Note: This story is an experiment in two ways. I’m trying to see if I can keep it as brief as possible and also trying to cram a bunch of disparate transformations into it. As you’ll see, the premise is ripe for untold (as of yet) fun. Enjoy!

***

Themes: Weight gain, pig tf, age regression, cock shrinking, hair loss, stag tf, donkey tf, donkey dick, cock growth, clueless, fantasy, hyper cock, gainer/feeder, curse

Quick Links:

• Chapter 1 – scroll down
• Chapter 2 – Posted 12 October 2024
• Chapter 3 – Posted 13 October 2024
• Chapter 4 – Posted 13 October 2024
• Chapter 5 – Posted 19 October 2024
• Chapter 6 – Posted 26 October 2024
• Chapter 7 – Posted 28 October 2024
• Chapter 8 – Posted 17 December 2024
• Chapter 9 – Posted 17 December 2024
• Chapter 10 – Posted 25 January 2025
• Chapter 11 – Coming soon!

***

Chapter 1

Dylan DeMarco and his friend, Cailin Ross, were drafted into the Marines at the same time. As fate would have it, they were stationed together on the same base, just on the edge of the Algonquin Forest. Times were unsettled but growing more stable after the insurrection that nearly toppled the United States Government. For about twenty years, a different president was selected by the Senate until the democratic institutions had been rebuilt enough to support a free and fair election. After the first voter-led transfer of power in a generation, the country could finally turn its attention to more pressing issues: The accelerating growth of the forest that was threatening to subsume the entire middle portion of the country.

The Algonquin Forest had benign beginnings. Its trees had been genetically modified by a Canadian firm trying to develop drought, fire and flood resistant species. Unfortunately, the company had been a little too successful and they ended up producing trees that were immune to, well, basically everything. Cutting them down only accelerated regrowth from the roots. In a few days, a whole stand of mature trees would grow up around the stump of the felled tree. Likewise, fire and flood had no impact on them. Worse, the trees rapidly evolved to thwart even the most effective herbicides. Scientists were kept busy churning out new herbicides on a weekly basis because that was the usual timeline for tree immunity.

Entire cities were consumed by the forest. The trees would come up from the roots, invading basements and foundations, toppling even the most stalwart structures. Homes collapsed as the trees grew out from their roofs, even skyscrapers were felled by the voracious forest. Mother Nature’s hunger for more land knew no bounds. The only certain barrier against the forest were the waters of the Great Lakes; the forest halted at the shoreline, unable to colonize the water. As such, there were a few cities on the shores of those lakes that managed to hang on. Dylan and Cailin hailed from one, Petoskey, a small former tourist city located on the northeastern shore of Lake Michigan.

The explosive growth of the forest forced mass evacuations. Refugees flooded across state lines. Soon, the majority of the states of Michigan, Wisconsin and Minnesota had been taken over by the forest. Ohio was half gone and so was Pennsylvania. Indiana and Illinois were in the path.

Because the trees grew at an alarming rate, they sucked tons of carbon dioxide from the atmosphere. Within a few short years, they had reversed the trend of increasing CO2 levels and now were on the verge of plunging the planet into an epoch of global cooling, the likes of which hadn’t been seen since the last Ice Age. It was for this reason–and the need to save all of the arable land they could–that the U.S. Government reinstated the draft: They needed every able-bodied adult to help with the effort to stop the spread of the forest.

And so it was that Dylan and Cailin found themselves together in a unit tasked with patrolling the line of control, a sort of no-man’s land where bulldozers razed the encroaching forest and soldiers were deployed with canisters of highly concentrated herbicide. It was pure drudgery and neither of them were very enthusiastic about the next four years of their lives, trapped in a platoon of jarheads who had willingly enlisted. Because they were draftees, they were at the bottom of the pecking order and endured a lot of abuse.

Their commander was generally a good guy but had one annoying flaw: He was incredibly narcissistic. A former Hollywood actor who had enlisted to bolster his macho image, Sergeant Zapata was a tall, dark-haired, dark-skinned, ruggedly handsome young man with rippling muscles, chiseled cheekbones and a penetrating gaze. He looked like he’d stepped out of the pages of a Marines advertisement, an image he carefully cultivated. He routinely programmed a drone to follow him, taking video footage of his exploits and uploading the live feed to his social media accounts. Boasting more than two million followers, the dude was insufferable, always striking manly poses and adhering to a ridiculously strict diet that kept his striated muscles in full relief.

The other members of the platoon were less vain but made up for it with their constant efforts to show off how much stronger and fitter they were than Dylan and Cailin. One of them in particular, Alex Reyes, was particularly loathsome. Like the sergeant, he was tall and muscular and hairy but, unlike the sergeant, was blond and blue-eyed and pale-skinned. Claiming to be of Argentine descent, Dylan suspected his progenitors were escaped Nazis because no Latino guy he knew was that blond. Alex put even Sergeant Zapata’s macho behavior to shame and spent hours training under the most extreme conditions, all to prove he was the biggest, baddest, manliest and toughest soldier on the base. He singled Dylan out for particular abuse, deriding and generally bullying him.

***

“Keep it up, Pussyboy!” Reyes sneered. “Yer pathetic!”

“Oh, fuck you,” Dylan muttered under his breath, shouldering his pack and lowering his head to hide his reddening cheeks. He hated that Reyes got to him like this. No matter how hard he tried to ignore the asshole, he still got flustered when Reyes picked on him.

Their unit was out on the evening patrol, led by Sergeant Zapata who as usual was too busy posing for his drone to notice the behavior of his charges. As Dylan looked on, the sergeant smiled his winning smile, white teeth gleaming in the dusky light. “Takin’ the recruits out on a dangerous mission,” he whispered conspiratorially to the camera. “Gotta keep ‘em safe!”

Dylan rolled his eyes. Behind him, Cailin sighed and repositioned her pack. Dylan looked back at her, surprised by how much tougher she was than him. She was nearly six feet tall (an inch taller than he was) and weighed about the same. A swimmer from high school, she had broad shoulders and nearly as many muscles as the guys in the platoon. Somehow, though, she managed to retain a certain feminine air. This, Dylan suspected, was the main reason she didn’t receive nearly as much bullying as he did. If I were a tall, busty woman, I bet Alex would leave me alone, too, he thought, before amending, Well, maybe not. Maybe I’d just get a different kind of attention from him? He shivered at the unwelcome thought.

Staggering to the top of the earthen berm that served as the dividing line between the civilized world and the encroaching forest, Dylan ignored Alex’s teasing and surveyed the woods. The sun was setting and its light dappled the trees orange and red. A breeze rifled through his closely-cropped brown hair. He lifted his nose and breathed in the autumn air, shivering. Seeing the forest like this, it was difficult to perceive it as a threat. It was beautiful, serene, lovely…and dangerous.

The danger, as they were about to find out, wasn’t just due to the fact the forest was taking over the country.

“Do you hear that?” one of the recruits asked. “It sounds like…singing?!”

Dylan and Cailin exchanged worried glances as the rest of the company nodded their assent. Even the sergeant turned away from the drone long enough to listen.

“I don’t hear anything,” Dylan asked. “Do you?”

Cailin shook her head. “Nope.”

“Oh, this isn’t good.” Dylan set his jaw and turned to Sergeant Zapata. “Sergeant, Sir! We need to return to the base now.”

Zapata furrowed his brow, elegantly plucked eyebrows rising. “I give the orders around here, Private.” Facing the woods, he pointed toward the trees, “Company, move! Into the forest. We need to find out who is singing.”

“But–” 

It was too late. Obeying the command, everyone in the unit turned and scrambled over the berm, descending into the forest. After a brief hesitation, Dylan and Cailin followed along behind.

They caught up with the rest of the group at the forest’s edge. The men–and they were all men, except for Cailin–were listening adroitly, smiles plastered on their faces. Some of them were even cupping their hands around their ears in the effort to hear better. Dylan strained, holding his breath to eliminate even that noise, but didn’t hear a thing.

That was probably the worst thing that could happen.

“This is bad,” he muttered to Cailin. “We need to get ‘em outta here.”

“I agree but how?” Cailin’s brown eyes were wide with fear.

Dylan didn’t reply and instead started stripping out of his uniform. At first, no one noticed but then Reyes let out a low whistle, calling out, “Well, would ya look at dat! Nature Boy’s going au naturel! Haha! Why’re ya showin’ us yer little wee-wee? We already know ya got a tiny dick.”

Dylan continued undressing, bending over and pulling down his jockstrap. His cheeks reddened when he felt everyone’s eyes on him. Next to him, Cailin followed suit–or, rather, unsuit–removing all of her clothes until they were both standing next to each other, completely naked. Unlike Dylan whose naked body received nothing but disdain from the group, the soldiers all eyed Cailin’s curvaceous, voluptuous body with lust-filled gazes.  She ignored them, wrapping her arms around her breasts and shivering. Beside her, Dylan covered his less-than-average-sized gonads with his hands, shivering even more.

“Uh, Privates,” Sergeant Zapata drawled. “Would you mind telling us why you’re showing us yer privates?”

Dylan was opening his mouth to reply when the first of the men threw down his pack and started running into the forest. Zapata turned to him and yelled, “Private Owens! Get back here RIGHT NOW!” Owens ignored him and was soon followed by another recruit. Then another and another. Soon, everyone had fled into the forest except for Sergeant Zapata, Dylan and Cailin. “What in the fuck?!” the sergeant spat. “So much for listening to their commanding officer!” He hesitated a moment and then, despite Dylan and Cailin’s cry of warning, took off after his men.

Watching him run, Cailin raised an eyebrow. “Well, what now?” Her tone was sarcastic; it was no secret she despised the sergeant because he singled her out for a lot of special attention of the lascivious variety.

Dylan sighed. “We go after them. What choice do we have? If we don’t, they won’t make it through the night.”

“But if we do,” Cailin said levelly, “we may not make it, either.”

“Possibly.” Dylan preferred not to think too much about that. “Follow me.”

***

On the edge of the forest, the trees were shorter, being only a few days old, but further in, they towered above them. Dylan looked up at their darkening bows in wonder, trying to convince himself that they were only a few months old. Such giants would have taken centuries to grow in the recent past but all of the rules had been rewritten in the twenty odd years since the Algonquin Forest had first taken root in northern Canada.

The breeze stilled as they crept into the trees. It was so cold that Dylan could see his breath but, in the calm air, he didn’t feel quite as cold. Everything was deathly quiet, not even the hoot of an owl broke the silence. There was no hint of the singing that had lured the soldiers into the forest.

The going was slow because they were barefoot and they had to pick their way carefully over the litter covering the forest floor. At first, they could hear the distant whoops and calls of their fellow grunts but soon these grew softer as they were left behind. The light was fading quickly but both Dylan and Cailin knew a flashlight was out of the question. They didn’t want to attract any unwanted attention.

“Well?” Cailin demanded, her face a blur in the falling darkness. “Where are they?”

Dylan held up his palms. “How should I know? I can’t hear a thing!”

“Why do you think we couldn’t hear the singing?”

“I have no idea!” Dylan looked around. “It can’t be a good sign, though.”

“Fine.” Even though he could barely see her face, Dylan knew that Cailin had set her jaw. She pointed to the west. “I’ll go that way and you head the other. We’ll each walk one hundred paces and then turn around and meet back here to report.”

Dylan shook his head. “I don’t like it. What if we get lost? You know how the forest is.”

“What choice do we have?” Cailin was already stalking away, leaving him behind.

***

Cailin never came back.

Of course, it was so dark by then that Dylan couldn’t tell if he was back in the same place they’d just left a few minutes before. He called out for her as loudly as he dared but there was no answer. Shivering and feeling ridiculous for being naked in the cold October night, Dylan debated what to do. He could go back to the base and request help but he knew the commander would berate him for abandoning his unit. Loyalty was prized among the Marines and he didn’t relish spending the night in solitary for such a transgression.

Maybe he could follow after Cailin? Surely, he’d meet up with her eventually. Or maybe–

A sound caught his ear. There it was again. He stood still, straining to hear. After a while, he thought he could hear a man’s voice. Was it Sergeant Zapata? It was coming from the north–or the direction he thought was north. Looking around in the darkness, he debated before making his decision. He’d leave Cailin to fend for herself and try to find the sergeant.

He crept forward, heart in his mouth. The sounds grew louder. There was a low grunting noise interspersed with a man’s voice. All thoughts of his own discomfort disappeared when he spotted an eerie glow emanating from behind a small, fern-covered hillock. The giant trees rose up around him like statues, towering and remote. Mist swirled around the tree trunks, phosphorescent in the bluish light. 

Cresting the rise, he looked down and spotted the sergeant on his hands and knees. He was crouching in a copse of bushes, staring intently at a small pond before him. The pond itself was unremarkable save for its luminous water. Dylan squinted, realizing he could see the ghost of light in the ripples of water spreading out from the center. It was as if some unseen person was immersed in the water; however, there was no sound, nor was there any presence to behold.

Dylan panicked. This is much worse than I thought! I have to get Zapata out of here now!

Careful to keep his eyes averted from the pond, he stalked over the ridge and knelt down behind the sergeant. A low grunting sound–or the impression of one–seemed to come from behind him. He didn’t dare turn around to see what it was, though. No, turning around would be bad. One rule of the forest was that the less you saw when you were inside its reaches, the better. So far, he’d been lucky, only seeing the glowing pond. From the way Sergeant Zapata was staring avidly at the water, though, he knew the poor man was not so lucky. He briefly wondered what the sergeant was looking at before banishing the thought. 

