You knock on Sam’s door and wait impatiently.
He lived in a pretty little cottage that stood out among the brick town-homes that lined the block. You could see a large backyard behind it. Sam must have bought the lot behind it as well. He could probably afford it. Witches made good money.
The full moon was out, which meant, by all rights, you should be transforming into your Therianthropic form. And you would be too, if you hadn’t been lying to all the kids back in high school. Shapeshifters and other supernatural creatures got all the attention. So with just one teeny lie, you became popular over night. Sam had become your best friend after you ‘came out’, so to speak. He was a witch-a very powerful one, by all accounts.
You ended up coming out as gay, too, and to your surprise, so did Sam. Happy days followed-prom, bowling, movies. Couple stuff. All the while you were growing more and more uncomfortable with lying to him. You knew if you did tell him, then your happy nights would be over.
When you’d finally told him, one week before graduation, that you’d been lying about being a shapeshifter, he was devastated. Sam broke things off with you, despite having dated for over two years. The lie had been too much for him to take. You understood, and had expected it, but it still hurt. Last night was the first time he’d even spoken to you in over ten years.
Life for a human in the post-supernatural world was hard, and as you watched your former friends excel and live happy lives, you ended up going from job to job, an utter failure. That was why you’d lied about being human. Passed over for promotions, fired for the slightest infraction. You had heard arguments for why that was. That supernaturals were simply better than humans and whatnot.
But the simple fact of the matter was that pissing off a human really had no consequences. Piss off a werewolf…well, good luck surviving the next full moon. Piss off a witch? God only knows what they’d do to you. And the supernaturals made a point of reinforcing their strength, taking every opportunity they could to make examples out of people.
And now, a decade after the supernaturals came out of the closet, they ran the world. You were now unemployed for the sixth time in your short time as an adult.
That’s why, when Sam called you last night, you’d accepted his offer. Not just for the $2000 that he promised for the modeling gig, but also because you missed him. You were lonely, a complete disappointment to your parents, and couldn’t date because you were either too broke or too tired from work to care.
The door opened, releasing smells that reminded you of pumpkin spice, incense, and Sam stood in the doorway. Where you had grown older, furrows creasing your forehead, Sam had stayed young and sexy, with his trendily styled blond hair and the smoldering eyes and his playful smile. He was wearing a low-hanging tank top which showed off his pecs and shorts which stopped at the top of his well-muscled thighs.
You cock hardened in your shorts. He was still hot. That was something. You wish you could say the same about yourself, but witches and therianthropes aged much slower than humans. You were still young, sure, but definitely not like Sam, who could pass as a high schooler at the age of 28. You gave him your own rueful smile and unsuccessfully hid your boner.
“Hey you.” Sam said, eyeing the bulge in your shorts. “Miss me that bad, huh?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“Come in before someone calls the cops on that monster!” Sam grinned and waved you inside.
You entered his home. As you passed through the threshold, your body tingles and something raw and urgent took hold of you. You glance at your arms, the hairs on the back of them sticking up as though you’d just gotten an electric shock.
“Shit, sorry, forgot to turn off the wards.” Sam hurried over to you as the hairs on your left arm began to thicken into gray fur, your fingers twisting into nimble paws. With a few precise arcane words from Sam, the fur receded back into your skin and your hand reformed back into a humans from that strangely dexterous paw. “Raccoon, huh? Usually it turns people into rats. Guess you are special, huh?”
You gave him a wry smile. “Of course I’m special. I had you.”
“I know.” Sam looked away, jaw clenched. “You really hurt me.”
You entered his home and look around, trying to figure out what to say. Clearly Sam was still upset. Yousighed and admired his furnishings. Nice couch, a little too homey for your tastes. His home looked much more modern, although he’d kept to the cottage design. The little wood burning stove was made of shiny copper as were the burners on his oven as you passed through the kitchen.
“I...uh, I took the job because I wanted to apologize.” You say.
“You don’t have to do that.” Sam waved. “It won’t matter after tonight anyways.”
