the shaving cream onto his hand. He smeared it across his face, making sure to get every place where there would be any hairs. While Harry did the same, he felt a slight cold touch on his chest. Looking down, he noticed a rather large dollop of the cream had fallen onto his flat, hairless chest.

Without even thinking, he reached down with the razor and swiped at it. He gasped as the blades sliced at the hairs there. Coming from a strange angle, it was really hurt.

“Ah, son-of-a…” He cut himself off. Though Harrison was eighteen years of age, he tried not to swear in front of him. It was just a fatherly reflex.

“You okay, Pete?” Harry asked.

Sighing and longing for the days when Harry would call him ‘dad’, he gave his son an awkward smile and nodded. “Yeah. Just remember to first cut with the grain especially if the hair is long.” He grunted as he looked at his pectorals particularly the little spot that he had shaved. It was already starting to go red with irritation. “Damn… Now I’m going to have to shave this whole thing off.”

Harry rolled his eyes and picked up the shaving cream. “Need some help?”

Peter shrugged and pulled off his singlet. “If you wouldn’t mind.”

Showing no hesitation whatsoever, his son applied some cream onto his hands and then smeared it all over Peter’s chest. Neither of them registered how Peter’s pectorals puffed out like swollen orbs of muscle. The more Harry rubbed, the denser the hairs grew on Peter’s flesh. Though still blonde in colour, they grew coarser, denser and longer. Wherever, Harry rubbed, more of the hairs appeared and the muscles beneath them grew.

Peter didn’t realise it either but soon, he was forced to start breathing through his mouth as it just took too long to fill his growing lungs by breathing through his nose. Each breath caused his chest to puff out all the more. He grunted a little as Harry’s fingers rubbed around his nipples, the sensitive flesh hardening in arousal.

Harry chuckled softly and Peter found himself blushing. It was wrong to get hard because his son was touching him like that but there was nothing he could do against his body’s wishes. And feeling a pair of hands rubbing all over his swollen muscles, running through his coarse hair and fur, it was just infinitely arousing.

He gasped suddenly when Peter’s hand started running down towards his abdominals.

“Got to even it out, right?” Harry teased.

Peter knew where this was going and some part of him was completely appalled at it but the other part was filing with blood and starting to take over. His son completely ignored the growing erection that was already straining Peter’s pants and just kept running his fingers over Peter’s abs. He even made a point of sliding a finger right in between those huge, muscled block ‘to make sure the cream got everywhere’.

Peter moaned as his son drew closer. He could feel Harry’s own erection brushing up against his own and he couldn’t think. The father in him told him that what he was thinking was wrong! It was so wrong! There was no way he could fuck his son. But his dick was telling him otherwise. Besides, there was nothing wrong with ploughing his son before work. He knew, for a fact, that Benson did it all the time. It was how he ‘got ready’ for work. Hell, he could hear the guy through the apartment walls just before bed as the two fucked madly.

So why shouldn’t he?

He growled and yanked the bottle of shaving cream from Harry’s hand and tossed it to the side. His son looked up at him in shock but when he charged forward, pushing Harry against the sink and pressing his huge, muscled torso against his son’s own skinny frame, that look turned into one of lust and desire. Their lips met and a chorus of moans rose from their throats.

With the cream meshing with Harry’s own skin, the scrawny boy’s body reacted just as it had with his father. The flat, hairless chest suddenly surged outwards and upwards, growing two massive pectorals that outstripped even his dad’s. The moment when their hardened nipples brushed against one another caused both men to moan and start the ritual of grinding against one another like they always had every morning – at least as far as their minds could fathom.

Throwing aside all pretences, Harry gripped his father’s arms, smearing the cream all over them. Peter’s biceps ballooned outwards. Though lubricated, the thick mounds and equally thick veins offered incredible traction for Harry’s hands to seize and follow all the way down to his father’s forearms which pulsated with new strength and muscles. The same thick, blonde hairs sprang up along both limbs. With their new size and strength, Peter wrapped his arms around his son, holding him tightly and feeling the muscles across his boy’s back grow and undulate as he smeared some of the shaving cream there as well.