Even thoughts were dangerous in the forest.

Putting his hands under the sergeant’s armpits, he urged, “Ok, let’s go, Sir. That’s enough.”

Zapata resisted, slapping his hands away. “No! I won’t go! She’s too beautiful! I have to see her. I have to see everything!”

Dylan gritted his teeth, still keeping his gaze firmly averted from the water. “It’s not what you think it is, Sir. You have to get out of here. Now.”

Zapata reacted strongly, batting at his hands. When Dylan persisted, he shoved him violently away and shouted, “GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE, PRIVATE!” He stood up, gaze fiery with indignation. “LEAVE ME ALONE!”

Silence.

Dylan cringed. Even though he couldn’t see anything, he could feel the charge in the air. He scrambled up from the ground, frantically grabbing at Zapata and trying to drag him away. Zapata drew himself up to his full height and seemed about to take a swipe at him when he abruptly staggered backward, clutching at his belly as if he’d been punched in the gut. By what, though, Dylan had no idea. As far as he could tell, he and Zapata were all alone.

Zapata fell onto his back, moaning. Dylan’s hair stood on end as there was a splash of water behind him. Off to his left, he heard the unmistakable stomp of a hoof. He closed his eyes and grabbed the sergeant, somehow finding the strength to throw him over his shoulder and do a fireman’s carry. Keeping his eyes on the ground, he lurched up the hillock and all but tumbled over the top. Only when he was safely away from the eldritch pond did he dare look around again.

The sergeant was immobile, lying over his shoulders. He weighed a lot but Dylan had built some decent muscles during his time at boot camp and could carry the man without too much effort. He hied it away from there, going as fast as his stout legs would carry him. He headed in the direction of the base, or at least what he hoped was the direction of the base. He’d lost his bearings a long time ago and was only moving on instinct.

It was so dark that he almost ran into Reyes. The private was standing there, a pale ghost in the shadows, completely still. Dylan drew to halt, struggling to keep his balance. Zapata’s weight was wearing on him and he was puffing and dripping with sweat despite the cold air. 

“Alex!” he hissed. “What are you doing? We need to get out of here!”

“Oh, hey, Dylan,” Reyes answered in a companionable tone. “What up?”

Dylan’s skin prickled. The fact that Alex was talking to him like a human being for once only added to his trepidation. “Sarge’s hurt,” he grunted, shifting Zapata’s weight over his shoulders, “and we need to get outta here. Now. Let’s go.”

He expected Alex to bridle at being ordered around but he merely shrugged. “Ok, you lead and I’ll follow.”

Dylan was tempted to put down Zapata and put his hand on Alex’s forehead but he was too tired and too scared. Instead, he turned and continued on in the direction that he hoped would lead them back to the base.

Going was slow and Dylan’s strength was flagging. He’d pierced his bare foot on something, too, which didn’t help. Limping along, he was tempted to ask Alex to take the sergeant but Reyes was humming tunelessly behind him, lost in his own world. Dylan groaned and rolled his eyes. So much for Alex ‘Mr. Tough Guy’ Reyes.

His inner sense of direction proved to be unerring because it wasn’t long before he could see the glow of the base’s lights over the top of the protective berm. He sagged with relief, glad that they’d made it back to safety. He was even happier when he heard the voices of the rest of the company nearby. Looking around, he saw them at the base of the earthen berm. They appeared to be carrying something. He squinted, trying to see if Cailin was with them.

“Hey, guys!” he called out. “You made it back! Where’s Private Ross?”

Silence. No one looked at him. He staggered closer, worried they were under some sort of geas from their time in the forest. Their heads were lowered and they were walking slowly as if marching to a dirge. “Hey, guys!” he started to say again but then froze, heart suddenly pounding against his ribcage when he saw what they were carrying.

It was the body of a young woman. A naked young woman.

It was Cailin.

And from the unnatural angle of her head on her neck, he could tell she was dead.

He dropped Sergeant Zapata and ran to her, tears already pouring down his face.

***

Chapter 2

They buried Cailin with full honors in a military cemetery in Indiana. In a particularly bitter twist of irony, Dylan heard that the forest consumed the cemetery less than a week later. The very place that had led to her demise now had taken her body as well. It was cruel but also fitting in a strange way.

He was there when they lowered her casket into the ground. He was crushed and grieving and barely aware of anything beside the chasm of his loss. He couldn’t stop crying even though he knew it was unmanly. He’d known Cailin since they were in kindergarten. It was a cliche but it was also true: They’d shared everything together. She’d been a constant rock of support and provided a kind of intimacy and love he’d never experienced with another human. He’d never been apart from her for more than a couple weeks since meeting her. Now that she was dead, he felt unmoored and adrift.

Cailin had died freeing her unit. The men attested to this, telling him how she’d thrown herself at some unseen captor, distracting it long enough to break the bizarre compulsion that was holding them frozen in place. They’d been stuck in a state of stupor when she arrived, unable to move and powerless to fight back. Without her bravery, they would have all died, too. She was a hero.

Dylan was granted two weeks of leave after Cailin’s funeral and returned to the base as a hollowed out man. Nothing registered anymore. He couldn’t taste his food. He didn’t sleep. He went through his days like a zombie, staggering along with the crushing weight of grief and self-blame. Yes, he blamed himself for Cailin’s death. If only he’d been more decisive! If only he’d told her to stay where she was! If only they’d stayed together! There were a thousand different scenarios he could imagine where she remained safe and alive. If only, if only, if only…

“Private, report to the commander’s office.”

Dylan looked up in surprise to find a major standing before him. He’d been so lost in scrubbing the floor of the latrines that he hadn’t even noticed someone was there. “Huh?”

The major wrinkled his lip, clearly wanting to rebuke him for his failure to stand up, offer a crisp salute, and address him as ‘sir’. Instead, he repeated, “The commander’s office, Private. Now.” He pointed somewhat unnecessarily in the direction of the base headquarters.

“Alright then.” Dylan pulled himself up off the floor and headed out. He was only vaguely curious why the commander would wish to speak with him. He had difficulty mustering enthusiasm for anything these days and was resigned to counting down the years until his service was over. Service was just something to get through, to take his mind off of Cailin.

There were more than the usual officers milling about the headquarters when he arrived. Also, he noted that the place had been spiffed up; everything was gleaming and all of the staff wore uniforms that were perfectly pressed. This should have been his clue that something extraordinary was happening but he didn’t realize the full import until the two cadets guarding the doorway to the commander’s office saluted and pulled open the doors to reveal the Secretary of Defense, Howard Chu, seated behind the desk.

Dylan’s mouth fell open before he closed it with a snap. “Mr. Secretary, Sir!” he cried, instantly standing up straight and giving what he hoped was a passable salute.

Dressed in an impressive uniform loaded down with medals, Secretary Chu surveyed him with hooded eyes before saying, “At ease, Private DeMarco.” And then he did the unthinkable and smiled.

Secretary Chu was an older man with graying hair and a reputation for having a humorless mien. Dylan knew his story well because the secretary was one of the most well known people in the United States. Chu was a retired three-star general who had successfully fought back against the insurrection twenty years ago. After that, he’d been a sort of kingmaker, putting forth a succession of presidential candidates for confirmation by the U.S. Senate. Even the current, elected president had his imprimatur. In short, Secretary Chu was the real power behind the throne.

The fact that the secretary was smiling warmly at him struck him as ominous but his fears turned out to be unfounded a moment later when the man stood up and beckoned him over, indicating that he should sit in the chair beside him. Dylan looked around, uncertain. Why was he being invited to sit next to the secretary rather than in front of his desk? The room was completely silent even though there was a coterie of staffers present, making it feel as if Dylan and Secretary were alone together.

When he hesitated, Chu invited, “Sit, my boy. Please sit.” The smile on his weathered face broadened. “You’re not in trouble. In fact, it’s just the opposite. I’m here to commend you.” He sat back down, waiting patiently for him to comply.

Dylan swallowed, frozen mid-stride as he approached the desk. “Uh, commend, Sir?”

“Yes, yes!” Chu’s visage was positively glowing with warmth. In all of the times that Dylan had seen him on the news, Chu’s granite demeanor had never cracked like this. “Why, as far as I’m concerned, you’re a hero!”

Dylan plopped down in the proffered chair. “I am?”

Chu nodded. “Of course! You and Private Ross–God rest her soul–saved your entire unit from certain death.”

Dylan grew sad at the mention of Cailin’s name but kept his composure. “It was really all her, Mr. Secretary. She is the real hero.”

“True but it’s also true that you can both be heroes, right?”

“I guess.”

Chu steepled his hands, peering at Dylan from behind them. “I am curious, though, how you did it? Would you care to enlighten me?”

“How I did what?”

Chu frowned slightly. “How you freed Sergeant Zapata and Private Reyes, for one thing.”

Dylan shrugged. “It was an accident, really. I just happened to go in the right direction.” He paused, “And I didn’t really do anything to save Private Reyes; I just sort of stumbled upon him and told him to follow me.”

“I see.” Chu’s gaze bore into Dylan’s skull. “But I’ve read the reports,” he indicated the glowing screen of a tablet on the desk before him, “and they say that you and Private Ross removed all of your clothes before entering the forest. Is that true?”

Dylan’s cheeks colored. “Uh, yes, Sir.”

Chu leaned forward. “And why did you do that?”

“It’s what you do when you enter the Forest, Sir.” Dylan shrugged. “Everybody knows that.”

“No, they don’t, Private. In fact, this is the first time I’ve ever heard of such a thing.” For a moment, Chu seemed about to ask him more about stripping but then changed tack. “You’re from Petoskey, right?” Dillon nodded and Chu continued, “It’s one of the few cities that remain intact within the Forest. Do you know why?”

Dylan shook his head. “No, Sir.” Then he swallowed, amending, “Well, I’ve heard stories but I’m not sure they’re true.”

“Tell me.” Chu’s alert, brown eyes continued to bore into him. He was watching Dylan like a cat sizing up a mouse but not in a bad way, more like a cat that was toying with a potential meal but had no intention of killing…just yet. “Tell me everything you’ve heard, no matter how ridiculous it may seem.”

“Well, it’s the Tribes, Sir,” Dylan offered, spreading his hands. “But I don’t know much, only what I’ve heard.”

“The Little Traverse Bands of Odawa?” Chu offered, surprising Dylan by his knowledge of the Native American tribes in northern Michigan. “What have you heard?”

Dylan stared at his hands. “Only that they, um, sing to the Forest, Sir.”

“‘Sing’?” Chu repeated. “They sing?”

“It’s just a rumor,” Dylan added hastily. “I’ve never heard them do it and I don’t know if it’s true.”

“I see. Any other rumors that you’d care to share with me?”

Dylan thought for a moment. “Yeah, I guess. Just like I was saying, I’ve heard you should only enter the Forest naked. That it doesn’t like it if you bring anything along.”

Chu’s attention sharpened with this. “Really? Tell me more.”

Shrugging, Dylan said, “That’s it, really. Just that you should only go in naked. And that you should never go in looking to get anything, like a reward.”

“Why is that?”

Dylan looked up before looking down again. “I know how dumb this sounds.”

Chu shocked him by actually placing his calloused hand briefly over his own, squeezing reassuringly. “It’s not dumb at all, my boy,” he soothed. “Please tell me more. I’m listening.”

Dylan’s cheeks were flushed and his heart was beating. He had no idea why the secretary was so interested in hearing the old wives’ tales about the Forest. Choosing his words carefully, he began, “You don’t bring anything into the Forest and you don’t ask for anything from the Forest. All gifts must be freely given.” He looked up at Chu, grimacing apologetically. “I don’t know why. It’s just what they say.”

Chu nodded. “I see. And what else do ‘they’ say?”

“That you should never go into the forest if you see or hear anything calling to you from inside.” He swallowed hard, remembering the fateful night again when his unit heard the singing. “If you do, you will never come back out again.”

Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, Chu observed, “But your company did go in when they were called and yet they all came back out again, except for Private Ross, of course.” He studied Dylan carefully before revealing, “This is why I wanted to see you: To find out how you did it.”

Dylan was silent, contemplating the secretary’s exhortation for a long moment. After a while, he sucked in his breath when he was struck by a thought. Whether it was because of the secretary’s line of questioning or because of sudden inspiration, he found that some of the pieces of the Forest’s puzzle came together in his mind. For the first time in his life, he understood something about the Forest and it left him feeling cold and bereft, the wound of his loss flaring anew in his chest. His eyes misted.

“What, boy?” Chu prompted. “I can tell there’s something on your mind. Out with it! I want to hear!”

Overwhelmed by sadness, Dylan lifted his head and met Chu’s gaze. “I listened. That’s all. I listened to the Forest and I didn’t try to harm it or steal anything from it.” He looked away. “I know how crazy that sounds but it’s true that the Forest isn’t just a threat because it is growing so fast, it’s a threat because of what lurks inside it. If you go into its lair, you have to be prepared to sacrifice something.” He brushed tears from his eyes, concluding, “I hadn’t realized until just now that the sacrifice was Cailin.”

