Big, Hairy Manly Men & Beasts

Tyler bolted out of bed at the crack of dawn. Muscle memory from the past season hadn’t worn off yet, and he was used to being at practice by 7 am. The first rays of sunlight lit up his bedroom wall, cascading down onto his chiseled body. Ever since he’d started working out in high school, he’d slept shirtless to admire his hard work. Years later as captain of his college lacrosse team he still loved waking up daily to his perfectly sculpted pecs and abs. Today was the first Saturday of his last summer break ever, and he wanted to start the season off right. A mineral spa had recently opened in his college town, advertised as the perfect thing for athletes like him to relax and unwind, to take care of their bodies after pushing them all year long. 

After scarfing down some scrambled eggs for breakfast, he grabbed his swim trunks and towel hopped in the car, eager to have a full day of decompression. Luckily, the spa also opened early, knowing their target market well. He walked through the automatic doors and was immediately transported away from the small town atmosphere. A gentle mist filled the room that smelled of lavender, and there were waterfalls lining the walls that created a soothing background of bubbling water sounds. 

“Hello! Welcome in,” 

A voice broke through the soundscape that Tyler had found himself lost in. He then noticed a man behind the counter at the end of the room. Dressed in a tight black tank top with a name badge, the man was clearly showing off his own built physique as well as his impressive amount of body hair. Thick tufts of hair puffed out from the low neckline and across his shoulders. Tyler was shocked that this spa let its employees dress like this, as well as a little disgusted by the display, but with no other options he approached the counter.

“Hi there, I’m here for, uh-” Tyler paused, looking up at the boards absolutely covered with dozens of different spa treatment options. “The uh, is there one that’s good for athletes?” He asked, giving up on scouring the list.

“For sure!” The man eagerly responded, “For muscle relaxation and care, we recommend the Bruin Bundle, it’s our most potent spa pool, with mineral water from an authentic Hungarian bath house. We guarantee you’ll come out a changed man!” He finished with a laugh.

Tyler looked for that option on the board. It was a bit steep price-wise, but he’d decided to take better care of himself this summer, and that began with putting the money where his mouth was. “Alright, I’ll go with that,” he said assuredly.

“Great, just follow me back to the locker room and you’ll be set,” The man gestured as he walked through a small doorway to the right. 

Tyler followed him into the back, passing by several open doorways to different pools and saunas each with a different look and smell to them. Most were empty but a few had other guys in them, all looking like they were lost in relaxation. As they passed by he even swore he heard some moans echoing from behind. I guess if they’re alone in a spa, he thought to himself. They stopped in front of a doorway leading to a large steaming pool reminiscent of an old world bath house, with ornate stone carving and marble.

“This here is your spa, one of my personal favorites,” the man said with a wink before turning around. “And here is your changing room. We recommend bathing fully nude but it’s up to you, many also use swimsuits. Either way, we hope you enjoy your time here!”

The man then left Tyler alone. He’d never been to any kind of spa like this so he was a tad apprehensive about the whole thing, but decided to try and lean into it and have a good time. He sat on a bench and took off his shirt, shorts, and socks, before stuffing them in a locker. Tyler paused as he stood in the doorway.

“Ah, screw it.”

He pulled off his boxer briefs and threw them into the locker as well. Darting quickly across the hall in case others were walking down, he stood at the edge of the large bubbling and steaming pool. Moisture was already starting to bead on his face just from looking at the water. Without another thought he stepped down into the pool, hot water splashing against his legs as he entered. He decided to sit on one of the ledges a few inches below the water, leaving his upper half to steam. Leaning back, he closed his eyes and let the sounds of flowing water and bubbles lull him to rest.

Some time later, Tyler was roused from sleep by an odd sensation. He’d been at ease with the underwater jets blowing against his legs, but now there seemed to be some resistance, as if his legs were covered in algae. The feeling was strange enough to wake him, and before his eyes were fully focused he pushed himself out of the water onto the dry landing behind him. His heart stopped. His legs were fully coated, not with plants, but with hair.

Thick, black hair blanketed both his legs and feet, his hard earned muscle lying beneath a forest of dark strands that stretched from his toes to his thighs. The back of each toe had dozens of hairs popping out, the tops of his feet were nearly hidden under a field of black hairs, glued to his skin by the water dripping off him. The hair only got thicker and denser as it climbed up over his ankles, swirling around his shins and calves, encircling his legs in a solid mat of fur. The hair continued up over his knees to his beefy thighs, which seemed even larger now than they did before. The vast expanse of his quads served as the base for an endless forest of dark, wiry hair that similarly connected around to his hamstrings, entombing his legs completely in a furry prison. They prickled still, as more hairs continued to pop up all over them, sending shivers across Tyler’s body.

Tyler’s jaw hung open, unable to fully process what he was seeing. His thoughts ablaze with horror, yet he couldn’t bring himself to scream or cry. All he could do was slowly move his hand towards his leg, a deep curiosity taking hold, needing to know what it felt like. His fingers brushed through the thick strands, feeling them stick together from the water caught between them. The sensation was electric, involuntarily causing a soft moan to slip out from Tyler’s mouth. His other hand got involved, and quickly his horror shifted to ecstasy. Something about the steam in the room had got him feeling light headed, worries slipping away as he began to appreciate what was transpiring in the pool. 

The prickling feeling had begun to migrate from his legs upwards. His groin, still dripping wet, began to darken as small black points dotted the skin. Spreading up from his thighs, the pinpricks coalesced around the base of his cock, from where they quickly began growing from dark points into thick hairs. Each follicle activated pushed out a jet black, thick, curly hair, each of which seemed to keep growing far beyond normal. The nascent bush was taking shape, more and more black hairs poking out from his groin as the area in the center grew darker and denser. Tyler’s cock began to inflate, no longer laying hidden under the growing forest of pubes but stretched proudly outwards. He’d always been proud of the size of his cock, a respectable seven inches with decent girth, but it quickly began to push beyond its old limitations. Tyler moaned again as his cock grew past eight, nine, to ten inches, thickening the entire time. Hairs began poking out of the shaft itself, coating the lower part in matching fur to the skin around. 

This was enough to draw Tyler’s attention to his sprouting bush, and while a part of him, deep in the back of his head, wanted to scream, he instead was more turned on than ever before. A large glob of precum leaked from the end of his cock, and he moved one of his hands to grasp the massive member. The other hand migrated from his hairy thighs to his newly hairy groin, feeling the springy, wiry hairs tangling with each other. The forest growing in his crotch continued to spread, hairs sprouting outwards and upwards, a trail beginning to stretch past his navel. The classic triangle filled in, darkening as hairs grew thicker and filled in. Tyler’s breath hitched in a moment of strain. In seconds, his balls swelled to twice their size, stretching his sack to its limit. His scrotum slowly caught up and loosened its grasp, but not before his balls bulged again, forcing a pained groan out of Tyler. He was now left with two baseball sized nuts hanging beneath his cock. Not to be left out, his scrotum began to prickle as the same kinky black hairs erupted across the empty expanse. The hair plunged down, coating his sack before stretching past, his taint sprouting a rug of thick hairs, quickly tangling into an impenetrable mass.

