feinecutasy

[feinecutasy]

Red

Ah, the smell of freshly roasted coffee beans. And the sight of the buxom barista serving it. Silky brown hair flowing atop that hourglass figure. Perhaps he should frequent this place more often.

Zayn loved to start his day with a cup of life-giving black water and a good toast, and he hated it when the normalcy was disrupted. He used to frequent the Hut near the square, but the place was now in renovation. Thankfully, it only took him a few steps to find the place he was now sitting in. Order was restored.

… or perhaps not. The first sip was rich and exhilarating, until it ended with an unexpected, unwelcome, but not uncommon texture. He promptly picked out the culprit, half of which had been in his mouth and the other half still dangling on the cup. A short strand of hair. ʀᴇᴅ ʜᴀɪʀ.

Zayn’s eyes instantaneously darted from the barista to her colleague, who was busy taking the order of an elderly couple. A mop of wavy, short red hair topped his head, which along with his porcelain skin and freckle-covered face stood out in stark contrast against the black t-shirt and dark apron he was wearing. As soon as the queue was emptied, Zayn strutted to the ginger, back straightened, arms stiffened in an attempt to inflate his already bulky frame. He dropped his coffee cup on the counter loudly enough to garner the barista’s attention.  “Mate, can you make me a new cup of coffee?”, he questioned, his voice lowered. “I found a strand of red hair inside the cup”, he continued, the word ‘red’ deliberately emphasised. The ginger rolled his eyes and looked puzzled for a moment, but quickly accepted his request with no retort. Once again, it was the girl who brought the coffee out to him. “Thanks”, he smiled cockily at her before returning to his table.

Order was restored, and Zayn was back to his outpost where his eyes continued to busily clap about and mentally undress all the dainty damsels inside and outside. He actually wouldn’t have minded had the busty barista’s hair been the thing that was in his cup. Why does it always have to be the wimps and runts that ruin his day? Now that he had shown the loser his place, he could feel waves of satisfaction coursing through his body. He took a sip to celebrate.

And he spat the coffee out. Another strand of red hair. Unbothered by the stain on his cuff and the liquid still dripping on his hand, he looked inside the cup. Intricate overlapping rings of keratin formed from definitely not just one strand of hair floated on the surface of the beverage. However hot the coffee was, Zayn’s blood was now boiling ten times hotter. He bolted up from his chair and headed straight to the ginger, his face red from anger. “Are you done fucking with me?”, he said threateningly. The younger man looked even more perplexed, though before he managed to utter anything, his coworker had already chimed in to his defense.

“What is it again?”, she said with visible disinterest on her face.

“There’s. Fucking. Hair. In my coffee. Again.”

“Could be anyone’s hair”, she nonchalantly replied.

“IT’S RED!”, Zayn screamed at the top of his lungs, pointing at the other stressed employee, “Who else in this place has red hair beside that scum?”

“Mate, it's ʏᴏᴜʀ hair”, the girl replied after a long sigh, then turned away from Zayn for a moment to pick something up.

The absurd statement had temporarily overridden Zayn’s desire to smack the gob of out the red-haired pansy with an even stronger urge to give the bitch in front of him a well-deserved slap. Thankfully, the last morsel of rational thinking convinced him against it and as a result, he just hurled a deafening string of profanity at the staff. Zayn stomped out of the coffee shop, unperturbed by the concerning gaze of all the other customers.

The outside air cooled his head down and allowed his breathing to return to normal. That was when he was made aware of two things. One, his bag was still inside the shop – in the heat of the argument he had completely forgot to take it with him. Two, he needed to empty his bladder. Stat. Wasting no time, he slammed the shop’s door open and dashed straight towards the gents. In his haste, he didn’t register the fact that the two staff members were smiling warmly at him, and others in the shop were gleefully chatting with each other, as if no commotion had ever taken place just mere seconds ago.

The loo was small but odourless and clean, with a sink near the entrance and a toilet in the corner. Zayn habitually checked his face in the mirror and grinned at the dark-haired hunk looking back at him. He turned towards the bowl to finish his business. For some reason it was taking longer than usual. Too long, in fact. When Zayn was finally done relieving himself, he was barely able to keep his balance. His head felt heavy all of a sudden. Pants still a distance away from his cock, he placed his hairy hand on the wall to steady himself. It was getting abnormally hot inside the room.  Beads after beads of sweat dripped from his head and chest down his lower body, soaking all of his clothing wet. Irritated by the now damp sweater scratching against his skin, he frantically threw it on the nearby sink. Zayn couldn’t think clear. But he wasn’t feeling unwell either. The feeling was akin to that time when he downed two bottles of gin in the company of his lads. Physically he might be mildly disoriented, but deep inside he felt free. Inhibitions were broken, and the need to mentally exert oneself was gone. If someone approached him right now and asked him what his name was, he probably wouldn’t be able to answer. For now, he just needed to rest for a while.   

Zayn’s sweaty black slid against the wall as he took on a more comfortable position. He was near naked at this point. His member was out, his boxer briefs stretched around his shins and a pulled-down pair of jeans obscured the dirty socks that were separating the skin of his huge feet from the rank, imposing Adidas running shoes. His beard was itching a little as droplets of sweat made their way through it. He tried to wipe them off, but when he looked at his palm, it was his facial hair that came off. Before he could even blink, the hair had dissolved into the sweat. His arms and chest soon met the same fate, leaving only his pubes untouched by the depilatory secretion. Once bushy and swarming with hair, now only smooth, unblemished skin remained beneath the coat of glistening sweat. Zayn was not even sure if his sight was functioning properly. It’s hard to think right now. When he saw the sheen of the layer of sweat that had almost covered his whole body, it didn’t even cross his mind that his once olive skin had somehow taken on a pale, creamy colour.