***

He didn’t know why but his mood improved after the odd visit from the Secretary of Defense. He returned to the barracks with a spring in his step and feeling lighter than he had in weeks. He knew it didn’t make sense. If anything, he should feel worse knowing that Cailin had been a sacrifice to appease the angry Forest. Still or maybe because of this, he felt better. Cailin hadn’t died in vain. It made him smile.

He looked around as he entered the barracks, surprised to see a canvas bag at the foot of his bunk. The upper bed had been empty since Cailin died and he’d sort of hoped it would stay that way. He didn’t feel like sharing a bunk with anyone. 

“Hey, Hashimoto,” he called out to the private lounging on a bunk nearby. “Whose is this?”

Hashimoto looked over from scrolling on his Etherjack. “The new guy. Just got here a few minutes ago. He’s in the showers.”

“New guy?” Dylan repeated, unhappy. “Who the fuck is it?”

Hashimoto shrugged. “Name’s Cochran. A big motherfucker, too.”

“Shit.”

“Who’s shitting on my name?” a deep voice rumbled behind him and Dylan spun around to find himself standing in the shadow of an enormous bear of a man. 

Wrapped in a standard-issue towel that looked positively microscopic around his thick waist, he towered over Dylan. His brownish red hair was clipped short but he wasn’t clean-shaven like the rest of the unit and sported a short, dense, auburn beard. (Dylan learned later that Cochran’s face sprouted hair so quickly that he had to shave five times a day just to keep it somewhat presentable.) He was gazing down at him with a merry twinkle in his blue eyes and a smirk on his ruggedly handsome face.

Dylan’s nostrils flared, filling with Cochran’s rich, potent scent. It made him feel lightheaded. “Uh, nobody!” he squeaked, both terrified and in awe of this massive specimen of manliness. “Cochran’s a nice name! I like it!”

Cochran chuckled, reaching out to muss his hair. “Glad to hear it, lil’ bro. You an’ me’s gonna be bunkmates or so I’ve been told. Ya better not snore.” 

His hand lingered on Dylan’s head, rubbing it. Dylan knew he should pull away, that it wasn’t normal to let a guy touch him like that, especially not in the barracks where heterosexuality reigned supreme…but he couldn’t deny that he loved the feeling of the big man’s hands on him. His heart started beating faster and he swallowed, realizing he was getting hard. He was about to reply when they were interrupted by Reyes.

“Hey! Hands off of him!” They looked over to find Reyes puffing up his muscular chest. Glowering up at Cochran, he moved purposely between him and Dylan, forcing him to lift his hand away. “Don’t touch him!” His face was turning red with anger. “He’s my buddy.”

This was news to both Dylan and Cochran. “Reyes, what are you talking about?” Dylan demanded, stepping around him. “You hate me! You’re always saying so.”

Hurt filling his eyes, Reyes pouted, “I do not! I like you the best of anyone here! I always have!”

Dylan was flummoxed by this admission. Not only was it patently false–Reyes had made his life hell since he was drafted–but it was laughable, too. “Alex,” he said, trying to keep a straight face. “Stand down. Everything’s Ok. Cochran was introducing himself to me.”

Reyes’ eyes darted from Dylan to Cochran, his lip curling. “Just stay away from him,” he warned Cochran. “Or you’ll have me to deal with.”

“Well, Ok,” Cochran replied, laughing, before looking around the barracks. “Say, where’s Sergeant Zapata anyways? I’m ‘sposed to report to him. The guards at the gate tried calling him but said he wasn’t available.”

“He’s probably already in the mess hall,” Hashimoto replied, sounding bored. “Seems to be eating himself into a coma every night since that weirdness in the Forest.”

Cochran rubbed his hairy muscle gut. “Sound good to me! Hey, Princess,” he said, turning to Dylan, “wanna eat with yer new best bro? All I gotta do is get dressed.”

With that, he dropped the towel and Dylan found himself staring at the biggest, thickest, heftiest cock and balls he’d ever seen. The sheer magnitude of Cochran’s equipment made his mouth fall open. It shouldn’t have been humanly possible…and yet here it was, staring him in the face.

Taking note of his gape, Cochran smirked proudly. “Hmmm, I’m not sure,” he murmured in a low voice only Dylan could hear, “but I think yer gonna have to open wider if ya wanna take all of me inside. But that’s Ok, lil’ bro. Yer gonna get lotsa practice!”

***

Chapter 3

Dylan took Cochran to the mess hall after the giant brute had dressed himself in his fatigues. Regarding him out of the corner of his eye, Dylan wondered where they’d found clothes big enough to fit him. Must have had everything custom made, he thought, noticing that the seams appeared ready to pop as they strained to contain Cochran’s muscles.

Cochran’s hand was on him the whole time, sometimes resting on his shoulder, sometimes on his butt and sometimes on his crotch. (The big guy groped him once, squeezing his junk and smiling when he discovered that Dylan was rock hard in his jockstrap.) Dylan had never experienced anything like this with another man. Oh, he’d had crushes on plenty of guys and even dated one or two but he’d never felt an electric connection like he did with Cochran. It was like he’d known the big guy his entire life; it left him in a daze.

They found Zapata hunched over a tray in the hall, gobbling down his food. There were several already empty trays scattered about him on the table along with lots of food scraps. He didn’t even bother to use silverware and was stuffing mashed potatoes hand over fist into his gaping maw. 

He looked up at Dylan and Cochran in chagrin, gravy running down his chin. His amber-honey colored eyes were ashamed as he sheepishly wiped his face off with a wad of napkins. It was clear he was embarrassed to be seen like this and he addressed Cochran curtly, dismissing him as soon as possible to turn back to his gorging. They were walking away when he called out, “Private DeMarco?”

Dylan turned around. “Yes, Sir?”

“See me in my room after dinner,” the sergeant ordered. “It’s important.”

Dylan saluted, “Sir! Yes, Sir!”

“What is that about?” Cochran asked after they’d taken up their places in the food line and were out of earshot. “The dude’s a fuckin’ mess if ya ask me.”

“He hasn’t been the same since, you know, that thing happened.” Dylan looked back at Zapata, shaking his head as the sergeant resumed stuffing his face with food. He wondered how the guy kept his lean physique eating like that but Zapata’s waist and belly were just as slim as ever, only his face looked slightly puffier than usual, having lost some of its chiseled quality. Zapata was still breathtakingly handsome, though. Maybe even more so now that his features had softened.

“Ah, yeah. I heard ‘bout dat.” Cochran scratched his balls before lifting his fingers and sniffing them. “I’m sorry, Princess. That musta been tough on ya.” He draped his arm over Dylan’s shoulders, tugging him in close. “I wish I’d been there for ya when it happened.”

Dylan wondered why it didn’t bother him when Cochran called him, ‘Princess.’ If Reyes had done so, his pride would have been wounded but somehow when Cochran did it, he felt…proud? It didn’t make sense. He cleared his throat. “It’s Ok. I’m doing better.” He looked up at Cochran, eyebrows drawing together. “How come I feel so close to you? We’ve only just met and you’re taking a lot of…liberties…with me already. Like how’d you know I was gay?”

Cochran shrugged his mountainous shoulders. “Ain’t it obvious, lil’ bro? I mean, I could tell the way ya were eatin’ me up with yer eyeballs the first time ya saw me. I knew ya wanted my ‘big man’ buried inside yer booty cheeks.”

Dylan shivered, asshole clenching with a frisson of expectation. “Nobody else around here seems to know me that well.” He snorted, “Well, except for Reyes. He seemed to figure out I was a homosexual pretty much from the start.”

“That douche bag,” Cochran murmured, looking back at Alex Reyes. The private was standing several spots behind them in the line, his blue eyes fixed murderously on Cochran. Cochran smiled and waved at him, causing Reyes to clench his fists. “He wants yer ‘little man’ buried inside his booty cheeks, Princess. Trust me on that.”

Dylan let out a bark of surprise. “No way! Not Alex! He’s as straight as they come. You should’ve seen the way he leered at Cailin.”

“Hmmm, I dunno, lil’ bro.” Cochran had turned away from Alex to gaze lovingly down at Dylan. “Call it a sixth sense. He wants ya bad and so does Zapata.”

Dylan made a dismissive gesture. “That’s not possible.” He leaned against Cochran, thrilled when the big man tugged him in close. “You have an overactive imagination.”

“Huh. Maybe?” Cochran smiled. “Wanna place a little wager on it? The loser’s gotta toss the winner’s salad for an hour.”

Dylan smirked. “You’re on!”

***

Dylan knocked on Zapata’s door an hour later. “Come in, Private!” the man called out from the other side and Dylan pushed open the door. His eyes widened when he saw a stack of six pizza boxes on the small table next to the sergeant’s bed. Zapata was devouring a slice, the cheese hanging out of his mouth.

“You wanted to see me, Sir?”

Zapata smiled winningly, flashing his sauce-smeared, white teeth. “I did. Please,” he gestured to the chair next to him, “sit down.”

Feeling uncertain–this sort of behavior was unheard of! He’d never heard of anyone being invited into the sergeant’s room at night before–Dylan obeyed, pulling out the chair and sitting as far away from the man as was politely possible.

Zapata’s eyes were on him, staring at him hungrily. “You must think less of me, Dylan.”

“Huh?” Zapata had never used his first name before.

Zapata gestured to the stack of pizza boxes and string of cheese dangling from the corner of his mouth. “I’m a slob, Dylan. Look at me! I’m already losing followers on social media. It’s only a matter of time before they discover the real me. I can’t keep it hidden for much longer.”

“The…real…you?” The tiny hairs on the back of Dylan’s neck were standing up. “I don’t get it.”

Zapata waved his hand in the air as if it was obvious. “I’m a fraud, Dylan. You’re the one who helped me see it. I can’t believe I was so blind!”

Dylan shook his head. “I still don’t get it. What are you talking about, um, Sir?”

“Here. Let me show you.”

Zapata stood up and shocked Dylan was removing his shirt. Underneath, the man was wearing a girdle. Zapata had on a fucking girdle! As he stared, the sergeant reached behind him and unfastened the clasps that kept the girdle in place. The garment fell apart in a clamshell and Dylan was left to goggle at the soft, hairless belly protruding over Zapata’s belt.

Holding out his arms to display himself to Dylan, he invited him to take in every detail. His formerly ripped physique, while not completely gone, was certainly diminished. His upper abs and obliques were still striated but his lower abs had melted away. His substantial pecs were ever so slightly saggy, his nipples puffy. And his wasp-thin waist was a thing of the past; he now sported a bit of a muffin top as his baby-sized love handles pushed out over his belt.

Zapata looked down at his growing belly. “I hate myself, Dylan! I can’t stand it!”

Dylan tore his eyes away from the man’s belly long enough to ask, “Why are you telling me this, Sir? It’s really none of my business.”

Zapata gave him an anguished look. “It’s shameful. I-I-I can’t believe I’m even doing this.” He gestured down to his belly and over to Dylan, indicating that he, too, was well aware of how this visit between a private and his superior was inappropriate. “But I can’t help it. I need you, Dylan! I need you to–I mean, I need you to–uh…oh, fuck! I can’t say it!”

Dylan furrowed his brow. “Need me to do what, Sir?” Even though he was a bit creeped out by this whole situation, he couldn’t help feeling touched by Zapata’s raw emotion. The man was usually so busy crafting an image of perfection that Dylan had never seen him when the shell finally cracked. It was obvious that Zapata was embarrassed and humiliated and incredibly vulnerable. It had taken a lot to get him to break with protocol and ask him to come to his room. “What can I do for you?”

Zapata’s face was a mask of agony, shame and longing. His eyes were pleading. He hesitated, slowly opening his mouth to beg, “I need you to…” He took a deep breath, wrestling furiously with his dignity and conscience before declaring, “FEED ME, DYLAN!” He panted, “Will you? Will you feed me?”

***

Chapter 4

“Who’s my cute little piggie?” Dylan cooed, straddling Zapata’s lap and leaning over him with a spoonful of melting ice cream. Zapata responded by making the most adorable oinking noises. He sounded so much like a real piglet that Dylan giggled. This had a curious effect on Zapata who promptly burst into tears. Concerned, Dylan asked, “Are you Ok? Should I stop?”

“No! NO!” Zapata panted, lapping at the drizzling ice cream. His boner was pulsing through his trousers, pressing against the cleft of Dylan’s butt. He shook his head, tears streaming down his stubbly cheeks. He was, Dylan realized, even more attractive when he was in distress. “I-I-I hate it,” he stammered. “But I-I-I like it, too.” He bucked his hips, driving his bulge hard into Dylan’s taint. “I NEED YOU!” He gasped for breath, moaning. “I FUCKIN’ NEED YOU!” His voice broke off and he sobbed, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m not even gay! I’ve only ever wanted women!” He looked away. “I actually really hate you, Dylan. And I really want you at the same time. Fuck! Oh, fuck! What is wrong with me?! What have you done to me?!”

Dylan hesitated, the absurdity of their roleplaying antics hitting him at that moment. He was shirtless and aroused, sitting on his sergeant’s lap, feeding him ice cream, fattening him up even more. Zapata had already devoured three pints and his chest and face were sticky with the spillings. Dylan’s chest had been covered in melted ice cream until a few minutes before when Zapata had greedily licked it clean. His nipples still glistened with the man’s ardent saliva.

