Date: Fri, 24 Jun 2005 03:23:15 -0700 (PDT) From: Alistair Bentley Subject: Headshop: Hound Chapter 4 Headshop: Hound Chapter 4: By Xformguy I followed the guy with the smell, trailing in his wake as he made his way across campus. He knew I was there, because he kept glancing backward and he was obviously leading me somewhere by the way he made sure I didn't get separated from him. How could I? I could pick his scent out of a crowd with no trouble. He was older than me, maybe by a year or two, and had a lean build and a dark brown buzz-cut with sideburns that stretched down to the curve of his jaw. His eyebrows were thick and accented his expression heavily, framing his eyes darkly. He was wearing jeans that were about two inches too long and he had them cuffed over his sneakers. The broad leather belt wore cinched up his pants around his waist and I wondered why he was wearing them so large. It wasn't obvious at first, but, as he walked, I could tell that his shirt was oversized, too. A couple of times, it shifted far enough down in front to show his collar bone or so far in back I could see his upper shoulders. Both his front and back seemed covered in short, dark-brown hair. As we made our way around the corners of the science buildings and across a couple of streets lined with admin buildings, we were approaching the phys ed complex. It was a blocky, concrete building that housed the pool, the weight rooms, the locker rooms, etc. and I got nervous wondering if we were going into the locker room; I wasn't sure I could control myself if we did. The "something" was awake and right now, it was content to share control of my body because I was doing what it wanted, but I didn't know how forceful it could actually get. I didn't want to find out because it scared me. The guy didn't head into the building though, he angled around it and I realized where we were going. There were hiking and biking trails maintained by the school on the far side of the building and I'd read on the bathroom walls where they were cruisy. I'd never gone there myself; the woods weren't my scene. He headed straight there, though, moving into the paths while I hung back a bit, slammed by the smell of the trees and underbrush. The "something" was about to react and force me down the path, but I went anyhow, still able to pick out the guy's spicy musk from the surrounding trees. We went deep into the paths, turning corners, going up and down a couple of hills when I suddenly realized I'd lost his trail. I turned around and backtracked the path but it still took me a little bit of sniffing the trees to realize he'd gone off-road. I found the spot where he did, where his scent was on the leaves, and I followed, making my way through bushes and around trees. I was beginning to think I'd lost him when a hand closed around my throat from behind a tree and I was slammed against the bark hard. "Why are you following me!" he screamed in my face, his breath thick and meaty. "Are you one of Kane's faggot dogboys? I told him to leave me the fuck alone!" It was like fear was a bucket of water that splashed me in the face and ran down my back. I couldn't believe his grip, it was crushing my throat and forcing me up the side of the trunk off my feet. My hands went to this wrist and pushed, but he wouldn't budge; I tried to pry off his fingers, but they were like steel. In the meantime, I couldn't breath and I was there gasping. I tried to kick at him, but I couldn't get leverage. I ended up hitting him in the shin. "Asshole!" he screamed. Holding me against the tree, he drove his knee into my gut so strong I thought he had punctured an organ . He released me and I went down in the twigs and underbrush. I tried to breath, but I couldn't because my gut was spasming. Instead I rolled on the ground, fighting the wave of dizziness that made my head feel about three sizes too big. I ended up on my back and his sneaker came down in the middle of my chest. Just then, my bladder released and I pissed myself. He wrinkled his nose in disgust. "You think you're gonna fuck me?" he challenged, "or that I'm gonna fuck you? You're fucking wrong, asshole. It's not going to happen!" My hands went to his ankle and again, I couldn't budge him. How was he this strong?? "Dude!" I said, putting my hands up, "Okay, okay!" He pressed hard against my chest and I half-thought he was going to break a rib. "Did Kane send you?" "I don't know who Kane is!" He considered this for a moment, took his foot off my chest and knelt down next to me. One hand went back to my throat and took hold of it, keeping me on the ground. He angled his face close to mine and seemed to regard me deeply with bright green eyes alight framed in anger. He pressed his nose close to my nape and inhaled. He did the same down my torso, stopping near my armpit and, despite the fresh piss, my crotch. While he did all this, I was grooving on his scent and my cock jumped a little. He noticed it. "He bit you," he concluded. He tapped my inner thigh with two fingers. "Right there." "I didn't know his name," I said, suddenly ashamed to be admitting it. "At the Headshop, right?" "Yeah." "He's watching you," the guy said, "or his dogboys are. You're one of them now." "So're you," I said, knowing it was true. I didn't want to admit that I understood what a dogboy was, because my psyche didn't want to accept it yet, but I knew - - deep down - - what was happening to me. It was obvious, yet still impossible