Tyler’s body was awash with pleasure. His newly grown fur felt unreal, and the more he looked at it, played with it, stroked his much larger cock, the more he realized something.

He needed more.

Without hesitation he pushed himself off of the ledge and back into the water, fully up to his neck this time. The hot water swirled around his body, warming him to the core. Bubbles jetted against his hairy legs, drifting up his body. He felt at ease, wading around the pool. Over the sound of the nearby fountains and jets he heard a loud moan from a different spa room, and he couldn’t help but grin. Someone else was having their own transformative moment, and who knows into what.

After a few minutes of soaking, the prickling sensation slowly reared its head again. He could feel it start in his groin, the bush thickening up one last bit underwater. The slight tingle spread upwards, across his abs and up into his pecs. His body shuddered involuntarily as muscle began to grow, his already built body putting on more mass. His chiseled physique, however, started to fade as his body softened slightly, still growing larger but with more fat. Tyler should’ve been horrified at the loss of definition, but in the slight haze caused by the steam he didn’t mind all the much, in fact he saw appeal in this new beefier body.

The grin plastered on Tyler’s face grew larger when he saw dark pinpricks beginning to appear between his pecs. His muscles twitched as dark hairs blossomed from his chest, swirling outwards from his nipples. The waves of hair collided in the center, curling and tangling together between the mounds of muscle that quickly darkened under a growing field of fur. The hairs continued their spread, reaching up over his collarbone and out towards his sides. The budding treasure trail down at his navel had its own explosive growth, with hairs shooting up all across his stomach, connecting up to his chest hair and coating his entire abdomen under a fuzzy rug.

Tyler’s hands started to itch, and he giddily brought them up near the surface of the water to watch closely. Whatever part of him had felt fear and horror at his hirsute changes had been stifled, buried beneath a new laid back, hair loving side of him. His excitement grew as he saw small dark hairs piercing through the backs of his fingers, wiggling as they pushed out longer and longer. The back of his hands began to darker, with hundreds of follicles activating across his hands, shooting out dark hairs that wove together into thick mats. The hairs climbed up over his wrists with no issue, burying the joint beneath a seamless layer of hair. His forearms itched as thousands of hairs began to erupt across them, within seconds the skin was no longer visible at all. Just a solid rug of black hair reaching from hand to elbow, and they weren’t done yet.

His hands cracked slightly as his palms grew and coarsened, his fingers thickened. His forearms enlarged, feeling the effects of years of manual labor rather than gym workouts. His biceps and triceps grew as well but lost definition, softened too like his torso. The upper arms, normally free from hair, were not spared. Dark wiry hairs spread up from his forearm, coating his muscles on all sides before beginning to creep up onto his shoulders.

Tyler felt the prickling sensation climbing up his arms and landing in his pits, growing in intensity as it sat in place. He raised one arm out of curiosity and revealed a quickly growing tuft. Dark hairs were pushing out of his pit at an impressive rate, growing longer and thicker as he watched. The hairs swayed gently in the currents, looking like an undersea ecosystem that was flourishing. Hairs kept popping up, curling and tangling in with the rest, as the armpit tuft spread outwards. The fur connected seamlessly with his arm hair and quickly grew to merge into his chest hair. His pit continued to darken as more and more hairs pushed out, coming up between older hairs and thickening the massive thatch of hair into one that would always poke out. He could imagine the thick curly wiry hairs trapping an incredible amount of sweat, he’d always have a manly musk from now on.

From his pit, the hairs marched upwards onto his shoulder, burying it beneath an inch of hair as vast areas of skin disappeared in mere moments. Like a growing crop field the hairs sprouted evenly and densely across his shoulders, blending into his arm hair and chest hair as it spread towards his neck. His muscles similarly lost definition in exchange for their fur coat, not that any definition would be visible under the thick rug he’d grown. The forest continued its advance, circling his neck entirely before moving down onto his back, the last untouched expanse. Small dark hairs popped up around his shoulder blades, slowly growing into small crescents of thick fuzz. Thick hairs trailed down his spine from the rug growing in across his shoulders, growing down until reaching his ass, where just above sprouted a thick patch of black hair. The rest of his bare skin began to vanish as wiry hairs popped out all over, sprouting quickly and grouping together into tufts, patches, and eventually blending seamlessly into the full back rug.

His ass felt sore as the hair encroached from above. The thick muscular cheeks softened before growing in size. His ass would always be visible now, no matter what pants he wore. Moments later the familiar prickling of hair returned. His plump cheeks grew an even coat of light fuzz, before it slowly darkened and matured into the same thick, wiry hairs that coated the rest of him. Layers of dark hair kept popping up under older ones, until his ass was barely visible under the fur. His crack itched strongly as even thicker hairs burst out, more kinky and wiry than any others. The rug across his back continued spreading around his sides, linking up with his chest and stomach hair as his full body coating only grew thicker and thicker.

As his whole body was covered in thick hair, the currents of the water now pushed and pulled Tyler’s fur coat in waves, the feeling of which was mind blowing to him. The bubble jets in the pool were blowing directly towards his thick bush, now free to sway in the water. Every time he moved the sensation was immaculate, and Tyler couldn’t help but get hard again. He reached both hands down since his cock was long enough to need both, and began to stroke slowly, up and down his shaft. His body shivered. It felt incredible. The warm water coating his dick and his body, the thick girthy shaft needing both hands, the hand under his hands and flowing in the water, it all created an unreal sensational overload. He suddenly remembered, nearly breaking the daze he’d been in the entire time, that he’d missed a spot.

With a quick breath, he dunked his entire head underwater, holding it under as long as he could. About a minute later he broke the surface with a gasp. Even with just a minute of time, the pool water had begun to take effect. A dark shadow coated the lower half of Tyler’s face, stretching down over his neck. His sharp jaw began to round out, cheeks growing heavier. His hair darkened from brown to an inky black, with the hairline receding just an inch or so on the sides. He returned his hands to his cock as a beard began to fill in on his face. He grasped his rock hard member, feeling every inch of his face come alive as follicles worked in overdrive to push out a thick, black hair. His beard crept out slowly, then more quickly as he began stroking it faster. His mustache popped out, hairs erupting from his upper lip as he felt himself getting closer. The hair on his cheeks thickened up, creating a solid strap from side to side that blended into his stache. The stubble crept downwards too, connecting into his thick chest hair, as Tyler’s jacking pace reached a climax. His breathing grew quick, hairs all over standing on end as he felt his massive balls churning. 

With one last pump, his hips began to buck as he shot load after load into the pool water. A roaring moan echoed through the room as he emptied both gargantuan balls straight into the spa. He felt his body bloat, softening even more, belly growing more than anything as his fur coat grew just a little bit denser all over. His cock was still emptying into the water, cum pooling around him as his breathing slowed into a pant. The haze from the intense steam began to lift, but Tyler was no longer the man he was upon walking into the spa that morning. He was bigger, heavier, and far, far hairier. He rubbed his hands through his new fur, enthralled with it still. 

Suddenly, the man from the entry desk walked into the room.

“It sounds like you’re all finished in here, could I interest you in our sauna next?” he asked Tyler with another wink.

