Where The Bears Are

PART ONE 

A fortnight had passed since Jamie had that peculiar lunch break with his childhood friend Hunter. The guy thought his new landlord was kicking people out of their apartments so that his friends could move in. Jamie thought it sounded preposterous at the time, and definitely illegal. But since they parted ways, there had been radio silence. No texts, no tweets, no snaps, no instas, no threads, no nothing. Now Jamie was starting to get concerned. It wasn't like his friend to go AWOL without a heads-up. But what was really weird was it was as if Hunter had never existed at all.

Every single social media account was wiped, the handles claimed by bots or strangers who'd held the handle for years, which didn't make sense. All of their text conversations had gone missing too. Then any photographic evidence of Hunter vanished overnight. Even trying to contact his parents went wrong, claiming he had the wrong number. He felt like he was going mad. How could he have imagined his best friend his entire life? They were literally drinking coffee mere days ago. Whatever had happened, Jamie knew it had to be down to that apartment complex. He'd done his research into the place, but aside from the unusual amount of horny, gay bears living there, there was nothing peculiar at all. 

But today was finally the day, Jamie's day off. It had been two weeks since his last proper day off, which was also the last time he'd spoken to Hunter. Now he was stood outside of Ursa Complex, trying to bring up the courage to enter. It could all have been a big misunderstanding. Maybe his friend wanted a digital detox, maybe his phone was faulty, maybe he called the wrong number. But the only way to get down to the truth was to step inside. He took a deep breath, and walked up to the automatic doors.

This was the first time that Jamie had entered the building since the new landlord had taken over, and he was surprised at just how much had changed. The air stank of tobacco and sweat, the haze of cigar smoke filled the lobby, which had taken on the warm hues of a log cabin lined with rustic brick. In the center of the lobby was a stone fountain topped with an elaborate statue of a grizzly bear. A real one, not the gay kind. It towered over him, almost as if it were warning of danger.

Around the fountain sat a number of leather sofas. Jamie almost disregarded them until he walked around the statue. There, on one of the couches, sat a hefty, bearded man smoking a cigar. He was wearing a leather vest and chaps, an accompanying cap rested on his bald head. His vest was left open, allowing his furry gut to spill into his lap. Curled up next to him was a much younger, chubby, not as hairy man. He was wearing a latex puppy mask, and was nuzzling his head into the older man's free hand.

Jamie locked eyes with the man, who squinted at him before huffing a stream of smoke from his mouth and nostrils. "You're not from round these parts," he growled in a rumbling bass.

"Noooo," Jamie squeaked, failing to not sound intimidated by the leather-bound man. "I-I came to check in on a friend I haven't seen in a while."

"That's how they getcha," the daddy bear replied with a knowing nod of the head. The pup beside him glanced up, and lightly growled from losing his master's attention. He jumped off the sofa and bounded towards Jamie, before being cut short by the leash attached to the collar around his neck. "Woah there boy, you know that's no way to greet a stranger. I should whip you for that. You want that, boy?" The young man whined, but from the way he gazed toward his master, it was obvious that was exactly what he wanted.

Jamie watched with unease as the bear stood up, towering half a foot taller than himself, and dragged his pup by the leash towards a vacant corridor. His pup followed on all fours after him, his ass with appropriate tail-shaped butt plug wagging in the air. As they rounded the corner, Jamie gasped for a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. Hunter was right about about the tenants in this place, they were a bit too open about their fetishes. In a way, he was a little jealous. He could never be so open about his sexuality as those men. Either way, he didn't really want to bump into them again. He rushed over to the elevators.

Confident that he wouldn't cross paths with another BDSM role-playing couple, Jamie speed-walked down to Hunter's apartment and rapped on the front door. His signature three taps and a thud. A full minute passed before he finally heard someone unlocking the door, then it swung open with force. Jamie's heart skipped, this visit was about to get even weirder...

A Christmas Carroll

Stan was back home for the holidays, and it felt good to be back in his childhood home. Sure, it had only been a few months since his last visit. But with him in his final months of college, he was getting fewer and fewer chances to make the journey out of state. With graduation drawing ever closer, he'd hoped to find a job somewhere closer to home, but all of his trawling job sites came up with nothing that would put his degree to good use. At least in the big cities, people were clamoring for child psychologists. As for now, he'd cherish every moment spent with his parents and sister while he could.

Which is why he felt a little disgruntled by his current task. His mom had given him a box of baked goods to deliver to someone in their apartment block. Some old guy called Geoffrey Carroll. He'd seen him a few times in the lobby over the years, but neither of them had ever said a single word to the other. Why would they? The man was as old as his grandparents. Older, even. His mom, however, knew every single person in the building by name, and almost every little thing about them. Apparently, he'd slipped on some ice outside the lobby recently, and fractured his hip. So she'd taken it upon herself to make him a treat, and asked Stan to offer any help in bringing some festive cheer. 

So he put on his best ugly festive sweater, stuffed a Santa hat on his head, and trekked up a flight of stairs to deliver the goods. He knocked at the door, and after a period just long enough to consider leaving the box on the floor and leaving, it was opened by a squat, elderly man with a bristly mustache and wispy, thinning hair. He had a pair of thick rimmed spectacles, and propped himself up with a steel medical cane. He looked him up and down with suspicion. "Wrong door," he grumbled. "I don't do that online stuff..."

"No Mr. Carroll, I'm Stan. I live on the floor below you. Uh, you know my mom, Betty Brooks? She heard about your accident, and asked me to give you these."

"Ah, Betty. A fine woman, she is. She's the only one who seems to check up on me nowadays..." Geoffrey stepped back from the door and added, "Well don't stand there like a lemon, come in!"

It was a little awkward to be invited inside given how he'd never said two words to the man up to now. But Stan pushed through the awkwardness and squeezed his way past the elderly man, being careful not to trip over his cane, and stepped into the living room. It looked much like his grandparent's house, smelled a little like it too. There were old photos of family members scattered around the room. He stopped in front of one which looked like a family reunion and asked, "Does your family not stop by? Seems like there's a lot of them..."

 "Of course they do!" Geoffrey sneered. "But they all moved away long ago. My youngest grandson's the closest, and he's still a good two hour drive. Everyone gets together for Thanksgiving, but Christmas? Bah! They're too old for that now, they have their own kids to coddle."

"No Christmas huh?" Stan felt a little disappointed by that sentiment. His family were Christmas mad. Like putting the Christmas tree up on Halloween mad. Looking around him now, there was no indication it was the middle of December. Not even a stray greeting card. "I guess that explains the lack of decorations..."

"My wife was the one who decorated for Christmas." Geoffrey sighed solemnly. "I haven't touched an ornament since she passed."

"Oh, I'm sorry..."

"Don't be, it was years ago," he said. "She was the sociable one, the one who enjoyed everything about Christmas. It doesn't feel right to celebrate without her..."

"Well I could put some decorations up," Stan suggested. "If you want, that is. Spruce the place up a bit."

"Bah, it'd only get in the way!" Geoffrey grumbled. "And all those lights and flashy nonsense would kick up my migraines!"

"I see," Stan said with a stroke of his chin. "You're a bit of a Scrooge."

"No I'm not!" Geoffrey huffed. "I can celebrate Christmas without the need for the frivolities. If anything, they get in the way of the true meaning of Christmas."

"Mmm, the presents."

"Jesus Christ!"

"I'm kidding, of course it's about spending time with loved ones."

"No, it's about the birth of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ! Good gracious, what are they teaching you in school nowadays!?"

"Sir, I'm 22."

"That's no excuse for ignorance!"

Stan sighed. Was it the pain of his fractured hip or was this guy always so grouchy? Maybe he needed a little encouragement. With a sly smile, he said "I wish you could reflect on those Christmases Past. Maybe you'll get more into the Christmas spirit, Mr. Scrooge!" He slipped the Santa hat from his head and plopped it atop Geoffrey's balding pate. It slid down his head, and almost covered his eyes. It took plenty of willpower for Stan to not burst into laughter at the sight.

Unfortunately, Geoffrey didn't appear to see the bright side of things, his cheeks almost as red as the hat blocking his vision. "I wish you would reflect on all those Christmases Yet To Come, and understand how demeaning the entire blasted thing is!" He yanked the hat off his head and tossed it to the ground. "Yes, I've read A Christmas Carol, you fool-born lout! And keep that hooter of yours out of other's personal businesses!"

"Wow..."

Geoffrey seethed for a moment, allowing his temper to cool before exhaling a heavy sigh. "You know what? Do whatever you want. Decorate or don't. I don't care any more." Stan was surprised by the sudden change in demeanor. Was this that seasonal depression he'd heard about? Geoffrey shuffled past him, quietly sneering "I'll be sure to let you know if any ghosts visit." before entering his bedroom with a huff.

Maybe he shouldn't have given the lad free reign over his apartment, Geoffrey briefly wondered before a sharp pain shot through his body. He winced as he lowered himself onto his bed, and made himself comfortable. Christmas spirit indeed... "Bah!" He growled aloud once more. Maybe that kid was right, he was a Scrooge. But for good reason. Any love he had for Christmas died the instant his beloved Maria passed away. She did it all. The decorations, the gift wrapping, the hosting, the dinners, and all with a smile on her beautiful face. So tied to Christmas were his memories of her, he couldn't bare to celebrate the season once more. It didn't feel the same. He only felt empty at this time of year... He mumbled some nonsense to himself as he fell into a deep sleep, unaware that the pain in his hip was gradually dissipating.