“Oh,” You said, feeling hurt. “You won’t be seeing me again, then?”
“What?” Sam’s eyes widened and then laughed. “Oh, you thought I meant-! No, no. Posing nude and having your body exposed in public sounds like a rather poetic form of justice to me.”
“I missed you.” You smile.
“I missed you too, Fuzzy Butt.” Sam smirked, calling you by the pet name he’d given you when you dated back in high school. “A lot of things have changed since I inherited my Great-Grandmother's Grimoire. Will change. You know she was considered one of the most powerful magic user in the Old World?"
"No. You did say people were scared of her." You reply.
"Yeah. Anyways, come on, my studio is out back.”
You eyed Sam’s bubbly butt as he walked in front of you, cock stirring in your pants. Sam opened his back door, gesturing you through, then hurried ahead of you. You walked past an apple tree and his herb garden. A few plants were labeled with skull and crossbones-likely essence of nightshade and monkshood. Some herbs witches needed for their spells were deadly for human consumption.
Next to the garden was a row of white wooden boxes. You could hear the sounds of quiet buzzing coming from within. A large shed stood nearby. Just inside, you could see the basic equipment for making honey.
“You’ve got your own apiary?” You ask.
“Yup! Honey and beeswax are great for all sorts of spells.”
“I’m glad you’ve got a hobby.” You say, smiling.
“Yeah, well, it’s not really going to be my hobby per se, it’s going to be my boyfriend’s hobby.” Sam explained.
You wilt, smile falling from your face. Boyfriend? So he wasn’t single after all. Sam noticed your disheartened expression and grinned.
“Hey, don’t be too upset. My boyfriend’s a great guy.”
“Do I know him?” You ask.
“Oh, I should think you’d know him better than anyone in the whole world.” Sam said cryptically, purple eyes glinting. “Anyways, the studio is just down here.”
You followed him down the hill along a stony path lit by tiny lanterns. Together you both walked over a small wooden bridge, a river rushing beneath it. You slowly realize your surroundings are growing more and more surreal by the second. They were in the middle of a city, why is there a pinewood forest back here? Where did that river come from? A salmon leapt from the stream below and splashed heavily into the water.
“My boyfriend loves to fish.” Sam explained.
“Sounds like he’s the outdoorsy-type.”
“You could say that.” Another strange smile played at the corner of his perfect lips.
“Alright, enough! Where the heck are we?” You ask, exasperated at his strange answers.
“We’re in my personal pocket dimension, called a Bounded Field. With a little effort, I can make anything real here.” Sam sighed.
“Where is here supposed to be?” You looked up and saw the aurora borealis in the sky and shivered as the air grew cooler the farther down the stony path you walked.
“A beautiful valley in Alaska.” Sam said. “Chilly?”
You nod.
“We’re almost there.” Sam reassured you.
Up ahead, the path curved around a line of trees. As you round the corner, the forest appears to clear out, opening into an alpine meadow. Sitting in the middle of the meadow was a large wooden building that looked like a cross between a log cabin and a gingerbread house.
“And that building is my studio. My Atelier, as witches would say.” Sam noticed your confusion. “It means workshop. Come on.”
This time, before he let you in, he spoke a few words and strange, glowing runes flared to life, then faded away. He notices your hesitance and take your hand. You pass through this threshold unmolested by his magic. The inside of his studio was rather bare. Paintings leaned against the wall, stacked against each other. The thermostat was set at a relatively cool temperature, certainly much warmer than the air outside.
The floor was made of concrete, a few rings of copper set at different intervals, forming esoteric patterns. In the middle of the room was a professional photography setup, complete with standing lamps and a large futon with pillows on top. Next to the futon was a wide pedestal and next to that was a folding chair, a tripod and an empty easel. A laptop and tablet sat on a small table near the folding chair. In a stack near the computer you could see plenty of books on anatomy, shifter biology, along with some old printed out transformation comics
You waited for Sam to set his sketchpad in the empty crook of the easel, securing it in place. Sam hustled off into a bathroom and came back with a glass of water. He placed it on the small table alongside a variety of watercolor tablets. He produced a filigreed paintbrush, strange runes inlaid into the fine wood, and finally withdrew a batch of fine-tipped graphite pencils.