The warmth of his body coupled with the room’s temperature had made his ball sack much saggier. Or perhaps it was because his balls had almost doubled in size. He wasn’t in the right state of mind to tell. His cock head felt funny though. The skin around his circumcision scar had expanded downward, wrapping around his cock head to form a long, drooping prepuce. He caressed the covered head with his fingers, and was immediately overwhelmed as his now oversensitive cock answered his touch with immense pleasure and began to ooze out a stunning amount of precum. The size of his dick hadn’t changed much – in fact thanks to the added extra skin it did look like it had gained a bit of length – but the sheer size of his testicles and the sagginess induced by it easily dwarfed the stature of his manhood and made it look relatively tiny.

Zayn’s groggy mind was still overloaded with pleasure that he hadn’t noticed his pubes had turned a fiery red. Elsewhere on his head, the new hair emerging out of his scalp would soon turn out to be of the exact same colour. As the fog his in psyche lifted and whatever that had been causing his intoxicated state disappeared, he felt lighter, much lighter. In mind and in body. The seed of carefreeness had bloomed in his bubbly soul.

As Zayn tried to recollect himself, he realised that he had been in the toilet a bit too long. He hoped no one was prevented from attending to their pressing matter while he was here. Feeling slightly guilty, he stood up and pulled his pants and trousers back on. On his way to retrieve his sweater, he caught his reflection in the mirror.

Looking back at him was a shirtless young man with glinting green eyes. He had lush, wavy locks of red-hair, still damp from an earlier bout of sweating. Freckles dotted his face and most of his pale body, interspersing with the occasional rosy complexion where blood was flowing through his strong veins. The youngster was lithe and fit, though with a certain imbalance in his build. Whatever transformation he had undergone, it had greatly slimmed up his upper body, but left the rest seemingly untouched. Zayn’s thighs had neither lost their definition nor their heftiness. The tight jeans he was wearing still struggled to contain his firm, muscular behind and his engorged genitals produced a visible bulge on the front. He shifted his big feet comfortably in his smelly socks and huge running shoes.

Zayn grinned confidently at himself in the mirror – for this was him, always had been and always will be. Redhead, smooth, freckled, happy-go-lucky. He put on his sweater, which now clung loosely to his body, washed his hands, and made his way out of the loo. The ginger barista hollered upon seeing him:

“Mate, your cappuccino is ready!”

“Alright, cool, thank you!”, Zayn smiled warmly back at the bloke. Within seconds he was back to his seat, bag by his side.

Ah, the smell of freshly roasted coffee beans. And the sight of the cute ginger barista serving it.

Perhaps he should frequent this place more often.

[feinecutasy]

New Tenant

ꜱᴛᴇᴠᴇ stood anxiously in front of the flat. The landlord, ᴘᴇᴛᴇʀ, so far had been very wholesome and welcoming. Almost unnaturally so. The young man’s mind drifted to memories of their first meeting.

---

It was too good to be true. A fully furnished studio flat, right in the city’s centre, with monthly rent not even above 70% of market price. Photos and the description showed nothing unusual – not even a hint of outraging demands or potential contractual traps, aside from a preference for a quiet, not too party-going tenant. The offer had already been up for a week. There must be a catch. An offer this good would have vanished in less than 2 days. There's only one way for Steve to find out.

Steve stood anxiously in front of the flat. Setting up an appointment was relatively straightforward, and the warm and energetic way in which the deep-voiced owner communicated had definitely helped in keeping his doubts at bay. He had imagined Peter Choi, the owner of a flat that was – perhaps not too coincidentally – barely a few steps away from the Korean district, to be some slim, slightly conservative middle-aged ethnic Korean man looking to further increase his hard-earned wealth. The very moment when he heard an enthusiastic „Hi, you must be Steve! I’m Peter. C’mon in!” booming out from within the flat, his preconception was completely shattered.

The man in front of him was an imposing tower of sheer muscles, with pale skin, a buzz cut, bushy eyebrows and a full, even bushier beard. Patches of hair chaotically lined up his chest, a glimpse of which was made possible thanks to the top two undone buttons of his shirt; the poor thing struggling to contain his hefty, herculean pecs. His youthful face was acne-covered, his neck thicker than Steve’s thighs, and his dilated grey eyes not too different from those of a weed-lover after a fat joint. Fortunately, and unfortunately at the same time, Steve couldn’t sense from the man the distinct stoner’s smell, only one accumulated from spending too much time in a sweaty locker room. Still, the signs did little to curb in Steve’s mind the image of a druggy youngster to whom the thought of free time not spent pumping iron would seem greatly outrageous. The brutish built was more befitting of someone who suffers brain damage in the wrestling ring for a living, but nevertheless there was a classical, Michelangelesque handsomeness in his visage, and the faint insidiousness of a shrewd businessman in his manner. And there was also … something else. Something uncanny that Steve couldn’t figure out. Oddly enough, perhaps it was this „something” that had rendered Steve’s instincts dysfunctional, for in other circumstances, he would have immediately bolted away from the sight of such a man and the number of red flags.

Steve convinced himself of the flat’s mint condition after having checked all of its nooks and crannies. The company of Peter was greatly appreciated, as the man turned out to be a great conversationalist. Steve was already hooked, and when Peter said that he would love to have someone calm and understanding like Steve as his new tenant after the last one wrecked his place, he was determined. The generous landlord even offered Steve dinner at a Korean restaurant nearby, and after having all his questions answered („Yes, I took my wife’s last name. Hard to find a pasty white guy with a Korean last name, aye?”, „I know it’s hard to believe, but it’s just genetics. I don’t do drugs.”) and his belly stuffed with soybean stew, kimchi and grilled pork belly, Steve happily signed the tenancy agreement.

---

Steve stood anxiously in front of the flat, bags and suitcases by his side. It didn’t take long for Peter to arrive. The two exchanged greetings and quickly entered the flat. Just like the first time they met, Steve felt unease for no particular reason. A shiver went up his spine as he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, but the discomfort shortly dissipated he was reassured by his landlord’s radiating energy and rambunctiousness.

