Rydr Pig

The afternoon sun beat down mercilessly as Jake jogged up the steps toward his apartment complex. Sweat glistened on his muscular frame - the product of two hours of grueling football drills. But he barely noticed the heat. His mind was already onto bigger things… namely, tonight's big date with Sarah Thompson, head cheerleader and campus queen bee. She’d finally agreed to go out with him after months of relentless pursuit. This was his chance to seal the deal once and for all.

He fumbled with his keys, still panting slightly. "Better hit the showers," he muttered to himself.

The shower felt incredible against his skin. Steam filled the bathroom as Jake lathered up, admiring his physique in the foggy mirror. Six-pack abs, broad shoulders, chiseled jawline - the whole package. No wonder girls couldn’t resist him. He grinned at his reflection.

"Looking good, Jakey boy," he said aloud. "Sarah won’t know what hit her."

As he toweled off, he grabbed a protein bar from his gym bag, scarfing it down in three bites as he walked back to his dorm room. "Gotta keep these guns fueled," he quipped, flexing an arm.

As Jake entered his dorm room, he wrinkled his nose immediately. The pungent smell of weed hit him first – thick and cloying. Then came another stench underneath, musky and unclean. Mark’s sweaty tank top sat balled-up on the floor near his unmade bunk, looking like it hadn’t been washed in weeks. Empty Red Bull cans littered every surface. And the laptop was propped open, screen displaying what appeared to be some paused porno.

"Oh fuckin’ hell," Jake groaned, "Fuckin' disgusting, bro."

Jake kicked aside a pizza box overflowing with moldy crusts to get to his desk. His own laptop sat pristine beside a neat stack of textbooks – his side of the room looked like a model dorm compared to Mark’s pigsty. He glanced over at the other bed again, noticing fresh stains on the sheets. Gross.

Where the hell was Mark anyway? Usually glued to his computer chair, jerking off to god knew what. The dude was a total loser. All day every day, just sitting there getting high and watching porn until his eyes glazed over. Total waste of space.

"Poor bastard never leaves." Jake thought scathingly, "Who lives like this?"

Jake sighed, dropping his towel, and tossing his sweat-soaked jersey into the laundry hamper. At least he kept his shit clean unlike his slob roomie. He caught sight of himself in the dresser mirror – golden tan, bulging pecs, washboard abs, thick, cut cock. Damn right he worked hard for this body. Not like Mark, who probably hadn’t seen sunlight since freshman orientation. He smirked as he rummaged through his closet- he was gonna look good for Sarah tonight.

The laptop across the room dinged suddenly, making Jake jump. He froze, realizing Mark must’ve forgotten to log out. Curiosity got the better of him. Against his better judgment, he padded over to the bed, careful not to touch anything.

"What’s so special about your stupid porn videos, huh?" Jake muttered under his breath. "Let’s see what’s got you so obsessed…"

Jake hovered over the keyboard, mouse cursor hovering uncertainly. Part of him wanted to shut the thing off and pretend he’d never seen this pathetic display. But another part – the nosier, more judgmental part – needed to confirm his suspicions. With a resigned sigh, he clicked play on the paused video.

"The fuck?"

It was some grainy footage of some tubby dude sprawled naked on a mattress, stroking his flabby gut while moaning like a whore. The audio was muffled but Jake could make out the sounds of the man’s hand working his soft belly folds and small, erect cock. Disgusting.

"Why would anyone watch this shit?" Jake wondered aloud, shaking his head. "Mark’s seriously fucked in the head."

Ignoring the grotesque clip, Jake stalked back to his side of the room. He grabbed a pair of boxers and walked over to his desk.

"Alright, no one can resist this." Jake smirked, applying some deodorant and splashing on some cologne, "And now…"

As he slicked back his hair, the audio from the video picked up.

The voice came through loud and clear now. A low murmur, almost breathy. "That's it baby, work that cock," the chubby dude cooed. "Up and down… slow… slower…"

Jake snorted derisively, rolling his eyes as he walked over towards his closet, "Really dude?"

"Yeah, stroke yourself to me," the man moaned. "Just like that… Nice and easy…"

Jake pulled out a tight-fitting button-down shirt and stepped into a pair of designer jeans. "God, what a creep," he muttered, "No wonder Mark’s such a freak."

The voice grew louder, more insistent. "Bet your cock is getting nice and hard for me, isn't it?"

Jake zipped up his jeans and turned to face the laptop, "God this is almost funny." he chuckled, staring at the screen incredulously. The fat man was now leering directly into the camera, rubbing his swollen belly obscenely.

"Go on baby, touch yourself," he urged, eyes locked on the lens. "Get nice and horny for me. C'mon, don't be shy!"

Jake let out a short bark of laughter and shook his head, turning away sharply. "Holy shit, not going there," he said nervously trying not to notice the growing discomfort and pressure between his legs.

And then he felt it. Undeniable. A sudden throbbing need pulsing through him. With rising panic he pressed his legs together, trying to hide the growing tent in his jeans. Was this actually happening? Him – popular athlete, lady killer Jake – getting turned on by some pudgy geek fondling himself?