Sam touched each object, making sure he had everything in its proper place. As his finger’s touched the tripod, his eyes widen and he placed the tablet on it and turned it on. He set it in video mode and double checked his tools and supplies before waving you to the center of the room.
You made your way to the pedestal, assuming Sam would want to get a few quick sketches of your figure. Part of you wondered what he was up to. Obviously, you weren’t a Therianthropic, and yet here you were, modeling as though you were. Maybe this was a kink Sam needed to work out after imagining you as a shapeshifter for years.
“So, did you read why I needed you as my model?” Sam asked.
“I did…honestly, Sam, I’m a bit confused.” You say, trying not to reoffend your former boyfriend. “You know I’m not a therianthrope, right?”
“Just think of it as…getting something off my chest. We witches have a need to control things, you know. That’s why so many people end up on our bad side. But this should fix things.”
“By imagining me as a therianthrope, you conquer your own emotions and the pain I caused you.”
“Something like that. This should bring me back to balance and restore the power I lost.”
“I made you lose power?” You furrow your brow, confused.
“Psychologically.” Sam said. “It’s a big deal when casting spells.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You won't be, and neither will I. There won’t be anything to be sorry about. Strip.”
“Err, isn’t this going to be displayed at an art festival?”
“More like my portfolio.”
“Oh, are you finally getting into Art School?” I smiled.
“You remember! Yes, a very special art school, with-exclusive. You are going to be my ‘focal point’, the idea behind the rest of my pieces.”
You strip yourself bare and place the clothes on the floor behind the futon, hidden from view. Sam eyes you appraisingly.
“I know,” You blush and rub the back of your head. “I, uh, haven’t been hitting the gym lately.
“That’s perfectly fine.”
“But your art is-”
“It’s fine, love. Capturing imperfection is art. Anyone can sketch a perfect Vitruvian man.” Sam insisted. “I’m going to get some quick sketches of you before we start. Stand on the pedestal and assume a relaxed posture, hands at your sides.”
As you assume the proscribed position, Sam busies himself. He flipped open another sketchbook and sharpened his pencils. The new sketchbook had transparent, wafer thins sheets of paper.
“Anatomical models need the inner and outer workings sketched. Like an X-ray.” Sam said, answering your unasked question.
“So human me on bottom, therianthrope me on top?”
“Something like that.” Sam replied.
He was being frustratingly vague and obtuse. He did that back in school when ever he planned on doing something weird. Getting you nude for him and showing off your skinny-fat form would be a likely candidate. It hurt to think that of him, though.
You heaved a sigh and tried not to cover yourself. Sam made you stand on the pedestal and turn in place. With rapid movements of his pencil, he sketched out a rough outline. He showed it to you.
“You are fast.” You whistle.
Sam smirked. “That was the simple part.”
“What’s the hard part?” You ask.
Sam reaches over to the camera and his hand tips the glass of water on the floor. It shatters, shards of glass sliding everywhere. Sam curses and hustles off to the bathroom. You hop off your pedestal and cautiously make your way to the shards of glass, picking them up carefully. Soon, you had all of them cradled careful in your hands. You look around for a bin to dispose of them in.
Sam walked back out of the bathroom and saw you holding the remains of the glass. He set down the new waterglass and gently wrapped his fingers around your hand. He looked up into your eyes, his purple irises smoldering. You flinch and your hands clench around the shards in your hands. You felt a flash of pain.
“Shit!” You spat, knowing you’d cut yourself.
Sure enough, blood welled from the side of your hand where a shard had nicked it. Blood dribbled into the glass of water below you. It soon grew pink and cloudy.
“I’m so sorry,” You stammer. “I’ve contaminated your water!”
“It’s fine. Stay right here, don’t move a muscle.” Sam patted you on the shoulder and walked back into the bathroom.