„This is the key to the flat, this one … for the gate, but you can also use a code. I’ll send it to you on WhatsApp. Much quicker that way, actually. This one for the letterbox. And … I think that’s basically it”, Peter smiled warmly as his he handed the keychain to his new tenant. After having the latter thanked him, he stepped towards the table to fetch something.

„By the way, I brought you some pizza!”

A mix of gratitude and embarrassment momentarily seized Steve. It’s their second time meeting and he was already receiving so much from his landlord. He blurted out a few words of gratitude, unable to hide his excitement upon seeing the pizza box in Peter’s meaty hand. Placing the box right in the centre of Peter’s field of vision, the bulky man opened it with his left hand in one quick, swift motion.

There was no pizza. Inside the box was a smooth, slick, black creature that somewhat resembled the legless amalgamation of an ant and a spider had it not been for the writhing fleshy mass of thin, long tentacles – which looked more like the skinny tassels trailing behind a jellyfish – floating in front of what’s supposed to be it head.  Light bounced off its chitinous carapace, bringing out a vibrant purple sheen. In the place where there were supposed to be eyes, a slit ran across the curved surface, parting the roots of the tentacles into two orderly clusters. The thorax, which connected the head to the rest of the body was in essence a bumpy, ragged, solid and relatively passive hump.  The most striking of its features was the abdomen – a voluptuous, oblong sac covered by a veiny, glossy membrane that revealed strange organs pulsating within a clear gelatinous substance inside.            

When Steve could finally process the outlandish scene unfolding in front of him, it was already too late. In the blink of an eye, thousands of fleshy threads shot out and latched onto his face while at the same time contracting, bringing the creature closer to him. Each of the threads touched the surface of his skin, flattened out before taking on the same colour and texture as his own flesh. They then softly dug into his face, slowly assimilating with his facial nerves. Instinctively, Steve tried to scream, but a wall of flesh was already formed before his mouth, blocking any sound from coming out. His attempt to use his hands to yank the thing away was in vain, for Peter was already keeping both of his scrawny limbs in a tight grip.  

With his sight partially obscured by the wall of flesh that was now linked with his mouth, Steve could see the creature’s thorax split into two, revealing a more organic, fleshy organ slowly making its way out. His eyes could only perceive colourful waves of light hovering above the organ, for his human vision lacked the precision required to notice the row of microscopic, hooked needles slowly protruding out from the creature’s middle. The organ slithered to his side until he could no longer see it, slowly positioning itself straight behind his back. Steve could only feel a slight tickle on his nape, oblivious to the fact that his nervous system was already subdued.

Steve’s eyes dilated. All struggles had ceased. Peter loosened his grip on Steve as the latter’s limbs relaxed. His breath stabilised. The adrenaline rush has been quelled, and his heart rate and blood flow had returned back to their normal paces. Steve looked dully ahead, though whatever his eyes perceived, his brain registered none of it, for it was being distracted by something else. Someone or something was crawling through his mind. Memories in random chronological order flashed on and off abruptly inside his head. Highschool feud. Second job. Drunk on the tube. Lost in the shopping centre. Deployment. First love. Bike incident … He then started to realise that some of these memories weren’t his. He could vaguely made out the personas who owned them. A macho construction worker from Eastern Europe. A young, inexperienced American soldier. A middle-aged Korean immigrant …  All but one sets of memories ended in one exact same moment, which Steve now knew would also become a part of his memory shortly after.

The fleshy wall in front of his mouth pulsated, pushing the creature’s sac pushed closer and closer, until it finally entered his oral cavity. The carapace dropped to the floor, producing a faint clank. The pulsating continued as the viscous, translucent liquid was pumped into Steve’s mouth. His compromised nerves pulled on, gently nudging him to swallow, after which the whole content of the sac was free to travel further inside his body.  

Intense heat spread through Steve’s whole body. His now heavy testicles sagged down greatly as the scrotum struggled to adjust to their new combined weight after the latest influx of extraterrestrial, invigorating material. Acnes broke out over his face and elsewhere on his body due to its unfamiliarity with and inability to process bursts of testosterone in the span of mere seconds. His cock twitched with anticipation, growing longer and thicker; the head swelled, glistening with pre-cum. Alien energy induced extreme growth in all of his cells. His frame expanded, muscles bulging beneath smooth skin everywhere in parallel with his growth in both the horizontal and vertical direction. His clothes were starting to yield. His underwear gave in to his virile front and his ever-expanding muscular rear. His jeans surrendered to his man-crushing colossal thighs. His t-shirt torn from the pressure of his thickening biceps, triceps and the two still swelling hairy mounds of meat on his chest. His body tried to regulate the never seen before amount of intense heat inside but to no avail: the suffocating smell of sweat had already dominated the room, and it won’t be long before his body develops a reeking body odour that no deodorant nor showering could ever get rid of. The flesh wall that covered his mandible earlier had been absorbed into his body. His face took on all the facial features of Peter – his bushy eyebrows and beard, his strong, straight nose, down to his piercing grey eyes that are now still dilating due to the creature’s earlier interference. The fleshy organ that was attaching to his nape finally detached from its shell. The lump of flesh burrowed deeper into his neck, transforming it into an even thicker and muscular one that would put any professional wrestler to shame. His Adam’s apple as a result grew and protruded out a little more to make room for his enhanced voice box, further deepening his voice.    

In the room, two identical hulking men stood face to face, one clothed, one practically naked. Beneath their feet lied an empty pizza box and a carapace of some unidentified organism.  

---

3 years later …

ᴏꜱᴄᴀʀ stood anxiously in front of the flat. The landlord, ꜱᴛᴇᴠᴇ, so far had been very wholesome and welcoming.

Almost unnaturally so.