No. That couldn’t be. Couldn’t possibly be. It was totally ridiculous, completely wrong. Just nerves or adrenaline or maybe those lingering endorphins from his workout earlier. Yeah, that was it. Nothing to freak out over.

Jake took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "Relax," he told himself firmly, "It’s just the weirdness of the situation. Doesn’t mean anything."

But even as he spoke, his traitorous cock twitched eagerly in his pants. Fuck. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, desperate for relief. Maybe he should just whip it out real quick and take care of business. Get rid of this annoying tension so he could focus on his date with Sarah later.

Before he could second-guess himself, Jake hastily unbuckled his belt and shoved his jeans down around his thighs. His erection sprang free, flushed and straining. "Shit," he gasped, giving himself a rough squeeze. Pleasure rippled through him and he groaned.

"I’ll be fast," he promised himself breathlessly, wrapping his fingers around his shaft and starting to pump. "Don’t think, just… ahh…"

His hips jerked involuntarily, thrusting into his fist. God it felt good. Too good. The depraved voice from the laptop echoed in his ears.

"That’s it, baby, touch yourself," it crooned. "Nice and slow. Let me hear you moan."

Jake peeled off his clothes haphazardly, leaving only his snug white undershirt. The thin cotton clung to his sculpted torso, riding up to expose his defined V-line. His cock bobbed heavily between his thighs, thick and veiny, leaking pre-cum.

"Damn," he breathed, wrapping his fingers around the heated flesh. Slowly, he began to stroke, savoring each delicious drag of his palm along his sensitive length. His breathing grew ragged as pleasure built inside him.

"That’s it, nice and easy," the voice murmured approvingly from the speakers. "Take your time. Enjoy every second."

Jake bit his lip, fighting the urge to speed up. Every cell in his body screamed for release but something held him back. Some dark instinct told him to obey, to prolong this sweet torment. So he complied, pumping his aching cock in torturously slow, deliberate strokes. Beads of sweat formed on his brow as his muscles tensed.

"Yes! Good boy," the disembodied voice praised. "Now hold it. Hold it right there for me."

"Ahhh fuuuck," he grunted through gritted teeth, thighs trembling. His heavy balls drew up tight. He was so close, teetering on the razor’s edge of ecstasy. But somehow, impossibly, he willed himself to stop. To hover there, suspended in agonizing bliss, cock throbbing desperately in his grip.

Jake ran his tongue over his lips and scratched at his chin absentmindedly. Something felt different. Off. His fingers met coarse bristle instead of smooth skin. What the—? When did he start growing a beard?

Confusion clouded his lust-hazed brain. He didn’t have a beard. Hadn’t ever had one. He made a point of keeping his chiseled jawline clean-shaven. Always had. It was part of his image. Chicks dug the clean-cut look.

So why the hell was his face covered in fur now?

He rubbed his cheeks, blinking in disbelief. Thick, wiry hairs sprouted everywhere. Down his neck, dusting his collarbone. Even a little patch on his chest. Like a grizzly bear was crawling out of his pores.

This wasn’t possible.

"Keep going. Up and down, up and down…"

The voice droned on, encouraging him to keep pleasuring himself despite the terrifying changes happening to his body. Jake squeezed his eyes shut, focusing on the sensation of his cock in his hand, trying to ignore the strange sensations covering him elsewhere. But he couldn’t deny it. His hands confirmed what his eyes saw—the most alarming shift of all. His pubic hair seemed thicker and curlier than usual, springing wildly outward as far as his fingertips could trace. Worse, similar tufts were spreading up his inner thighs and descending into his crack.

"You’re doing great," the stranger on the screen rasped, oblivious to Jake’s confusion, "Keep going… more…"

Unconsciously, his hips started rocking faster, chasing the release he’d denied himself for so long. His balls tightened painfully, cock pulsing urgently in his grip. He was so close, balanced on a knife’s edge. Just a few more strokes—

"And stop! Bask in it…" The command cracked through the air like a gunshot.

Jake froze mid-stroke, trembling violently. Every muscle strained, screaming for completion. Drool leaked from the corner of his mouth as he struggled to obey, to stay perfectly still with his throbbing cock in hand. Tears pricked at his eyes. It hurt. Oh god, it hurt so bad.

"Good boy," the voice purred. "Such control. Now breathe. Deep breaths. Feel the pleasure build. Don’t fight it."

Jake whimpered, chest heaving. His vision blurred. He was lost. Drowning in sensation. There was nothing else. Only the ache. The need.

"Pl-please…" Jake begged, "I… oh fuck…"

"Almost there," the voice coaxed. "Hold on just a little longer. You’re doing so well. Such a good boy."

Jake sobbed brokenly, hips twitching uncontrollably. His cock wept steadily now, dripping sticky fluid over his fist. He was beyond thought, beyond reason. There was only the endless cycle of agony and ecstasy. Edge. Deny. Repeat.

"Focus," the voice instructed, "On your task. On my voice. Forget everything else. Cancel any plans. Focus solely on this."

"B-but my plans… Sarah." Jake's breath was heavy, his eyes half-lidded, "I… don't want this. Why can't I stop?"