As the silence stretched, Zapata’s misgivings evaporated and his entire demeanor changed, becoming feral and vicious in space of a few seconds. Dylan drew back in alarm when the man’s honeyed eyes began glowing a hungry red. “We feed together!” he snorted, catching Dylan off guard and flipping him off of his lap and onto the bed. He forced open Dylan’s mouth and poured an entire carton of melted licorice ice cream down his throat. As Dylan gulped it down, Zapata tossed the empty carton aside and pinned him with his arms over his head. Waiting until he’d downed the last swallow, he grabbed another pint and poured it, too, down Dylan’s throat.

“We’ll both get fat together!” he gloated, face breaking into a leer. “Eat! Eat! Eat, Piggy! Eat!”

Dylan’s heart was thumping and his cock was dripping precum like a fucking hose. Thoughts a chaotic frenzy, he swallowed pint after pint of ice cream until his stomach was so full, he felt like he would burst. Finally, he pleaded with Zapata to ease up.

Zapata sneered down at him, ripping off his belt and yanking down his trousers. His thick, uncircumcised cock bobbed over Dylan’s cream-smeared mouth. The skin of his dick was deep mahogany, inching toward ebony towards the tip of his fluted foreskin. He smelled of grease and lard. It made Dylan incredibly horny.

And then he was naked, completely naked, and getting fucked from behind by his sergeant. 

Pulling a can of Crisco out from under the bed, Zapata globbed it over his erection and then, before Dylan could beg him to be gentle, slammed his poker inside of him. Dylan cried out, eyes rolling back in his head. It hurt like fuck! But it also felt good. Almost too good. He moaned when Zapata slapped him hard on the ass, deriding him and calling him a fat, stupid piglet. The sergeant’s soft belly slapped against his ass cheeks with each thrust, echoing off the room’s spartan walls.

Between his overly full tummy and his overly full anus, Dylan felt feverish, almost faint. He was sweating. Zapata was sweating. The room smelled like a pig sty. When the man came inside him, bucking violently and emptying his seed down Dylan’s red-hot chute, he lifted his head and let out a loud, high-pitched squeal. It sent chills down Dylan’s back when he realized he’d joined in, his squeal mixing with the sergeant’s.

Zapata collapsed on top of him when he was spent. His breath was ragged and he was whimpering. Dylan groaned and pulled away, wincing when he felt the man’s big cock slide out. Cum ran in rivulets down his thighs and his hole was throbbing. He was both elated and confused by what they had just done. When he looked over his shoulder, Zapata was cradling his head in his hands.

“Fuck! What have I done?” he moaned. “Oh, my God! I’m a monster! I’m turning into a fucking ugly monster!”

Dylan sighed and eased over to him on the small bed. His belly sloshed with half-digested ice cream and his rectum sloshed with Zapata’s cum. When he looked down at himself, he was chagrined to see he looked noticeably fatter. That was just his stretched-out stomach, though, right? Right? He sure hoped so! He forced the worry out of his mind and turned back to Zapata.

“Hey! Hey, Sarge!” When Zapata refused to look at him, he took his chin in his hand and forced him to look at him. “You’re not a monster. You’re not a pig. You’re not ugly. You’re a man. And a really hot one at that.” When Zapata rolled his eyes, Dylan corrected, “No, don’t do that! It’s time you learned the truth: It doesn’t matter what you look like, it’s how you live that matters. Now, I don’t claim to know what’s going on between us or with you but I can tell you’re a good man and I’m glad we did this. Fuck, I’d do it again in a heartbeat, although maybe with less ice cream being forced down my throat.”

Zapata hung his head but his gaze jerked up again when he saw the size of his plump belly. “I-I-I…I need you to go.” He pointed to the door. “Please go, Dylan.”

***

Cochran lifted his nose and sniffed the air delicately when Dylan got back to the barracks. “Is that the scent of a freshly-fucked anus I detect?” Dylan flushed. “Looks like somebody’s gonna lose that bet.” Cochran reached back and scratched his butt, commenting, “My hole’s waitin’ for yer tongue, lil’ bro. I’ll be sure to wash it real good before ya lick it…unless, of course, you prefer it dirty. Do ya? Do ya like a dirty hole, Princess?”

“Stop it.” Dylan winced. Speaking of dirty holes, his was aching furiously and he really just wanted to soak in a bathtub. Not for the first time, he cursed the Marines for their lack of amenities. He wondered when he’d ever get a chance to take a bath again.

Cochran patted Dylan’s protruding belly, sighing, “Mmmmm, me likey likey. Ya look sexy with a beginner belly, bro. Do I have Sarge to thank for this?”

“You do.” Dylan’s cheeks were flaming. “I’d, uh, rather not talk about it, though.” He looked ruefully down at his rounded tummy. “I’m not sure how I feel about what just happened. It was…weird and intense.”

“Sounds like fun! Bring me along next time?”

“Fuck you.”

Dylan started to walk away but Cochran reached out and took him in his arms, pressing him against his barrel chest. “Couples should never go to bed angry,” he teased. “Now kiss me and make up.”

Dylan struggled, aware that they were being closely watched by several of the guys in their unit. In particular, he could feel Alex Reyes’ eyes burning like angry pokers as he glared at them. Cochran was relentless, though. Eventually, Dylan had no choice but to lift his lips and kiss the big man.

Couple? he wondered, heart pounding and groin throbbing. He said we’re a couple!

Cochran’s lips were soft and sweet but his face was bristly. He pulled away finally, laughing, “Guess I’m taking the top bunk, huh? You realize I’m always on top, right?”

***

Chapter 5

Even though he really wanted to soak in a bathtub, Dylan’s only choice for ‘freshening up’ his butthole was to take a shower. He left Cochran behind, the big man giving him a pat on the ass as the members of their unit looked on with disdain. Dylan could feel their disapproval of his and Cochran’s gay behavior and knew he’d pay for it later but part of him didn’t care. He didn’t give a fuck about the Marines or the U.S. Military in general and was only here under duress. They could go fuck themselves if they had a problem with a newly-forming queer couple in their midst. Plus, what would Zapata do about it? He’d just fucked Dylan a new hole and could hardly lecture him about conduct unbecoming a soldier.

And speaking of Zapata, the more he thought about their encounter, the more he resented it. He’d let his sergeant pour pint after pint of ice cream down his throat and then fuck him up the ass and what did he get? A protruding belly and a protruding butthole! Zapata didn’t even let him cum! His poor cock was aching for release! Grrrr! How he hated the man!

He thought the showers were empty when he arrived and stripped out of his clothes and stood beneath the hot spray of a pedestal, moaning softly when the water trickled down the cleft of his butt and touched his aching ass lips. Fuckin’ Zapata, he thought, why’d he have to be so rough? He shivered, though, when he remembered how good it felt to be manhandled by the man. Ok, so maybe it wasn’t all bad. He hung his head, hating himself when he realized he’d let Zapata do it all over to him again. He even had to admit that he liked Zapata better now that he’d unchained his inner beast. He shivered, imagining Zapata bearing down on him with his big, round belly, forcing him to grow fatter and fatter…Ungh!

There were globs of Crisco mixed with Zapata’s churned cum coating his buttocks and he had to scrub vigorously to clean himself up back there. He was so absorbed in his ablutions that he didn’t notice Alex Reyes standing at a shower nearby until he heard a little whimper. He gave a start of surprise when he saw Alex was just about finished shaving off all of his body hair. As he stared, Reyes took a final swipe at his dishwater blond pubes, rendering himself bare as a prepubescent boy. The tiles at his feet were strewn with the soggy remnants of his formerly luxurious bush as well as his chest, leg and arm hair. Even his ass cheeks were freshly shaven.

“Alex, why–?” Dylan started to say when Reyes turned his back to him and, bending over, spread his ass cheeks and started shaving his asshole. 

Dylan blinked, both surprised and titillated at the sight of Alex Reyes’ tiny, tight pucker. It was both kind of gross and kind of hot. Gross because Alex didn’t have a very pretty asshole. It was tight, sure, but the skin around it was brown and his sphincter was also brown, not the creamy pink that Dylan would have imagined. Still, it was undeniably hot seeing the macho dude spread his cheeks for him! Never in his life did he expected to see Alex fuckin’ Reyes’ virgin pucker. He felt his less-than-average-sized penis begin to harden.

“I-I-I can’t stop!” Alex whined, looking balefully back at him through his freshly shaved legs. “Pl-Pl-Please help me!”

Dylan furrowed his brow. “What do you mean you can’t stop? Stop what?”

“Shaving myself!” Reyes was wailing by this point. “I don’t wanna shave myself but I can’t stop! Help me!”

“Looks like you’re almost done, bro,” Dylan muttered, trying to ignore his growing erection. “Only got a few more hairs to go and you’ll be smooth as a baby.”

“Please, Dylan! Please help me! Only you can help me!”

“Only me? Why me?” Despite his better judgment, Dylan found himself pacing over to the man. “What does this have to do with me?”

Letting out an exasperated hiss, Reyes shaved the rest of his butthole, leaving himself bare of hair from the eyebrows down. Then he stood up and practically threw himself into Dylan’s arms. Their naked bodies made full contact, Alex’s big, shaved cock pressing insistently against Dylan’s hairy tummy (which was still distended and plump from all of the ice cream that Zapata had force fed him.)

Reyes was a big guy and Dylan was only average build. This was the first time that Dylan had hugged a naked guy so much bigger and more muscular than he was. His body responded even as his mind questioned the reality of what was happening. (Big, studly, straight men like Reyes did not get aroused by average-looking guys like Dylan.) He ran his hands over the rippling muscles of Reyes’ back until his hands landed on the significant rise of the man’s bubble butt. Shaved smooth, those big, firm mounds felt deliciously soft and ripe. Alex buried his face against Dylan’s neck, quivering with excitement and shame.

“I hate myself,” he murmured. “I fuckin’ hate myself! But I want you! I NEED you!”

What is going on with Zapata and Reyes? Dylan wondered, trying to make his hands stop exploring Alex’s body. As much as he disliked him, though, he was very turned on by him and it was only a matter of time before he pushed Alex’s face upward and kissed him. Alex’s mouth was even softer than his pillowy ass and he opened, inviting Dylan’s tongue inside. He tasted like salt and spice. He tasted good.

They kissed passionately for a long time before Alex got self-conscious. “I-I-I shouldn’t be bigger than you,” he stammered. “Y-Y-You’re the big one. I-I-I’m small.”

Dylan looked up at him. “What do you mean?”

Reyes’ blue eyes were clouded; it was like he hadn’t heard Dylan’s question at all. “I’m small,” he insisted. “Yer my big brother! My big bro who protects me.”

“Alex, what–?”

Then Reyes did an even more surprising thing than shaving his butthole. He dropped down onto his hands and knees and, presenting his ass to Dylan, begged, “Big bro, please fuck my little hole. Please! I’ll be a good boy! I’m a good little bro! You deserve it. You deserve my hole!”

There was something about a big, naked, muscular man on all fours that short-circuited Dylan’s brain. Even though he wasn’t a top, Alex’s big, bubbly ass  quickly turned him into one and, in an instant, he was down on his knees, fingering that tiny, tight hole. He spit, working his saliva inside as Alex writhed beneath him. His pucker was hot, moist, juicy.

“I HATE YOU! I LOVE YOU! I WANT YOU!” Reyes panted, looking back at Dylan with eyes that smoldered with both desire and self-loathing. “FUCK ME, BIG BRO! FUCK ME!”

This was somewhat embarrassing for Dylan. His penis, even hard as a rock, was barely thicker than his index finger and hardly any longer. As a teenager, he’d been self-conscious about his little penis until he realized he was gay bottom at age fourteen. After that, he’d been Ok with it, consoling himself that a big dick was more of a liability than an asset for a submissive bottom like himself. Countless fuckings by the high school quarterback had taught him that.

Given Dylan’s small dick size, it didn’t take much work to get Alex’s hole ready for him. He spit into his palm and stroked his cock and then leaned over Reye’s broad back, positioning his circumcised glans over that little, trembling pucker. He leaned forward and grabbed Alex’s ear in his teeth, a trick he’d learned from the quarterback to distract Reye’s from the pain of penetration.

He thrust forward.

“AH, FUCK!” Reyes hollered. “OH, SHIT! IT FEELS SO GOOD! FUCK ME, BIG BRO! FUCK MY LITTLE BOY HOLE!”

Dylan almost stopped. Is he making fun of me? His butt cheeks are so big I can barely reach his hole! But, no, he could tell Alex wasn’t faking it; he really loved getting fucked. It made Dylan puff up with pride. For the first time in his gay life, he understood what it felt like to be a dominant top. I could get used to this!

Maybe it was because it was his first time topping or maybe it was because Alex’s hole was so tight but Dylan really enjoyed himself. Yeah, it felt great when Alex clamped down on him with his sphincter. His eyes rolled back in his head and his tongue wagged out of his mouth and, wrapping his arms around Reye’s taut midsection, he fucked him like a pro. 

Something almost alchemical happened as they merged. It was probably just his imagination but he could have sworn he felt Reye’s virility, toughness and dominance seeping into him. He grinned. Is this the way all tops feel when they’re fucking their bottom raw? Yeah, it was like he was draining Alex of his manhood, taking it for his very own. Fuck, it felt good!