Tyler quipped back, a grin plastered across his face, “Only if you join me.”

Porter was naked, masturbating in his warm studio apartment, when someone knocked at his door. He tried to ignore it, focusing on the boobs of the woman in the video on his phone, but another louder knock shook him out of his daze. He slipped on some clothes, quickly washed his hands in the kitchenette sink, then looked through the peep hole in his front door. He saw Mr. Jacobs, the apartment building's repairman, looking expectantly at the door and wearing no shirt.

Mr. Jacobs was a large and hairy man with a reddish goatee. Porter thought the man was in his late forties, over a decade older than him. Porter hadn't interacted with Jacobs much since he moved in almost a year ago, though the repairman had been over earlier that week to fix Porter's AC unit. He was an odd man, gruff yet friendly, as likely to joke with someone as he was to get irritated at them. Porter felt a bit uneasy with the middle aged man in his apartment the other day, as Mr. Jacobs kept staring at him while he thought Porter wasn't looking. Porter was told that a part needed to be ordered to finish the repairs, and he assumed that must be why Mr. Jacobs was at his door at 9:30 in the evening, though why the man's hairy chest was exposed, he had no clue.

Samir loved yard sales. Every year, his town had one, and he couldn't help but spend hours wander throughout, his eyes in the pocket of his oversized sweater vest, enjoying every single knick-knack his eyes could lay on. Kitchenware, tabletop games, furnitures, secondhand clothes, he didn't need any of those. He was mostly here for the kind hearted neighbors and the stories they had to share.

The young man has lived there for as long as he could remember, and the yard sales were all the same. Once in a while, something would catch his eyes, but this was quite uncommon. But not impossible.

There was one neighbor he didn't recognise, an old lady covered in jewellery of all sorts. Might have moved in recently to enjoy the countryside air, Samir thought optimistically.

Curiosity took over, and he approached, looking over the table full of various bracelets, earrings, and other. He had never seen anything like those. They were not your usual jewellery you could find in stores and such, those looked... Ancient. Traditional. Part of something he didn't know about.

Musky and stained clothes? In a thrift store? That's odd, I most definitely didn't do that. Someone must have put them there precisely for someone to find them... Quite curious about what hides behind that. A wifebeater and sweatpants, both definitely a few sizes too big for you, what a weird combo.

Oh, putting them on already? I would have done the same, I'm curious as to what will even happen to you.

The package arrived after three days.

He, a twenty-year-old British guy, with short brown hair and an average build, took it from the postman with a mixture of curiosity and embarrassment. He had almost forgotten about that website. That pop-up that had appeared magically on his phone. "A pair of underwear that will change your life." He had uploaded the photo in his black underwear, the old and worn-out ones, and they had promised him a free pair. In exchange for an "after" photo and a review.

It seemed like a joke. And yet the package was there.

He opened it in his bedroom, with the curtains drawn. Inside, a pair of gray underwear. Dark gray, almost charcoal. Thick, soft fabric that seemed almost rough to the touch. Simple. Masculine.

He took them in his hands. The fabric was warm. Inexplicably warm.

A tingling ran through his fingers. The fabric seemed to vibrate.

A thought crossed his mind: Try them on.

He didn't think twice. He took off his worn-out black boxer briefs. He put on the new ones.

The gray fabric clung to his hips. Perfect. Too perfect. As if they had been custom-made. A sensation of warmth spread from his lower abdomen.

Then it began.

An itch. Insane. On his chest, which had been smooth before. He scratched himself, but the itching got worse. He looked down. Hair was sprouting on his chest. Thick. Dark. Coarse. Growing before his eyes. Scattered at first, then increasingly dense, covering his entire chest.

"Ah... ahh..." He moaned, his voice cracking.

The gray fabric began to tighten. He looked at his thighs. The muscles were swelling. His quadriceps were exploding, his calves widening. The fat on his legs was melting away, replaced by hard, dense fibers.

His back arched. His shoulder blades snapped into place. His lats swelled like two wings.

His hands grabbed the edge of the bed. The bones in his fingers cracked, widened, his knuckles becoming thicker. The tendons emerged like ropes beneath the skin.

His jaw widened. His chin became massive. His forehead lowered, his eyebrows thickened. His nose widened. His teeth clenched.

"Ugh... AH!"

A deep moan. His voice had changed. It was lower, rougher. Almost animalistic.

The hair spread. On his arms. On his legs. On his chest. Thick, coarse, dark. Covering his skin like fur.

His shoulders widened. One meter. One meter and ten. One meter and twenty. His collarbones snapped into place. His arms became trunks. His biceps exploded, his triceps swelled. The veins surfaced, thick as ropes, bluish beneath his now-taut skin.

His chest rose. His pectorals became two massive, heavy shields, covered in thick dark hair. Every breath made them rise and fall.

His abs emerged. A wall of hard flesh, eight squares carved beneath the hair that descended from his chest to his pubic area.

His waist narrowed. His buttocks exploded, two hard and massive spheres.

And his penis. He felt his penis grow. Swell. Lengthen. Become thick. Massive. It pressed against the gray underwear, forming an enormous, heavy bulge. The fabric stretched, almost tearing.

"Ah... fuck... AH!"

One final jolt. His entire body contracted. His muscles tensing. His spine snapping into place. Sweat pouring in streams, copious, hot.

Then silence.

He was still sitting on the bed. But the bed seemed smaller.

He looked at his reflection in the window. He was enormous. He didn't recognize himself.

Broad shoulders, a massive, hairy chest, thick, veiny arms, legs like columns. His face had changed. A massive jaw, a low forehead, a glassy stare. His brown hair had become darker, thicker. A beard had sprouted on his chin, unkempt, bristly. He looked like a thirty-year-old man. A Neanderthal. A modern caveman.

His skin, once smooth, was now covered in hair everywhere. Chest, arms, legs, back. Thick, coarse, dark. He looked like a beast.

He stood up. His muscles were heavy. His body was too large. His hands, which had once been normal, were now paws. Thick fingers, broad palms.

"I... I'm..." His voice was low, hoarse. "...big..."

He looked at himself in the mirror. He raised his arms. His biceps swelled, monstrous. The hair under his arms was thick, black. The smell of sweat filled the room. Strong. Masculine. Animalistic.

He touched his chest. The hair was coarse, bristly. The skin underneath was warm, stretched over the muscles.

A thought crossed his mind. It wasn't a complicated thought. It was simple. Primitive.

I'm strong. I'm big.

He touched his bulge. It was enormous. Heavy. His hand could barely wrap around it. A rush of excitement ran through him.

His brain seemed slower. Words were difficult. But the muscles. The muscles were everything.

He looked at his face in the mirror. The unkempt beard, the dull eyes, the massive jaw. He was stupid. He knew it. But he was strong.

"I... I like..." He mumbled, with a silly smile. "I like being big."

A loud, guttural burp escaped him. He laughed by himself, like a child.

He felt his phone vibrate. A message. He ignored it. There were more important things now. Like looking in the mirror and watching his muscles contract. Like touching his hairy chest. Like smelling the scent of his sweat.