He returned with a first aid kit and gently wrapped a bandage around the offending wound. With a few alcohol wipes, he cleaned his work station. Then he guided you back to the pedestal. When you were properly positioned, he returned to his seat.
You notice he hadn’t cleaned the bloody glass of water and were going to warn him, but his brushed dipped into it before you could say anything. Only now you notice, as the brush re-emerges from the water, that the bristles were made of a thick buttery-brown fur.
“What kind of fur are you using for the brush?” You ask.
“Oh, you noticed?” Sam looked up, a little shocked. “You were paying attention when I gushed about making my own brushes, huh?”
You nod.
“Well, it’s a secret. But it’s a type not normally used for painting.”
“Very avante garde.” You nod.
“Right.” Sam smirked.
Another cryptic answer. You didn’t have too long to contemplate what that meant as, once his brush was properly wetted, he began to deftly mix some colors onto his palette. You relax. Watching Sam prep his canvas always put you at ease.
“Alright, pay attention now.” Sam looked up at me. “Look at the camera and say your name and species designation for me?”
“Why?”
“Posterity.”
With a shrug, you rattle off your name and tell the camera that you are, in fact, human. Sam has you answer a few weirder questions-like if you had any other names. Or if you had been tested and had medical records to verify you were human. You answered in affirmative, quickly growing bored.
“Are we ready yet?” You huff, crossing your arms.
“Yup. No more questions. Let’s start with the head. Hardest part to get right.” Sam said and began painting.
Things started feeling strange almost instantly. As the brush moved up and down in careful strokes, smearing a light brown color onto the wet canvas, your cheeks felt like they were gently but firmly being massaged. Your face widened, soft brown fur growing as though the brush strokes were tugging and pulling them from your skin.
Sam shifted the brush, repositioning it, and your ear began to tickle. You reach up to feel them. They seemed normal, though it felt like they were being massaged and tugged higher and higher up on your head. Little brush strokes teased them into a rounder shape at the tips. They flick in relief as the strange tingling releases them. You moan as the gentle tugs reached your scalp, massaging your hair into an even coating of thick light brown fur
“You okay?” Sam asks.
“Great.” You say, voice huskier.
“No…pain?”
You look at him in confusion. He smirks and dips his brush in the blood water, making a new color on his palette. He glances up at you then back to his canvas and begins painting again.
Again, you started feeling funny. You stare, cross-eyed, as your nose feels like someone has put their fingers in your nostrils, flaring them and tugging them forward and upwards. Your mouth grew thicker and swollen, lips blackening and extending forward. Short, buttery-brown fur sprung forth to cover your new muzzle. As you watched, the skin of your nose grew darker, the texture becoming bumpy. Your wide maw twitched and wrinkled as you were suddenly hit by a barrage of smells-the watercolors, your blood, and…Sam’s musky arousal.
You smacked your newer, thicker lips and swallowed back lust.
Then paused, running your tongue along your teeth. They seemed sharper, for some reason, and achy, like someone was tugging on them. You shook your head as your lips were massaged. They relaxed and loosened into wobbly jowls, drooping softly past your muzzle. The shake of your head set you off-balance and you nearly fell off the pedestal. It was like you were suddenly top-heavy. You grabbed your big head, fingers running through the soft fur on your cheeks in an attempt to keep yourself from falling over.
Sam saw your predicament and quickly added a few more brush strokes. Your neck muscles popped and expanded. The bones of your neck thickened to better support your head’s new weight. A thick ruff of light brown fur poofed up in a ring around your tank-like neck. You pull your hands away from your head, feeling much more stable.
“Better?” He asked.
You try to tell him you feel great, but only bellows and strangled grunts came out. Something felt like it was lodged in your throat. Try as you might, you can’t seem to form intelligible words, mouth and tongue weird and thick. Sam painted something else and suddenly it felt like your throat cleared right up.
“Great.” You rumble at last.
“Good. Head’s done. Wanna see?”
You nodded lightly, wary of your head’s new weight tipping you over. These partial transformations are always super hard. Wait, partial transformations? Your furry brows sag over your dark brown eyes as you wonder why that sounded so strange to you. Sam didn’t notice. He eagerly flipped the painting over and showed it to me, eyes narrowing as though watching for a negative response.