“Touch me!” Alex pleaded in a whiny voice. “Please, touch my little pee-pee!”

Chagrined–like the typical top, Dylan had been so preoccupied with his own pleasure that he’d forgotten about Reyes’–Dylan lowered his hand and clutched Alex’s big man-cock in his hand. Talk about huge! Shit, the dude’s uncut member had to be more than ten inches long and was nearly as thick as a man’s wrist. He stroked it, peeling back the long, floppy foreskin and running his calloused hand over that tender glans. Alex let out a little mewl of happiness, shivering beneath him. Dylan smiled, stroking him harder as he increased the intensity of his thrusts. Soon, they were both on the brink.

Dylan came first. As the top, it was his prerogative and he felt like Reyes owed it to him after his relentless abuse over the last several months. But he didn’t make him wait too long for release and soon brought his bottom to a messy climax, coating the tiles beneath them with Reyes’ fragrant spume. He grinned when he felt his seed trickling out of Alex’s hole. He’d just fucked Alex Reyes! Alex Reyes’ ass belonged to him!

If he thought, however, that their carnal union would engender a close bond between them, he was wrong. As soon as Alex recovered, he looked back at Dylan with wide eyes, shouting, “What the FUCK did you do to me?! GET THE FUCK OFF ME NOW!!!” There was a wet slurping noise as he pulled away and Dylan’s little dick exited his hole. Then Alex was towering over him, clenching his fists and staring murderously down at him. For a moment, Dylan worried that the dude would kick the shit out of him–he was certainly big enough to do so–but then Alex’s eyes filled with tears and he stormed out of the room, sobbing like a baby.

Dylan watched him leave, shaking his head. “First Zapata and now Reyes,” he muttered. “What the fuck is wrong with these guys? They begged me! I didn’t ask for this!”

He pushed himself up off the tiled floor and resumed washing up, vowing never to go anywhere near Zapata or Reyes again.

***

Cochran was still awake when he returned to the barracks. The big man rolled over onto his side and propped his head on his elbow, looking down at him from the top bunk. “Looks like you lose, bro,” he whispered, smirking in the dim light. “I’m gonna set a timer when ya toss my salad. You gotta tongue my hole for at least an hour!”

“Oh, whatever!” Dylan huffed, not in the mood for games. He threw himself down on the lower bunk and put the pillow over his head. He wanted to forget everything about this bizarre, fucked-up day and decided he’d pretend none of it had ever happened.

*** 

Chapter 6

The next day was decidedly strange. Oh, it started off normally enough. They got up at six like every other day and got showered and dressed and ready for inspection at 7:00am. That part was normal. It was, well, just about everything else about the day that was weird.

“Do you smell sumthin’?” Cochran asked, standing over him in his bunk and scratching his balls through his desert green boxers. He lifted his nose and sniffed. “It smells kinda like a barn in here.” He looked questioningly down at Dylan, arching a fuzzy, red eyebrow.

“Hey! It’s not me!” Dylan complained, holding up his hands. “I showered last night!”

“Oh, and is that all you did last night, bro?” Cochran crossing his arms. “Huh? Huh?”

Dylan’s cheeks colored, memories of fucking Reye’s tight hole flooding back. “Fuck off.”

Cochran caught him in a headlock, pressing his nose into his furry, fragrant armpit. “How many times do I gotta tell ya, Princess? Don’t talk to me like that. It hurts.”

Laughing, Dylan pushed him away, dancing out of his grasp when Cochran tried to catch him again. “I know who smells like a barn,” he taunted, pointing at the big, hairy guy. “It’s you.”

“I do not smell like a barn,” Cochran corrected, offended. “I smell like the woods. There’s a big difference.”

“Oh, really? Gosh, I’m sorry!” Dylan drawled sarcastically. He paused after he said this, though, realizing that Cochran was right; his body odor was too feral to belong to a barn. He sniffed the air, taking it in. Yeah, Cochran smelled like the woods. A rich, cedary woods, tinged pleasantly with musk.

Cochran took advantage of his distraction, wrapping him in his burly arms and hugging him tightly.

“Would you two cut it out?” Owens complained from one bunk over. “Yer makin’ me sick with yer gay courtship display!” He coughed then, quite loudly, and looked around in surprise when the noise that came out of his throat was a lot different than usual. Was it a bark? A whinny? A neigh? Whatever it was gave him pause. He coughed again and the noise was even more pronounced. “What the fuck–” His words were cut off when this time a very distinct donkey’s bray emanated from deep within his throat. “HHHHEEEEHAWWWW!” He clapped his hands over his mouth, freaked out.

Dylan and Cochran exchanged amused glances. Hashimoto walked in just as Owens’ asinine call was echoing off the walls and doubled over laughing. He froze, however, when he realized his laughter sounded just like Owen’s braying. “Jesus–Haw!” he sputtered. “What–HeeHaw!–is going on?”

“Deep breaths, boys,” Cochran soothed. “Just breathe and relax. You’ll be fine.” Oddly, the two Marines took his words to heart and inhaled deeply. After they were done, Cochran nodded. “Good. Now go get washed up like a couple of good lil’ asses. You stink!”

If Owens and Hashimoto had had tails, they would have been between their legs. Looking sheepish, they made their way to the shower room.

“How’d you do that?” Dylan asked. “Those two don’t listen to anyone but Zapata and even then it’s a fifty-fifty chance they’ll do as they please.”

“I’m big,” Cochran said with a shrug. “People tend to listen when I tell ‘em to do shit.”

Dylan narrowed his eyes, thinking there had to be more to it than that. He sniffed, detecting for the first time the potent aroma of a barnyard that Cochran had been complaining about. It smelled like horseshit and piss. He wrinkled his nose. What the fuck was going on in the barracks this morning?

They met up with the rest of the company in the showers, padding in to find the room unusually quiet. Normally, Reyes was strutting around, flopping his big horsecock around and bragging about how much bigger and manlier he was than anyone else, especially Dylan. Today, though, Reyes was nowhere to be seen and the rest of the guys were hurriedly washing up, heads bowed and refusing to look at each other. 

The atmosphere, probably because it was so humid, smelled even more like a barn than the barracks had. The reek of manure was almost eye-watering and even the strong-smelling, standard-issue military soap couldn’t mask it. Dylan put his hand over his nose, realizing he could almost taste the nasty odor when he breathed in through his mouth. He looked over at Cochran who was soaping up his massive male appendage, seemingly oblivious to the fact that anything was amiss. When he caught Dylan staring at his hulking monster cock, though, he winked, mouthing the words, “Later, Princess.”

Dylan flushed and was preparing to soap up his own (much smaller) cock when he stopped in surprise. Why did it feel bigger than usual? He looked down at it, convinced he was imagining things but it was definitely heftier, both in length and girth. It’s probably just swollen from fucking Alex’s hole, he thought. He couldn’t help squaring his shoulders in pride, though. Even if it was just temporary, it felt good to have a bigger cock!

“Jesus fuckin’ Kee-Ryst–Haw!” Jabari swore from across the room. “Reyes, what the–HeeHaw!–fuck, bro? Cover that shit up!”

Dylan looked over to find Alex standing in the doorway to the showers, naked as a jaybird, his erection bobbing before him. He looked down at himself in shock at Jabari’s admonition, seeming to realize he was sporting a hardon for the first time. Letting out a little squeal of horror, he clapped his hands over his penis.

The room erupted with braying laughter, tinged distinctly with derision, as Reyes wilted like a parched flower. His broad shoulders collapsed and his blue eyes got big and sad. His succulent lower lip protruded and tears filled his eyes. Alex Reyes was not accustomed to being the object of ridicule.

Dylan felt (a little) bad for the dude but was more distracted by something else: The size of Reyes’ erection. It was noticeably shorter than the night before and looked almost average. More than that, Reyes himself seemed less substantial. His muscles, while still starkly delineated beneath his porcelain skin, weren’t quite as impressive. Was he shorter, too? Dylan couldn’t be certain but it sure looked like it.

“Did you…shave yerself?” Jibari guffawed, throwing kerosene on the fire of disdain building in the room as the guys took in Alex’s smoothly shaved skin. “What the fuck, Reyes? Yer not girlin’ out on us, are ya?”

Alex wilted further. Tears started rolling down his soft, smooth cheeks. Dylan shook himself, preparing to move to the guy’s defense. He might not like Reyes but, perhaps because he’d just fucked him, he did feel a certain sense of loyalty. Also, he knew how much it hurt to be the target of abuse, having endured it for so long.

Cochran’s big hand on his shoulder stopped him. “Don’t,” the big guy warned. “Let ‘em be. He needs to know what it’s like.”

Dylan tried to break away but Cochran’s grip was too strong. In the end, he busied himself with showering, finishing as fast as he could. Even when it wasn’t directed at him, the taunts still left him rattled. He’d never liked how guys turned into bullies when they were in a pack. It was like they fed off of each other, becoming monsters without conscience.

Cochran found him getting dressed at his bunk. “Alex’ll be fine,” he soothed. “Don’t worry ‘bout him. If anyone should be worried, it’s those asses pickin’ on him.”

“I don’t like it.” Dylan finished buttoning his uniform, standing at attention just as Zapata entered for inspection.

Zapata looked around the barracks, taking in the fact that only one of his soldiers was dressed and ready. “Cochran,” he barked, “what’s wrong with you? Get dressed! This’ll go on my report.”

Cochran did a passable semblance of a salute, straightening and shouting, “Sir, yes, Sir!” He immediately started getting ready and was completely dressed in less than a minute. He stood beside Dylan, smirking. Clearly, he didn’t give a fuck about receiving a demerit.

“Where is the rest of the company?” Zapata asked. Dylan noticed that he addressed the question to Cochran, keeping his eyes averted from him. It was like Dylan wasn’t even there.

“Showers.” Cochran shrugged. “Dudes were pretty filthy this morning. It’s prolly takin’ ‘em a while to get clean again.”

Zapata stalked off in the direction of the showers. Dylan watched him leave, observing the sergeant’s uniform was tighter than ever. His waist, while still thin, was obviously being held in by the girdle but the poor garment was strained to the breaking point and wouldn’t hold in that growing gut for much longer. The thing that really caught Dylan’s attention, though, was Zapata’s ass. It was big. And round. And full. His cock plumped up in his jockstrap and he reached down to cup his package, jerking with surprise when he realized how much heftier it felt. What the–?!

“Nice, huh?” Cochran quipped and Dylan’s hand jerked away from his crotch. He couldn’t tell whether his friend was referring to Zapata’s butt or his erection, though.

The rest of the guys eventually made it back from the showers, chased by a shouting Zapata. They scrambled to get dressed, scooping up their clothing and pulling it on haphazardly. Reyes arrived last, being dragged along by the enraged Sergeant. “Reyes, stop yer fuckin’ bawling and get ready!” Zapata roared, hauling Alex in by the arm and flinging him toward his bunk. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Sniffling, Alex–whose erection was gone and his cock shriveled up to barely a nub–rubbed his reddening cheeks and did his best to follow orders. He was so flustered, though, that he ended up wearing two jockstraps and tugged on a pair of trousers from his dress uniform. When Zapata berated him again, he burst out crying, turning and running out of the room. Zapata stared in disbelief, shaking his head, and then looked back at the rest of the company who weren’t in much better shape. Of everyone, only Dylan and Cochran were suitably attired.

The day was an endless series of drills. Zapata worked out his frustrations on them, forcing them to march back and forth along the line of control, carrying heavy herbicide sprayers and dousing every leaf and shoot that threatened to breach the earthen berm separating the camp from the forest. The forest had grown up even higher than the day before, its branches now shading the entirety of the berm. The trees towered overhead, magnificent and ancient-looking, even though they were barely a week old. Dylan knew that it was only a matter of time before the base was overtaken and consumed. They were losing the battle to contain the spread.

They ate a meal of rations from their packs for lunch and then continued their march. The slanting rays of the afternoon sun were turning the already brilliant foliage of autumn into technicolor when Cochran nudged Dylan. “Hey, let’s go. I’m tired of this bullshit.”

They were at the end of the company column and he quickly darted over the lip of the berm when no one was looking. Grinning, Dylan followed suit, discarding the tank of herbicide and then shucking his clothing. He knew without asking that Cochran planned to go into the forest.

“You scared, bro?” Cochran asked as he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it on the ground. “This is the first time since…well, you-know-what happened, that you’ve come here.”

“How did you know?” Dylan was peeling off his jockstrap, eyes widening when he beheld the size of his cock and balls. They were even bigger (and hairier) than before and he now verged on being hung. Seriously hung. What was going on?

Cochran shrugged. “I know these things.”

“How?”

Rather than answering, Cochran reached over and pressed the cup of his sweaty jockstrap over Dylan’s mouth. Dylan inhaled deeply, moaning at the man’s rich, potent stink. When Dylan was suitably glassy-eyed, Cochran took him by the hand and they ran laughing and naked as the day they were born into the forest.

***

Chapter 7

Cochran led him by the hand into the forest. Dylan looked around at the mighty trees, swaying in the cold north wind, and felt like he should be shivering but being with the big man warmed him, both in body and in soul. He looked up and smiled.

“What’s that for?” Cochran asked, glancing down at him and smiling in return. He squeezed Dylan’s hand.