to believe. His hold on my throat tightened and his face twisted in anger. "I'll never submit to him you faggot," he said, "And I'll kick the shit out of anyone who tries to make me." "Okay, man, okay," I said. The fear was mixing with deep humiliation. I had pissed myself in front of this guy and he was handily kicking my ass. I wanted to sink into the soft earth, melt away into the dirt and grass. The guy was regarding me again carefully, judging me. "How long?" he asked, easing his grip on my throat. "How long what?" "Since he bit you, moron," he spat. "Last night," I said sheepishly. "Mother fuck," he breathed, sitting back on his heels and releasing me. "You don't know shit, do you." I raised up on my elbows and shook my head. He hung his and breathed out a long sigh. We sat there for a moment, I soaking in my piss and trying to feel like less of a loser; that didn't happen though. I felt like the lowest thing on Earth. "Okay . . ." he said, standing up, "Here are the rules: every time you get your nut, you turn a little more into some kind of dog." "What kind?" I asked quietly. "Dunno," he said, "It's different for everyone. You'll be luckily if it's not a fucking yap dog." I wondered what exactly I was becoming. It was hard to tell since only my cock had really changed. "How fast does it happen?" "Varies, too," he said. He took a deep breath and I could see his nose working the scents around him like a dog's would, lots of sharp, quick inhales. He turned his head this way and that to catch the breeze. "Some as short as four times, some as long as ten. At least, that I know of." I shifted my feet, somehow unsure if I should stand up or not. Part of me wanted to, but the "something" in my head kept me on the ground. I was lower than him; he had bested me. This was how I would show my respect, by remaining physically lower than him and emptying my bladder in submission. Part of me was already acting like a dog and I knew that the "something" in my head was a dog's mentality. "How long for you?" I asked him. "15 months," he said, "If you get fucked by a guy who's also been cursed, and take his seed into you, the changes reverse themselves a bit." "So you can turn back into a guy," I said, piecing it together, "keep yourself form becoming a dog totally, right?" "Right," he agreed, "You don't want to completely become a dog," he explained, "If you do, you'll be that way for a period of time . . . could be a day . . . could be a month. Then you'll revert to completely human; but you won't be the same. If your head starts to change, your brain . . ." he whirled his fingers in a circle around his ear, "gets wrong. It doesn't come back right. So, be careful." "You're already changing," I observed, remembering the hair on his back and chest. I saw now how dense the hair on his forearms and hands was. "I . . . could . . . I mean . . ." He scowled at me and hopped over my prone body. I curled into a ball instinctively, letting out another steam of piss that I doubt he even noticed. "You're not going to fuck me, asshole," he insisted, "I've already got an arrangement with someone, so keep your cum to yourself." He started to walk away and I scrambled to my feet and started to follow him. "Hey," I called after, "How can I find others like us?" "Same way you found me," he barked, "Scent them out." He was moving quickly and I was working to keep up with him. "Hey," I said, "wait up." "No," he said and kept up his pace, "stop following me." "But," I called back, "What's your name?" He stopped and turned. "It's Benjamin," he said, "go away." "But, why can't we . . ." I started. I hit the ground and it took me a moment to remember what being hit in the face felt like. I hadn't been punched in years - - not since junior high school - - so it took it a minute to register that Benjamin had hit me. When I looked up, he was gone, having stalked off through the woods. I got up off my ass and shuffled back toward home, feeling stupid, dejected, and subhuman. I made my way back to the pathways and ended up taking the wrong one, making the entire circuit of the hiking path before getting back to where I'd entered. By that time, the piss had dried, so it wasn't immediately obvious I had lost control of myself. I was having trouble discerning if anyone could smell it; my own sense of smell was so sensitive, I couldn't gauge how strong it would be to anyone else. I managed to keep away everyone else while I made my way to my dorm. Ken was there, but he was thankfully immersed in writing a paper at his desk. He had on his iPod, so we only nodded at one another, then he turned back to the pile of library books open on his desk. I got undressed, hopped a quick shower, put on my very last set of clean clothes and headed to the Laundromat. It was hard to absorb what was happening to me and, after my talk with Benjamin, it had gotten worse. My mind knew what was happening and I could feel the truth of it on some visceral level, like my blood and bones knew it. But it was equally impossible and my intellect rejected the possibility out of hand. This was not natural and I didn't believe in the supernatural outside of horror movies and role-playing games. With all that said, I couldn't focus on my schoolwork. I had a paper due on the Battle of Hastings in like two days, but fuck it, I couldn't deal with reading right now. The Laundromat wasn't crowded; it was the middle of the afternoon. It was one of those places that catered