But why would you be mad about the handsome, chubby grizzly bear grinning back at you from the canvas? It was a perfect-albeit stylistic
You study it more closely, as though evaluating it. This was the centerpiece of your boyfriend’s…former boyfriend’s portfolio, after all. But how could you ever be impartial to anything Sam does?
“It’s missing your dick in my muzzle.” You say, then clap a hand to your maw, setting your jowls into wobbly motion.
“You’re too funny!’ Sam giggled.
You pulls a few faces, rolling your dark eyes around in their sockets. Sam went from giggles to full-throated laughter. A weight lifted off your chest. You loved his laugh. It reminded you of your high school years, before you…you pause. For some reason, you had the silly idea that you’d done something bad and he’d broken up with you. But that can’t be right. You were in his Inner Sanctum, his Atelier, and everyone knows a Witch only let their closest friends and partners in there.
“Okay, enough fun.” Sam said soberly. “Let’s do your legs next. Don’t want you falling over.”
“You’re too kind.” You rumbled a chuckle.
“Don’t be sassy, Honey Bear.” Sam scolded, using the pet name he called you when you were dating and prepared his paintbrush, dipping it into the bloody water again.
With a painless crack, your hips widened, muscle and fat filling out your figure. You shifted around to look at your rear. As if on cue, the tugging sensations worked on your ass. Your glutes were gently but firmly pushed and tugged, rounding out into a rather large rump. You moan pleasurably as the same tugging happens to your sphincter, pucker growing darker and swelling into a small donut.
Your spine cramps, hips popping, squeezing, the sensations so pleasant they had your cock hard and drooling. A furry tuft of a tail sprouted from the base of your spine, resting between your cheeks and shielding your puffy hole from view. It twitched cutely.
The tugging sensations shifted from your backside to your front. As you admired your bear bottom, your balls were gently tugged. You grunted as they swelled larger and heavier, sagging against your inner thigh. Hormone production went into overdrive, like a warm heat in your veins. Muscles all over your body swelled as a side effect. You panted, long tongue out of your maw as your cock was gently tugged longer and thicker than a beer can, shifting into a dark black color.
Sam’s strokes down your legs were sweeping and heavy. Your legs were jerkily tugged, muscles ballooning, fur sweeping down to your feet. Sam paused and resumed his careful strokes as your feet wriggled, each toe tugged, swelling and sprouting fur, the nail growing long and dark. The bottoms of your feet itch as padded cushions form and swell.
You stood on the pedestal more firmly, clawed paws gripping the wood. Sam finishes the watercolor and saves something on the laptop. He briefly looks up at you and you wink at him, waggling your hefty cock.
“Tease.” Sam grinned.
“You know it, babe.” You rumble back.
“Arms.” Sam mutters to himself and dips his brush again.
He starts on your hands and your fingers pulse and seize, tiny little tugs stretching them painlessly longer, nails becoming long, curved, dangerous. Fur covers them as your palm broadens into a dexterous paw, callouses swelling into pads. More heavy strokes up your arms and muscles bugled and fat coated them in equal measure, the heavy fur coat never too far behind.
You flex your ursine paws as he takes another photo. For some reason, this feels like the first time you’re seeing them. You marvel at how massive they are, and how heavy. In fact, you were getting tired just holding them up and inspecting them. You pant and wheeze, massive arms that you no longer have the upper body strength to support sagging almost to the floor.
“Oops, sorry, almost done babe. Next parts going to get done really fast.” Sam smiled and dipped his paintbrush. “Chest.”
Tufts of fur explodes from you chest, heavy and thick. It lightens up as it flows down your belly and connects with the coat on your groin. With every stroke of Sam’s paintbrush, your furry body was pulled and tugged. From your chest two heaving slabs of beefy muscle thrust forward. Your belly firmed into a tight set of abs, hidden under fluffy tufts of fur.