Harry returned the favour and splattered some of the cream onto Peter’s back. Two huge mounds surged outwards and met his hands, momentarily pushing them apart to the point where he couldn’t even grasp both of them together. But that was temporary as even Harry’s arms surged and stretched. They clasped together across his father’s back, bigger and brawnier than his sire. Supple fingers calloused by plucking at guitar strings thickened, nails exploding into vicious claws.

Somehow still smeared with shaving cream, Harry ran his blonde-fur-covered paws down to his father’s legs. The path he followed down Peter’s spine caused the older bear to pack on more muscle and more height and the moment the cream touched Peter’s legs, that height doubled. From a measly 5’7’’, Peter surged upwards to 11’2’’. The sudden burst of height ripped his slacks and send his cock charging forward like a rhino’s horn. Harry was flung upwards as he clung onto his father, his legs instinctively curling around his dad’s waist. His ass suddenly exposed, Peter’s dick found its target and shoved into the familiar hole.

Right where it belonged.

Instincts and familiarity took over and Peter began thrusting his hips in a gesture that he distinctly remembered performing the moment his son hit the age of eighteen. It was his ‘birthday gift to his big boy’. As his own legs thickened to support his immense size, Harry too grew. His son threw his head back and let out a lusty moan. His boy’s features lurched forward into a slim ursine muzzle that matched his father’s. Both men bore the same blonde fur that quickly spread all over their bodies but there was more meaning to Harry than just being his dad’s ‘big boy’.

No, Peter had pushed Harry to be huge from day one and that reflected in the bear’s growing mass. Harry was bigger. He was beefier. He made his daddy proud. His legs stretched outwards, becoming huge, fleshy tubes of tightly packed muscles that were on the verge of bursting out of his skin and fur with the network of veins over them like a net barely keeping them contained.

The bear howled in ecstasy as his cock surged outwards, barely worming it sway between the tightly packed muscles of both men and rising up between the four mounds that were their pectorals. Peter’s own dick pulsed and grew inside his son, growing bigger and bigger to fill the cavity inside his son, the hole that Harry had begged for the moment he learned how to masturbate; a hole he had fantasised about his dad filling ever since he caught Mr. Benson ploughing his son.

Peter suddenly lunged forward and buried his fangs into Harry’s shoulder – the perfect mating bite. Harry let out his last cry as a human before the roar of a bear took over. His bowling-ball sized balls slammed up against his groin, pumping all his cum through the enormous rod he sported and blasted them both right in their ursine faces. He shuddered as Peter’s earth-shattering hips brought the older bear to orgasm as well and he felt the flood of cum fill him like it had so many times before.

The deluge of cum smeared them both, covering their golden-blonde fur in the thick, white, sticky fluid that it washed all traces of the shaving cream from their glistening, muscled bodies. When the flood finally ended a good fifteen minutes later, Peter licked the place where he had bitten his son and unceremoniously pulled out. Harry rose up to his full twelve feet in height and grinned at his father.

“That’s dad. Needed that before my interview.”

“Yeah but now we got to fucking clean up again,” growled Peter with a savage grin. “Get your ass in the shower. I’m going to punish you for seducing me in the bathroom and making me have to fucking clean this place up again.”

“Better than in the kitchen, right dad?” Harry said with a sly wink.

“Fuck you, Harry.”

“That’s the idea.”

*******

SABLE Report.

MCAt-BC8974’s effects are rather impressive given the small amount that was applied. Also considering that it transformed two recipients in one is to be commended. Curious how transformation didn’t begin when applied to the face or placed on the hands. Will need to re-examine this. Effects on other individuals and mental connectivity and reality alterations work very well too and even use each other as references to help transform new subjects.

Results are within expectations but certain bugs need to be examined.

Director’s Note: “Look into weaponizing this.”