The introverted boy was gone. Now there was a man. A man of muscles, hair, and little brains.

Jared had everything he could want. The looks, the friends, girls drooling over him, the athletic ability... the list went on. The only thing he didn't have was a good grade in his stupid intro to English course. To Jared, school was just an obstacle to the things he would rather be focusing on. His time partying, working out, and practicing on the field were all higher priorities for him. The only thing grades were good for were maintaining his sports scholarship.

"C'mon man, you can't fail me." Jared insisted, "I'll write a stupid essay or something. Ever heard of extra credit?"

Dr. Peters sighed, "Jared, I know you have the potential. You're a bright young man and..."

"Enough with the bullshitting." The young jock continued, "I'm sure I could pass your class if I gave a fuck." His eyes narrowed.

"In all my years of teaching, I've never..." Dr. Peters paused and regained his composure, "Look, I'm sorry Jared, but I can't just change your grade." He put the papers he had been reading down as his phone buzzed, "I'm sorry, I have to take this."

Jared watched as his professor stepped away and the young man sighed. Did he lose his cool? Yeah. Did it hurt his case? Fuck yeah. But he wasn't about to let some washed out, gay English nerd fuck with his life. Jared looked down at the papers Dr. Peters was reading and smirked. Without a second thought, he grabbed it and left the room.

-------------

Was stealing a bunch of papers from his English professor the best revenge he could think of? No, not at all. But when Jared started reading them, he nearly died from laughter.

"Did he write this shit?" Jared smirked, taking in Dr. Peter's handwriting, "Oh my god, dude needs to learn to type. Probably can't even afford a laptop on his shitty salary."

As Jared started to read the pages he had stolen, his expression shifted. He couldn't believe what he was reading.

"What a pervert." Jared chuckled, "This is what you spend your time writing about?" The story was unlike anything he expected. It detailed an intimate encounter between two men - Dr. Peters and an assistant coach named Chris, "You dirty fucker," Jared whispered under his breath.

But he couldn't help but continue to read over each line. The story unfolded with vivid descriptions of a burly, handsome assistant football coach, Chris. The broad shoulders, thick gut, hirsute form- oozing masculinity.

"So that's the type of guy Peters gets off to." Jared mused, "What a…" He shifted uncomfortably as he felt his cock beginning to stiffen, tenting against his jeans, "The fuck…?" He smirked, "Guess its been a bit since I got off…" He whispered.

Jared kept reading, his curiosity piqued despite himself. The story described how the English professor ran a hand through the assistant coach's thick chest hair, tracing the lines of muscle beneath. As he read these words, Jared felt an odd itching sensation on his own chest. He absently scratched at it, not realizing that fine hairs were beginning to sprout across his smooth skin.

He continued to read, now fully engrossed in the erotic tale unfolding before him. The professor leaned in closer to the coach, breathing in the scent of his cologne mixed with sweat. Jared inhaled deeply- he could swear he smelled it too. It was rugged, musky, and deliciously masculine. And it was coming from him. His own musky pits… And it smelled so good…

"What the hell." Jared shook his head, "Alright… time to put this down…"

Jared tried to set the papers aside, but found himself unable to look away. The story had taken hold of him, drawing him deeper into its world. As he read on, the characters' encounter grew more heated. The professor pressed his lips to the coach's neck, feeling the coarse stubble against his face. Jared winced as hairs sprouted from his own jawline, growing thicker until he sported a scraggly, manly beard.

"Wh-what the fuck?"

He tried to lift a hand to confirm what he had felt. But his hands remained stuck in place, holding the story. He couldn't even move his head, forced to stare at the pages and read what was on them.

"I can't move…" He stuttered, "I can't…"

Jared couldn't help but continue to read. Read the description of professor grasping the coach's muscular arms, Jared could feel his own biceps swell and thicken. But he couldn't look. Couldn't see the changes that the story wrought on his lean muscles and athletic form.

"Ohhhh... fuck…" He moaned.

The story detailed how the professor trailed kisses down the coach's chest, circling his nipples with his tongue. Jared gasped, feeling his own nipples harden and tingle. He wanted to look down, to see if they had darkened and enlarged like the coach's, but he couldn't tear his gaze away from the pages. But he could feel his pecs swell, thickening with muscle, while also sagging and softening with age.

"Pl-please let me go…" Jared begged.

He read as the coach groaned, his hands roaming over the professor's body. Jared's fingers twitched, aching to do the same. To explore every inch of someone else's skin, to feel another man beneath him. He shook his head, trying to clear the thoughts. But they persisted, growing stronger with each passing moment. As the characters in the story began to undress each other, Jared felt his own clothes start to come undone and vanish, leaving him completely naked on his bed.

"Feels so good..." The cool air on his warm skin sent a shudder of pleasure through his increasingly larger form.

As Jared read on, he felt his scalp begin to tingle. He tried to ignore it, focusing instead on the vivid descriptions of the characters' bodies pressing together. But the sensation grew more intense, spreading across his entire head.

He gasped as he felt strands of hair loosen and fall away. More followed, clinging to his fingers as he reached up to feel the thinning locks. Panic surged through him, but he couldn't stop reading. The story described the professor running his hands through the coach's thinning hair, and Jared felt his own recede further, revealing more of his scalp.

"No… please no…" He whimpered, but the words came out slurred and weak. His voice was changing too, deepening into a gravelly rasp. He could hear the difference, but couldn't process what it meant.

Jared's eyes widened as he felt a sudden burst of heat across his skin. The story detailed the professor trailing kisses down the coach's chest, across his hairy belly and lower still. Jared gasped, feeling coarse hairs erupt across his own once-smooth torso. They sprang up everywhere - his chest, back, shoulders. He felt like a walking carpet, covered in a thick pelt of dark fur.

"I can't be becoming him... I can't be.... fuck..."

Despite the alarming changes, Jared found himself growing more aroused. The descriptions of the characters' bodies pressing together, their sweaty skin sliding against each other, filled him with a primal hunger. He craved that closeness, that intimacy. He wanted to feel another man's strong arms around him.

"Oh fuck that… I'm not gay…" The pace of his breathing had quickened, his mind was racing as he tried to process the changes, "I'm Jared. I'm not…"

The story described the professor reaching down to grasp the coach's throbbing cock, feeling it pulse in his hand. Jared moaned, his own member responding in kind. It lengthened and thickened. Pre-cum leaked from the tip, dripping down onto his furry thighs. He couldn't believe how sensitive he had become, how desperately he needed release.

"I need… I need…" He whimpered, but he couldn't find the words. Couldn't articulate the burning desire coursing through his veins. All he knew was that he craved another man's touch. Craved the feeling of being filled, of being used.

Suddenly, he felt a presence behind him.

Strong arms wrapped around Jared's waist, pulling him back against a solid, muscular frame. He gasped, his eyes snapping open as he realized he was no longer alone. Realized he wasn't even in his dorm room anymore. He was in a bedroom. Their bedroom. Their? No he was… he was… His eyes widened as the papers in his hands vanished, as the the story's words faded away, instead replaced by reality.

"W-what the fuck?" He stammered, trying to turn around. But the arms held him firmly in place.