“Nothing in particular.” Dylan felt like there must be bursting hearts reflected in his eyes just like in the cartoons, so smitten was he by the sexy brute. “Why do you make me feel like this? I don’t even know you very well yet.”

Cochran made no reply and continued to lead him deeper into the forest. Night was falling but there was still enough daylight yet to make out a narrow path winding among the tree trunks. It led further into the heart of the woods. Eventually, they crested a hill and then began to descend. Dylan looked around in wonder when the trees began to thin and give way to dogwood bushes whose leaves were rich, velvety red. The ground became marshy and they had to jump from hummock to hummock to avoid falling into the mud. The air smelled rich with earthy decay, a strangely soothing scent that set Dylan at ease.

“Where are we?”

“Shhh.” 

Cochran pointed out into the marsh and Dylan gasped. “It’s…radiant!”

The marsh was glowing with a soft golden light, the cattails and St. John’s Wort limned in an aura of warmth. Little lights danced across the murky surface of the water, drifting on a breeze that spoke of spring. As they continued onward, the warmth increased as did the humidity. Soon, Dylan was quite comfortable being naked even though it was late October.

The foliage on the low willows and alders turned back from yellow and orange to green. The sedges likewise became more and more lush and soon the cattails followed, their slender stalks waving with cottony yellow blooms. A redwing blackbird called and a kingfisher flew past Dylan’s head, zooming down to snag a minnow from the surface of the pond. The shallow waters became suffused with chartreuse and the depths swirled a deep emerald green.

“There.” Cochran pointed to a distant hillock. “C’mon, Princess.” He tugged his hand, hurrying now. Soon, they were running like a couple of schoolboys, splashing in the pools and puddles, laughing as their hearts burst with joy. Dylan couldn’t remember ever being so happy.

Puffing and panting, they climbed the little hill. Cochran smoothed the lush grasses at the top, making room for them to sit down. He plopped down under a small, unobtrusive tree that was barely taller than a man. It leaned over them, its branches laden with crinkly, ovate leaves. Tiny threads of yellow flowers were draped along its limbs. A delicate, clean, citrusy scent wafted down upon them.

“Witch hazel,” Cochran pointed up at the tree. “The Mother Tree.”

“Huh?”

“Witch hazel was the first tree Exogenics developed,” Cochran explained, referring to the Canadian company that had inadvertently given rise to the Algonquin Forest. “Its roots spread, transferring a highly mutagenic strain of fungal bacteria. It infected all of the surrounding trees, accelerating their growth.” He spread his hands to encompass the forest. “She–the Witch Hazel–is our Mother.”

“Our?”

Cochran looked up at him from the grass and held out his hand. Dylan grasped it, allowing the big man to pull him down beside him. Cochran leaned in and kissed his ear, whispering, “I came when you called, Princess. Just like I promised.”

Dylan jumped, head snapping around to stare at Cochran in bewilderment. Cochran grinned as Dylan tried desperately to square the man sitting next to him with the…being…he hadn’t seen in years.  “You? It’s really you?”

Cochran chuckled, a lovely, deep sound. “Who else would I be, Princess?”

***

Fifteen years prior

Little Dylan wandered away from his mother and her friends, following a vermillion-winged dragonfly into the marsh. He was only five years old but he was old enough to know the cardinal rule of the Forest and had taken off his swim trunks, running into the grassy water, naked and free. 

They’d come to the small lake on the edge of the Forest to swim and lie in the sun. It was high summer and the Forest was cool, far cooler than even the beach on the shores of Lake Michigan. His mother liked to come to the little lake because it was always empty. Most people feared the Forest and stayed as far away as possible. Dylan’s mother thought that was nonsense. “It’s alive, Dyl,” she’d say. “Can’t you feel it? If you treat it nicely, it will treat you the same. Love it and be loved.”

Dylan was soon lost. He looked around, not knowing which direction his mother was. He’d only come a short distance but he was short and the marsh grasses were tall; he completely lost his bearings. It should’ve bothered him more than it did but Dylan was a strange kid. He’d always felt drawn to the Forest. He loved it like an old friend.

Laughing, he splashed along, chasing another dragonfly and then another. When he spotted a large, emerald-colored one, he squealed with delight and raced after it. He careened through the water, splashing after the terrified insect only to nearly collide with another small, red-haired boy about his own age. The kid was standing silently in the water, straight and calm, and the dragonfly was perched upon his nose.

“Hey!” Dylan called out. “That’s mine!”

The little boy–also naked like him–merely watched him with a small smile on his face. “Who?” he asked. “The dragonfly or me?”

“Huh?”

The boy lifted a hand and the dragonfly alit upon his fingers. Holding it out to Dylan, he instructed, “Take her and be gentle. You’ve frightened her.”

Dylan swallowed. He’d never actually touched a dragonfly before and now that this one was so close, he realized she looked quite terrifying and big. He took a step backward.

“Well, come on!” the boy chided. “You can’t back out now. You wanted her. Take her!” 

When Dylan still hesitated, the boy reached out and grasped his hand, lifting it up toward his other one and urging the insect onto his fingers. Dylan cringed but held his hand steady. The dragonfly crawled onto his index finger and, clasping her legs around it, proceeded to clean her wings on her long, tapering abdomen. Dylan watched in wonder.

“She’s so pretty!” he cooed. “I wanna take her home.”

The red-haired boy giggled. “You can’t do that, silly. She belongs here with me.”

Dylan’s eyes snapped to the boy’s. “Wait. You live here?” The child nodded, smiling. Dylan’s heart began pounding. He’d heard stories from his mother’s friends. Stories about– “Are you one of them?” he queried, his voice meek and small. “Are you gonna hurt me?”

“Why would I hurt you?” the boy asked, folding his boney arms. “You’re not planning to harm the Forest, are you?”

“N-N-N-No.”

“Then you’re safe.” He held out his hand, wiggling his fingers. Dylan stared at the outstretched hand and then at the dragonfly on his finger. Reluctantly, he held his hand aloft and the insect stretched and took flight, zinging away with a rustle of metallic wings. He took the offered hand and the boy’s fingers enfolded his own. “C’mon,” the child urged. “I’ll take you back to your mom. She’s worried about you.”

He led Dylan through the marsh, holding his hand and casting sly grins in his direction. Afraid at first, Dylan soon relaxed and laughed merrily. Something about the boy made him feel safe. He’d never had an older brother and realized this must be what it was like. When they heard his mother calling his name, he stopped, reluctant to leave the boy so soon. “Can I see you again?” he asked, staring down at his bare feet covered in duckweed.

“Sure.” The boy reached out and mussed his damp hair, leaning forward and planting a kiss on the top of his head. “I’m Xavier. What’s your name?”

Dylan’s eyes got big and he hesitated, feeling his palms begin to sweat. But then he threw caution to the wind and announced, “I’m Dylan. Dylan DeMarco.” 

Xavier’s fingers twitched on his head. Dylan’s heart started beating faster when the boy cupped his face and urged him to look him in the eyes. His blue eyes were like sapphires, warm and radiant. Dylan didn’t know it at the time but he was falling in love.

“Dylan,” Xavier repeated, smiling. “That’s a pretty name. For a pretty boy.” He winked. “You’re like a princess. Princess Dylan!”

If anyone else had called him pretty or a princess, Dylan would have been indignant but hearing those words on Xavier’s lips was like enchanting music and he only wanted Xavier to tell him more. He knew what Xavier was, knew the stories, knew how dangerous this new friendship was but he didn’t care. All he cared about was seeing Xavier again.

“You’d better go,” Xavier urged, giving him a little shove. “I’ll stay here, though. I don’t want your mother to see me.” He reached out and pinched Dylan’s cheek. “I don’t want anyone but you to see me, Dylan. You’re special.” Dylan wanted so badly to take Xavier’s hand and run back into the Forest, never to be seen again, but Xavier shook his head. “No. Go to her. She needs you and you need her.” He turned to leave. “I’ll be here waiting. I’ll always be here for you, Princess Dylan.”

***

“A Changeling!” his mother repeated, eyes going round with horror. “You met a Changeling in the Forest? Oh, Dylan! What were you thinking? You didn’t tell him your name, did you?”

“No!” Dylan lied. “I’d never do that!”

His mother’s eyes narrowed as she studied his face. Apparently, his poker face was pretty good because her shoulders relaxed and she exhaled. “Don’t ever talk to one again, Dylan! They’re tricksters! They eat children! I can’t believe he actually led you back to me. You were so lucky!”

“He’s a nice one, Momma,” Dylan insisted. “He wouldn’t hurt me.”

“He’s a spirit inhabiting a dead child’s body,” his mother pointed out. “They’re not to be trusted.”

“Are you sure?”

His mother sat down at the kitchen table and patted her lap. He climbed onto it, smiling when she wrapped her arms around him. “There weren’t Changelings until the Forest engulfed the cemetery,” she explained. “I know they say it’s impossible but I’ve met one before and I know they’re real. I recognized him. He was my best friend. I’d gone to his funeral only a week earlier.”

Dylan’s eyes went round. “He came back from the dead?”

His mother nodded. “Yes. He died in a car accident. I saw his dead body. We buried him in early May and the next week, the Forest consumed his gravesite. Not one week later, I was walking home from school and he was waiting for me at the gate.” She shuddered. “I screamed and ran away but he was there the next night and the next. He wouldn’t leave me alone.”

Dylan could barely breathe, he was so terrified. “What happened, Mommy? How did you get away from him?”

“I didn’t.” His mother placed her hand on his head and mussed his hair in much the same way that Xavier had earlier. “I finally gave in and let him talk to me. It turned out that he didn’t really remember me at all. The spirit inside his body must have just felt something when I was near. I told it to leave me alone and never come back.” She caressed his cheek, squeezing it. “I never saw him again but I know he’s still out there somewhere.” Her voice turned serious. “That’s why you never give them your name. Once they have your name, they have control over you.”

***

“Your mother is wrong about us. We would never hurt a human unless they hurt our Mother.” Xavier lay on his back in the tall grass with his hands behind his head. Dylan stood over him, his shadow sliding over his face. “But she’s right about one thing,” Xavier continued, “I did die and was reborn.” He held out his hand, his face radiant and his blue eyes limpid. “I got a second chance. Here, sit with me, Princess, and help me to learn how to be human again.”

Dylan sat down, feeling uneasy. It wasn’t because he thought he was in any danger, though. No, he trusted Xavier and longed to be with him. Even being away for an hour was painful. The problem was he felt so small, so young, so helpless compared to Xavier. Xavier might be in a small boy’s body but he was clearly much older than that. Dylan had no idea how old he really was but he was definitely not a child.

Xavier took him in his arms and hugged him, smelling his hair. “You smell so good! Like the earth after a rain.” He inhaled deeply. “My Dylan. I’m so glad I found you.”

All of Dylan’s qualms disappeared when he was in Xavier’s arms. It was like the boy was his brother, father and best friend all rolled into one. He’d never known his father; the man had died before he was born and his mother was raising him alone. Likewise, he’d never had a brother, nor a best friend. In Xavier, he got to feel a little of what he’d been missing.

“How do I help you? What do I need to do?” he asked finally in a querulous tone. His heart was in his throat and the longer Xavier hugged him, the more the tears welled up in his eyes. The tears weren’t from sadness, though; they were from joy.

Xavier giggled, lying back with him cradled against his chest. “Nothing. Just be you. The more we’re together, the more human I’ll become.” He kissed his ear. “Just lie here with me, Dylan.”

***

Chapter 8

The next morning, Dylan made another friend. He emerged from his bedroom, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, to find himself staring at a princess. He blinked, convinced he was seeing things but she was still there when he opened his eyes. “Who are you?” he asked, breathless; he’d never seen anyone so lovely.

“I’m Cailin!” she announced, bobbing her head and curtseying. The pink plastic tiara on her head caught the morning light and refracted it, casting prisms of color over his awed face.

“Dylan,” his mother called out from the kitchen. “This is Cailin. We’ll be looking after her for a while until her mom finds another babysitter. How ‘bout if you two eat some breakfast and then go out and play?”

He didn’t need to be told twice. Impulsively trusting the girl, he took her hand and tugged her into the kitchen. “Can I wear your crown?” he asked. “I’ve always wanted a crown!”

Giggling, the girl removed the tiara from her head and placed it on his lowered head. When he looked up at her again, he felt so…pretty. He smiled, remembering Xavier’s nickname for him, and lifted his hand, waving like the Queen of England from her limousine. Cailin burst out laughing. “So cute!” she squealed. “I have more princess clothes in my bedroom. We can dress up and host a royal tea!”

Dylan looked imploringly over at his mother (who was hiding her mouth behind her hand). “Can I, Mom? Can I dress up with her?”

“Two princesses,” his mother quipped. “And I thought one was bad enough.” When he frowned, she laughed, “Of course! But eat some breakfast first. Then we’ll go down the hall to Cailin’s apartment and get more princess stuff.”

***

His mother took them to the small lake on the edge of the Forest after lunch. Dylan and Cailin’s faces were caked with pink makeup and they wore flowing, sequined dresses. Twin plastic tiaras graced their heads. They looked like they could be sisters, so close in size, age and complexion were they. The only real difference between them was the length of Dylan’s hair; it was cut short despite his protests to his mother that he wanted long hair worthy of a princess. Neither knew it at the time but they would be almost inseparable from that day forward.

“Can we go play in the marsh?” Dylan asked. “We’ll be careful.”