 ---------

Stan stood by, box of treats in hand, for several minutes as he debated whether or not to leave. He didn't really want to stick around. But he knew if he told his mom what had happened, she'd implore him to go straight back and spread a little cheer. Maybe the decorations would remind the old guy of those times spent with his family, and he'd be less of a Scrooge. The hardest part happened to be the easiest, as he found the plastic tree and a box of decorations behind the first closet door he opened. Perhaps the old geezer was going to decorate after all before his accident. Whatever the reason, all that was left to do was set it up.

It was a handsome artificial tree that looked like it had seen a lot of use. He could only imagine the Christmases that had been spent with this tree in sight. The joys of gifts, cheer and merriment. He could even see Geoffrey sat in an armchair, a tiny smile cracking his hard veneer as his sons opened up their presents from Santa. Year after year as the tradition moved from sons to grandsons, all fueled up with sugar and cheer as they ripped into gift wrapped boxes filled with toys and clothes and the occasional toiletry gift set. This tree had seen it all.

Stan chuckled to himself, giving his face a much needed scratch. His beard felt peculiar yet inviting. He'd been trying to grow one for Decembeard, and those increasingly cold nights, but it still grew in patchy. Or rather, it did until this very moment. Now it had blossomed into a fluffy delight that spread from cheek to cheek with a density he'd never experienced in facial hair. It left him with an odd feeling in his chest. Did beards just grow like that? An odd itch and persistent chill proved that wasn't all that was furry. His belly was gaining its own soft pelt of hairs. Stan had noticed since it now extended out from beneath his sweater, pushing it upwards to display its breadth. He chuckled nervously as he gave it a stroke. "I guess there's more than one way to grow up," he sighed. Geoffrey wanted him to reflect on Christmases Yet To Come. It was an odd wish, but one that seemed to be having an effect on him. He'd heard magic was writhe this time of year...

Now his body was feeling warm and cramped. His clothes continued to tighten around him like they shrunk in the wash. He really didn't want to, but he found he had no choice. Stan slipped his sweater off and tossed it aside, followed by his jeans which had to be peeled off of his burgeoning buttocks and thick thighs. He marveled at how much hairier he had become. Swirls of dark hair swept across his torso in an uninterrupted blanket. Deep in his rational mind, he knew this was impossible, and something that should terrify him. But those initial qualms were quickly fading away as quick as his hairline. He felt a breeze across his head. Reaching up, he stroked the top of his bald scalp with a slight frown. It appeared that woolly coating he'd obtained had all just migrated south of his head for the Winter.

Despite the uneasiness in his stomach, Stan couldn't help but marvel at his changes. It almost felt right to be so thick and hairy and mature. "I'm growing up," he said aloud. "I'm getting old. It won't be long until I'm as old as..." He gulped at the thought, briefly coming back to his senses. He didn't want to be old, right? He was losing his hair, getting fat, getting achey. And most importantly, he was losing his youth. This should have been terrifying, or at least concerning. Instead, Stan felt rather flustered. Everything about his failing body was turning him on. His cock had gotten hard, and to his surprise, it looked less than adequate. Was it his growing fat folds or was it actually getting shorter? As he held it in the palm of his hand, he swore he could feel it shrinking within his grip. A lustful moan escaped his lips at the thought. What if Geoffrey came back out to find him stripped naked and feeling himself up? It'd be so humiliating... The thought alone made him even more horny... But now wasn't the time for games! He had to hold off until he'd finished decorating. Why if his beloved could see him now...

Stan jolted upwards at the thought and sapped any lingering horniness at the roots. His cock even softened in his grasp, not even half the length as it used to be. Since when was he in a relationship? He was a single man, not for lack of trying. Yet thinking about it, he could see himself as a family man. Sat in his armchair as he watches his little boys open their presents from "Santa" with a knowing smile. Years passing by, decades, all spent in that comfy armchair as the belief in Santa spread from son to grandson to great-grandson. His loving wife by his side as she takes a break from slaving over the oven to accept that lovely necklace she'd had her eye on, or the garish blouse her sister had insisted he bought her. Then the many, many Christmases spent without her by his side. It was almost enough to give up on the whole thing...

Looking around, Stan spotted his discarded Santa hat. He reached down to pick it up, wincing as he felt a cramp in his lower back. He paused, and crouched down, his knees creaking as he grabbed the hat and stood back up. Creaky joints and back pain were all a part of getting old, he sighed. But looking around at what he'd already achieved, he realized something. He was getting old, but that didn't mean he had to grow up. He didn't want to be one of those old people who seemed to lack any sense of whimsy or joy. He refused to lose that joy! It would be a dishonor to his beloved wife if he gave in to the loneliness. She'd want him to celebrate all there was to be had at Christmas. Starting with the decorations.

The thought of all those Christmases yet to come put him in a better mood. There wasn't long to go until that Geoffrey guy came back. Then the real festivities could begin. He grabbed another ornament from the box and searched for the perfect spot to place it.

--------- 

Geoffrey tossed and turned in his bed. The nerve of that kid, thinking he could just waltz in with a box of cookies and demand he decorate his house for Christmas. Not the Christmas he knew, oh no. The proper, respectable tradition of remembering the birth of the Beloved Son. No, he wanted to bring in that sickening commercialized nonsense with all the bells and whistles he loathed. The second that lad was out of his hair, he was packing the whole thing back up.

How he wished he could go back, back to when he was celebrating with his wife and kids. As he sat in his chair and opened the gifts Maria had picked out for them under the guise of Santa. How he'd be given the usual bottle of whiskey or a box of cigars that would mostly go to waste as he found fewer moments to celebrate those big milestones in life... Then again, he'd never smoke a cigar in the first place. Smoking had been thoroughly drilled into his head as a dangerous, unhealthy endeavor and was seriously uncool. Now vapes. He'd smoked a few of those out of curiosity... Since when did he know what a vape was...

He shook his head to clear it. What nonsense was he thinking of. He was trying to remember his Christmases sat beneath the tree while his parents watched on with those patient smiles as he ripped open his gifts from Santa. It took him far too long to discover the truth, embarrassingly long. But that didn't ruin those moments when he truly believed. He recalled telling his fiancée all about it when they first started dating, and she laughed and laughed. That was when he knew they were made for each other. Lately he'd been thinking of popping the question, he just needed a ring... Wait, hadn't he already... What was her... 

It was the strangest thing. He could recall his days of youth with vivid precision. But anything past college was a frightening blur of vague details. And those vivid memories couldn't be real. He recalled opening Batman LEGO and a Jake the Dog toy as a kid, and the excitement of receiving a Nintendo Switch with a steering wheel add-on for bouts of Mario Kart as a teenager. But he was far too old for that junk. How did he even know what an Adventure Time was? Concentrating, he tried to recall anything at all about his life post college. But it was no use. All he felt was the pang of loss. Like he was forgetting something important. Someone important...

Geoffrey awoke with a start. Back in the same old bedroom he'd fallen asleep in. Old being an understatement. It felt familiar and yet oddly distant. A stranger's room. He felt less than refreshed, his mind foggy. Whatever he was dreaming, it was lost to the aether. He scrambled beside him for his glasses, only to come empty-handed. Though it appeared he didn't need them. Did he develop 20-20 vision in his sleep? Everything seemed so sharp and vivid in ways he hadn't experienced in years. He rubbed his head in awed confusion, followed by a "huh?" Was his hair usually this thick? A flash of memory told him he was thinning up top, yet his fingers didn't lie. It must have been that dream... He grasped at the covers and threw them off, the cool air hitting his bare torso. Why was he only in his underwear? And more importantly, where had these toned muscles come from?

Confused, Geoffrey jumped up from the bed and winced slightly. His back still felt sore from that fall last week. He thought he'd broken something from the way he landed. Luckily, he'd only bruised the skin, and his ego. It had definitely improved since then. He could walk upright, for one. In another week, he knew he'd be good as rain. The benefits of youth, he mused as he wandered over to the mirror in the corner. 

There he saw a young man of 22. Why he thought he was anything less, he didn't know. He licked at his bare upper lip, not fully understanding why he expected to feel the bristles of a chevron mustache. He'd only tried growing his facial hair once, and it came in so sparse, he vowed to never attempt it again until his stubble had fully filled in. He gawked at his reflection, giving his pecs a light squeeze as if he'd never seen his body before. Something told him he'd never been this athletic in his entire life, which was clearly untrue. He was the star of his football team back in high school, and still an avid gym-head now he was in college. He tickled the few hairs in between the solid mounds, picturing a far denser carpet of hair covering them. Maybe in another decade, but for now, he was smooth as silk. Not like that Santa brute... Santa who now? Another forgotten aspect of his dream maybe. Waking up in an unfamiliar bedroom alone was messing with his mind...

