Troy’s mind buzzed as he fetched the coffees, not noticing sweeping changes to the office building as it transformed into a multi-story Inn/Tavern. Did he really want to go through with this? How much would his mind change if he did?
He was afraid of, essentially, dying. That's what a personality re-write did. Troy went behind the bar and grabbed a mug. The taps on the bar had one exclusively for coffee. Troy filled up a mug, searched the nearby mini fridge and cupboard, and poured the creamer and two tablespoons of sugar to it, stirring the drink absently. He brought the coffee back to Mark, who thanked him with a smile. He’d never really noticed, but Mark was kinda cute.
Troy went back to work, mind wandering. He decided that if he were just himself with a few furry additions and at least a vague awareness of the new world, he’d be cool with it. But Ben and Greg looked completely oblivious to their changes. They seemed to still be them, personality-wise, but he’d noticed Greg getting angrier and more frustrated with his work as the day went on. He was having trouble doing the basic math required for his job.
Speaking of Greg, he felt a heavy green hand fall on his shoulder. Troy looked up and saw Greg towering above him, piggy orc eyes watering. Tears streaming past his tusks.His outfit had shifted from a sweater-vest to something like a leather overcoat, dyed a nice red color that contrasted nicely with his dark green skin.
“Grog need help.” Greg hiccuped and wiped his piggy nose. “Grog too dumb to read. Can’t do excel sheets for presentation.”
“Shh.” Troy stood and sat the Orc down at his desk and rubbed his broad, muscular shoulders.
His phone beeped. Troy blinked, moving away from the orc, who hunched further into his seat. What had come over him just then?
“Hey, uh, Mark?” Troy called.
“Yes?” A voice came from above him.
He looked up and saw Mark peering over the cubicle wall at them. Had he been watching the whole time? Troy pulled Mark away and down the hall from the orc, who sat sobbing at his desk. He glared at Mark and jabbed a thumb at the orc.
“What the fuck?” Troy demanded.
“Whoa man, don’t worry. He rolled an 8 for intelligence. And Barbarians are illiterate.” Mark said.
“Yeah, but he seems too dumb, even for an 8.” Troy said. “He can’t even speak in complete sentences!”
Mark frowned. “Yeah. 8 is just supposed to be low or below average, not, uh…Primitive idiot level.”
“And why is he coming to me with that baggage?” Troy asked. “I’m not-”
“You’re the Bard. Party morale expert.” Mark smirked and began writing something in his Book. “Just think about what he really needs to relax and get his mind off of things.”
Troy wanted to continue the conversation but found himself distracted by Grog’s sobs. The poor guy. He found himself walking back to his cubicle on autopilot. He placed his hands on the orc’s shoulders and massaged them. Grog stopped crying and moaned happily.
Grog had some nice muscles. As he rubbed them, he felt his cock harden. Troy wasn’t gay, but he had to admit the orc had a certain appeal to him. It was only gay if you kissed, after all. He found his hands drifting down, loosening the orc’s tunic, fondling the orc’s furry green chest. Troy noticed Grog’s own green fuck-stick harden, raising the kilt he was wearing. He could smell the Orc’s arousal and his hand inched towards Grog’s cock.
A handjob might work, but-Troy licked his lips-maybe a blow job was what the big guy really needed. Troy’s heart pounded. He-he wasn’t gay. He was just really concerned about his party member’s…member.
Greg gazed up at him, piggy eyes glistening, his tusked mouth open slightly. Troy leaned down, the orc’s moist breath in his face, and his lips parted and...he hesitated. If they kissed, that would make him gay!
Grog took the initiative, big green hand pushing Troy down towards lips, and Troy couldn’t resist the flex of the orc’s enormous muscles. Their lips touched, and Troy found himself relaxing into it, enjoying the feel of the tusks and the orcs tongue wrestling with his own. The orc’s other hand reached down and rubbed the tip of his green dick, coaxing some pre-cum out.
Troy felt the orc's finger brush his ass and had only a moment to wonder where his pants had gone when the orcs thick green digit wedge itself in his hole. He flinched, asshole tightening, but as the finger probed deeper, rubbing something just inside Troy’s entrance that filled his vision with stars and made him moan into that tusky kiss, he felt his ring suddenly loosen, like he’d done this dozens of times. Troy tried to fight the memories that told him he had.
The orc’s finger withdrew, leaving Troy empty, then it worked that fuck stick, drawing more pre, and smeared Troy asshole with it. Properly lubed, Troy felt himself being lowered onto Grog’s foot-long cock. Troy panicked for a brief moment, the last remnant of his straight sexuality resurfaced, but Grog mistook his struggle for eagerness and plunged him down on his meat-stick. Troy groaned, not in pain, but in pleasure as it rubbed and bumped his prostate.
He wasn’t gay, but the orc was fucking him in a frenzy, bouncing him up and down on his lap. Each drop lowered him closer to the base of Grog’s mighty cock. Soon, he could feel the Orc’s hairy balls bouncing against his. Troy could feel something building inside him, nothing like the regular orgasm he was used to and tried to pull away from the orc. He wasn’t-not gay-but the orc held him firmly in the kiss, tongue deep-throating him now.
Troy wasn’t-pap pap pap-he was just-pap pap pap. He struggled to think through the pleasure and managed to pull himself off the cock, but the orc slammed him back down, and as it happened over and over again, Troy realized he was doing it, helping the orc get off. But that was what gay guys did and- up and down, up and down-if, if he let Grog cum inside him he’d definitely be-up and down, up and down-Grog was relentless.