[feinecutasy]

Bonding activities

It was Connor who came up with the trip idea. „Bonding activities”, he said. John was taken aback by surprise, but reluctantly accepted. Since his wife - Connor’s mom - passed away, it had been difficult to keep on good terms with the younger man. Connor had been doing well on his own, and at that John was glad, but still the debauched and hedonistic lifestyle he led garnered John’s disapproval. Not to mention the company he kept. Hoboes, occultists, transvestites, and lately even escorts. Male escorts. John shuddered at the thought. The last time he tried to warn his step-son about the danger of being around these kinds of people, all he got back were glances of contempt, and Connor stopped speaking to him afterwards. Perhaps this trip would finally mend the growing rift in their relationship after all those years, thought the worrying widow, his mind easing up under the warm water of the shower.

Alas, peace of mind would be the last thing to await the hapless man in the bathroom. On the other side of the door, Connor gazed intently in the direction from whence the sound of running water echoed, ready to realise his schemes. He was clutching in his right hand a dusty, half-opened grimoire. Strange glyphs and obscure symbols neatly ordered in columns filled up the pages where the eyes could see. Still staring at the bathroom with unblinking eyes, Connor lifted up his left arm and began to drag his index finger through the air. The water had stopped; for a moment one could hear the faint sound of a shampoo bottle being popped open. As the last symbol of the opened pages was completely traced by Connor, his body twitched, then abruptly fell on John’s bed, legs still not off the ground. The grimoire dropped from his hand, hitting the floor with a loud ‘thud’.

Disturbed the sound, John threw a glance at the door. Something must have fallen off, but he wasn’t carrying anything that could produce such a sound. In his hesitation, the man didn’t see the spectre of his step-son moving closer towards him with each passing second. He was only starting to notice that the air in front of him seemed abnormally dense, but Connor’s ghostly arms had already made their way into his body. A wave of heat swallowed John, and then everything turned back to normal. But something is wrong. He sensed an alien presence in his mind. It’s as if his mental faculties had been all turned an amorphous blob, and a course, rough hand with millions with fingers were touching and scratching and pushing it at once. He couldn’t resist, for he knew not what even was there to resist. The unprepared mind taken by surprise was crushed under the tsunami of Connor’s will, and, in the span of less than a minute, turned feeble. But just as suddenly as had broken into his psyche, the foreign presence was no more. John was vaguely perplexed. In his mind, it’s not that the invader had gone away, it’s that there was no invasion in the first place. Something disturbing that just happened mere seconds before now seemed so far away, as if slowly slipping away from his very own mind. He no longer felt alert, nor the need to feel alert. Perhaps he just needed to loosen up a little bit. ʟᴏᴏꜱᴇɴ ᴜᴘ.

The word struck his fuzzy brain like a reverberating, disarraying chord. It overfilled his mind, blocking up all other mental processes. Almost like a powerful command. But who is commanding whom? There’s no one here but himself. It’s just a suggestion. ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴀ ꜱᴜɢɢᴇꜱᴛɪᴏɴ. Deep from within his subconsciousness. And he acted in accordance with it. In harmony with it. The water started running again, and every muscle in his body relaxed. At last, the chaos that had been wrecking his mind ceased to be, and order was restored. He could finally focus on enjoying his well-deserved shower. On the pleasant sensations that it brought him. Like water dripping on his body. On his ᴀꜱꜱ. On his ꜰᴀᴛ, ʜᴀɪʀʏ ᴀꜱꜱ. He rinsed off the soap still clinging on his chest. On his ᴘᴇᴄꜱ. His ᴊᴜɪᴄʏ, ʙᴇᴇꜰʏ ᴘᴇᴄꜱ.

These funny words kept bubbling in and out of his consciousness. A minute ago, he wouldn’t have even entertained the thought of uttering these words, let alone using them to describe a man, much less himself. But the soothing voice in his head reassured him. His own voice. His ᴅᴇᴇᴘ, ꜱᴇxʏ ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ. It whispered to him, sending his ego up high with honey-laced, self-loving approbations. His hands soon started to move in tandem with the images manifesting deep within his psyche. “Fat ass”, murmured John as he caressed his magnificent cheeks with his left hand. His index finger traced a line along his taint until it stopped at his hole and started circling around his pucker. “Juicy pecs”, he slurred, hand lightly pressing upon his meaty torso. His cock had risen to full mast as a result of all the touching and groping. But the barrage of words was only just the beginning.

Fleeting images of Connor, his step-son, drifted over his mind. Casually clothed, distant, aloof. Then he was running track around the field. Then he was next to John, sweaty and panting heavily. A sticky rain poured over them. The rain water was gross. ꜱᴀʟᴛʏ. It made John uncomfortable. ᴍᴜꜱᴋʏ. He didn’t want to let it touch him. ʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅɴ’ᴛ ꜱᴛᴏᴘ ʜɪᴍꜱᴇʟꜰ ��ʀᴏᴍ ꜱᴡᴀʟʟᴏᴡɪɴɢ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴅʀᴏᴘ. It’s overwhelming his senses. It smelled like Connor's. ɪᴛ ꜱᴍᴇʟʟᴇᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴄᴏɴɴᴏʀ'ꜱ. Droplets fell over Connor’s blond buzzcut, down over his slim athletic body. The shirt and shorts were no more. The scent’s getting more intense. But John wasted not a single drop. He licked Connor’s inviting pits. His washboard abs. Light treasure trail.

Wet underwear.

Uncut cock.

Hard.

In his mouth.

Deep inside his hole.

His fat, hairy bubble butt.

---

John screamed as he unleashed a torrent of cum onto the bathroom’s wall. The water ran on, but elsewhere, the shower of images of him riding by his step-son's cock had stopped, forever burned into his brain. His very soul. Connor spoke no lies. The trip will end with the two of them getting very close together. Just not in the way John had initially imagined.