*******

“Goddamnit, hurry the fuck up!”

Royce Gallagher was not a very patient man and he was eager to be the first to report on this ‘Bear Pandemic’ that was supposedly sweeping the nation. He wasn’t sure how to explain it but that was what his fact-checkers and researchers were for. He was just the anchor man who delivered the news to the public.

He inclined his head to the side while his hairstylist quickly combed the grey bands to make sure they were still and didn’t get into his eyes. While on the air, he couldn’t afford to brush aside a stray lock or adjust his tie. His eyes had to be right on the camera and he had to deliver the news as if he were a robot. That was what true professionalism was.

One of the crewmen popped his head into the dressing room. “Fifteen minutes, Mr. Gallagher.”

“Right,” he grunted. He glanced over at his stylist. “You heard the man! Hurry it up!”

He didn’t even spare the man a second look and returned his gaze towards his notes. It was all about what his country was calling the ‘Bear Pandemic’. No one was sure where they started coming from but they started seeping in. A few at first and no one seemed to bat an eye. But over time, their population quickly overtook the population of humans. Families were being driven from their homes because these brutish, uncouth, horny bears were taking over entire suburbs with their constant fucking and smell.

He shook his head and glanced towards his reflection in the mirror. His stylist had picked up a hairdryer and began sweeping it through his hair while taking a brush to smoothen the edges and make it look less blocky. It was a good technique. It revealed the darker roots and made him look a little more youthful. Though he was a conservative newscaster working for a similarly right-wing network, he had to connect with the audience of today in some way. Hearing the ranting of an old man wouldn’t increase his ratings.

“Shorter,” he snapped. “Spikier.”

His stylist didn’t say a word and began pushing his hair out forward into a gentle wave upwards, leaving the part on his left there but ensuring that his fringe was permanently swept upwards. It made him look a little like he had just come out of the military but he didn’t care. Patriotism was one of his major hooks. Royce Gallagher was a defender of this nation.

He looked back down at the script before him, roving through the contents. Just as he was getting to the point where he was meant to talk about how the bears had driven out all the women in their ‘sex cities’ when he felt the brush of the stylist against his cheek.

“The fuck are you doing?” he demanded, flinching away from the brush.

“Uh… Styling your fur, sir,” said the stylist hesitantly.

Gallagher was about to reprimand the man – possibly fire him – when he glanced towards the mirror and noticed just how scruffy his cheek fur was. The chestnut brown fur was scruffy and he grimaced at the sight of some dried cum on his left cheek.

“Careful then. I still got some dinner in there.”

His stylist nodded and quickly applied some water to his cheeks to smoothen them out. Gallagher licked a finger, his long ursine tongue lashing out between his thick, rubbery lips. A quick turn of the page and he found that he was meant to criticise the bear community about their wanton homosexuality. That didn’t sound right. The world was just full of males. What else were they meant to do with their dicks. He shook his head and grabbed the pen sitting in front of the makeup table and quickly wrote down his own notes on the matter.

“All done, Mr. Gallagher.”

Nodding, the newscaster stood up and shrugged off the velvety robe that he was wearing. With a snap of his fingers, an army of dressing crew came storming towards him. They held out the jockstrap for him while he was still roving through the pages. One of them lifted his left leg. It had fallen asleep while he was sitting down so he had to give it a little shake. The big, meaty length was covered in the same brown fur as his face and he paid no mind to the fact that he suddenly grew two feet in the span of a few seconds while he tucked one leg after the other through the strands of the jockstrap.

The moment the bright red jockstrap was placed over his genitals, he felt a little wrong. Still without looking, he reached down with a hand and adjusted himself. His balls gurgled loudly like they were two hungry stomachs eager to be fed. They suddenly bulged, two melon-sized, furry, brown orbs jutting out from the sides of the jockstrap and pressing up against his thighs. The undergarment couldn’t contain their size. His dick quickly followed. The large, obscene tube pushed out the limits of the garment, causing it to groan and some of the seams to actually start to pull apart.