His mother looked up from the book she was reading. Her toes were dipped in the cool, clear water and she was sipping a Diet Pepsi. An umbrella shaded her from the light of the brilliant sun. She took a drink and placed the can down in the sand, waving them away. “Sure, go for it. Just be careful not to wander too far in.” She paused, remembering Dylan’s misadventure from the day before. “And if you see that boy again, don’t talk to him.”

“I won’t!” Dylan chirped and led Cailin by the hand toward the marsh.

“What boy?” Cailin asked, brows bunched up. “Is there a boy in here?”

“A Changeling,” Dylan whispered conspiratorially. Mindful of the rule of nudity when entering the Forest, he was already climbing out of his royal garments. Soon, he’d shucked his underpants and was standing naked before her. “He’s Ok, though.”

Cailin didn’t reply; she was too busy staring at his little pee-pee. From her expression, it was clear she’d never seen one before. “Do all boys look like you?” she asked in wonder, all thoughts of Changelings replaced by her fascination with his puny male equipment.

He looked down at himself and grinned. “I don’t know. I guess so. I don’t have a father or a brother but I’m pretty sure this is how we all are.”

“Weird,” Cailin pronounced, shimmying out of her dress and panties until she was just as naked as he was. “I don’t like it.”

“Like what?”

“Your thingy. It looks wrong.”

Dylan stared at her nakedness, hands on his hips. “Well, at least I’ve got one! You don’t have anything down there at all!”

“The way it’s supposed to be,” she said. “You look weird!”

“He does not,” a voice called out behind them, making them both jump. “See?”

They whirled around to find Xavier standing there, naked as a jaybird, hands proudly on his hips, his little pee pistol sticking straight out. Cailin saw it and started giggling. “It’s pointing at us! Ewwww!” 

Xavier looked down at his erection in confusion. “What? Isn’t that the way it’s supposed to be?” His gaze traveled from his crotch to Dylan and back again. “This is how I was yesterday when he was here.”

It only took Dylan a moment to realize that the Changeling was so unaccustomed to inhabiting a human male’s body that he didn’t know what an erection was. Coming to his defense, he moved between Cailin and Xavier, shielding the boy’s hardon from her view. This only seemed to increase the size of the thing, though. Soon, Xavier’s penis was fully erect and pointing directly at Dylan’s pert little bottom. Dylan blushed, embarrassed for the Changeling.

“What is going on?” Xavier asked, eyes glazed. “I feel so weird. I’ve never felt this…this…happy before.” He looked at Dylan’s bare bottom again, his hand dropping down to fondle himself.

“Xavier!” Dylan hissed, cheeks flaming. “Don’t do that! It’s impolite.”

Xavier’s hand curled reflexively over his erection which, Dylan couldn’t help noticing, was at least three times as large as his own. “Why?” Xavier asked, blue eyes full of perplexion. “Why is it impolite?”

“Boys and girls don’t touch themselves…down there…when they’re not alone,” Dylan explained. “It’s rude.”

“Is that why your cheeks are so red?” Xavier’s gaze was disconcertingly direct. He really was completely clueless about his own body and about the social norms surrounding nudity and sexuality.

Dylan’s embarrassment gave way to pity and he put his hands on Xavier’s shoulders and steered him into the bushes. He looked back at the bemused Cailin, ordering, “Wait there.”

Once they were alone together, Xavier threw his arms around Dylan’s neck and hugged him, pressing his lips against his cheek. His erection rubbed against Dylan’s thigh. “I’ve missed you so much, Princess!” he sighed before pulling away to take in the sight of the cheap tiara on his head. “And you’re wearing a crown today, too. You really are a princess!”

The sensation of Xavier’s lips on his cheek was doing strange things to Dylan and he flushed when he looked down and realized his little penis was getting harder, too. He looked up into Xavier’s eyes and then abruptly away, uncertain about these strange, new feelings coursing through him…and his penis. He wrapped his arms about himself, suddenly shivering.

“Yours is so tiny!” Xavier observed, reaching down to bat at Dylan’s much smaller erection. “It’s cute!”

Dylan didn’t answer; he was too busy studying Xavier’s own penis. As a boy who had grown up with no brothers, father or male friends, Xavier’s was the first penis he’d ever seen other than his own and it left him feeling weak-kneed and woozy. 

Beyond the size of his pulsing dick, Xavier’s naked body was so much more robust than his own. He was bigger in every way. He was taller, more muscular, and stockier. Indeed, his whole body seemed wreathed in an aura of vigor and strength. His cheeks were red and his eyes were on fire with delight and desire as he stared back at Dylan.

At that moment, a girl’s plaintive cry interrupted them, “Are you two done yet?”

Cailin’s wail startled both of them out of their desire-induced trance. Gradually, they came back to themselves, hearing the call of angry red-winged blackbirds scolding them from the cattails and feeling the gentle warmth of the sun on their backs. Their erections slowly subsided (but never completely went away) and Xavier took Dylan’s hand in his own and, squeezing it, led him back to the other waiting princess.

“You’re a Changeling?” Cailin demanded, narrowing her eyes as he looked Xavier up and down. Like Dylan, her attention kept being drawn to the boy’s quite sizable penis. “Are you gonna hurt me?”

Xavier laughed, such a merry sound that it made Dylan’s heart leap with joy. “Only if you hurt Dylan here,” he held up Dylan’s hand, demonstrating his claim on him, “or the Forest. You won’t do either of those things, will you?”

Cailin shook her head.

“Good. Now let’s play!”

With that, he tugged Dylan along behind him, leading them deeper into the marsh. Soon, the three of them were racing through the muck and the mud, shrieking with laughter. 

They had the best time that day, playing together in the sun. In a way, Dylan was thankful for Cailin’s presence because it kept his confusing and at times overwhelming feelings for Xavier at bay. He would look up and catch the boy staring at him with a smoldering look in his clear blue eyes and flush. Xavier was just so handsome!

He cried when it was time to leave. Xavier hugged him, rubbing his back fondly and kissing his neck. “Don’t worry, Princess,” he murmured. “I’ll be here for you tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after that.” He pushed Dylan away and chucked him under the chin, urging him to follow after Cailin. She looked back at them, shaking her head as Dylan hesitated. Finally, though, he managed to stagger off, rubbing his hand across his face and sniffling. It felt like his heart was breaking in two. He cast one, last glance behind him to find that Xavier was watching him, his little erection bobbing before him and a crown of leaves gracing his unruly red curls. He looked like a prince. The most handsome prince in the whole world.

***

Cailin and Dylan were together every day for the rest of the summer. Eventually, they convinced their mothers that they were old enough to take care of themselves and were allowed to run free. (Only later did he learn this was because it saved their moms from having to pay for an expensive babysitter. Summertime was the tourist season in Petoskey and neither woman could afford to miss work.) 

Each morning, after eating a hasty breakfast, they were on the way to the lake and the impatiently waiting Xavier. The trio would play all day in the Forest, scampering through the trees and climbing the bluffs to gaze out upon the distant Lake Michigan. The woods were deliciously cool and full of endless delights, delights they never would have sampled if not for their Changeling chaperon. 

Xavier taught them so many things, not the least of which was how to survive in the Forest. He showed them how to build a fire (of dead branches – the boy would never allow them to harm a living tree) and forage for food so that they didn’t need to return home until dusk. By the end of the day, Cailin and Dylan were asleep on their feet, shambling like zombies back to their worried mothers.

Dylan cried at the end of the summer when he had to go back to school. Xavier assured him that nothing would change, he’d still be in the Forest waiting for him when school was over. Still, the fall brought with it colder weather which made obeying the first rule of the Forest–that you must enter naked–more cumbersome. Xavier seemed oblivious to the cold but Dylan was chilled after a short while, even with a fire to warm himself. Caitlin refused to come altogether by the time October rolled around and soon Dylan was forced to give up his visits as well. 

The winter seemed to last forever and he couldn’t wait until the snow melted and the first warm days arrived. They would find him running joyfully to the Forest, stripping out of his clothing, and shouting for Xavier. The Changeling was always there, a smile on his face and his arms wide open. He made Dylan’s otherwise difficult childhood so much easier.

***

For a few blissful years, Dylan’s life was carefree and happy. Cailin was his compatriot, a fellow princess who adored him and didn’t think he was strange for dressing up in girl’s clothing. And Xavier was the first boy his own age who didn’t pick on him. Quite the opposite! Xavier adored him just as much as Cailin, only for different reasons. 

On the cusp of adolescence, the summer when he turned thirteen proved to be an awakening for him in so many ways. Because of his feelings for Xavier, he already knew he liked boys. Well, to be more precise, he loved Xavier. And, even better, that attraction was mutual. As he grew taller and more mature, Xavier’s hands and lips and mouth were never far from his. Their affection, however, remained chaste, never going beyond gentle kisses and tentative touches.

One day in late August, however, their private communion came to an abrupt end…or maybe it’s better to call it the dawn of a new beginning? He and Cailin arrived in the Forest that morning, calling excitedly out for Xavier, only to discover they weren’t alone. There was another naked boy waiting in their usual meeting spot. His lip curled into a sneer when he recognized Dylan.

“Why’re you here?” Dylan demanded of the interloper.

“I should fuckin’ ask you the same thing, asswipe.” Neal Connors folded his arms and glared down at him from his lofty height. He was almost as tall as Xavier and just about as hung, too. His surprisingly thick, pubescent dick was already wreathed in a few black pubic hairs. He thrust his crotch out proudly, sneering when he saw Dylan’s hairless nub.

Trying and failing to make himself look away, Dylan’s mouth fell open. He’d never seen a boy with pubic hair before. (Wait? Boys can have hair…down there?!) Beside him, Cailin was equally entranced, her eyes riveted on Neal’s lightly-haired appendage.

“Why dontcha take a picture?” Neal goaded both of them. He aimed all of his derision at Dylan, though, scoffing, “Jesus, yer such a little pansy!”

 “Wh-Wh-Where’s X-X-Xavier?” Dylan stammered, fighting against the urge to cover his completely inadequate equipment with his little hands.

“I’m right here, Princess.” Xavier stepped out from behind a tree, grinning. Dylan goggled when he noticed the boy was sporting a few pubic hairs around his dick, too. (Unlike Neal’s black ones, though, Xavier’s were flame red.) Why hadn’t he noticed before? And why did he lack any at all down there? When Dylan hesitated, Xavier held out his arms. “Where’s my hug?” He laughed. “Has Neal made you shy?”

“Wait,” Neal drawled, looking askance over at Xavier. “You know this faggot?”

“That’s not very nice!” Cailin scolded. “You can’t talk about Dylan like that!”

Dylan wasn’t sure whether it helped or hurt for a girl to come to his defense. He cringed, looking back at Neal. The older boy’s presence was unwelcome on many levels, not the least because he was a huge bully. A grade ahead of Dillon, he routinely made Dylan’s life hell at school. He was the main reason that Dylan pined all year for summer vacation: It was the one time of the year when he could avoid Neal. Discovering the boy in the Forest with Xavier was just about the worst thing he could have imagined. He hung his head, sniffling.

“Aw, look, the lil’ shit’s cryin’!” Neal spat. “For fuck’s sake! Grow a pair, would ya?!”

Cailin took Dylan’s hand and tugged, saying, “C’mon, Dyl. Let’s get outta here.”

Before she could lead him away, Xavier did something curious. Inserting himself between Neal and Dylan, he took both their hands and then moved them together. Unwillingly, Dylan found himself clasping his nemesis’ grubby palm. For his part, Neal was equally revolted at being forced to hold hands with a sissy.

“You two will be friends,” Xavier said. His tone made it clear that this was an order, not a request. He turned to Neal. “Or you won’t ever see me again. Do you want that?”

Dylan’s eyes went wide. From Xavier’s words, it was clear that he knew Neal…had been friends with him for a while perhaps. This knowledge hit him like a bolt through the heart, leaving him feeling defeated. (How could Xavier be friends with Neal? Did he feel the same way for him as he did for Dylan? Was he Dylan’s competition? If so, he knew he would lose Xavier!) Beyond this reaction, however, he was surprised to see the effect of Xavier’s words on the bully. If Neal had had a puppydog tail, it would have been between his legs. “What? No!” the bully yelped, instinctively grabbing at Xavier’s hand. “See?” He squeezed both Dylan and Xavier’s hands. “We’re buds! Best buds!”

“Good.” Xavier’s smile deepened as he looked from Dylan to Neal. “I’m glad.” He turned to Neal. “I expect you to take care of him when I’m not around. You’ll do that, won’t you?”

Neal looked down at his dirty, bare feet. He chewed on his lower lip, eyes sliding over to Dylan. Was it Dylan’s imagination or did his gaze linger on his bottom? Slowly, the bully’s lips curved into a smile. “Yeah, I’ll take care of him. Don’t worry.”

Xavier stared at him, trying to suss out his level of sincerity. Apparently satisfied, he said, “Excellent. Now how about the three of us have some fun together?” He looked over at Dylan, smiling. “Let’s show Neal around. He’s kind of new here.”

They played together but Neal wasn’t any nicer to Dylan, despite Xavier’s admonition. He liked to roughhouse and derived a perverse glee out of tackling Dylan and pinning him down in the mud. He’d stare down at him, hatred filling his brown eyes, a sneer on his ugly face. Dylan’s heart would pound and he’d struggle ineffectually while Neal laughed at his weakness. “C’mon, fight me!” he’d challenge. “Try to push me off!” Dylan would struggle some more, writhing beneath him until Xavier intervened and pulled Neal off.