Lost in thought, a curious sensation brought him back to his senses - a wondrous, familiar smell in the air of nutmeg and cream. His mouth salivated at the scent drifting in from beneath the closed door. It wafted in from the kitchen. Of course, that guy was still here. Dan or Steve or whatever... Though something told him he was supposed to be here. The last thing he remembered was telling someone he was going to take a nap... No, he was going to get ready. Ready for what? Looking around, he didn't see any clothes that could have been his own. And he didn't feel entirely comfortable heading out of the room in just his undies. Or did he? It had to be why he was in a stranger's home in the first place. Didn't he accept someone's invitation to...

Geoffrey could hear singing now, Last Christmas. Low and rumbling and courageously off-key. The curiosity got the better of him, as it always did, and he decided to follow his nose out of the bedroom and down the hallway. He opened the door into the living room where he came face to face with a big surprise. A Christmas tree stood proudly in the center of the room loaded with kitschy ornaments and multi-colored lights. Even more tinsel and wreaths surrounded the rest of the room, giving it a homely glow that it previously lacked. There, stood by the tree, was the mysterious stranger who'd shown up out of the blue and offered to provide some Christmas spirit. There was a proud grin across his cheeks as if he hadn't just butchered a Wham classic. "I hope you don't mind," The shaggy old man said with a satisfied smile. "I made some eggnog while I waited. So what do you think? Pretty festive huh?"

Geoffrey looked to the tree and decorations that now stood in the center of the room, then back to the hairy old man sipping from a ceramic mug, and asked the only question that came to mind. "Why the fuck are you naked!?"

"Technically, I'm not completely nude," Stan said with a point to the red hat on his head.

"You know what I mean!"

"What can I say? I've done a lot of growing up recently," he chuckled as he slapped a palm against his solid belly and gave it a shake. "Besides, the suit's for work only. I like the feeling of being au naturel when I'm in my own home. Feels good, you know?"

"No, this is my ho-" Geoffrey began to say before petering out. How could he be sure this was his home? Sure, he lived in this apartment building, but it wasn't this apartment. It was missing his own personal touches. It looked like the home of an old man, that was certain. And he wasn't old, was he? No, of course not. He was barely in his twenties, the prime of his life.

"You know, it'd be pretty nice if you joined me," Stan said with a nod of the head to Geoff's underwear. "This ain't my first rodeo, no need to be so modest. We can have a little fun before we get to the main event. Come on, I'll get you some eggnog."

Geoffrey hesitated before following him out to the kitchen where a small pot of eggnog sat steaming on the stove. The Santa look-a-like ladled a generous portion into a matching mug and passed it to him with a wink. He gave it a sniff, appreciating the vanilla spiced scent. He'd never been one of eggnog but this cup smelled almost nostalgic. He took a long, hard sip. It was warm, and creamy, and overwhelmingly alcoholic. He coughed as a stifling heat burned in his throat, and his head swam a little.

"It's my wife's recipe.  She used to make it every Christmas morn. It'll put some much needed hair on your chest. I used to look just like you before I met her," Stan chuckled to himself while Geoffrey steadied himself on the counter. "Pace yourself, there's no rush."

 "Heh, I guess..." Geoffrey chuckled uneasily. He didn't know why he thought he could drink such a boozy drink so steadfast. He'd only become of age just over a year ago, and most of his drinking consisted of cheap beer from the student bar. Clearly he'd overestimated his tolerance. Putting his cup aside for the time being, he tried to come up with some small talk. "So Mr. Carroll..." Geoffrey shivered briefly. Why did that feel wrong?  

"Huh?" Stan sputtered his sip of eggnog back into his cup and said, "No, that's your na..." He paused. "Uhm, my father's name. Please, call me Stanley. Or even better, call me Santa." He winked.

"Well, only if you call me Geoff," the younger man chuckled awkwardly. "So Stanley. Or, uh, Santa. What exactly are we doing here?"

"Isn't it obvious? You wanted an up-close and personal visit with Rudolph."

"I...What?" Geoff cocked his head as Stanley subtly nodded his head downwards. Geoff followed his gaze until he locked eyes with 'Rudolph', and the old man reached down and gave it a soft stroke. A memory flashed before his eyes, of receiving some dick pics on one of his dating apps. Since when did he use those, anyway? It all felt so unfamiliar to him. Still, he smiled politely. "Oh, he's smaller in real life."

"Isn't he just?" Stanley smirked "I'd like to say it's Jack Frost's doing, but it's not the cold nipping at my nose." He squeezed the small nub with a soft sigh and tugged on one of his nipple rings at the same time. Was he getting off to this, Geoff thought. He felt flustered watching the silver-haired bear more than triple his age play with himself without a single care. Maybe it was the eggnog talking, but he was getting into it himself. He squeezed at his own cock through his underwear, feeling it get rock hard in his grip. He hadn't been able to get an erection in years... No, maybe Stanley hadn't. But Geoff had morning wood almost every day, not to mention afternoon, evening, and night. He was brimming with hormones, and was always in need of release. And seeing this horny old polar bear trying to get it up, he couldn't help himself. He reached out to Stanley, leaned forward, and planted a kiss right on the lips. Then his mind cleared and he stepped back immediately, cheeks flushed red. "Oh, I'm so sorry I-"

Before he could finish his apology, Stanley grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him in for a far more passionate smooch. They stood lip to lip, arms bunched around the other. For Stanley, this was something he'd done many a time, and it showed. For Geoff, he was more focused on how the bear's bushy beard tickled his nose, how his hairy belly squished against his abs, and those nipple piercings chilling his own nipples. Eventually, the passion died down, and Stanley stepped back with a sigh. "I'm sorry, am I too forthcoming? I'm used to men with more experience. If I'm making you uncomfortable, we could-"

"No, no." Geoff stammered. He didn't know why this felt so peculiar. He'd kissed other men before. Even hairy bears like the man before him. Hell, he initiated the kiss in the first place! But this felt different, almost wrong... He rubbed the back of his neck and said, "I've had experience. Plenty of it. Although never with someone so... Uhm, more experienced."

"It's okay, you can say old," Stan said with a hearty chuckle. "I'm an old man. Far too old to be fooling around with men younger than my grandkids, really. But it's always like this at this time of year. Younger men looking to experiment over the holidays. It's why I keep the hat on, because they're seeking out a Santa Claus of their own to have a little fun with."

It was sort of true, Geoff thought to himself. He was visiting his folks for the holidays, and was a little bored of the festivities. So he checked his dating apps to see who was in the same boat, and looking for a little festive fun. He wasn't expecting to see grizzled old Stanley Carroll baring it all, and in a Santa suit no less. Of course, the curiosity got the best of him, and they arranged a visit. He was surprised when the old bear even answered the door as Santa. Apparently, he moonlighted as the legend at the mall during the holidays, which seemed like a conflict of interest. But what he did in his spare time was his business, he asserted during that first meeting. He couldn't believe he was this close to fucking tha old man.

He had to prove he was committed. Geoff took another swig of eggnog courage before reaching down to his underwear and finally yanking them down in a single swoop, his cock bobbing up and down from the motion. Stanley raised his eyebrows and beamed underneath his bushy beard. "Well, that's a mighty big present you have there. Looks like you'll be coming down my chimney after all."

Geoff blushed and rubbed the back of his neck. It was a little corny but he liked it. He tried to match the energy. "Uhm, I'll fill your stockings with all the presents you can handle?"

"Nice try," Stanley chuckled. He tugged on his little pecker as if he was surprised it had gathered the courage to show up. "Well ho, ho, ho, it's a Christmas miracle! Why don't we cut the pleasantries and get to the bedroom while I can still keep it up."  

Stanley took the young man by the hand and led him back through to the bedroom. He laid back on his disheveled bed with a mischievous grin as he rubbed his flabby, furry belly. He'd faced those Christmases Yet To Come, and discovered many new things about himself. He loved his family, he loved Christmas, and he loved sharing that love with others in exciting new ways. He just couldn't wait to get started. "You're been a naughty boy, young Geoff," Stanley growled in his deep, gravelly voice. "But Santa is feeling a little naughty himself... If you want to get back in my good books, you're going to have to prove yourself."

Geoff psyched himself up. He was about to have sex with a retired widower role-playing in his own apartment. He'd known the man almost his entire life, but up to this moment, they'd never a single word to each other. They didn't know each other, not really. But it was still a weird feeling. In fact, he'd felt weird for a while now. Ever since he woke up from that weird, fuzzy dream of Christmases Past... He'd never really been one for Christmas himself. It always felt too full of itself as a holiday. Although he could always come around to it, he was willing to open up to the Christmas spirit.

Despite his confliction, his cock was hard as ever. Geoff slipped a condom on, along with a bit of lube, and stepped up to the fat, elderly man he'd been so confused by. Stanley, meanwhile, had made himself comfortable on the edge of his bed as he lay on his back, readying himself for a good time. He spread his legs wide in a pose that could only be described as turkey-esque. Geoff stared down at his huge, flabby ass. He'd never seen a rear-end quite so hairy. He could tell it covered him all the way up his back. It should have been off-putting, but if anything, it left him eager for what was to come. He gripped both ass cheeks and spread them apart before aiming his rock hard cock for Santa's puckered asshole. He smirked as he felt the old man shudder and try to suppress a moan as he slowly slid his thick dick inside, pausing as he reached half-way. "You okay?" he asked.

"Never better," Stanley sighed. "Now why don't you be a good boy and show Santa just why I should consider putting you on the nice list."