[feinecutasy]

A Night in the Park

It's 2:48, and there’s nobody around. Which is not that unusual, now that Daniel was about to enter the ᴇᴀꜱᴛᴇʀɴ ᴘᴀʀᴋ. Lately delinquent youths had found fondness in the park, and after midnight anyone who dared venture further would not come out unscathed. The underfunded local police wouldn’t do anything about it, due to fear of retaliation from more prominent gangs. With the smell of cheap beer still waffling out of mouth, the college student, who just 10 minutes ago was still dancing in the biggest club in town, contemplated if he should after all choose a safer path home when he heard a ꜱᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇ sound behind him.

Walking towards him was a thin, unusually ᴛᴀʟʟ ᴍᴀɴ. Sharp, saturnine features framed his gaunt face; his combed, slicked back hair and styled beard further accentuating the grimness of his expression. He had on him a short sleeve, pristinely white dress shirt with the top two buttons undone, giving bystanders – at this moment only Daniel – a glimpse of the bushy hair on his bony arms and chest. Yellow streetlight reflected off his glossy leather pants and boots as he slowly trod in Daniel’s direction. The man was pretty much insufficiently dressed for a night near the end of autumn. The strange expressionless man would have made for a perfect Slender Man if not for his tanned complexion and unsteady gait. He was dragging behind him a gargantuan, obsidian-black wheeled suitcase. Judging from its height alone, the thing itself could easily fit several adult humans in it without much manoeuvring. There was the typical, albeit barely noticeable sound of wheels rolling on the pavement, but every now and then, the case let out a deep, reverberating ɢʀᴏᴡʟ. Daniel was sure the sound came from the suitcase. As it got closer to him, he could recognise a clear rhythm to the way the peculiar object produced those sounds.

The strange man passed Daniel without even once looking at the latter. Who is he, Daniel wondered. Flamboyant artist after a joyful night at the one and only gay bar in this small city lugging around all of his colourful outfits and makeup kits, or serial killer on his way to dispose the pulverised remains of his victim(s?) orderly stored inside a giant container? Whoever the man was, it seemed that he paid Daniel no mind. As he inelegantly disappeared deeper into the park, Daniel began to follow him. This was, after all, the shortest way home. And now that someone was in front of him, Daniel felt relieved. If the gang of misfits was somewhere around here, they would notice the man and extort him first, leaving Daniel enough time to bolt out of the place. Daniel felt bad that he’s thinking of a stranger, who very likely could be just a gay foreigner unfamiliar with the city and may very well be advancing towards his demise, as ʜɪꜱ meat shield. But then again, if anything bad happened, at least Daniel could be there to call an ambulance.

It didn’t take long before the strange man, with Daniel tailing him from a distance, caught sight of four young men occupying a patch of grass next to the walkway, rubbages and crumpled bottles littered around them. They were chatting loudly with each other, flinging cuss words around every two sentences. Upon noticing the tall stranger, the whole group exchanged glances and quickly stood up and spread around, cornering the man and blocking his path.

The tall man stopped in his track and stayed motionless for a while, before finally starting to speak. “Gentlemen, I have …” – he paused, as if struggling to find words – “… matters to attend to. If there is anything you need from me, please communicate efficiently,” said the man in oddly-accented English. There was a melodic feeling in the way he accentuated his words, a bizarre contrast to his face, which remained void of expressions.

“ᴡᴏᴀʜ ʙᴏʏꜱ, ᴡᴇ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ꜰᴀɴᴄʏ ɢᴜᴇꜱᴛ,” hollered one of the youths with olive skin, who held in his left hand a halfway empty beer bottle. He appeared to the leader of the group. “ᴍᴜꜱᴛ ʙᴇ ᴀ ʙᴜᴛᴛ-ꜰᴜᴄᴋᴇʀ,” said the palest and bulkiest member of the group, who gulped the last drops of beer in his plastic cup before tossing it to the side. “ᴡᴇʟʟ, ɪ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴛʜᴏꜱᴇ ᴘᴀɴᴛꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ʟɪᴛ,” chimed in another, cigarette smoke puffing out from his mouth.  

The group leader stepped ahead. “Hey bro,” he shouted to the man in English. “You have anything? For us?”. He proceeded to make an obscure gesture. Dead silence followed. The man remained still like stone, not uttering a word. “Hey bro, can you hear me?”, said the group leader, this time with raised voice, having casually popped out a knife from his pocket. The rest of the group followed suit. In unison they each took a step closer to the strange man. The latter, in one swift movement, pulled the suitcase towards himself and set it upright. He made a sliding movement across the case, which produced several metallic clicking sounds, before hurling it with superhuman strength towards two of his threateners. In the blink of an eye, the case popped wide open, and Daniel could swear he saw from within it thousands of thin, black threads grabbing at the two men’s legs and arms with lightning speed. The black object swallowed them whole before closing violently, releasing a thundering sound that reverberated throughout the park, then fell to the ground with a loud thud.

The other two remaining members prepared to charge at the strange man, but he was nowhere to be seen. Meanwhile, muffled screams and calls for help from within the suitcase shattered any intention of further searching for its owner. The group’s smoker quickly found himself crouching next to the giant case. “ɪᴛ’ꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ʟᴏᴄᴋᴇᴅ! ᴄ’ᴍᴇʀᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ɢɪᴍᴍᴇ ᴀ ʜᴀɴᴅ!” he shouted at his standing comrade. “ɴᴏ! ɪ ꜱᴀᴡ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʜᴀᴘᴘᴇɴᴇᴅ!” the latter, goose bumps all over his body, retorted with shaken voice. “ᴘᴜꜱꜱʏ!” screamed the former, “ʜᴀɴɢ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ, ɪ’ʟʟ ɢᴇᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴜʏꜱ ᴏᴜᴛ!” he said, and began to lift the top shell up with his bare hands. At last, he managed to get the thing to open. Seeing his two bros whole and well, he smiled victoriously. But then he noticed something slithering beneath their bodies.

And his smile disappeared.     

The ear-deafening sound once again echoed across the park. The last member of the group, whose whole body was shaking uncontrollably, took a few steps backwards, before finally yielding to his instincts and ran away from the scene. 