A low, husky voice rumbled in his ear, "I love you, babe."

Jared froze, recognizing that voice instantly. It was Dr. Peters. But how?

Before he could process it further, he felt the older man's hand wrap around his throbbing cock. Fingers closed around the base, squeezing gently. Jared cried out, his hips bucking involuntarily.

"Yes, right there," Jared heard himself say, but the voice didn't belong to him. It was deeper, gruffer, and laced with lust. He tried to open his mouth to protest, but no sound came out. Instead, his lips formed a smile as he pushed back against Dr. Peters' hand.

Panic surged through Jared's mind as he realized he wasn't in control of his own body anymore. He was trapped, watching helplessly as the assistant coach persona took over. The one from the story.

"Please, don't stop," Coach moaned, his hips rocking in time with Dr. Peters' strokes. "I need you inside me."

As Dr. Peters guided him towards the bed, Jared's vision blurred. The last thing he saw before darkness claimed him was a wedding band glinting on his own finger. Memories flooded his mind - memories of a life he hadn't lived. Of loving Dr. Peters, of being loved by him. Of countless nights spent entwined in each other's arms, of waking up to the older man's warm embrace.

-----------

"Babe? Babe?" Jared stirred awake, his eyelids fluttering open. He blinked groggily, trying to orient himself. The last thing he remembered was… what exactly? Something about a story... about Dr. Peters… No... Evan. His husband...

"Thank god, you passed out," Evan said, relief evident in his voice. He sat on the edge of the bed, a concerned look etched on his face. "I was worried sick about you."

Jared frowned, confusion clouding his mind. Passed out? Worried? What was going on? He glanced down at his hand, noticing the wedding band for the first time. It was gold, simple, but unmistakable. He lifted his hand to examine it, but Evan caught his wrist gently.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Evan murmured, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on the back of Jared's hand.

Jared found himself nodding along, allowing Dr. Peters to guide him towards the bathroom. As they walked, Jared inspected his body. The thick chest hair, the broad shoulders, the paunch around his middle. None of it made sense. He was supposed to be a fit, muscular college athlete, not this… not this…

"Babe?"

As Jared looked at Evan, something clicked into place. The concern in his eyes, the gentle touch of his hands, the familiarity of his voice - it all fell together like pieces of a puzzle. This was his husband. His lover. The man he had built a life with. With a swift movement, Jared pushed Evan backwards onto the couch, pinning him beneath his weight. The older man yelped in surprise, but quickly melted into a pleased smile as he felt Jared's erection press against his thigh.

"We can't just leave it hanging like that, can we?"

Carson hated going home for the holidays. He was young, skinny, popular, and absolutely killing it in New York City. His life had improved tenfold since leaving the small country town he’d grown up in, and going back only reminded him of all the terrible memories. The years he’d spent getting bullied for being bad at sports, for not being manly enough, and being hairless, they all rushed back to him as he was in the car from the airport. It was a long time to think about it all too, since the closest airport was two hours away. The memories of jocks ostracizing him, the years of not feeling like he belonged all flooded back, His family was excited to see him, and he made small talk during that long car ride, but he couldn’t help but feel ripped away from the world that appreciated him.

Upon reaching his old family home, he was bombarded with greetings and hugs from his entire extended family, all of which had arrived before him since they lived within ten miles of each other. After what felt like an eternity, Carson was finally freed to go up to his old room. He tossed his suitcase on the ground and flopped onto the small bed. That was an exhausting ordeal, and he had several more days of it before he could escape back to the city. After a bit of rest he rallied and headed back down to dinner, where he put up with another round of ceaseless questions about what he’d been doing all year. Some were genuine, but many felt targeted, as if he couldn’t be making an honest living and supporting himself in the city. It wasn’t worth an argument though, so he just let the attitude wash over him without response. Another eternity later, he ducked out to his room again, promptly falling asleep after a long flight and even longer day.

The next day was Christmas, and the noise of a dozen relatives chatting downstairs quickly woke him.. He quickly showered and put himself together before his mom had a fit that he wasn’t down with everyone, and joined the fray. His family had always done presents in the morning, right before a huge feast for lunch, and this year was no different. He was scared at what his extended family had gotten for him, for the twisted version of himself that lived in their heads. Carson himself hadn’t bothered to get gifts for anyone, but played it off as “his presence was a gift,” which sometimes got a laugh. They went around and around, everyone gifting the others some crap from a local store, and Carson struggled to stay awake. So far he’d gotten some clothes he’d never wear, a collection of books he was into as a kid, and a bunch of seasonal chocolates and sweets. Overall, not awful. That was when his uncle, Jack, piped up.

“Hey kid, I got somethin’ for you this year. It’s out in my truck, why don’t you follow me out there,” he gestured. 

Carson couldn’t remember the last time he’d even interacted with uncle Jack, much less when he’d gotten a gift from him. Jack was a rancher, always out tending to his cattle and working on his ranch. Carson had seldom seen Jack when growing up, and he rarely made it to family events. He picked himself up off the floor and followed his uncle outside, suddenly feeling the two glasses of wine he’d already had that morning. Stumbling slightly, Carson met his uncle outside the garage, where he was digging in the backseat of his truck. 

“It’s in here somewhere I swear to-” his muffled voice barely registered. “Ah! Here it is.”

Jack reappeared from the truck with a large, worn cowboy hat. 

“This ‘ere was my first purchase after inheriting the ranch. I want you to have it now.” Jack said in a deeply sentimental voice, handing the hat to Carson.

“Uh, thank you,” is all Caron could get out, unsure exactly how to respond. This gift was off the deep end, in what world would he want this?

“Well? Try it on!” Jack said with an eagerness that made Carson feel almost guilty. He put the giant hat on, feeling ridiculous as it clearly didn’t fit right.

Jack laughed, “Lookin’ good, son! Maybe you’ll carry on the family ranch one day lookin’ like that!” he slapped his knee, getting a kick out of his own joke. He stepped over and patted Carson on the back, “I’m glad you like it,” he said so earnestly that a knot swelled up in Carson’s throat. He hated it but didn’t have the heart in the moment to say anything, so he just walked back inside looking like a misfit cowboy.

The room had quite a few comments when they reentered the den, and Carson tried to just suck it up and get through the day. He tried to take it off and stash it away during lunch, but after some devil eyes from his mother he put it back on. Strangely enough, it fit a little better that time. He left it on the rest of the day, nearly forgetting about it by the evening, reminded only by the grins and winks from Jack across the room. When getting ready for bed, he saw it still on in the mirror and laughed, he still looked ridiculous. He did, however, hang it neatly in his closet before passing out for the night.

When the next morning rolled around, the sunlight shone through the blinds and onto Carson’s face. He stretched and slowly opened his eyes, feeling less groggy than usual. Rolling over in bed, he reached towards his side table, feeling around for something. Not his phone, something else. After a couple seconds he came to his senses and got up, heading to the bathroom to shower. For a moment under the warm water he pondered what he had been reaching for in a fuzzy state, and couldn’t seem to place it. He grabbed some old jeans and a jacket from his closet and threw them on, before taking the cowboy hat off its hook and putting it on effortlessly, as if he’d been doing it for years. He barely registered the fact he’d put it on until walking downstairs and receiving a confused look from his mom. Carson wrote it off in his head as trying to be nice for his uncle who’d shown up again that day.