Geoff smirked as he thrust his hips deep into the old man's ass, eliciting a welcome yelp in response. He pounded away smoothly, trying not to be so hard. He was worried about hurting the poor guy, not to mention the sore throb from his own bruised hip. But he could tell that Stanley was eager for something more punishing. Geoff was hypnotized by the way Stanley's belly bounced back and forth with the motion. "I've never fucked anyone so fat before," he said absent-mindedly before realizing he should probably zip his lips.

"I am fat," Stanley agreed. "I'm a fat and old and gray. I'm being fucked by a man younger than my grandkids..." He moaned aloud before insisting, "Berate me. Humiliate me. Please..."

Now this was a new experience to Geoff. "Uhm... You're so hairy, it's like you're wearing a sweater? Err... And your beard looks like you're compensating for your bald head... How long have you been bald? I bet it's longer than I've been alive. I bet it's even longer than my dad's been alive." 

"You'd be correct," Stanley said with a moan. "Bald before I turned thirty... I was so ashamed..." He sounded upset, but the way he played with his nipples and tugged on his tiny cock like his life depended on it let Geoff know he was on the right track with the teasing.

"How does it feel to be fucked by such a virile young man? Does it turn you on knowing I'm so much younger than you?" A nod and another moan. "I'm 22, I'm still in college. I have my whole life ahead of me while yours is nearing its end." He was starting to get cruel, and it felt good to talk smack to a man who was clearly getting off on it. "You look pathetic trying to get whatever pleasure you can from that nub you call a cock. It's been buried by decades of flab. You're so fat and out of shape. I bet you weren't even in shape when you were my age. Fat all your life... A thick musclehead like me shouldn't be degrading himself fucking a ancient freak like you. I'm only doing it out of pity. Cause nobody else is going to. Not to a senior citizen like you. Face it, you're never going to be young again, you'll never be as fit and agile as me. Your best days are long behind you. You grew up too fast, you've missed the prime of your life, and you'll never get to experience it ever again."

With a sudden and unexpected shudder, Stanley gasped and rolled his eyes back. His cock sputtered out watery ropes of cum across his belly before sinking back into a flaccid state. "Looks like... Santa came a little... Early..." He panted through ragged breaths that made Geoff come to a halt in his pounding. But Stanley tapped him on the arms and said "No, don't stop because of me. It happens when you get old, you get too excited and can't hold it back. It's embarrassing, isn't it?" There was a wild grin that suggested everything was going to plan.

"I... I guess..." Geoff didn't feel right continuing to fuck the man long after he'd finished. But he had to admit it did feel good. Besides, Stanley seemed to take it like a champ. He even stepped up his agility until, after a few minutes of sweaty action, he finally howled as he filled his condom to the brim. Satisfied with their coupling, they lay side by side, panting in the afterglow. Eventually, Geoff sat up and gave Stanley a small smile. "That sure was great, Mr. Claus. But I'm concerned you'll still put me on the naughty list." He trailed his fingers through the old man's white chest hair, pausing as he teased the rings on his nipples. "Do you think you have the stamina for a round two?"

Stanley snorted, and patted his hand away. "Ah, to have the endless stamina of a young man again! I just about made it through round one. Another go right now would kill me. Besides, I was lucky to get Rudolph to come out and play at all. I've run out of those blue pills, you see?" He sighed and ran a hand down to his crotch and gave himself a little squeeze. "See? Nothing. Don't get old, kid..."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Geoff said with an apologetic smile. He couldn't tell whether this was still a part of his humiliation kink or he was speaking sincerely. They sat in silence for a few moments, then he asked, "You know, there's always space for one more at my parents' place for Christmas. I'm sure my mom would love it if you visited."

"Woah now, bud," Stanley said. "I appreciate the gesture, but I'm not looking for a relationship here. I can't be meeting your parents, I've got a good fifty years on you, at least! This was a one time thing. What is it you kids say... A booty call? I don't have much time left, certainly not for a single person."

"Who said anything about a relationship?" Geoff chuckled. "I just thought you'd prefer some company that isn't trying to get into Santa's pants! Not that I'd object, of course. It must be hard being alone for the holidays."

"Well, it is tough not having my beloved Maria around any longer, especially at this time of year. She was Christmas nuts, and her enthusiasm rubbed off on me. It's what led me to become a mall Santa, so I can bring joy the way she brought to me... But life goes on. Christmas is up to the boys nowadays. My youngest grandson's handling things this year. He's had a new addition to the family and I can't wait to see his little face."

"Oh, so you're a great grandfather, huh?" Geoff said almost in surprise. "That must be exciting."

"One of three great-grandkids," Stanley smiled. "The eldest turned seven last month, if you can believe it! I still remember when he was about the size of my hand." He held it up to his face before dropping it down to give his shaggy beard a contemplative tug. "It's the best part of getting old. Your family getting bigger, the festivities getting more hectic. It keeps you on your toes."

"Huh, I suppose it does," Geoff smiled. If he were in Stanley's boots, he would've given Christmas the boot. But seeing him embrace and celebrate the memories of his loved ones made his heart grow three sizes that day. Maybe this was the Christmas spirit that he needed to embrace. "Christmas isn't the time to wallow in the past, wondering what could have been. Nor is it worrying about the future and what could happen. It's about the here and now, spending time with others. That's why it's the present."

"Ouch!" Stanley rubbed his jaw in a comical fashion. "I'm all for sentimentality but that was some tooth-aching corn!"

As the two men laughed together, Stanley took a look at the young man sat next to him. He had his whole life ahead of him. Not like himself. There was a sense of loss, as if he'd lost something precious to him, but he couldn't remember. That was happening far too often nowadays. Getting old wasn't all fun and games. But he wouldn't change it for the world. He'd lived a long and fruitful life with a loving wife, bore two sons who each bore two sons of their own. People come and go, but there was no time like the present.

He nodded to Geoff and said "I see you're still have some Christmas cheer to spread," nodding at the man's solidly erect penis. To still have a working cock... "Well, I may not be ready to receive another stocking stuffer, but there's more than one way to satiate a craving, and I am desperate to get a taste of your candy cane."

 Geoff rolled his eyes and chuckled at the barrage of puns. "Well, I can't say no to Santa, can I?" Stanley grinned as he shifted his weight down, spreading his lips wide as his white beard buried Geoff's Pole like a blanket of snow. He could tell there were going to be many opportunities to spread Christmas cheer this holiday. 

 

Wish You Were Here?

Black Friday... Cyber Monday... Now there was Travel Tuesday? The capitalistic desire to invent commodified faux holidays to get people to buy junk was abysmal. And nevertheless, Eric's distaste didn't stop him from browsing the latest travel deals that kept cropping up in his feed. It wasn't like he could afford a vacation at the moment, nor did he have any strong desire to go anywhere. It'd be nice to have something to look forward to, aside from the annual family visit to the great lakes about 9 months away. Maybe he could find something amazing for Spring Break. Something more than the typical booze-laden trip to Vegas or Miami.

It was getting late, and nothing had caught his eye, when a bright ad interrupted his scrolling. "WISH YOU WERE HERE??" It declared in bold colours. It showed a woman in a dull grey home tapping on beachfront property on her phone, and now she was relaxing in the summer sun with a cocktail in hand. Nothing too groundbreaking. "TRAVEL TUESDAY EXCLUSIVE TRIAL!" Now that caught his eye. What would a trial entail? Curiousity got the better of him. 

The trial, it turned out, was a free "ticket" to be used on a limited selection of vacation properties around the world. "This is your ticket to far-flung destinations worldwide! You can really go places!" Yeah right, thought Eric as he scrolled through the website, which was more like a home listings site than a vacation rental destination. There were rentals in San Francisco, Rio de Janeiro, Seoul, Brisbane, Johannesburg, Lisbon. None of which were included in the introductory offer. Figures there'd be a catch. Even a free stay in Vegas seemed out of the question.

Eric barely flicked through what was included before deciding it was a dud. Except for one. A homely cabin in the middle of a forest, overlooking the Innvikfjorden in Norway. Unlike the other listings, it promised total immersion in the country, whatever that meant. Maybe it had to do with the owner of the property, a lonesome captain who guided tours around the nearby fjords and glaciers. Staying with a local certainly added a flair of authenticity to the affair, after all.

Eric had always fancied visiting Scandinavia one day, he had Viking blood according to an ancestry test his mom had done a few years prior. And spending the winter holidays surrounded by beautiful scenery and actual snow was tempting. It sure beat the eighty-odd degrees he was still experiencing in Arizona. But the price of travelling to Europe was a deterrant in itself. Wasn't Norway supposed to be one of the most expensive countries in the world? One the happiest too, apparently...

WISH YOU WERE HERE? The website silently declared next to the listing. He hovered his mouse over the YES button. Something about it made him hesitate. Did he really wish he was there? In the snow-capped mountain fjords? Well, it couldn't hurt to see where it led him. The second it asked for passport details or a credit card number, he could easily exit the page. Eric tapped that glowing button, and the screen was replaced by a cool toned loading screen. A whirring cog span in the center, while a progress bar slowly crept upwards. "LOADING - RECALIBRATING"

The First Night

PART ONE

This was it, the night of the full moon. Tonight's the night... I tried to distract myself with a cheesy movie, but I couldn't help but check the clock every 5 minutes, or glance at the closed curtains, fighting the urge to throw them open. When was it supposed to happen? Was it going to hurt? What if nothing happened, would I be okay with that? I groaned, and shoved my face into a pillow. Why can't things be easy!?