Daniel saw everything. And he’s thinking. He felt very conflicted. What should he do? Well … what ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ he do? The police won’t come. Call the fire services or an ambulance? Yeah, that’s what he planned. And say to them that three healthy young men somehow got pulled into a gigantic sentient suitcase with black thingies in it? Daniel didn’t have high hope about it. He didn’t like those youngsters, but he’d never wish them death. And that would definitely be their fate if Daniel left this place. He was raised with the belief that everyone deserves a chance. These men were in need of his help. Daniel felt particularly heroic tonight, possibly thanks to the mixture of alcohol and adrenaline in his bloodstream. After having come up with a plan, he finally approached the suitcase.

Daniel took a photo of the deep black object and sent it to his friend who’s still at the club, along with a voice message detailing what happened. Then he knocked the top of the case, saying out loud “ʜᴇʏ, ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴜʏꜱ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ?”. He was responded by weak, muffled sounds from inside the case. Good, they’re still alive, he thought. Bracing himself for the worst, Daniel lifted the top shell open.

Hot, musky air burst out of the giant suitcase. Inside it lied three young men in foetal position. Three half-conscious young ᴡʜɪᴛᴇ men. Pale, sweaty and dressed in their birthday suit. There was no sign of hair on any parts of their bodies except for the heads. Facing the absurdity of the situation, Daniel thought that he might have just got caught in a very elaborate prank. Adrenaline still in his system, he breathed out in relief and asked “ᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴜʏꜱ ʜᴜʀᴛ?”. The redhead in the middle, as if just awaken from his deep slumber, wiped his eyes, and looked at Daniel. Or at least that’s what Daniel thought. It took him a moment to realise that the redhead was actually staring at something else, behind him.

Cold, glowing grey eyes bored through Daniel as he looked up at the towering figure standing at arm’s length away from him. His limbs froze, and with that, the thought that everything was a prank dissipated inside his head. What Daniel feared was true – this man, through or with his suitcase, just warped the minds and bodies of the three men who threatened him minutes earlier and turned them into variants of Timothee Chalamet in that gay movie that Daniel had forgot the name of.

“May I ask, what is your name?” asked the man in a sing-song voice, face still expressionless.  

“Daniel”.

“Daniel, I presume you must be friend with these … gentlemen?” The man half-glanced in the direction of the three naked youngsters.

“No, but —” Daniel didn’t know what to say next. By admitting to him being a stranger to the trio, he was now in no position to ask the man to stop. Perhaps a distraction, would be better? “What did you do to them?”

“Made them more likeable.”

“You changed them against their will!”

“Yes, and?” said the man nonchalantly. Daniel had the feeling that the man wasn’t interested in conversing.

“What’re you going to do to them next?”

“That is not for you to know.” The man coldly replied.

“You overpowered them. They are not armed. Why can’t you just release them? They’re people. They have families and friends too.”

“You seem concerned about their wellbeing despite not being in any way related to them.”

Once again, the man deflected Daniel’s question. He had run out of things to say, and now had to resort to his last option. “Please, whatever you want to do with them, don’t hurt them,” he pleaded, eyes locked with those of the man.

 “Daniel, I do not fully understand this … attachment you have towards these gentlemen. But if you want to save them that much, then how about this? If you could climb inside my suitcase and stay there for six minutes,” he raised his fingers. “Then ᴛʜᴇʏ … shall be ʏᴏᴜʀꜱ,” he softly whispered the last words.

Daniel hesitated for a moment. “You’re going to transform me too, right?”

“I thought that was already obvious,” said the man almost mockingly. “But your … transfiguration    will be of a different nature. I guarantee you will not regret it.”

Perhaps it was the relief that the man had finally offered an ultimatum. Or perhaps it was that the man was somehow influencing him with his oddly melodic and persuasive voice. But whatever reservation that had lingered in Daniel’s mind in the last five minutes was starting to ebb away. “Deal,” Daniel proclaimed proudly. Upon hearing Daniel’s answer, black threads fluttered around the three transformed men and hoisted them up and out of the suitcase down onto the lawn. Daniel was about to climb inside the case when the man interrupted:

“Undress, if you want to preserve that outfit of yours.”

---

Daniel lied down shortly after the two shells of the case shut tight. He was surprised by how spacious and cozy it was inside the case. He actually wouldn’t mind spending 6 minutes just lying here. Just when he thought so, the air around him coalesced and ᴛʜɪᴄᴋᴇɴᴇᴅ. Daniel could feel the weight of the air increasing with each passing moment. Then it got hotter. And damper. Finally came the smell. It’s as if the air of ten locker rooms had been condensed right into this small space. Body odour, sweat-soaked socks, unwashed undies, stinking shoes, and even the faint smell of piss. It’s so putrid that Daniel had to hold in his breath. The smelly air clung to his skin, pressing against his body with increasing pressure. Soon Daniel became overwhelmed by the assault on all fronts on his body, and he gave in.

The torrent of hot, condensed masculinity gushed through his lungs as innumerable odorant particles were seeping into his pores and filling all of his orifices. As Daniel inhaled deeply, his lanky form began to shift and expand. First, his bones grew and his limbs stretched out extensively. His feet were the first to swell, growing larger and broader with each of his breath. Then Daniel felt itchy all over as coarse, dark hair sprouted all over his chest, arms and legs. His once smooth face was now adorned by a thick, bushy beard.

For a short while he struggled to breath as his ribcage broadened to accommodate the growth of his chest. His pecs swelled and bulged, becoming two mighty, hulking mounds of muscles, the valley between them deepening as his mass increased beneath his new coat of fur. As the transformation continued, Daniel's arms also thickened, the veins snaking through his biceps and forearms becoming more pronounced. His hands, too, grew larger and bulkier, fingers curling into meaty, powerful digits. His back exploded outwards and hardened, his shoulder blades spreading wider apart as his trap muscles balloon in size. His lats flared outward, creating a V-shape that pointed down towards his expanding rear.