The day was another fairly standard family get together, with lots of eating and drinking involved of course. Carson felt like he was in a better mood today, talking with everyone came a little easier, and he was especially eager to chat with Jack more. They even sat in the sunroom and shared a beer that afternoon. Carson hated beer, or so he’d thought, but it seemed so natural to drink.

“I’m glad you like the hat, son,” Uncle Jack said whilst they were both sitting together. “You look like a natural in it, matches the scruff you’ve got growing real nice.”

Somewhere in Carson’s head, alarm bells suddenly started going off. Scruff? What did he mean by that? Carson excused himself briefly to use the restroom. He flipped the lights on and stared at himself in the mirror. Jack was right. Carson’s face was covered in a good few day’s worth of stubble. His jaw nearly dropped, he’d never been able to grow any facial hair, and now suddenly he nearly had a beard? His hand slowly raised up, feeling the coarse, bristly hairs that were poking out of his jaw. Brown stubble stretched from ear to ear, with a light mustache beginning to come in as well. Carson was floored, but a sensation of ease swept through him before he could panic.

Y’know, he actually looked pretty good with it. Jack was right about the hat too, it worked as a look. He could almost pass as someone who lived around these parts, if only looking at his head at least. Questions about how it’d happened faded, as it just felt natural to have the scruff. As his hand felt around his face he didn’t even register how hard he was getting. He looked better with stubble than without, he thought.

Carson returned to Uncle Jack in the sunroom acting like nothing had changed. This was how every holiday went, right? The two continued their banter, conversation slowly shifting away from Carson’s life in New York and towards Jack’s life on his ranch. In what felt like just minutes, the day flew by, and Carson’s mother was calling them in for dinner.

Unbeknownst to Carson, while he’d been sitting out with his beer, his body had been doing more than growing a little stubble. His slender legs began putting on some never before seen bulk, toned calves and bulky thighs emerged and pushed against his originally loose-fitting jeans. His feet grew sore as they expanded, stretching his shoes and socks tight as his size grew from a 10 to a 14. Small wispy hairs started to push out of his toes, just a few at first. The hairs spread over to the top of his feet, where the newly expansive room allowed the hairs to thicken, darken, and grow longer. Within minutes he had full hobbit feet, hairs pushing out between each other, poking through the fabric of his socks as they stretched thinner. The hairs moved upwards, swirling around his ankles and onto his calves, where skin quickly vanished beneath a tidal wave of hairs. Thick strands popped up rapidly, tangling together as they wrapped his lower legs in a blanket of fuzz before climbing up his knee, the joint itching slightly as hairs pushed out of any available skin. His now enormous quads were next, acting as the fertile ground for a bounty of hair to crop up, stretching solidly across and growing denser and thicker with every minute. Patterns emerged as hairs crawled along his skin, before vanishing as the hair thickened and puffed up, curling into an impenetrable mat.

Carson sat through dinner, entirely unaware of the goings-on beneath his jeans. He only noticed how much better a mood he was in today than yesterday, enjoying the time with family and not missing his own apartment and friends nearly as much. Talking with the family members began to feel less like catching up and more like regular conversations. After a long hearty meal, Carson excused himself to head to bed. He had an early morning planned with Jack, going out to his ranch to see it himself. It’d been many years after all, and Jack was eager to get Carson more invested in his business. 

Carson headed upstairs, getting ready to hit the sack; he was strangely exhausted after a day of not doing much. He took off the cowboy hat and nearly put it up in his closet, before correcting himself and placing it on his nightstand. He sat on the edge of his bed and pulled off his jeans which were overly tight at this point, revealing his fur coated legs. Carson didn’t bat an eye at them, he’d had hairy legs for years. He remembered getting teased at school when wearing shorts for how hairy they were! Of course he didn’t care anymore, he loved how hairy they were. He felt strong, more masculine with them exposed, slabs of muscle covered in coarse hair. Thick fur sticking out of his socks turned him on a bit, he realized that long ago, but he could also appreciate his huge hairy feet themselves. Before he could get too distracted he finished changing and hopped under the covers, setting an alarm for early the next morning.

The sun had not even begun to rise yet when Carson’s alarm blared. Waking up at this hour used to be reserved only for the worst timed flights, but this time he didn’t mind. He rolled over in bed, reaching for his side table once again, this time finding the hat he’d left. His body felt at ease as he put it on first thing. He threw on some jeans, making sure they fit better this time, a shirt and thick jacket. Before leaving he put on some decent snow boots and quietly left the house. 

Jack was waiting for him at the end of the driveway, truck and all. The exhaust was steaming in the bitter cold morning. Carson hopped into the passenger seat, fully energized.

“Mornin’ son, ready for this?” Jack asked.

“Damn right I am,” Carson responded eagerly, “It’s been far too long.”

The drive out to Jack’s ranch took over half an hour. The sun had started to peak above the horizon when they pulled through the gates and over the cattle grid. Jack parked up by his house, and the two hopped out into the snow and mud. Jack spent the morning showing Carson around the ranch, introducing him to the cattle, and showing him all his gear he’d invested in. A small part of Carson was shocked that he was here, enjoying the ranch tour. A week ago you couldn’t pay him to visit the ranch. Now, he was just plain excited. 

Trudging through the snow had Carson really working up a sweat underneath his layers. Getting a workout like never before, his body started to adapt. His chest tingled as pecs began to form for the first time, muscle gathering and pushing out two firm mounds. His cock throbbed in his jeans as his nipples perked up, rubbing against the material of his shirt as he moved. His stomach gurgled as abs inflated down his torso, imprinting their outline on his slim but growing frame. His shoulders stretched his jacket as they widened, bulking up as muscle worked its way down his arms. Biceps and triceps inflated, filling him with new strength, and his forearms and hands grew to match. If Carson had been paying attention he might’ve noticed the warmth and sensation coming from his chest, but he was too enamored with his uncle showing off his old rodeo gear.

Underneath his flannel shirt, between his new pec muscles, hairs began to pop up. At first they were short and wispy, barely visible against his skin. They clustered in the center of his chest as a light patch of fuzz, followed shortly by similar hairs poking out around his nipples. His skin prickled as the hairs grew thicker, follicles maturing to push out real adult hairs. The patch of hair darkened as it spread, hairs pushing out longer and thicker, laying flat against his muscular chest at first before they curled away, pushing out against his shirt. The sensation of thick hair rubbing against the fabric sent chills through Carson’s body, but he simply chalked it up to the frigid air outside. But beneath his layers of protection against the cold, he continued to grow his own. Hairs blossomed across his pecs as they surged out from his nipples. Swirls and spirals developed as the hairs slithered out across the mounds of muscle, slowly curling and tangling together as they lengthened. Skin vanishes beneath whorls of hair as his follicles activate in hoards across his chest. The distinct patches of hair blend together, uniting his pecs under a blanket of ever thickening fur. Hairs continue pushing out further up his chest as well, climbing up and over his defined collarbone. A lone dark hair curled bravely out of the collar of his shirt, tasting the frosty air for the first time.