You growl and flex your pecs, enjoying the growing power of your form. But Sam wasn’t done painting yet. His strokes grew smooth, soft, light against the canvas. You suddenly feel warm and full, your belly beginning to rise like warm bread dough. The fat growth wasn’t just restricted to your belly. A soft layer of protective chub formed around your entire body, smoothing and rounding your bulky muscles. You heft your growing gut in you meaty paws. It was soft and blubbery and grew larger and rounder. With a sigh, you let your flabby gut flop freely in front of you. Your paunch continued to grow, giving you a cute spare tire.
Sam let out an exhausted sigh and wiped his brow with the back of his hand. He swished the brush in the bloody water while you absently played with your stomach, gripping it in both paws and wobbling it up and down. Sam finished cleaning up and you glance up at him questioningly.
“All done?” You say in a deep baritone. Heh. Bearitone.
“With the anatomical sketches and watercolor portrait. Now it’s time for you to get a job.”
You blink. “Like, full time?”
Sam nodded and tossed you a huge jockstrap. You picked it up. The wide waistband read GRRR!. You wrinkle your muzzle in a smirk. Pulling them on, you turn back to Sam, who had his camera out.
“Arms behind your head. Flex them. Face away from the came then turn your head towards me. Good. Give me that smirk. Nice. Naughty bear.”
You couldn’t help but feel excited, your thick cock pressing against the jock half-chubbed. Sam forced you into various poses. Ones where you were sitting at the futon, wriggling your paws at the camera. Another where you pose spread-eagle on the futon, ass facing the camera. As you went through the poses, it all began to seem familiar to you. Soon, Sam didn’t even tell you what he wanted, you just gave it to him. Half an hour later, he turned off the camera.
“Done?” You pant, feeling a bit sweaty.
Sam inspected the photos. “Should be. I’ll send them off to a friend of mine. Should hear back from him tomorrow. With any luck, you’ll get a modelling job. Or a porn career. Unfold that futon for me, honey bear?”
You were taken aback at how causally Sam spoke about getting you into porn. But you had to admit, it was kind of a hot idea. You adjusted yourself as you thought about exposing yourself to the world. Guys lusting after your body…
“Honey bear?’ Sam snapped his fingers. “Hello? Futon.”
You shook your head, clearing your thoughts and making your heavy jowls wobble. The futon was a breeze to unfold. Sam came up behind you and sat you down on the new bed. You wondered what he was doing until he tugged your jockstrap off.
“Sam…” You groan, hard cock springing free of its linen prison.
Sam looked up at you, his angelic features emphasize by the perfect lighting. The witch removed his shirt and pants, revealing a muscular and well-toned body. At the sight of Sam’s perfect chest and chiseled abs, any apprehensions you might have had disappeared. You embraced him, licking his neck and nibbling on his nips. Sam moaned happily as you aggressively groped and manhandled his body.
You turn him around, his ass in your snout. Nose twitching, you gave his ass a gentle slap, watching the bulbous muscles jiggle. He spread those cheeks and shoved his snout in deep, huffing his lover’s musk, tongue clearing him out.
As you work your ursine tongue deeper and deeper into Sam’s perfect ass, you gently stroke his own dick, claws dancing lightly down his shaft. Sam moans, dribble of pre trickling between the fingers of your handpaw.
You pull back.
Sam whines. “God, I love the way your fur feels on my boipussy.”
You shove your snout back down, rubbing your face roughly against the sides of Sam’s ass. The smaller moaned writhed and moaned as you tongue punched his asshole. You flinched as you felt Sam’s finger encircle your cock and begin jerking you.
Tongue lolling you moaned. Then you pulled out, staring at the loosened hole. Sam looked back at you.
“What’s the matter, Honey Bear?” Sam wriggled his ass in your nose, watching them flare as you took in his lovely scent.
“It won’t fit.” You mumble.
“No duh,” Sam laughed. “Set me down and lay back. I’ll take care of you, baby.”
You do, setting him down and spreading your powerful legs for ease of access. Sam bent down and you threw your head back, groaning as Sam’s lips managed to encircle your cock. You couldn’t believe he could swallow the whole thing. Your claws flexed in pure pleasure as Sam savored every inch of your meaty tool.