It was only a month ago when my roommate, and now closest confidante, inadvertently revealed his deepest secret to me, a month since I unwittingly put myself at risk, and a month since I was infected... That night was such a blur now. I remember Harry changing, obviously. How could I forget the moment he transformed before my very eyes, his body twisting, contorting, and growing into a full-blown weredad. I didn't even know they existed until that moment. But after that, I only had vague memories of our bodies intertwining in the moonlight, as he pounded my ass in the cold night... Then, I remember waking up the following morning, both of us still in that forest. Harry was young again, and it was clear that we both regretted our actions.

That first night after, I was questioning everything. I didn't feel any different. I didn't look any different. Harry called them residual days, where the moon still looked full, but was waning in its power. He himself still changed, but he didn't get as old as that first night. He was still daddy material, with a beefy dadbod, and salt & pepper streaks through his hair, but noticeably younger than before. Meanwhile, I was still myself. Maybe I was a little hairier, and thicker. But if I was, I couldn't tell. I began to think I was immune, which was a little disappointing. But Harry said it was all part of the process. Nevertheless, we spent those nights in the bedroom. He broke out his leather, genuinely pleased to have a use for them again, and I offered my body up to him once again. Maybe in the hopes another few rounds would increase my likelihood of gaining that weredad status.

All was forgotten as the moon continued its cycle from full to new and back again. That is until the past week. I noticed something peculiar. I was finding myself drawn to the smell of leather and fine tobacco. The taste of a rare steak, and a good brandy. I felt a desire to wear a suit and tie that I'd never consider outside of a wedding. And even stranger, I was beginning to think of men around my age as being boys, and far younger than myself. I wanted to guide them, and teach them in the ways of the flesh, as they submitted their bodies to me... Even now, I get the chills thinking about it. Surely it meant something. That I was preparing for the change. But I was too scared to ask Harry about it, in case it wasn't...

In The Moonlight

My roommate has always been a little odd, ever since I moved in with him. Don't get me wrong, Harry's a swell guy. Kinda tiny, and thin as a rake, pretty clean-cut, mostly keeps to himself. And we get along just fine, I can't even recall a single argument. But then he has these moments, it feels like it almost happens every month. I'll invite him out somewhere, and he says he has other plans. Then he'll go out all night, and I won't see him for a few days. He never talks about it. Which is weird because it's definitely something. One time, I looked in his room for some spare deodorant, and found a whole wardrobe full of leather, and kinky toys. Not that I'm judging, everyone gets their kicks some way. But he never brings anyone back to the apartment, I've never even seen him leave the house with the stuff.

For now, Harry's on crunch time at work, putting in long hours and weekends to get their current project done and dusted. He's been so frazzled, I don't think he's even been eating right. So to cheer him up, I decided to treat him to a night at the Wood Cabin, a decent pizzeria on the edge of town.

"I really shouldn't..." He mumbled as we got out of the car. "Pam wants the updated papers tomorrow morning."

"C'mon, you're working too hard! All that stress causes grays, you know."

"Right..." he scratched at his head with a frown. His temples were scattered with premature white hairs. Poor guy's not even thirty yet.

I reach over and pull him into a tight squeeze. "C'mon! It's just one night, my treat. Plus, it's two-for-one Thursday. We might even make the end of happy hour if we hurry."

"Wow, half price pizza, and five dollar cocktails? You're really pushing the boat out, cheapskate." He shook his head. "Besides, I believe you'll find that it's Wednesday today."

"No, it's definitely Thursday. Dragscapades drops new episodes on Wednesdays, and that was definitely yesterday. You've been working non-stop since last week, after all."

"But- No... I never lose track of time... I can't..." Harry glanced at his phone, then up to the sky.

"It happens, it's no biggie. Just think, you're one day closer to the weekend." I went to nudge him jovially, only to realise he wasn't with me. I glanced back, and he was running in the opposite direction, towards the woods.

Ursa Complex

"See that guy? The one smoking on the steps? That's my new landlord."

Hunter gestured towards the tinted windows of the coffee shop before narrowing his eyes with distrust. His friend, Jamie, followed his gaze to the man who sat outside with a cigar. He cocked his head and asked, "That's the guy you're so frightened of? He looks harmless to me..."

"Pft, harmless..." Hunter replied with a shake of his head, messing up his hair. "I have good reason to fear him." He took a long sip of his iced coffee and slammed it back down on the table. "I think he's kicking his tenants out so he can fill the place up with his friends."

Jamie swirled his straw around in his plastic cup, clearly not convinced. "That doesn't sound legal... Can you prove it?"

"Well every day, I'm seeing more and more guys like him around the complex. "

"Guys like..."

"You know," Hunter said as he waved his arms abstractly, trying to best convey his thoughts. "Big, hairy men! All of 'em are friendly with each other, like they know what's up. And they all smoke like chimneys. The whole complex used to be smoke-free before he showed up. Now it stinks of ash!"

"OK, calm down," Jamie said, reaching over to swat at Hunter's hands before he crushed his drink. "I'm sure it's a coincidence. Maybe he advertises the vacant rooms on like-minded websites."

Hunter shook off his friend's hand and jabbed an accusing finger towards his apartment complex. "Well I'm not the only one who's noticed. Old Larry across the hall won't shut up about the two guys who moved into the apartment above him. Apparently they're fucking 24/7, he's not had a moment's peace."

"Have you tried talking to your landlord?"

"Not since the day he introduced himself... " Hunter gripped onto his cup in thought. It was only two months ago, the guy knocked at his door. He even gave Hunter a cigar as a gift, which he promptly shoved to the back of his junk drawer. Before he left, the landlord told him to expect some changes as he took over ownership of the building. At the time, Hunter expected a new paint job or a better laundry room. He couldn't have predicted what eventually came to pass.

"Maybe you should re-introduce yourself, then! Grab a few beers to loosen the atmosphere and air out your concerns. I bet you'll find it's all a big misunderstanding."

Hunter looked at Jamie incredulously and cried, "I don't want to be put on his hit-list! I'm perfectly happy where I am. Maybe if I keep out of his way, he'll forget that I exist and I won't have to find somewhere else to live... You know, he even changed the name of the building."

"Oh really?"

"It's called Ursa Complex now." Hunted scoffed and gazed out of the coffee shop window. "Ursa Complex... What does that even mean."

"It sounds fitting to me," Jamie said with a chuckle, refusing to explain the joke. 

"Well whatever it means, it's just another hole in my shattering social life. What if I want to bring a girl back home? Nothing says mood killer like passing a bunch of fat, middle aged men smoking stogies."

"You bringing a woman back? That's the most unbelievable thing you've said today."

Hunter snorted. "Shut up..."

Jamie grinned and played with his cup a little before saying. "I wish I had your problem. You know that my landlord still hasn't fixed the water issues? I ended up joining a gym so I have somewhere to shower..." He paused for a moment, reflecting on his own misfortune, before an idea struck him. "You know, we could always swap apartments. I'll live with the smelly men and you can live with no hot water."

"As tempting as that sounds, I think I'll pass. The only good thing that bastard did was lower my rent. Probably to help out his mates..."

"It was worth a shot..." Jamie mumbled before he stood up from the table and took his jacket off of his chair. "While I'd love to hear more of your conspiracy theory, I've got to dash. See you when you're less crazy."

Hunter said goodbye to Jamie and finished his iced coffee in silence, waiting for his landlord to finish his cigar and leave. Hunter swore that the man kept looking in his direction but the coffee shop's windows were tinted so he wouldn't have been able to see him. Right? The minute he saw the man get up and waddle down the road, Hunter grabbed his bag and high-tailed it back into the complex.

The lobby always smelled stale and musty nowadays. To think he missed the days it used to smell of chlorine from the fountain... He reached out for the elevator button when the doors opened. Two massive men stepped out, each wearing a low cut tank top that clung to their bulging bodies and allowed as much of their abundant body hair to breathe. One was bald with a gray-stained beard, the other had a military cut and a bushy moustache. They each had a cigar clenched between their lips. He recognised them as the couple who moved in down the hall from his apartment, taking over the cute students who used to live there. He hadn't seen either of the girls since, he didn't even get the chance to get their numbers. They probably didn't feel comfortable with the sudden influx of men and moved back to the college dorms... Hunter stepped out of the brutish men's path. They didn't even glance at him as they walked past. As they approached the door to the street, he saw one of them squeeze the other's ass, who then growled and returned the favour. Hunter winced, there were some things people should keep to themselves...

The elevator stunk of strong tobacco. Stronger than the usual background smell that had permeated the building. Sometimes Hunter wondered if he were evicted, would he have withdrawal symptoms. He reminded himself to research the effects of second-hand smoke. Maybe he could threaten to sue the landlord if he didn't enact a strict smoking policy.

As he pondered over the theoretical lawsuit, he exited the elevator and walked down the corridor to his apartment. Before he could reach his door, he noticed something peculiar. Larry's apartment door was propped wide open... Curious, Hunter knocked and called out his name. "Larry?"