“Five minutes, Mr. Gallagher.”

There was no time to change. He’d just have to contain himself until then. He didn’t want to sprout a boner and have it go off in the middle of live television… again.

Then again, the bears wouldn’t mind and that was the majority of his audience.

His crew quickly slipped on the leather straps around his chest. They snapped into place over his enormous, muscular chest. They were there to keep his massive pectorals from vibrating too much and also to rest beneath them to give them more support and make them look more plump and muscular. The unfortunate effect was that they also made his nipples extra hard and they would show through his shirt.

That very same shirt was quickly placed over his shoulders. The long-sleeved, sky-blue and pinstriped garment couldn’t wrap around his huge, meaty forearms so his crew had to wind up the sleeves to where they settled around halfway down his biceps. He grimaced a little as they caught some of the coarse, brown hairs covering his arms and he had to tell them to make sure that they covered the tattoo he had on his arms. Yes, he was sexy as hell and the bears loved him but he had to be a professional after all.

“No jacket today,” he said as his crew offered him the black garment.

He set down the script and tried to button the shirt and managed to get the first bottom few to cover his huge, meaty abdominals – abdominals that were bisected by a hairy treasure trail of black hair. Unfortunately, with his pecs so plump, he couldn’t close it all the way. He tried a couple of times but when the button flew off he gave up.

“Fuck it, I’m going open shirt today,” he grunted.

When an intern offered him his pants, he saw the clock and just shook his head. “No time, cub. Got to get on the air.”

He marched right onto the stage wearing only his open shirt and the bright red jockstrap. No one batted an eye as he took up his huge chair in front of the broad table marked with the letters BBC for the ‘Bear Broadcasting Corporation’. He straightened himself in front of the cameras, all the crewmen being bears just like him.

He flashed them a dazzling smile and the show producer indicated that they were on in five… four… three… two… one…

The music played and the cameras zoomed in on him.

“Good evening,” he boomed in his deep, sexy baritone. “Tonight on BBC News, the rising bear population.” His grin grew even better. “If you aren’t a bear yet…” He lifted an arm and flexed right in front of the camera. Some of his crew popped boners right there and then.

“… what are you waiting for?”

*******

SABLE Report.

The effect of the project has spread to the point where it is transforming people without direct intervention from the embedded agents. It is curious to note that broadcasts from infected television programs are acting as a sort of indirect transformation vector. The more sexually charged the broadcasts, the more quick the transformation. It is also curious note that this infection is also retroactive. Previous broadcasts or reruns are slowly excluding all references to humans. It is theorised that the moment conversion is complete, all history in this dimension will be completely rewritten as if the entire existence was based entirely on anthropomorphic bears.

Results are pending further investigation.

Director’s Note: “Huh. I wonder what they do back stage…”

*******

*** Project: Plague of Bears End ***

SABLE Report.

Project end. Entire population of Dimension ADMO-4BSLM converted in five months, twenty-seven days. Agents successfully extracted save for a select few who were caught in the transformation or chose not to leave. Assets lost will respawn within their allocated times and are ultimately recoverable. Final decision of success is deferred to project initiator.

Director’s Note: “I call this project a success. Sort of. Redesignate Dimension ADMO-4BSLM under UDMO classification with appropriate numbering scheme. Quite pleased that society held up despite the utter lack of females and mass conversions. The Reality and Disbelief Dampeners were well deployed. Despite mental shifts, I am glad that most if not all the populace managed to maintain their individuality. Begin Conglomerate insertion and recruitment. Neutralise infectivity first, naturally. I’ll visit the site personally. Arrange transport.

“While it’s on my mind, someone water Craig the Cactus while I’m away from this office. I still have to fire his needles out of a particle accelerator or mass driver before I shoot him at relativistic speeds. I want to make sure he’s at least useful in this form before he respawns. It’s not personal. I just want to see how much damage cactus needles flying at light speed will do.”

*** ***