All of his senses had been brightly alive in the dream as he sped through the jungle in pursuit of his quarry. His nostrils flared and picked up the scent of the frightened animal. He heard every snap of a tree branch or twig in the dense jungle and could instantly align himself to close the gap between himself and his...prey?
Yes, he was hunting, without benefit of the gleaming blades or smoking tubes that he had seen men use. He finally cornered the quarry, some type of antelope, in a wide clearing near a river. The quadruped was reluctant to enter the rushing waters. He produced a low growl in his throat and charged...
Richard woke, growling, memories of throttling a still-living antelope with his bare hands, lingering in his fading dream-like state. He grimaced as he recalled other memories of running naked through the jungle. He groaned and pushed himself off the hard floor of the cage.
"At least I'm not naked," he said as he looked down at his Calvin Klein briefs, his only clothes to survive the transformation into the form of the beastly jungle man. Even the future of the tight briefs seemed in doubt as a huge bulge strained against the cotton fabric. Getting to his feet, he seated himself on a three-legged stool in the center of the cage. He rubbed the thick, matted hair of his chest and frowned when he felt things crawling in the dense pelt.
"I've got to get back my body," Richard said in an unfamiliar husky voice.
A door opened and one of the guards entered and noticed the expedition's prize had woken.
Richard felt a wave of humiliation as the man approached the cage. "Took you long enough to wake up," the man spoke aloud. "But you did take two doses of that sedative..."
Richard didn't care to re-hash that moment and interrupted. "Tim. Bring Tim here."
He didn't have to speak so monosyllabically... He still had his intelligence, thank god, but he suddenly felt hesitant about letting anyone else know the nature of his transformation.
"Mr. Johnson to you," the guard said and rattled the cage's bar with a baton he detached from his uniform. "And he's probably busy with Mr. Winchester, the guy you attacked."
Tim!" His utterance sounded almost like a grunt, causing a fresh wave of shame for the 22-year-old trapped in his unwelcome brutish form.
"Yeah, yeah," the guard said. "I'll see if he wants to see you."
Richard watched the man depart. He began to think, which raised his anxiety levels even higher. What if Tim didn't believe him?
He slid off the stool and began kneading the bulge in the front of his briefs, working it to full mast before he even realized what he was doing. His hand suddenly recoiled and Richard looked down in horror as the head of the enormous cock peeked over the waistband of the tight briefs.
He heard the sound of a throat clearing. "Hello Garok," Tim said. "You were asking for me?"
"Not Garok," Richard spit out reluctantly, noticing the guard had returned with Tim.
"I'm busy, Garok. And I am mad at you, too. Why did you attack my friend?"
The guard remained diligent as if he expected to have to deal with a jungle man tantrum at any moment.
Richard took a breath. "Send other man away."
"Will Garok behave?" Tim questioned and tried to avoid staring at the evidence of the jungle man's monstrous endowment that peeped above the waistband of Richard's stolen briefs.
Richard nodded his great shaggy head.
"I think I will be all right," Tim said to the guard. "After all, he's inside the cage."
After the guard left and shut the door behind him, Richard rushed to the front of the cage and gripped the bars. "Thank god. Tim, you've got to help me!"
Tim looked shocked to hear such a fluent burst come from the jungle man. "What's got into you, Garok?"
"Tim, please listen to me. I'm not Garok. It's me...it's Richard!" He paused and let go of the bars. "It was one of those damn relics I was categorizing..."
Tim listened, astonished, as Richard spilled out the incident with the butterfly relic and the wings that snapped off and caused him to transform into the stinking, sweaty, hairy, muscle-bound jungle man.
"You've got to do something," Richard came to a sputtering conclusion. "This is awful. I can't let people see me like this! What about my parents?"
Tim approached the cage warily, suspicious of some sort of trick. His nose wrinkled as he approached the cage and was greeted with a whiff of the jungle man's malodorous aroma. "This is a trick..."
"Blue's your favorite color," Richard shouted in desperation. "Your first blow-job was with Mr. Moqdad, the custodian!"
Tim's eyes widened. He'd never mentioned the encounter with Mr. Moqdad to anyone other than Richard.
"Richard! The fuck!" Tim exclaimed in amazement. He scanned the beastly body and still couldn't quite grasp that his best friend since they'd both met at boarding school was in there.
"Please," Richard begged. "Do something!"