"In here," he heard somebody growl. The voice was low and husky, nothing like Larry's frail, hoarse voice. Was he OK? Maybe he was being burgled... Cautiously, Hunter stepped through the door frame and glanced around. It looked as pristine as usual, no signs of a struggle or a robbery. Then he peeked around the corner and his jaw dropped. There was a huge, hairy man sat at the back of the room puffing on a cigar. Hunter couldn't believe it, they kicked out poor old Larry! Evicting some young college kids was one thing, but Larry had been there for decades! That landlord had gone too far...

He must have gasped too loud as the man looked up at Hunter and smirked. "You just couldn't wait to see me, huh?"

"Wh-who are you? Where's Larry?" he demanded.

"I'm right in front of you, kid," the man said with a grin. "New and improved."

"No... No no no..." Hunter stared flabbergasted. This man couldn't have been Larry, he was far too young to be the old guy. Far too big and burly to be the short, frail man. He shook his head and spluttered, "I'm talking about the guy who lives here, that Larry. He's an old man, retired a decade ago, grump with a heart of gold? Where is he!?"

"That's me. Old man Larry... Maybe not as old, but still old enough to teach you a thing or two."

The large man stood up from his seat and stepped towards Hunter, who himself stepped back towards the door of the apartment. There was a sudden slam, and Hunter turned to see the door had shut! He tugged on the handle, but it wouldn't budge. The strange man was almost within arm's reach. Hunter immediately darted to the right and into the open plan kitchenette, using the dining table as a barrier to keep some distance between them.

"C'mon pal, I only want to have a chat," Larry said in his gritty voice. He sounded calm but there was an urgency in his tone.

Hunter's stance immediately softened. Something about Larry's warm voice almost made him trustworthy. The man gestured to the table and Hunter felt himself pull back a chair and sit down. His body felt heavy, subdued, moving on its own whim. His mind felt cloudy all of a sudden, as if the urgent desire to flee had vanished. Larry smiled and sat down himself, resting his arms on the table as he clutched his cigar in a raised paw.

"That's it, take a load off and we can chat. Maybe even share a drink." He gestured to a whiskey bottle and two glasses in the middle of the table. Hunter smiled politely but didn't reach for the bottle. Eventually, Larry sighed and took it upon himself to pour each of them a glass. He raised his glass in cheers. "I know these are strange circumstances," he huffed in irritation. "But a little whiskey ain't gonna hurt ya. C'mon, it'll put hair on your chest!"

Hunter cringed at Larry's choice of wording. Was that what happened to him? Did someone offer him the same gesture? Hunter couldn't help but notice the bountiful hair covering the older man’s own body, a covering that almost certainly wasn't there the last time they met. He watched as Larry downed the glass in one gulp, wiping the dribble from his chin with a cocky smirk before resuming his smoke.

As Larry puffed on his cigar, Hunter looked across to his bearded face and tried to find something, anything, that was even a semblance to the grumpy old man who used to live in the apartment. But his cold blue eyes were docile. His button nose was long and straight. His constant frown was now a harmless smirk. Under any other circumstance, Hunter would have welcomed the change of demeanor. But the literal change of appearance was unnerving. It was like he'd been replaced.

"So, you're Larry. You're really Larry, the retired dentist who's lived in this building for decades. You're not, like, a relative or a scam artist or something, you're Larry Proctor."

"Well I ain't the queen of England, am I?"

"What even happened to you?"

"I had a visit from The Big Man downstairs after making a complaint about my neighbors upstairs. He took it upon himself to find a solution that suited everyone. Heck of a guy, he is!"

Hunter stared at the man, skeptical yet shocked. He knew his landlord was up to something fishy but he never would have suspected this. How could he ever guess his landlord was turning his tenants into big, hairy smokers? He still couldn't believe it, it sounded impossible. Then again, there wasn't anything to suggest it was true either. For all he knew, it was an elaborate prank or even a distraction for something even bigger.

"But if he made you like the others then..." Hunter gulped. Maybe swapping rooms with Jamie was still on the table. But he couldn't let his friend get caught up in the frenzy, could he?

Sensing Hunter's revelation, Larry exhaled a plume of smoke and said "You can't hide from The Big Man. He's kept a watchful eye on you, waiting for you to take his initial offer. And he's getting impatient. So he wants me to give you an ultimatum." He dug into his pockets and pulled out another cigar, placing it on the table between them. "Smoke this cigar and you'll become one of the guys, simple as that."

"Excuse me!?" Hunter asked before bursting into nervous laughter. He stared at the cigar before him, his nose scrunched in disgust. He hated smoking, it didn't appeal to him in the slightest. It was obvious that the cigar played a part in what was happening and he had no intention of being included. "Nuh-uh. I'm not getting mixed up in this weird power fantasy. I'd rather be kicked out to the streets!" He tried to stand up but it felt like a two-tonne weight was resting on his groin, a powerful force that prevented him from moving. He grunted as he tried to move, only to stop as he noticed the man across from him get up.

Larry tutted and shook his head. "I'm afraid that's not an option, pal. You smoke it of your own free will or I'll be doing it for you. Either way, you're not leaving this room until the deed is done."

 

"You can't force me to stay, no matter how strong you are!" But as Hunter tried to get up from the table, he found himself floundering as his ass stuck firmly to his seat, which itself was immovable. "Wha-"

 

"The more you fight it, the worse it's gonna be... You'll never fit in if you don't go with the flow." Larry stood up from his own seat, his stern face taking a sinister turn as he stepped closer to Hunter. "Go ahead and take a puff, it's waiting on you..." He stared down at the young man, waiting for him to make a move. But after a minute's silence, Larry lost his cool. With one swift move, he snatched the cigar off the table and set the tip alight. Before Hunter could process what was happening, Larry gripped the back of his neck and tried to guide the cigar into his mouth. Hunter jerked about, trying to free himself of the man’s grip, but Larry was far stronger than he used to be. He squeezed Hunter’s neck tightly, causing him to groan in pain. Seizing his opportunity, Larry shoved the cigar between the smaller man’s lips and clamped his mouth shut so he couldn't spit it out. "That's it, pal. Get that in your system," Larry growled, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. 

Hunter held his breath and attempted to spit the cigar out, but his teeth wouldn't unclench. He tried to reach up and yank it out, but his arms wouldn't budge. He hoped it would fizzle out and break whatever charm it had over him so he could make a break for it. Yet it only seemed to burn brighter. He held his breath for as long as he could but he couldn't take much longer. He gasped for air, his lungs filling with smoke and making him cough. He took another breath, not as harsh as the second. By the third breath, he was already used to the sensation. 

He hadn't noticed that Larry had left his side until he glanced up to see him back in his chair, arms crossed and keeping a watchful eye. He nodded his head slightly, and Hunter felt a small part of the charm break. He reached his right arm up to remove the cigar from his lips, breathing out a haze of smoke that surrounded him. A small tingle ran down his back, twisting his lips upwards. That almost felt good, he thought. But he couldn't let the charm overtake his body. He swung his arm down, aiming for the ashtray in the centre of the table, until he felt it hit an invisible barrier. Try as he might, his arm wouldn't go further. It stayed put in mid-air until he tried moving it back up to his mouth. 

"You're becoming a natural already," Larry purred as he puffed on his own cigar, adding to the smoke-filled atmosphere. "Feel that smoke entering your system, embrace its power. It's already working its charm on you..."

Hunter felt lightheaded...and good... He took another puff and felt a tightness in his chest. As he breathed in a mouthful of smoke, he watched in detached awe as his chest pushed outwards. When he slowly exhaled, his chest stayed stoic, unmoving. He repeated the process. Breathe in, his chest puffed out, breath out, his chest stayed put. After a few puffs, he'd grown a shapely chest that he had only dreamed of attaining. With his free hand, Hunter reached underneath his tight shirt and grasped a rounded pec with awe, feeling solid muscle buried under a thin layer of fat. As he brushed a finger against a perky nipple, he felt a jolt of pleasure run down his spine that made his cock twitch. A tiny moan escaped his lips, a reddening blush crossed his cheeks.

The brain fog momentarily faded and Hunter remembered what was at stake. He tried once again to put down the cigar and failed. His arm shook as he resisted putting the cigar back in his mouth. But that numbing sensation of submission washed over him, his arm mechanically swinging towards his mouth once more. Every smoke-fueled breath added more bulk to his body, thickening his limbs and rounding out his torso. Muscle pumped down his arms and a burgeoning bulk rested around his midsection.

The closer the cigar came to its stubby end, the more it seemed to affect him. Hunter winced as his shirt tightened around his thick body. It restricted his movement, making it hard to breath. But he couldn't do anything to relieve the stress. He stared at Larry, his eyes creasing in desperation, sending a silent plea for help. Finally, the man relented and Hunter felt control flow back into himself. He scrambled at his neck and flexed his torso, cringing at the sound of torn fabric as his shirt was reduced to a pile of scraps. Now in control, Hunter finally slammed his cigar stub into the ashtray, twisting it out with a sigh of relief. But the damage was already done.