to the college crowd, with video games, pool tables, and a grill that served burgers and dogs. I put everything in the washers, bought a couple of hot dogs, then played about a thousand games of Tekken 3 while my clothes dried. When it was all done, my clothes smelled like detergent and I was disappointed they didn't smell like me anymore. I'd lost that "safe" feeling at a time when I really felt like I needed it. I bundled it all up and headed back to the dorm. For someone like me, for whom smell had become this major erotic channel, walking into a guy's dorm was pretty much like surfing a cloud of sexually charged hormones. From the moment I entered the building, I was saturated in "male," from all the sweat and pheromones emitted by their flesh - - from their pits, feet, ass, and cocks - - I was about half-hard before I got to my room. And when I say that, I mean my log of a cock was half-tenting my jeans, even stuffed down one leg as it was. I hadn't gotten erections this easily since I'd been 15 and it was starting to annoy the shit out of me. Ken was still in my room, still doing his school work. I hit my computer and checked my email, trying to distract myself by surfing on the web. That drifted to porn sites - - my computer was positioned so that Ken couldn't see my screen - - and that meant my cock didn't go down. I turned that off and check my voicemail on my cell phone. There were a couple of messages from Marty wondering where'd I gone since I bailed on our conversation, but I didn't feel like answering them. I felt like shooting. I puttered around in the room, trying to keep myself from sex - - afraid what Benjamin had said would be true - - and my head was putting together the ramifications. If it were true, I was going to end up a dog. There was only so long I could keep from shooting a load, I mean, eventually I'd just have a wet dream and it would happen. That wasn't even factoring in the ever-ready cock I had in my pants, the one that kept getting hard a moments notice and was so sensitive that just having it pressed against my thigh was enough get me hot. I kept wishing that Ken would leave, and a couple of times, my hopes flared because he got up and paced around the room or went and cock a coke from the machine in the lobby, but soon enough it became clear he wasn't going anywhere. I thought about cruising over to the student union, but jeez . . that's what got me into this mess. I got so restless, I literally couldn't sit still any more and I hit the dorm bathrooms, picked a stall and sat down. I peeked under the dividers, there was some guy at the other end doing his business. I toed off my shoes, reached down and pulled off my socks. I'm not sure why I did this, but I was having a sudden need to be totally naked. I pulled off my shirt and hung it on the hook behind the door, the shucked my pants and boxers. It felt so good just to have my cock free of its confinement and I watched it slowly, throb to full attention. I was sitting on my hands while this happened, trying desperately to not jack off. I told myself that I had come in here just to let it out, just to give it some room, and then it would obediently go back down and I could get on with my day. I told myself a lot of things hoping my body would obey them, but in the end, I was sitting naked in a stall with the mother of all hard-ons. It was a foregone conclusion that what would happen. I found it ironic that most guys fantasized heavily about having a huge cock. Here I was with one, long and thick, bobbing between my legs like some scepter of manhood, and I was desperately trying NOT to touch it. I put my hand on it almost absently, the "something" in my head reaching around my control and making it happen. I noticed the circumvention and I guess I allowed it. The pleasure that erupted down the shaft at my grip was enough to erode any resolve I might've had. I brought my hand up the shaft slowly. At full mast, it was about twelve inches long and round enough to fill up my palm so that my fingers barely met. The skin was soft and loose and thick, almost like a sleeve of skin that wrapped around a cock that was inside of it. This was a new sensation for me; up until yesterday, I'd been cut. I wondered if this was what normal foreskin felt like or if I was experiencing something canine. I worked the skin around the hard shaft underneath and my lips parts as I did. I pulled the skin back to expose the pink, slick, tapered head. Yesterday, I'd had a nice fat mushroom head, so this bullet-pointed glans was weird to me, but my thumb brought out pleasure from it that I'd never felt, so I guessed it was an improvement. It didn't take me long to abandon any pretense of jacking off "only a little" to relieve some pressure. Soon enough, I was jacking in earnest, working the volumes of pre-cum back into my cock's skin, making it slick and sticky. At one point, I had a line of ooze dripping from my cock's tip into my underwear that was bunched at my ankles. So, I started pumping and I was getting into it so heavily that, at one point, I even stood up and pumped my cock into both of my fists. That maneuver brought out the bulge mid-shaft, as part of cock nearly doubled in width. While I was jacking, I was making noise. No matter how hard I tried to be silent, telltale moans left me. I breathed out heavy sighs. The slick smack of my hand on my cock was loud and in the moment, I didn't care. The other guy in the bathroom left; I