Jack spied Carson’s burgeoning chest hair as it poked out of his shirt collar and couldn’t help but grin. He knew he’d given the hat for good reason.

“C’mon boy, I need your help moving some gear for today,” he barked at Carson, who quickly pulled himself out of the corner full of rodeo trophies.

“Yessir,” he responded. Another grin from Jack.

The two spent the next few hours moving hay and feed from storage as the sun attempted to break through the thick winter clouds. Carson was initially surprised at how much he could carry, but memories trickled in of years of weightlifting. Of course a little manual labor was no big deal. His biceps began to swell again, even more muscle growing in the span of minutes. His shoulders became true boulders, delts stretching and pulling as they created an increasingly dark and damp recess beneath. Despite the cold air, he was working up a real sweat for the first time in years, liquid dripping down his increasingly large muscles and pooling in his pits. The thick sweat soaked into his armpits as he worked, leaving a musky residue on his skin and a tingling sensation bubbling up underneath. 

His barren pits darkened as prickles of hair erupted from the smooth skin. Dark pinpricks elongated into wispy hairs, brushing up against his cavernous muscles as they pushed outwards. The hairs twisted together, thickening as sweat flowed down their ever increasing length. Carson lifted a particularly heavy bundle of hay, hairs squeezing out further as he grunted, exerting his whole body in the effort. If he’d been paying attention he could’ve noticed that each movement of his arms came with more friction as hair filled the space between arm and torso. Sweat and musk filled the dark caverns between muscles as hair inched out every moment, vying to fill every open pocket. Dark hairs grew thicker, wirier, tangling together as they kinked and curled outwards. The hair spread outwards, crawling out from the recess and curling around his biceps and chest as pit hair blended into a growing mat coating his torso entirely. The deepest crevices began to truly reek as sweat coalesced, the hairs bathed in testosterone laden juice taking on an even thicker texture. More hairs poked out between the old ones, barely able to fit as the jungle filled out. His biceps swelled more as hairs brushed against the fabric of his jacket, fully pushing out of his shirt and beyond.

After what felt like an eternity of heavy lifting the pair finally finished, pausing their labor for lunch. Carson felt the icy contrast of sweat dripping down his forehead and freezing from the cold blasts of wind, but instead of groaning about it he grinned. He felt truly alive working hard like this. Jack saw the look on Carson’s face and mirrored it on his own. As the two headed inside to eat, they shed their heavy layers by the door. Just in a few hours, Jack could see how much Carson had bulked up. His flannel was bursting at the seams, thick hairs splaying out of his collar and creeping out of his sleeves.

“Looks like you’ve been hitting the gym, boy,” Jack said, giving Carson a look up and down. “Why don’t you flex and show me?”

Carson paused. The old him would’ve been mortified. Flexing in front of his uncle? And what did he mean by that anyway, he’s been slim his entire life. But that side of Carson had taken a back seat. A smile crossed his face instead.

“Sure have, glad you noticed,” he said, curling his arms up. His newly developed biceps pressed against his shirt, straining the fabric instantly. The threads pulled apart as thick hairs popped out, his shirt giving way to his overly masculine form. His pecs swelled in size once more, popping the top button completely off the flannel. His chest barreled out, hair pouring from between each side of the shirt. His stature had shifted too, growing a few inches taller. The shirt rode up on his torso now, revealing his still hairless stomach. His body shivered slightly as the wispy translucent fuzz acting as a treasure trail caught the chilly draft from outside.

Jack laughed. “We’ll have to get you a new shirt there. Looking good though, son,” he said with a wink. He walked over to the closet and pulled out an old work shirt that he thought would fit Carson and tossed it to him. “Go try this on and I’ll throw some lunch together for us.” 

Carson took the shirt into the bathroom, struggling to take off his old flannel from how tightly it clung to his form now. He eventually got it off, letting it slide off his bulky shoulders and onto the floor. He looked at himself in the mirror, seeing a very different man from the one he’d woken up as that morning. The man in the mirror should have been a stranger, but the longer he stared the more familiar he became. As he gazed over his body, the shadow formed by the overhang of his new pecs darkened as wiry hairs erupted across his torso. As the forest on his chest grew denser, the southern front pushed out, a trail of thick dark hairs pushing out on a mission towards his navel. His newly visible abs were hidden behind a growing carpet of hair that stretched out from the thick trail. He should’ve been alarmed, terrified at the changes taking place across his body, but no such thought even crossed his mind. His old body was being overwritten by his new one, he’d always looked like this, it felt natural. 

He undid his belt and jeans to take a piss while he was waiting for lunch, sliding his sweat soaked underwear down out the way. Looking down at his crotch, memories flooded in. He remembered the panic when he was younger and saw the first dark curls poking out from his body. He’d grown a rug long before any of his friends, and he’d remained ahead of the pack in that sense ever since.. He chuckled to himself, imagining if his younger self could see him now. As if manifesting it, the wispy cluster of hairs above his cock began to darken. Pigment flooded them as they thickened up, curling with texture they’d never had before. His groin warmed as testosterone flooded the area, follicles waking to the call long awaited. Dark spots appeared across his crotch, radiating out from the existing hairs, creating a spreading shadow that began to take shape. Each pinprick pushed out a thick, dark hair, strands emerging from the skin like a field in bloom.

Carson slid his hand over the growing bush, nascent hairs tickling his fingers as they twisted and curled. The forest of hairs grew and spread, filling out his crotch with a full triangle of hair, growing denser beneath his touch. Like a timelapse the hairs grew longer and thicker, blocking out the skin beneath as his bush developed into a true jungle. The edges blurred as hairs climbed onto his thighs and crawled up his stomach, merging seamlessly with the coating of hair over his abdomen. He’d long since finished peeing but had gotten distracted feeling the growing hairs. Another memory of his new life appeared in his mind, from the locker room in school, the first time another guy had pointed out his pubes. They’d grown so much the hairs had curled up and over his waistband, a sign of his newfound manliness on display. 

As he reminisced, his bush puffed up to match, hairs exploding outwards from his groin. His cock twitched as it snaked out longer, hairs beginning to climb up the base of the shaft. The sensation of coarse hairs brushing through his fingers quickly aroused him, blood rushing to his cock as it grew. His hand transitioned from pulling at the hairs to fully gripping his cock as it hardened, the newly grown short hairs prickling against his grasp. He looked up at his reflection again, seeing the hairy, built man still rocking the cowboy hat. It felt right. 

He stroked his hand up his shaft, sending waves of pleasure rocketing through his body. In that instant, his balls truly dropped. Carson involuntarily moaned as his balls swelled in size, engorging to the size of large eggs dangling below his furry crotch. The wrinkly skin looked odd in comparison, until the hair began to make its way down. His enormous testicles quickly vanished as thick wiry hairs sprouted from his sack, engulfing it in an impenetrable cage of dark hair. It was as if his pubes had reached down to claim them, coating the expanse in a continuation of the thick jungle above. His hand jerked quickly up and down, precum budding at the tip of his cock as hair thickened all around it.