Daniel’s lower body underwent a dramatic transformation, mirroring his upper half. His glutes swelled to immense proportions, and as time passed, he could feel more and more of his hairy, perfectly rounded, fleshy orbs, packed with dense, rippling muscle touching the suitcase’s bottom shell. His thighs thickened in tandem, the quads and hamstrings bulging with unimaginable strength. His calves also expanded outwards, tendons and veins gaining prominence on the surface of his skin.

The heat intensified, causing beads of sweat to pour down Daniel's newly sculpted body. Each droplet quickly evaporated, leaving behind a residue of salt and pheromones that mingled with the overpowering musk emanating from his skin. As he continued to perspire, Daniel realised that his own scent had become indistinguishable from the original masculine aroma he inhaled. The similarity was uncanny, as if his body was nearing full absorption and replication of the essence of the amalgamation of men whose fragrance initially triggered this metamorphosis.

Daniel's scrotum expanded and stretched down, the skin tightening as his testicles ballooned in size. They descended low in their sack, pulling his heavy balls further away from his body. With each passing second, they continued to grow, until they peacefully hang beneath his rapidly thickening shaft, resting neatly on his tree-trunk thighs. His cock responded in kind, lengthening and girthening in sync with his heart beat. Veins pulsed along its surface as it hardened to full mast, the bulbous head flaring and leaking pre-cum profusely. It bobbed heavily against his thigh as it reached its full, massive size, the musky scent of his arousal joining the miasma of pheromones surrounding him.

Daniel had the vague impression that while his packaged was increasing in size, his body also continued to grow, albeit in a different manner compared to the first few minutes. He was getting ᴍᴇᴀᴛɪᴇʀ. He touched his belly with his new big, strong hand, and sure enough, his abs were no longer as defined. As hair relentlessly kept sprouting on his six-pack, the latter slowly protruded outwards, softening more in the process. Elsewhere in his body, he was still getting more massive, but his new growth was more a mix of muscle mass and fat instead of just pure muscles. Meanwhile on his head, the hot musky air was touching more and more area of his scalp as his hairline receded further up.  The combined stimulations aroused Daniel greatly, and he wanted to moan so loudly. But something was stuck in his throat. He caressed his neck, and realised that his Adam’s apple was protruding out more than ever. He gulped, trying to get used to his new larynx. When he finally managed to let out a soft moan, he was greeted back by a deep, gruff booming voice that echoed throughout the suitcase.

The air around Daniel slowed down and seemed ... ᴛʜɪɴɴᴇʀ. The smell was still there, but he was acutely aware that it is he who is now the source of it. It had become ʜɪꜱ smell. He thought the transformation was finally over, but the sensation on his ass told him otherwise. Thousands of thin, slick, warm threads slithered below him. They crawled around Daniel's lower half then moulded themselves to the contours of his muscular thighs, heavy balls, and thick, pulsing cock. They crossed and merged with each other, taking on the shape of a snug, form-fitting pair of pants. The pants stretch slightly over his swollen ballsack, providing just enough room for them to swing freely when he moved. Daniel gave them a light touch, and thought that they resembled leather, though somewhat slick and seemed to radiate a subtle warmth. Daniel was made aware of how intimately connected he was to the material now covering his lower half. It almost felt like a second layer of skin – a seamless extension of his flesh.

Another wave of sentient threads gathered around his hands and feet, coalescing into a pair of gloves and boots of the same material. As the gloves took shape, they pressed forcefully onto his palms, adapting to his unique ridges, hand- and fingerprints before forming a new row of calluses on the surface of glove. Finally, the threads settled on his feet, taking the shape of knee-high boots. Oddly enough, unlike the gloves and pants, they felt just like normal boots. Which turned out to be weird, at least for Daniel. He would never wear boots without socks.

The suitcase popped open, and Daniel was once again greeted with yellow, gloomy street light. He emerged out of the case a new man, beads of sweat still dripping down his behemoth of a body. He then turned his eyes to the men in front of him. The strange man was sitting on a park bench, hand holding a pen and writing some sort of document. In front of him stood the three transformed men, frightened and naked with hands stiffly placed behind their backs, as if tied by some invisible handcuffs. Daniel was soon yanked out of his short-lived euphoria, and reminded of his original goal – to convince the entity over there to let go of the three men.

“Welcome back, Daniel. As promised, these gentlemen are yours. There is a small problem, however, and I need your help to solve it”.

Daniel’s eyes furrowed. What trickery awaits him?

“You see, I did not bother to ask these gentlemen about their names. But due to your ... interference, now I, as a fleshweaver, have to do a proper transfer of ... let’s say, ownership. I need some names to write into these documents. You, as the new owner, decide the names, as per our custom.”

It took before the implication of the man’s words dawned on Daniel.

“What is this you’re talking about? Ownership? Are you some kind of slaveholder?” he firmly inquired, slightly taken aback by the raw strength of his new voice. “These men are not, and will not be my slaves.”

“Slavery is a primitive concept, Daniel. I do not think you would understand the ... functioning of our society. But since you are not interested, well, then these gentlemen shall enjoy their new life with me, and I am sure they will –”

“I agree,” said Daniel reluctantly, feeling both helpless and angered at the being in front of him, who so nonchalantly toyed with human lives. “What do I need to do next?”

“Three new names. Think of it like a homely christening. You, the loving father, decide the name of your lovely sons. Starting with ᴛʜɪꜱ gentleman,” he pointed his pen at the redhead. A minute passed before Daniel could finally say something. “Adam”, he declared.

The man wrote something on the paper, then swiftly signed. The paper hovered above his palm as blotches of red substance suddenly appeared out of nowhere on its surface. Seconds later the paper had turned a vibrant red, with no intelligible letters or text to be seen. It shrank and crumpled, before being reduced to a small, perfectly round and smooth red ball that fell into the man’s pocket.

