“We’re going in circles, ” Liam groaned.
Noah exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. The carnival’s winding paths, thick with mist and neon glare, had turned into an endless maze. Liam paced beside him, fiddling with his phone, frustration etched into his features.
“I can’t get a signal. And I swear, none of these signs lead anywhere.”
Noah checked his own phone—no luck either. The sense of wrongness clawed at him, subtle but insistent.
“Alright, listen,” Noah said, placing a steadying hand on Liam’s shoulder. “Stay here. I’ll scout ahead, see if I can find an exit. I’ll be back in ten minutes, tops.”
Liam frowned. “Split up? That’s never a good idea in places like this.”
Noah forced a grin, though even he wasn’t sure he believed it. “I’ll be fine. Just hold tight. We'll be out of here and back home in no time.”
Liam hesitated before nodding. “Fine. Ten minutes. You better come back. It stinks like piss and cum here.”
Noah gave a quick nod before turning down the next pathway, the carnival’s lights flickering oddly in the distance. It was true. Quickly the air was filling with a potent musk of men and undoubtedly cum. It was obviously disgusting, but something about it and the strange aura of the carnival twisted into something atmospheric. Noah shuddered, not thinking on how thick the smell was growing. Images of many men gathered together doing unseeingly things framed into his mind.
Surely not? Right?
----
It was getting ridiculous. He should have found a way out by now. Instead, Noah found graves. Artificial, obviously, a staged cemetery, the kind meant to be kitschy rather than ominous. However someone mustn't have got the message. Something about them felt off.
The names, etched into cheap headstones, carried a mocking tone. The epitaphs also made little sense to Noah.
James Whale: Former Mother of Three - Ogre father of Three
Harvey Munk: Jock - Sexy Selkie
Noah shuddered.
The silence weighed on his chest. Suddenly there was no carnival noise. No distant chatter. Only the soft, creeping mist and the sound of—
Crunch.
Noah whirled around, heart hammering.
There stood Ryan, although Noah didn't know who what was. Instead he saw a clear and inhuman creature. A beast of sex incarnate.
Hooves planted in the dirt, muscles packed onto his frame like something carved for endurance. A donkey-satyr, his breath visible in the chill, his eyes eerily luminescent.
“Noah.”
Ryan’s voice came rough, strained. How did he know Noah's name? Then his eyes traced the features of the beast, and his eyes went wide. It was an old friend, one who he hadn't seen in months.
Noah took a step back. “Ryan? What the hell happened to you?” His voice wavered as his eyes darted for an escape route.
Ryan sighed, heavy with something almost like regret. “There is no exit.”
Noah’s pulse quickened. “That doesn’t make sense. There has to be.”
Ryan shook his head. “I need seven.”
Noah’s stomach twisted. “Seven what?”
Ryan stepped closer, slow and deliberate. “The curse. I have to turn seven people. I didn’t ask for this—but I can’t stop.”
Noah swallowed hard, his instincts screaming at him to run. But instead he became gobsmacked as Ryan began to pleasure himself, his lengthy flaccid cock growing to a ridiculous, sticky length.
“Turn into what?”
Ryan’s eyes darkened with understanding. “Me.” He was smiling now, even if he didn't want to do this. All Ryan wanted was to be human again, but god damn he knew it would feel good to fuck another man and actually make someone change into a fellow monster man.
The graveyard pressed in, the mist thickening, shifting into something solid—something trapping.
Noah turned, lungs burning, but there was no exit to be found.
Ryan reached out, pressing in closer and closer, masturbating with passion.