saw his presence through the crack in the door as it moved passed me, but it didn't affect the speed or intensity at which I jacked. My intellect slowly relinquished control to the "something" - - I realized what it was; just as Benjamin had suggested, it was my dog-mind - - allowing it free reign. I shot my load with gasps that might've been mistaken as pain and long ropes of cum shot out of my cock, hitting the door to the stall and spraying my shoes that were sitting there. I let the endorphins ride through me and followed them to a moment of no-thought, where all that existed was me and my cock and my pleasure. It was a good place, especially given the fear I had been feeling since I got bit. But, it didn't last. The strange sensation started again. Even as my breathing was coming down from the orgasm, my lungs locked up suddenly and my organs felt like they were moving inside my flesh. I doubled over, laying on my thighs, my cock - - which was still rock hard - - pressed between them. I felt my heart beating so hard I thought it break my sternum and my lungs just wouldn't work. I felt a wave of moment ripple down through my intestinal track, and it wasn't painful, but it was discomforting and weird, like they were resettling in my gut. My muscles started to clench and unclench uncontrollably. I arched my back, still not able to breath, and I felt my vertebrae snap and crunch and crackle against one another like a bag of marbles. I felt my chest and arms cramp painfully, then release into numbness. My legs did the same as my quads and calves cramped, but released into immobility. I folded back over as my abs did the same. Then I was laying there like a hunk of meat, unable to really move, when my breathing kicked in from lock-out to hyperventilation in one second. I was sucking in air fast and my lungs were working like a bellows. A prickling sensation started on my cheeks and spread out across my face, racing down my neck and over my scalp. It descended across my shoulder blades and down my spine even as it crested my shoulders and raced down my arms to my hands and fingers. It spread across my chest, down my folded abs, and washed through my thighs, calves, and feet. It felt like pins were being stabbed into my skin and pulled out immediately. I looked down at my limp hands and saw - - saw this - - my skin bubble, like it was boiling. Real fear hit me then; was I going to die? I felt like I was watching my death take place. This bubbling was happening all over me in patches that moved and spread. Fine black hairs grew on the back of my hands and fingers, covering the skin densely, but not so dense you couldn't still see the skin. It could pass for a normal human pattern - - I guessed it would have to - - but it was completely covering my fingers, which was weird in itself. This hair growth moved up my wrists and forearms but stopped there. I looked down at my feet and the same thing had happened there. Every square inch of skin on my feet, ankles, ankles, toes and calves was covered in dense, black hair. I felt the same thing happening to my back and ass, but I couldn't move to look at them. I felt the same thing happening to my face and throat and chest. My nipples started to ache about the time I got some control over my torso. I sat up a little and looked down at the mat of black hair on my chest - - something that had just grown in - - and saw my pink nipples sticking out of the hair. They were getting longer, the nubs sticking out farther and getting plump. They went from being human nipples to being little fleshy nubs that were constantly erect. What was weird was the others that grew in. Down my torso, two more sets of these nubs grew in - - it felt like someone was sucking the skin out, like I was getting my nipples bitten in a warm mouth - - until I had six nipples all in a line. FUCK! How would I explain that?! Then it stopped. The strange sensations just subsided and my body felt exhausted. I had my feet planted on the floor and I leaned forward across my legs, holding my face in my hands and my cock sandwiched between my thighs. My brain couldn't process this. My thoughts were like traffic in a deadlock. Nothing was moving and I headed straight into a mental "whiteout." I don't know how long I stayed there. But there was a knock on the stall door that drew my attention. I looked up at it, noting the sneakers I could see underneath it. "This is the RA," a voice said; I didn't recognize it, "Look," he said quietly but firmly, "We got a complaint. If you have to spank it, do it quietly and quickly or do it somewhere else." He didn't wait for an answer; he just left. He just left me sitting there more humiliated than I could imagine. So . . . to sum up the day . . . I'd pissed on myself, been beaten up by someone, and was slowly turning into a subhuman creature because I couldn't control my sexual urges. Goddamn. I was a freak. I did deserve this. I got up, got dressed, tried to clean up some of cum with the toilet paper - - man, how that DIDN'T work! - - and retreated. I had to get out of the dorm. The scents were already starting to encroach but my cock, thankfully, had subsided completely; I guess it was satiated. I wasn't sure how I looked, but a quick check in the mirror painted me as a guy who had a beard that extended down his neck. I looked at my hands and assumed they could pass, despite how hairy and weird they seemed to me. I headed outside to my car and just drove.