He gazed down at his thicker body, a far cry from the slim man he once was. Round pecs rested on a rounder stomach. His thighs had shredded his jeans to disarray, each looked to be double the size they used to be. But to his surprise, Hunter felt no panic or loss. He was bigger, yes, but with some intense training, he could lose the bulk. If anything, after his first smoking session, all he felt was thirst. Without even thinking, Hunter reached out for the glass in front of him and downed it in one gulp. He gasped as he felt the searing burn of whiskey coat the back of his throat, alongside the painful realisation of what he'd done. He slapped his forehead and growled "Stupid! Why the fuck did I do that!"

"You might think the smoke is clouding your judgement, giving you brain fog," Larry chuckled before downing his own glass. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then nodded his head in Hunter's direction. "Of course, it's only guiding you. It's not the only part of the process What did I tell ya, pal." He tapped his own hairy chest with a grin.

Another prickle of change overtook Hunter’s body as thousands of hairs burst forth from his skin, covering his exposed skin with a healthy amount of dark hairs. "No..." He reached a quivering hand to his chest and brushed it through the newly grown carpet with twisted curiosity. He had never been a lover of body hair, and was always grateful that his heritage only blessed him with the bare essentials. But now he had a chest rug straight from the seventies. There was no way he could prune the dense curls that wrapped around his torso without specialist help. But as he stroked his chest, it felt relaxing, even pleasurable. Suddenly, he growled and snatched his hand away from the tempting fur. He didn't like it, it was only the charm affecting his mind, Hunter assured himself. He glared up at Larry and said "You won't..." He paused, momentarily coughing to clear his throat. He winced as he felt more hair on his face, his manicured stubble having tripled in density and grown into a short beard. "You won't get away with this," he barked, then coughed again. "What the fuck is up with my voice? Why is it like that?" There was a persistent grit to his voice. Low and gravelly, like he was gargling gravel.

"Y'like it? You sound like a real man now. It suits you. Really gets me going..." Larry thrust his hips under the table, making Hunter cringe. But when Larry stood up from the table once again, he started to worry. He sauntered up to the newly hirsute man with a twisted grin. Before Hunter could react, Larry bent down and locked lips with him. His bristly jaw scratched against his own, the scratchy sound of beard upon beard filled their ears and pumped an unknown passion into him. Hunter wrapped his arms around Larry's shoulders and pushed himself into the burly man. He didn’t want to be with him, didn’t want to be kissing him. But he couldn’t stop himself.

Larry hoisted Hunter up from the chair and dragged him out of the kitchenette. They continued to make-out, stumbling back into the hallway with their mouths interlocked. Hunter tried to guide them towards the front door but Larry took lead and forced them into the living room. They stumbled and fell back onto the sofa, where Larry finally broke free of Hunter’s lips. He whined a little, already missing the feeling of the man's tongue in his mouth, then shook his head clear. He didn’t want any of this! He had to escape Larry's grip on him. 

Hunter tried to get up, but Larry shoved him down to the floor. When he got back to his knees, Hunter looked up and gasped. He found myself face to face with the older man’s cock, rock hard and desperate for attention. He almost jumped right onto it before he regained his composure. He wasn’t gay! He hadn't had a single stray thought for a man in his life. At least, not before he entered this apartment, not before he smoked that cigar… Hunter looked back at that thick cock, calling out for him. He reached out to touch the glorious rod when Larry grabbed him by the wrist.

"Ah ah ah, not yet pal. I love the enthusiasm but you're a little too immature for my tastes. I like a man to be closer to my age. However, it would be rude to make you wait..."

Hunter stared up at the brute, confused. He didn't know what to expect but he knew in the pit of his stomach that it wouldn't be good. Larry took a long drag of his cigar and blew the smoke down into the young man’s face. Hunter cringed as it billowed across his face and made the air hazy.

"Come now, I know deep down inside of you, there's a daddy just raring to be released..."

Larry blew more smoke in Hunter’s face, the gray cloud clinging to his body, refusing to dissipate. Every breath Hunter took made his mind feel heavier. He tried to resist, knowing it was another attempt to force him into changing, but the cigar smoke was thickening to a dull fog that wrapped around him and blurred his vision. It was too much... An odd feeling swept over him, like he’d been overworked and wanted to rest. His breathing slowed, his eyes felt heavy. In amongst the fog, Hunter heard Larry moan. "That's it pal, you're getting it..." His skin looked duller and rougher. Larry ruffled the man’s hair, causing strands to scatter around him. He could even see some gray hairs within the mix. It was really happening, he could feel himself getting older, and he couldn't stop it. "That's the ticket... Soon you'll be the daddy of your dreams..."

Hunter gazed at the fat dick in front of him, unable to find a way out. Maybe if he gave Larry what he wanted, this whole nightmare would come to an end, Hunter reasoned to himself. With a reluctant sigh, he leaned forwards, grasping the dick between his fingers. He felt the man shudder as he pressed his lips against the mushroom tip, wondering how he would get the whole thing in his mouth without gagging. He opened wide and laid Larry's hard dick on his tongue, tasting the musky saltiness. He hated that it turned him on. He could feel his own dick hardening within the remnants of his jeans. He almost yanked it out but maintained some semblance of self control. Finally, he took the plunge and slowly worked his way down Larry's dick, bobbing his head back and forth slowly as he let more and more of the cock slide down his throat. 

As Hunter continued his tongue massage, Larry continued to puff on his cigar and blow the smoke over him. Every dusting of smoke and ash made Hunter feel different. A little more tired, a little more willing to continue. He was getting a little more thicker, a little more hairier. He was so focused on pleasuring the man before him that he barely paid attention anymore. After a few minutes, he could feel Larry twitch and hear him whine in pleasure. He reached over and stroked Hunter's head, comforting him as he neared his final moments.

With one loud howl, Larry shuddered and shoved Hunter away, shooting his hot load over Hunter's face, dripping down his beard and onto his belly. Finally, the brute fell back against the sofa, his head lulling back in bliss.  Hunter fell back himself, gasping for breath and wiping the gunk off his face. 

As Larry laid back on the sofa, Hunter knew he had an opportunity. He stumbled to his feet and fled toward the front door. He scrambled with the lock and flung the door open, taking a glance back to see Larry hadn't budged. Nevertheless, he hurried across the hall, crashed through into his own apartment, and slammed the door behind him. He panted and fell back against it with a sense of anger and loss. He looked down at his hands, no longer slim palms with long, supple fingers. They were thick, square mitts with stubby digits and black hairs prickling across every knuckle. His palms were rough and calloused, in much need of moisturising. But he had a feeling no amount of lotion would heal his cracked skin.

After taking a moment to recompose, Hunter stumbled towards the bathroom. He was afraid of facing his reflection but he had to know what Larry had done to him. He gripped the sink basin, bracing for the inevitable as he gritted his teeth and forced his head up. He stifled a sob, and his knees buckled. He didn’t even recognise himself!

He had a rounded face with a short and prickly beard, which matched the hairy and pudgy body it was attached to. Yet that stranger was actually himself. He was a brute. A bulky, hairy, middle aged brute, unrecognisable to who he once was… He rubbed a hand over his bearded face in disbelief, his fingers lingering on the patches of gray hair poking through the dense darkness. Glancing upwards, it was hard to ignore how his hairline had slipped back a couple inches. Once blessed with thick hair like generations of men before him, he now had a receding hairline that started up on his head, along with a general thinness across his scalp. He glared at the man he had become, at least twenty years older than he originally was. He couldn't even say he looked like his dad because he didn't. Clean shaven, full head of hair, wiry man. Everything he wasn't. Maybe he could have resembled his dad in another life, if fate hadn't altered his course. Before he was forced into this bearish body. Hunter stifled a sob that shook through his body. It couldn't end like this... 

Hunter fell against the back of his door and sunk to the floor, slumping his head and arms over his knees. He took several deep, controlled breaths until he managed to flush his encroaching panic attack away. He let his legs fall to the ground and sat staring at his unrecognizable body. With every passing minute, he felt a little better. He hadn't fully accepted what had happened to him, how could he? But his mind felt clearer. Having escaped that lunatic's apartment, the nightmare was over. He didn't have to worry about changing any further. Not in the short-term anyway. He was as hairy and bulky as he was going to get. And now that he had passed the worst of it, he could begin to make a plan. He might have come out of it a changed man in more ways than one, but now he could focus on finding a way to fix things. Maybe he could even sue the landlord. Would that even be possible, he wondered. Magical, body-altering substances were a stretch of the imagination. He didn't know if a jury would believe what happened to him... 

Leaving the bathroom, Hunter figured he should grab his laptop, already dreading what his search history was going to look like. "Thank God for incognito mode" he muttered aloud as he perched on his sofa, laptop on table. Before he could type, however, he felt a gnawing at his chest. A desire for something he never thought he'd have. He tried to ignore it, struggling to type a coherent sentence as it nagged at his mind until he gave into its calls.

With an exasperated grunt, Hunter stomped over to his junk drawer and threw it open, rummaging through rechargeable batteries and expired gift cards about until he found it; the large Cuban cigar his landlord had gifted him all those weeks ago. To think his life had changed so much since that fateful meeting, so much within the past hour... But was it worth smoking it? It did come from his landlord, after all. It probably had those same powers that Larry's cigars had. Then again, he could be immune now that he'd already gone though the changes. It wasn't like he could just go out and buy his own. Not when his clothes no longer fit him. And he couldn't order them online, not when he needed to smoke right this very moment.