“Food’s ready!” Uncle Jack’s voice called from the kitchen, falling on deaf ears. Carson was lost in himself as his groin felt like the center of the universe. His breath quickened as his hand increased its tempo. His cock thickened, pressing out against his tight grip as he jerked off, precum dripping down his shaft. The sensation of hair pushing out across his groin was electric, it felt masculine, it felt primal, it felt natural. His cock pushed out longer, growing past seven, then eight inches as he brought in his other hand to help. The hairs on his shaft lengthened as well, climbing higher and higher up his member as he stroked. Carson moaned again, not noticing how his pitch had deepened since he’d started growing. 

Jack knocked on the door to the bathroom, but Carson once again failed to notice. His breaths grew ragged, cock reaching past nine inches as his pubes glistened with the precum constantly leaking from his tip. His massive balls tensed up, ready to release. Strokes grew sloppy as precum lubricated his shaft entirely, until finally his body gave in. With a body enrapturing clench his cock erupted, cum blasting out all over the mirror in front of him. Load after load shot out, covering the glass and counter as the arc of his shooting changed. The loudest moan yet involuntarily slipped out as Carson was overcome with the most intense orgasm of his life. The last remnants of his old memories leaked out with the last dribbles of his cum, splattering onto the tile beneath him. His body buzzed with energy as the feeling echoed throughout his frame. Through the cum painting the mirror he could see part of his face reflected, a grin plastered across his face as he felt content.

Eventually the orgasmic state began to wear off, and Carson remembered that he was late for lunch. He quickly pulled his pants back up and buckled his belt, his uncle’s shirt fitting perfectly on his newly bulky frame. Promising to clean up his mess later, he walked back into the kitchen unsure if Jack had heard his moans from earlier, but he also didn’t truly care. Jack had a smirk plastered on his face when Carson entered, which told him everything. 

“Lookin’ sharp, buck,” Jack said upon looking at how his old shirt fit on the young man. “Now, I made us some sandwiches, dig in.”

Carson sat down and began scarfing down the sandwich. It was a messy meal, but once again he didn’t seem to care much, this wasn’t a fine dining restaurant. Sauce leaked all over his face as he crammed the food down, he was absolutely starving after hours of hard work. Jack looked up over his own lunch, staring intently at his nephew’s face as he ate. From beneath the smear of mayo, the light stubble began to thicken. Starting on his upper lip, the soft skin prickled as stubble darkened into a thick shadow. The hairs slowly pushed out, a thick mop emerging from his face as a true man’s stache came into being. A dark, dense wave of hair flowed out of his lip, growing longer as it curled down, completely covering his mouth. Jack couldn’t help but crack a smile, remembering his own youth when he’d had a thick stache for years. 

Carson’s face itched as his jaw widened, bones defining and growing into a sharp jawline. The hairs from his stache began to trickle down the sides of his mouth, a dense five o'clock shadow developing, spreading from his mouth out over his cheeks. Within moments, his face was awash with a thick stubble, more than anything he’d ever grown before. The stubble lengthened, hairs pressing out of his face in a continuous layer. His cheeks vanished beneath an extruding layer of hair, growing thicker and coarser as follicles became drenched in testosterone. Stubble turned to short beard as his sideburns flared out, connecting up to his ever darkening hair on his head. His new jawline disappeared beneath the onslaught of wiry hairs, pushing longer and longer as his beard inched out from his face. The hairs grew thick, dense, and dark as his beard continued to grow, stubble crawling up his cheeks and down his neck, threatening to merge with his chest rug. By the time Carson had finished eating, he had a bushy beard to rival most cowboys, dark and impenetrable. It was a clear and solid silhouette of hair, oozing masculinity as he wiped the last of his sandwich from his mature mustache.

The two cleaned up lunch and quickly got back to work. The sun hung fairly low in the sky despite it being midday, the harsh rays bouncing off the snow. Carson’s originally bulky winter jacket fit snugly now, wrapping his built form as he worked clearing snow and ice. Despite memories of working hard at the gym and even harder at the ranch slowly filling his mind, the labor never seemed to get easier. Within minutes he was sweating his ass off once again, feeling frostbite on his face and like he was in a sauna under his coat. He could feel the sweat running down his broad, muscular back as he heaved the shovel back and forth. 

Where his sweat trickled down his spine, small hairs began to bud. Starting from his already furry shoulders, hair cropped up moving down towards his shoulder blades, where patches of dark fur quickly began forming. Dark hairs traced down his spine as smooth skin ceded to the hair, thick strands popping up across rapidly roughening flesh. His lats hardened as curly hairs framed them before fully covering the expanse of muscle, connecting into the thick trail leading down his spine towards a burgeoning puff of hair above his ass. The hairs at the base of his back billowed out, growing thicker and curlier than the rest, mirroring the monstrous bush in his groin. The hairs quickly breached south of this patch, engulfing what was once a smooth backside in record pace. His ass itched as fields of dark hairs cropped up, swirling together over the plump expanse. He reached a hand back to scratch at it as the hairs began to concentrate between his cheeks, darker and thicker hairs sprouting as his crack grew sweaty and rank. Inky black hairs pushed out from around his hole as it steadily grew tighter and more sensitive, feeling the brushing and scratching of the thick coils surrounding it. His upper body was sealed beneath a thick layer of fur, stretching from ass to beard and back, insulating him against the frigid cold.

After another couple hours of gruelling work he’d finally hit his limit for the day, and both him and Jack called it quits. Jack lit a fire in the fireplace and poured them both a cold beer to enjoy.

“Cheers to an honest day's work, son,” he said, raising his glass. “You know, that hat really does fit you, I’m glad you took to it so well.”

Carson was beaming. He felt incredible, despite being exhausted. He was stronger, more rugged, more confident than ever before. He tipped the cowboy hat to his uncle in thanks.

“Couldn’t have done it without ya, uncle Jack.” Carson smiled, barely visible beneath his thick beard. He undid the top buttons of his shirt, letting his newly hairy chest breathe. He’d always been a hairy guy, it was just natural to finally embrace it. It fit his life, a down to earth ranch worker. He couldn’t imagine himself doing anything else.

Jack looked over at Carson with a smile on his face. “Y’know, son, think it's high time I truly give you a stake in this ranch, you’ve earned it.” He said as he took another swig of his beer. “I want to pass this all on to you, y’know.”

A huge smile crossed Carson’s face. He’d been hoping to hear that for years, ever since starting to help out around the ranch as a teenager. This was the future he’d been waiting for. Not in the city, but on his own ranch. He couldn’t imagine his old life anymore, who in their right mind would want to leave all this for some big city. He’d been born and bred for this life, finally becoming the cowboy he’d been destined to, and Uncle Jack couldn’t be happier.

Jake had always been better at imagining rooms than entering them. That was what architecture school had taught him, or maybe what it had exposed about him.

He could spend hours thinking about how a hallway narrowed before opening into light, how a ceiling height changed the feeling of a room, how brick looked different at dusk than it did at noon.

For fun he liked to paint. He could paint until three in the morning with a podcast playing and a half-finished video game paused beside him. He could present a model and explain, carefully, why a wall bent the way it did.