Troy’s toes curled, fighting the urge to give in, feeling himself breaking, precum streaming from his dick. He, he wasn’t-And then Grog slammed him down on his wonderful green dick and began to buck his hips, cock twitching, filling Troy’s ass with a thick load of orc sperm.
Troy felt the warmth fill his gut and moaned, relaxing, enjoying his gay lover’s embrace. His cock gave two pulses and cum oozed over the side of his dick, prostate too battered to put any force in it.
Grog sighed happily and pulled Troy off his dick with a schlorp. “You good bard.”
The sound of someone jerking off caught Troy’s ear. He turned and saw Mark next to them in the cubicle, cock out, hand stroking it. The cute red-headed bear blushed when he saw Troy staring at him.
“I, uh-” Mark began. "I was just-"
Troy got on his knees and took his co-workers smaller human dick in his mouth and expertly began to suck it. Mark staggered, placed a hand on Troy’s head as Troy bobbed up and down on his dick. It was way easy to take than Grog’s. Troy twirled his tongue, sucking him off expertly. Mark huffed and he came in Troy’s mouth. Troy swallowed the load happily.
“Looked like you could use some help.” Troy said, kissing Mark on the cheek.
“Th-thanks.” Mark staggered back to his cubicle. “I’ll, uh, see you at lunch.”
Troy was very busy the rest of the day raising the morale of his co-workers. Noon rolled around, and Troy managed to get Mr Andersen done in five minutes. That dwarf had a hare trigger. He was running a little late for lunch, but he’d make it up to Mark later.
He wandered into the tavern and noticed Mark off in the corner. Troy slid into the chair in front of him. Mark didn’t look up, still writing.
Troy cleared his throat. “So I was thinking Glam Rocker Leonin.”
Mark looked up at him, blinking. “Oh. Hey Troy.”
“Busy?” Troy asked, gesturing at the Book.
Mark shrugged. “Just finishing off details of the world. What did you say you wanted to be?”
“Leonin glam rocker.”
“Aw man, really?” Mark frowned, but jotted something down in his Book. “I even wrote up the Gnoll race for you.”
“I know,” Troy held up a hand, not noticing the nails of his fingers going black. "Look, I know I said Gnoll, but I mean, come on. You think I can roleplay punk?”
Mark sighed. “No, it’s fine. The race write up for them actually needs a few tweaks anyways.”
“What’s with the office? I thought you were doing for DND modern?” Troy asked, his black claws scratching at his growing mane.
“Ah, new architectural style. I call it Retro-Medieval. Dungeon Punk.” Mark said. “I’m surprised you even noticed! But, uh, since you do notice, what do you think?”
Troy rubbed his chin and a tuft of golden brown fur grew out if it. He found himself stroking it contemplatively instead, not noticing his face start to push out into a muzzle. He finally smiled, showing formidable teeth.
“Not half bad! So, like, LCD TV’s are magic now?” Troy leaned forward, getting excited, and a long tufted tail slithered out of his backside.
“Yeah, exactly,” Mike grinned, relief clear on his face. “Kinda like making all our technological advancements more like magical advancements.”
“So like that Final Fantasy game where the guys go on a road trip?” Tory asked, his legs shifting to accommodate a more animalistic stance.
“Ah. No, that’s more sci-fi, this is like cyberpunk if the advancements were more magic. Magicpunk.” Mark explained. “So instead of cyberarms, you’d have golem arms and what not.”
“Guns?” Troy tapped his paws against the floor, getting a nice rhythm going.
“Sort of, but not quite.” Mark smiled. “They look like guns but they use magic crystals to fire spells.”
Troy scratched at himself as tawny fur spread like wildfire across his body. His muscles began to pump up and before long, a heavily muscled Leonin took Troy's place in reality. He unslung his guitar and played a tune, watching his forearms flex. It was like he'd never seen them before, which was odd, since he'd always been this way.
“Feel any different?” Mark asked.
“What?” The Leonin blinked and scratched a furry pec. “No. Should I?”
Mark smiled. “Nope. You’re perfect.”
Troy grinned, showing off his fangs. "What's next?"
"Your outfit. Let's get you some gear and then we'll move on to stats." Mark wrote a few things down.
Troy's plain button down shifted, becoming silk, and with a shrug, a leather jacket covered in glittering sequins appeared on his torso. He left it unzipped, showing off his mildly athletic body. His pants shifted to leather and his shoes altered to boots.
"Alright." Mark looked up. "Looking good."
"Don't I always?" Troy preened, stroking his chin tuft.
"Next is stats. I was going to drop your intelligence, but..." Mark paused. "Considering how Grog turned out, maybe that isn't a good idea. You have one 9 that needs to go somewhere. Generally, with a bard, we put it in strength, but you're a strength-based Bard, so my thought is we put it in strength, let your racial ability kick in and then, since we're 4th level, increase your strength by another two, leaving you with a 12. Athletic."
Troy nodded, not quite sure what he meant but he felt his muscles swell lightly. He'd started working out recently, so of course he didn't have huge gains yet.
"Next?" Troy asked.
"Name. Then we're done." Mark said.
"Troz." Troy shrugged.
Mark wrote something down. "Alright! See you tonight, Troz."
Troz nodded and went to get a beer, careful not to let his guitar hit any of the chairs in the office tavern. Place was crowded at lunchtime.