 

"Fuck it, I'm already in too deep..." he muttered with a heavy sigh. He clipped the tip off the cigar with a knife and stuck it underneath the gas cooker. He raised the cigar to his mouth and clamped it between his teeth. That first inhalation of smoke was pure bliss. Maybe he could get used to being a cigar smoker... He'd have to get all the equipment first. He couldn't be using the stove all his life. And why stop with cigars? He bet he'd look pretty good with a pipe, it'd suit his mature looks.

Hunter sat back on his sofa, arms spread across the cushions, puffing on his cigar in silence. He reflected on the days ahead. He was a changed man, after all. Wiser, more mature. He couldn't have walls of cartoonish memorabilia or video games. He needed some refined taste, something manlier. Then he would have to quit his job in data management, of course. Nobody was going to recognise him if he stepped into the office, and it didn't exactly suit a man of his stature. Maybe he could put his newfound brawn to use, get a blue collar job in construction. Then there was his blooming homoeroticism. It was obvious that his orientation had shifted. He hadn't been on a date with a woman since the new landlord appeared, and as much as he hated to admit it, his romp with Larry was the most action he'd had in months. It had awakened something in him. Maybe he should embrace it and get out into the gay dating scene. Gay men liked rough, older men, right? There had to be some sort of thing for that. At least he knew Jamie would go gaga for his new appearance, the little twink...  Jamie... Hunter closed up at the thought. How the fuck was he going to explain any of this to his best friend, let alone meet up with him ever again? They'd look like father and son. 

As he pondered these things, Hunter heard his apartment door open and shut, followed by a familiar growl. "You thought it was all over, huh?" Hunter turned his head to see Larry at his doorway. But he held a different presence. More docile. He held his hands out to show he wasn't hiding anything.

 

"Are you here to gloat?"

"Of course not, there's nothing to gloat about. I'm just a traditional guy. You gave me a good release back there and, well, it would be mighty rude of me not to reciprocate."

“Excuse me?”

Larry grinned and slowly stepped towards Hunter. "Truth be told, I may have made a little bargain with The Big Man. It wasn't like I needed persuading to join the club, after all. I mean, look at me now." He flashed a smile and gestured to his beefy body. It certainly was an upgrade to his previous frail figure. "But I knew he would need some help with the other stragglers. Like you..."

“So you helped the landlord into tricking me since you wanted a bit of power. I kind of connected the dots there. Besides, you already told me that..."

"I wanted to be a strong and intimidating guy, sure. But as I got younger, I realised there was more that I wanted. And that's where you come in..."

"You already turned me into this middle aged brute. You won. What else could you possibly want from me?”

Larry smirked. “You really haven’t noticed?” he asked, giving Hunter a good poke. “The Big Man mentioned that you never truly accepted his welcome gift like the others, and I had a light-bulb moment. Every magic fueled concoction has its own little effect. The ones gifted to me by The Big Man served their purpose to induct you into the ways of the bear. However, the cigar that he gifted you could have also done the job. Hence I wondered what would happen if you combined the two. You see, I have always enjoyed the presence of an older man, an enjoyment I lost as I became older myself. But now that I'm young again... Well"

The colour drained from Hunter's face. How could he have been so stupid!? With surprising haste, he pulled himself off his sofa and squeezed back into his bathroom to once again gaze upon his altered reflection. He clenched his fist and grunted. Larry's hypothesis looked accurate. Hunter watched as the remaining dark hues in his beard faded to white with each puff of his cigar. What remained of his thinning hair was falling out in clumps until the top of his scalp was completely bare, only a horseshoe of rapidly whitening hair remained. His already stocky body was piling on more and more pounds as his belly bloated outward in a seemingly endless tsunami of fat. 

 

 

 

As Hunter watched himself succumb to the extreme effects of the cigar, a horrifying thought leapt to his mind. He didn't want it to stop. He wasn’t some sniveling hipster any longer. He was becoming a mature, thick man. Like a fine wine, he’d only gotten better with age. He gripped his bald head in a panic, trying to fight those unwanted thoughts.  He never wanted to be a fat, old bear! He was content with his old life as a young, scruffy, lean man with a dead-end job. Wasn’t he? Going nowhere, struggling from paycheck to paycheck. When the new landlord took over and lowered his rent, it was like a breath of fresh air. Finally, he could save money and not have to worry about any sudden expenses. Money he kept hidden away for a rainy day. It would make a pretty loaded retirement fund when saved up over the decades, more than enough to pay for the cigars and pipes he so longed to smoke. Never having to lift a finger again. He was free from work, free to live the rest of his days doing what he loved...

Hunter stumbled back in a haze. Could he really accept this new life? There was nothing he could do about it, after all. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad... He couldn't give up but deep down he knew he'd lost. He could escape his apartment, but then what? Nobody would believe him, he'd be another ranting old lunatic that people would avoid in the streets. Maybe it was time to accept his new life. He was tired of resisting. Tired of fighting against the inevitable. Just...tired... 

 

 As he stumbled back into the living room, Larry was already waiting for him on the sofa, beckoning him over with the pull of a finger. Hunter felt himself move towards the younger man, no longer resisting the latent urges inside. Larry wasted no time grasping at the old man's body, stroking his belly and kissing his bearded cheeks. Hunter didn't even resist as Larry's hands slipped further down, right into his pants to fondle his cock.

Hunter leaned his head back, cigar in mouth, arms spread across the back of the sofa. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad. Larry apparently had a thing for old men, and Hunter definitely fit the bill now. And he couldn't deny that he was getting turned on at the prospect. Larry pulled the old man's cock out of his pants, feeling it stiffen within his grasp. Still got it, Hunter thought with a smirk as it bobbed and swayed with a desire for release. Larry lunged forwards, taking his full cock in his eager mouth.

 

With a content groan, Hunter continued to puff on his cigar. He was packing on the pounds now, his belly bloating out like a water balloon. His pecs were softening with every breath, sagging downwards and resting on his belly. As he rubbed his soft body, a rare smile cracked through his unruly beard. Now that he'd stopped resisting, he actually felt good about his body. It wasn't half bad being so fat and hairy. He glanced over his round belly and to the man who was suckling at his cock with an unbridled passion. His head was starting to slap the base of his belly, making it shake with joy. The way it jiggled like jello was mesmerizing to watch. Hunter exhaled a cloud of smoke and groaned as Larry suddenly hit a good spot.

Hunter reached down and brushed a hand over Larry's head. It was hard to believe this virile man used to be a grumpy old coot. It was harder for Hunter to believe that he himself was possibly that old coot's former age. The thought alone made him moan in pleasure. He wasn't some inexperienced, young man any longer. He was a retired man with decades of life under his belt.

It was as if a switch flicked in his head, everything clicked. He was an old man, living in a building filled with other men, each one as brawny and hairy and manly as he was. Why didn't he see it before. He had resisted the changes up to this point but now he finally understood everything. He had gained everything he wanted. Larry upped the ante and Hunter winced. "Hngh....I'm..." He growled in ecstasy as Larry released his warm grip and Hunter ejaculated sticky ropes of cum onto the man’s masculine face. He kept cumming, his seed splattering down the Larry's hairy, burly torso. Following on, Larry growled as he yanked his cock out and shot his own load onto the old man’s fat belly. He fell forward, laying against Hunter, resting his head on his furry chest. 

 

"I fuckin’ love you, daddy," Larry growled in that gritty bass before slipping his expert tongue into Hunter’s mouth. They only broke free of each other's grip so they could get back to their other passion. Larry grabbed a couple cigars from his abandoned clothes, passing one to his older companion, who took it with an eagerness previously unseen up to now. Hunter flopped his head back against the sofa and exhaled a heavy plume of smoke with a contented smile. To think he had spent so long resisting the call. Finally, he was one of the guys now. Another bear in the apartments.

Hunter stretched out across the rest of the sofa and gazed down at his new body, utterly transfixed. He patted his huge belly with a loving smile, before leading his hand up to his saggy pecs covered with white fur. He scratched at his bushy beard, and pawed at his bald head, each far different to how he looked mere hours ago. To think that he truly was a retired, old man now. He was as old as Larry was that morning, perhaps even older. If only Jamie could see him now, he thought with a smug smirk. The kid would lose his mind! Maybe it was worth inviting him over to see the results... 

 

As he stroked his younger lover's head and puffed on his cigar, he finally felt at peace with the whole situation. Maybe it was just the cigars talking but it sure felt good to just let it all go. The two men stayed in their meditative state for a few minutes until their peace was disturbed by a sudden knock at the door. Hunter grumbled and yelled "It's open!"

The door swung inwards and there he was, The Big Man. Their landlord. He was beaming when he spotted his two newest bears cuddled up in companionship. "Well hello," he purred as he walked into the room. "I thought I would pop in and see how you fellas were doing."

"We're doing just fine, sir," Larry said as he exhaled a plume of smoke. 

"That's right, we're just dandy."

"Good, good. Well I'll leave you two to your heart's whim." He turned towards the door, paused, and turned back. "Unless... You two have anything you'd like to address. Or undress..."

Hunter locked eyes with his landlord for a second, a slight tension between them. Finally, he cracked a small smile and nodded his head. The Big Man closed the door and sauntered towards the two bears, eagerly unbuttoning his shirt. Things were going to be just fine at Ursa Complex.

 

PART TWO