But his hand moved almost of its own accord, thumbs flying across the screen.

'Sorry babe. Can't make it. Got sick.'

Sent. Done. Forgotten. Because the truth was, Jake didn’t want to leave. Didn’t want to break the spell. Not when he was so close. So tantalizingly close.

As he tossed his phone aside, Jake became aware of a new sensation. A strange fullness pressing against his waistband. Confused, he lifted his shirt and peered down.

What he saw made his blood run cold. Where once there had been taut, toned abdominal muscles, now lay a soft swell of flesh. Not much yet—a mere hint—but undeniably present.

A gut.

Like Mark’s.

"No," Jake whispered hoarsely, "Not me. Never me."

But even as he protested, he could feel the changes accelerating. His skin prickled and stretched, expanding rapidly. Coarse hairs sprouted across his chest and belly, thickening into a dense pelt.

"Wh-what’s happening to me?" he wailed, voice cracking. "Make it stop! Please, someone make it stop!"

"Take a hit, get into the mindset." the voice instructed, "But don't let go of your cock. Up and down. Up and down."

Through half-lidded eyes, he looked over to Mark's desk.

Amidst the clutter lay a familiar blue pipe and lighter. Mark’s weed. Of course. He used it constantly to enhance his sessions, lose himself completely in the haze.

Jake licked his lips hungrily. Just a tiny puff to dull the edge. To give him strength. The glass tube trembled in his grasp as he lit it, taking a deep drag. The acrid smoke scorched his lungs but he didn’t cough. Didn’t dare. Holding the burning inhale, he squeezed his eyes shut and focused inward.

Instantly, the world narrowed. Distances collapsed. Sound muted. Time slowed. All that existed was the throb of his cock in his hand and the velvet caress of the high blooming behind his eyelids.

Yes. This was good. Right. Exactly what he needed.

With renewed vigor, Jake stroked himself, gasping and shuddering as waves of euphoria crashed over him. Deeper and deeper he fell, losing himself in the rhythm. In and out. Up and down. An endless loop of pleasure and denial.

Nothing else mattered. Only this. Only the voice guiding him. Telling him how good he was. How perfect. How he was exactly where he belonged.

Hours passed. Or minutes. Jake couldn’t say. He drifted in a dreamlike state, pleasuring himself robotically, existing purely for the voice and the commands it gave. His body continued changing, morphing into something unfamiliar and foreign. Hair spread like wildfire across his skin, hiding his old shape beneath a matted blanket of fur. His face rounded, jowls sagging. Belly swelled, stretching his shirt taut. Muscles softened, melted away. The smell of his deodorant and cologne were drowned out by his new, pungent musk.

Yet he didn’t resist. Couldn’t. He was lost. Drowned in the sea of sensation. The constant push-pull of agony and ecstasy. Edge. Deny. Repeat. Distantly, he registered the buzz of his phone. Text alerts. Missed calls. Probably Sarah wondering why he stood her up. But he ignored it. It meant nothing. None of it did anymore.

______

A door creaked. Footsteps shuffled closer. Soft gasps and murmurs followed. The smell hit Jake next—a familiar blend of stale chips, sweat, and pot.

"Aight Jake," Mark drawled, settling heavily on the edge of the bed. "Guess ya found the vid, huh?" His words slurred lazily, pupils blown wide. "Hooo-wee buddy, that’s somethin’ ain’t it?"

Jake blinked blearily, struggling to focus on the figure looming above him. Mark’s doughy face swam into view, split by a slack grin. His roommate’s usual stained t-shirt strained over his rotund middle, armpits yellowed with perspiration.

"S-saw it," Jake managed weakly, throat raw. "Couldn’t… couldn’t stop."

"Yep," Mark nodded sagely, picking at his nose. "First time I watched it too. Life changer, lemme tell ya. Went from being a nerd to well… this."

"But… but…" Jake whispered hoarsely, "Gonna wake up and it’ll all be a bad dream? Right?"

"Sorry, but no. Your old life’s over, bro," Mark said, placing a meaty paw on Jake’s hairy shoulder. "Welcome to the club."

Jake shuddered at the contact, revulsion warring with reluctant acceptance. Because Mark was right. His sleek muscles had gone soft, replaced by pillowy rolls of fat. His chiseled features had smoothed into pudgy blandness- all covered in a forest of wiry, musky hairs. Even his cock, once proud and powerful, had shrunk to a stubby nub buried in a nest of coarse curls.

"We’ll get you set up," Mark promised, reaching for the pipe. "Help you really embrace it. We’ll be like… brothers, yeah? Two goons livin’ large, gettin’ high and edgin’ all damn day."

Jake stared numbly at the ceiling, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. Everything he’d worked for, strived for, was gone. Poof. Vanished like smoke. Leaving behind only this…

"So uh… whaddya wanna do?" Mark asked, kicking back on the bed. "We could order a pizza or somethin’. Maybe find ourselves a livestream to edge to. Together."

Jake didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. They both knew he had no choice anymore. Jake stared blankly at the wall, listening to Mark dial the pizza place. His fingers idly played with his drooping cock, squeezing lightly. Still so sensitive. Still so much need. And Jake knew it then.