“Fuck me.” You find yourself saying.
You lay back on the futon, positioning a pillow underneath you for added comfort. There was a slurping sound between your furry legs as Sam popped your cock out of his mouth. He reached under the futon and retrieved a bottle of lube.
“Prepared, huh?” You chuckle, then paused. “Did I upset you once back in high school? I keep thinking we broke up, for some reason.”
Sam lubed his own sizeable cock and shook his head. “Couple break up in high school. It’s nothing to be upset over.”
“But-Oooh!” You exclaim as he rubs the cool lube deep inside your ass.
There was something wrong about all this. You’d never bottomed before, and yet your mind was telling you that Sam had fucked you more times than you could count. Despite being the bigger partner, you were the bottom in your relationship. Sam could see the growing confusion in your eyes.
“You want a happy life and I want my powers back. Just let this happen.” Sam whispers in your ear. “Stop picking at a healing wound.”
“I’m afraid of forgetting…” You whimpered.
“Forgetting what?” Sam’s voice was flat.
You pause. Sam had a point. Was there anything in your current life post high school worth a damn? Being a constant failure hadn’t been fun. What was so wrong with forgetting that?
“Just relax, big bear.” Sam chided you gently, rubbing his hand over your furry chest, groping a soft pec and pinching a sensitive nipple. “Let me fuck that unpleasantness away, okay?”
No sooner had you nodded your assent, Sam thrust his cock inside your ass. You growl and grit your teeth and pushed your sloppy hole all the way to Sam’s hilt. The you moan as Sam began thrusting, little cock striking your prostate with every buck of his hips.
You moan and writhe underneath him, body jiggling as his thrusts grew more forceful. You let your mind relax as fresh pleasure pumped through your body. Sam was the perfect lover You wanted nothing more than to run your paws down his back, caress him, but he rolled his hips and your thick cock burped up a dollop of precum. You surrendered yourself to the feelings and felt a happy pressure rise within you.
“I’m close.” You growl.
“Cum for me Honey Bear.” Sam said.
With that, you exploded. Ribbons of ursine seed draped across your belly fur, a few shots leaving strands of white across your muzzle. You felt his cock twitch and warm wetness blossomed inside of you. You gripped him in your arms, paws sliding across his lithe, athletic form as he came inside you.
You lay with him and kissed him deeply one more time. Then your eyes shut, drowsiness stealing across your features. He was only going to take a quick nap, that was all…
The last thing he saw was Sam getting up, going to the camera a turning it off. You thought he’d turned it off before you started fucking. Did that mean he was recording everything?
It was too hard to think about, so you didn’t you fell asleep as he snuggled up next to you
-=-=-=-=-
You woke up to the feeling of a warm moist mouth suckling on your cock. With a grunt, you open your eyes. Human again, though rather hairy, with a bushy black beard and extensive body hair. You heavily muscled mixed with flab, a true power-lifter's build. Your pecs were visible and pillowy but your abs were no longer there, just a flat slab of muscle.
Sam looks up at you from between your legs.
“How’s breakfast?” You smirk.
Sam giggled and opened his mouth wide, sliding his long tongue around the head of your uncut cock. You gyrate into his mouth, not sure when you picked up the technique, but it felt so good. Sam took your shaft all the way down to your low-hangers, bobbing slowly, letting his tongue play along your throbbing cock. You relax, letting Sam do all the work again.
And so it went for a few more minutes. Then you came, not able to give a warning in time as your seed flooded his mouth. Sam struggled to swallow it all.
He licked your cockhead clean and snuggled back onto your hairy chest. You gripped him to you, vowing never to let him go. As you feel around for your pants, you discover a case in one of the pockets.
You open it.l Inside was a diamond studded wedding band. Sam saw it and squealed.
“Yes, yes!” He cheeered.
“I didn’t even ask if you could marry me.” Your shoulders slump.
He grinned and took the ring, then placed it on his finger.