The redhead, released from whatever that was holding him, fell into Daniel’s lap. The shivering Adam nuzzled against Daniel’s hairy giant pecs while the latter patted him on the back. The heat that Daniel absorbed earlier while being in the suitcase was now radiating from within his body. The air around him was warm and carried with it his potent scent. The scent that Adam was starting to bask in.

“And, this gentleman?” pointed the man, this time to the blond one.

“Lukas”, replied Daniel, much quicker this time, despite being distracted by Adam, who’s caressing his belly and sucking his nipple.

“With a ‘C’?”

“With a ‘K’.”

“Fair enough”

Soon Lukas joined Adam in worshipping Daniel’s body. While Adam was busy licking Daniel’s sweating armpit clean, Lukas had another focus in mind – Daniel’s lower body. He kneeled at Daniel's feet, gazing up at his enormous, muscular legs with adoration. He ran his hands along the inside of Daniel’s thigh, feeling the power coiled within and tracing downwards the lines of muscle and tendon. His hands ended at Daniel’s sentient leather boots as he suckled it thoroughly and cherished the older man’s odour intensified by and leaking through the sentient material. Both the transformed and newly christened men were now sporting an erection. The last one standing apparently couldn’t wait to join the rest of his gang, for his cock was also at full mast, and he swallowed every now and then to keep himself in vain from further drooling.

“The last gentleman.”

“David,” answered Daniel, after breaking his kiss with Adam, saliva still dripping from his mouth.  

“Done.”

Daniel had never felt this good. And not necessarily because he had succeeded in saving these three men from whatever dark fate the strange man had prepared for them. As the twinkish hands roamed over his body, Daniel felt a sense of euphoria wash over him. Their touch ignited a fire within, each touch sending waves of pleasure coursing through his veins. He's lost in a haze of bliss, his mind clouded by the overwhelming sensations. Their lips on his skin, their tongues in his mouth, it all blended together into a symphony of ecstasy. Daniel's senses were heightened, every nerve ending alight with desire. He moaned softly, the sound vibrating through his chest as he surrendered to the pleasure. In that moment, surrounded by the adoring attentions of these handsome, eager young men, Daniel felt truly divine.

Daniel’s large, calloused gloved fingers tightly squeezed the firm, bubble butts of Adam and David now flanking him and busily exploring every nook and cranny of his armpits, savouring the taste of his masculinity. As their hard cocks pressed onto his thighs, he slowly, teasingly trailed a finger down the cleft of each one’s ass, circling the puckered entrance before dipping the tip of his slick, meaty middle finger inside. The tight hole enveloped his digit, and he withdrew, and thrusted in once again, repeating the motion more enthusiastically as time passed. The twinks gasped and squirmed, pressing back against his inquisitive fingers. Meanwhile, Lukas was done with Daniel’s feet, and his hungry eyes locked on the thick, rigid length straining against the glossy leather pants.

As Daniel’s gloves disintegrated, wet, warm black threads reemerged and wormed their way out from Daniel’s hands still occupied with fingering the twinks. Imbued with Daniel’s essence, they crawled all over Adam’s and David’s rear and groin, dripping his sweat and scent deep into the twinks’ pores wherever they went. The glossy, leathery material once again manifested itself on its new hosts, driving them to manic arousal while its individual threads coiled around and played with their members. Daniel’s now bare hands continued to dominate his partners’ holes while they moaned loudly due to being bombarded with pleasure.  

As Lukas’ lips touched the outline of Daniel’s manhood, the slick black threads slipped into his mouth and wormed down his neck, freeing Daniel’s giant cock from its confines. Pre-cum oozed from the tip, forming a glistening bead that dripped down Lukas’ jaw. The twink leaned in, his hot breath fanning over the sensitive head as he opened his mouth wide. He wrapped his lips around the base of Daniel's cock, his tongue delving out to lap at the pre-cum. Then, with a soft moan, he took the entire length into his mouth. The sentient threads in his throat enticingly accepted the gargantuan tool, causing him no discomfort even with the unimaginably thick girth of Daniel’s member.

Adam and David writhed and moaned, their bodies tensing as their orgasms overtook them. Pearly ropes of cum spurt from their twitching cocks, only to be absorbed completely by the symbiotic material bonding with them. They collapsed against Daniel's sides, panting heavily as the aftershocks of their climaxes rolled through them. Their faces were flushed, their eyes glazed with post-orgasmic bliss. They nuzzled into Daniel's neck, basking in the warmth of his body and the lingering pleasure of their release.

Meanwhile, the Lukas continued to bob his head up and down Daniel's shaft, taking it deep into his throat with each pass. Strings of drool escaped from the corners of his stretched lips, dripping down onto his chin and chest.  With a guttural groan, Daniel's climax hit, his balls tightening as a torrent of hot seed erupts from his cock. It pulsed into the Lukas waiting, watering mouth, who swallowed greedily, milking every last drop from Daniel's spasming member. The twink pulled off with a satisfied pop, his lips and chin coated in a mixture of spit and cum. Daniel's still erect cock slipped from the twink's lips, leaving a glistening trail of semen down his chin and throat.

As Daniel’s essence started to flow within the younger men, he felt their connection to him deepening. This was only the beginning for Daniel. Thanks to his new inhuman vigour, he would soon fill all of their wet, tight holes with his essence, truly marking them his till the end of time.

The tall stranger, still sitting on the bench, observed the group of men for a while before hoisting up his suitcase and quickly disappeared into the darkness.

---

The locals are relieved, now that nighttime in Eastern Park is no longer spoiled by gang members and unruly youths.

The police department meanwhile is dealing with more and more reports of young men missing. After a glance at the foreign-sounding names littered over these reports, underpaid bureaucrats have lazily brushed them off as gang-related killings.

Happiest of all is probably the local gay bar, for lately there has been an influx of handsome, twinkish newcomers who often come to the bar cladded in leather, always in the company of a beefy middle-aged man.

[feinecutasy]

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