“Here, Princess,” Xavier whispered after saving him for the fifth time. He took his hand and led him away from Neal and Cailin, saying over his shoulder, “We’ll be back in a minute.” He guided Dylan into a little clearing where a thrush warbled sleepily overhead in the sultry summer air.

“Why is he here?” Dylan demanded, wiping tears from his eyes. He hated how he always cried when Neal was mean to him. “I hate him!”

“I called him.” Xavier put his hands on his slim hips. “I need him.”

Dylan gaped at him in disbelief. “Why?! Why did you call him here? He’ll ruin everything.”

“Dylan, my princess.” Xavier’s hands were on his shoulders. “Relax. I called him here for you. He’s here to protect you.”

“Protect me?! I don’t need his protection!”

Xavier didn’t reply. Instead, he kissed him, wrapping his strong arms around Dylan’s waist. Dylan gasped when he felt Xavier’s erection rubbing against him. His own little penis pressed between Xavier’s legs, making him sigh with happiness. “Trust me,” Xavier whispered, pulling back to gaze fondly down at Dylan. “Please, just trust me.”

***

Chapter 9

The next day when they returned to the Forest, Neal was nowhere to be seen but neither was Xavier. Cailin and Dylan looked everywhere for him, wandering far into the Forest and calling as loudly as they dared. There was no sign of him. 

Dylan stayed in the Forest all day, hoping beyond hope that the boy would reappear. Finally, long after sunset, Cailin persuaded him to leave. “It’s dark, Dyl,” she coaxed. “It’s not safe here after dark.” Wiping tears from his eyes, he allowed her to tug him to his feet and lead him back to the edge of the lake where their clothes were waiting in a disorderly pile. It was the first day of September and the weather was turning cooler. Dylan realized belatedly that he was shivering. This, almost more than Xavier’s absence, alarmed him because it told him that their days of wandering naked in the Forest were nearly at an end.

He slept poorly that night and was extremely upset the next morning when his mother reminded him that it was the first day of school. Dylan hated school and had spent the summer trying to forget about the awful place. He was bullied all the time and had no friends.

“Cailin will be in your home room this year.” His mother was watching him closely, reading the look of alarm on his face. “I looked at the class register.”

“She will?” He sat up in bed, feeling instantly better.

“Yeah, now get yer butt outta bed.” His mother pulled him by the arm, not relenting until his feet were on the floor. “I gotta drop you off before work.”

After she closed the door, he happily changed out of his pajamas and dressed in the new clothes he’d picked out from the sale table at Target several weeks earlier.

***

“I want to introduce an, uh, new student,” his teacher said that morning. Dylan was sitting in the front row of the classroom next to Cailin and the two of them were wearing matching tiaras. Her stalwart presence made the incessant teasing from the other boys more bearable; he felt bold enough to be as girly as he wanted when she was around. They turned to crane their necks at the new boy sitting in the back with the rest of the thugs who comprised the top tier of the social strata in their middle school. Dylan’s eyes went wide. “Everyone, this is Neal,” the teacher continued. “Neal, um, is going to repeat the seventh grade with us.”

Neal didn’t seem the least bit chagrined at being held back a grade. He grinned evilly as he met Dylan’s gaze, spreading his legs wide open. He wore a baseball cap askew on his head and a pair of heavily stained hand-me-down jeans. He swam in a tattered red football jersey that was several sizes too big for him. He met Dylan’s startled expression with a sneer. “Whatsa matter, Princess?” he taunted loudly. “Don’t recognize me with my clothes on?”

Dylan’s face flushed scarlet and he turned hurriedly back around as the rest of the boys burst out laughing. Cailin reached under her desk and squeezed his hand as the teacher struggled to restore order to the classroom. What confused Dylan wasn’t his flaming cheeks–no, humiliation was his nearly constant companion–it was his stiffening penis. He shifted in his seat, uncomfortably aware of how much he secretly got off on Neal’s abuse.

Neal found him again at recess. Off in a secluded corner of the playground, Dylan was playing dolls with Cailin when he felt an arm settle over his shoulders as Neal drew him into a headlock. The big bully rubbed his knuckles hard over Dylan’s head, breathing in his ear, “Yo, Princess, you tryin’ to avoid me?”

Cailin intervened, pushing Neal away. “Get outta here!” she yelled. “Why’re you being so mean to him? Xavier told you to be nice!”

If anything, Neal seemed amused by Cailin’s outburst. “He tole me to protect him, not be nice to him.” He sat down between them. “And that’s what I’m doin’.” He draped his arms over their shoulders, pulling them in close. “We’re best pals, right? Me an’ the two princesses.”

Dylan was having trouble breathing. Neal’s touch was even more electric than Xavier’s. It confused him as much as it elated him. His little boy-sized penis chubbed up between his legs.

Neal removed his dirty ball cap and placed it on Dylan’s head, turning it around backwards. “Now, c’mon. I’m not gonna let ya play dolls when there’s so much fun to be had. Let’s join the other guys.” He stood up and grabbed Dylan’s hand, tearing him away from Cailin and dragging him to the middle of the playground where most of the other boys were engaged in a rough and tumble game of dodgeball. Dylan cast a pleading look back at Cailin. His tiara and dolls were discarded on the grass around her.

***

Dylan was bruised and aching by the end of the dodgeball game. The other boys harassed and bullied him relentlessly, hurling insults while they hurled the ball at him. He was the target of all of their abuse and aggression and it left him in tears…and unbearably turned on. By the end of recess, he was a sniveling mess with his tiny hardon scuffing against his underwear.

“Princess.”

He looked up from wiping tears from his grimy face to find Neal looming over him. The boy’s black hair was swept back over his forehead and he was dripping with sweat. “C’mere.” He hauled him over behind a low wall. Dylan looked up at him fearfully, taking in Neal’s steely jaw and fiery gaze. His brown eyes were the antithesis of Xavier’s, filled with rage and hatred….as well as something that threw him off guard.

“Yer a faggot.” It was a statement, not a question, but Dylan nodded nonetheless. Neal’s eyes filled with disgust and he spat at Dylan’s feet. “I hate fags,” he pronounced, “but ya did good today. Ya took it like a man and, for that, ya deserve a reward.”

Before Dylan could react, Neal grabbed him by the shoulders and kissed him hard. He cried out when Neal thrust his thick tongue inside his mouth, utterly dominating him. And then the bully was pressing him into the wall, working his hands inside Dylan’s tightie whities.

“Yer hard!” he crowed, grabbing Dylan’s tiny penis and twisting it until he whimpered in pain. “Fuckin’ faggot!”

And then his mouth was over Dylan’s again and his much bigger body was thrusting against him. He ground his crotch against Dylan’s and, even though they were both fully clothed, Dylan could feel his big erection through his jeans. Neal was just as turned on as he was.

***

He fled to the Forest after school, stripping out of his soiled clothing and throwing it behind him as he ran. He called out desperately for Xavier as he did so. He half-expected that Xavier would be missing again, something about the Changeling’s behavior had been off lately, even before he invited Neal into the Forest. He’d been preoccupied, distant…sad. Dylan had caught him wiping tears from his eyes on several occasions. When he realized Dylan had seen him crying, he’d smiled, doing his best to put on a brave front but Dylan knew it was all for show.

“Dylan.”

Dylan froze at the sound of his name. He recognized the voice as Xavier’s but realized it sounded different. Deeper.

“I’m over here.”

He looked over into a copse of willows, barely able to make out the Changeling’s shadowy outline. “Xavier!” he cried, running over to him. “Xavier!”

He threw himself into the boy’s arms, hugging him fiercely. Xavier’s body felt different, harder somehow, more muscular. And bigger. A lot bigger. After hesitating for a moment, Xavier returned the hug, pressing his lips to the top of Dylan’s head. “Oh, Princess, how I’ve missed you!” he sighed, voice filled with longing.

“Neal hurt me!” Dylan wailed. “He called me a faggot and then forced me to kiss him. And then he…he…he touched me…down there.”

Xavier’s body went briefly rigid before he relaxed. He stroked Dylan’s back, soothing him. “Neal is…different,” he murmured, kissing his ear. “He’s been hurt badly by the people he loves. But he has a good heart and he will defend you.”

Dylan was crying openly by this point. “No! I don’t want him to! I hate him! I really hate him!”

“And yet you also like him. Am I wrong?” Xavier parted briefly, long enough to stare knowingly down into Dylan’s eyes, searching for the truth.

Dylan looked away, unwilling to answer. The memory of Neal’s big, hard cock grinding into his crotch was like fire in his veins and his little penis stood up, pointing up at Xavier’s. Xavier noted this with a smile.

They kissed.

Xavier had kissed Dylan many times before but this time was different. It wasn’t quite like the nasty and abusive kiss that Neal had given him but it wasn’t chaste, either. No, it was passionate. Xavier’s big hands were on him, caressing him, fondling him and rubbing him. His mouth was on fire and his tongue was upon his own. Dylan tasted his saliva and…loved it. He threw his head back and allowed Xavier to crush him in his grasp. Xavier pressed into him, both loving and savage. 

Just when Dylan was about to cry out from pain, the Changeling pulled away, chest heaving. He stood there in the shadows, panting heavily. When Dylan reached out to him, though, he pushed his hands away. “D-Don’t touch me!” he warned. “I-I-I’m losing control. I might hurt you.”

“I don’t care!” Dylan cried, reaching out for him. “I love you, Xavier!”

Xavier grew very still at these words. In the gloom, Dylan could see his big shoulders slump. Finally, he took his hand and led him into the sunlight, ordering, “Look at me, Dylan. Am I something you could love?”

“What do you mean? You’re my–” Dylan’s voice cut off as he saw Xavier clearly for the first time. His eyes went wide with fear. “Wh-Wh-What’s wrong with you, Xavier? Are you Ok?”

Xavier smiled sadly. “It’s the price I must pay.”

“Why?!” Dylan wailed, unable to look at the Changeling’s horrific appearance. He barely recognized Xavier any longer.

“I’m a Changeling, Dylan,” Xavier explained patiently. “Changelings…well, we change.” He gestured down to his increasingly alien-looking body, “This body is approaching adolescence. With that change, I am maturing into my true, adult form. Tell me, Dylan, can you love me like this?”

Dylan’s mouth fell open; he was at a loss for words.

Xavier’s expression saddened and he turned away, heading back into the shadows. “I didn’t think so.”

***

Chapter 10

Dylan wandered back through the Forest, disconsolate. Upon dressing in his discarded clothing again, he emerged from the woods and saw the outside world–the world outside the Forest, that is–as if for the first time. He would later look back at this evening as the true beginning of his adolescence, when he awoke to the nature of the world around him and his place within it. From that day forward, his childhood innocence was forever lost.

He stood at the edge of the Forest and looked down upon what remained of the formerly bustling tourist mecca of Petoskey, Michigan, and saw how little of it was left. In his brief twelve years of life, the Forest had devoured all but a fraction of the place. Thousand-foot trees towered in a ring around the downtown, blocking out the sky in three directions. Only the western end of the city, the part that bordered the bay, was left open.

A handful of homes, a couple apartment buildings, the harbor and a few stores. That was it. That was all that was left. Further down the shore of Little Traverse Bay, he could make out the remnants of Harbor Springs, the town once filled with the wealthiest of wealthy, reduced to a ghost of its bygone glory. To the south was the Bayview District, overgrown now with towering maple and beech trees, only several of the stately homes left intact. And even further down the coast was the old quarry that had briefly become a playground for the rich, now overtaken by a cedar swamp.

People were leaving. His mother could barely scrape together enough money to pay rent and talked about moving south, far from the leading edge of the Forest. His school’s enrollment had dropped by more than seventy-five percent. The roads had all disappeared, their pavement buckled by tree roots. The only way in and out of the ‘city’ was by boat. And across the bay, there were no lights. Only the darkness of huge trees. Silent, brooding, filled with Others. Others who, like Xavier, were not human.

Dylan shivered even though it wasn’t cold. He’d never felt so alone.

The soft beating of drums and a woman’s high wail caught his ears and he turned, following the sound. He knew well who was singing: Members of the local tribe, the Little Traverse Band. It was because of them that the Forest hadn’t completely devoured Petoskey. Somehow, for reasons no one understood, when they sang, the Forest listened. Sort of. Its advance slowed but never fully stopped. Rather than devouring whole neighborhoods in a single day, it now took ten years. It was enough time for people to adapt. Or at least enough time to leave without being forced out with only the clothes on your back.

He wandered in the direction of the singing. It was such a wild, lonesome song that it brought tears to his eyes. He stopped on the edge of a grassy meadow and watched. Darkness was falling, the last light of the September sun was turning everything burnt orange. In the shadow of the immense trees were a group of elders. In the center was a tall woman with long, gray hair. She was standing, her back straight as a pin and her head lifted proudly. It was from her mouth that the unbearably sad song emerged.

“What’re you doing here, fucktard?”

Dylan whirled around to find Neil standing behind him with his arms crossed. A sneer disfigured his otherwise handsome, albeit thuggish, face. For reasons Dylan didn’t understand, rather than running away from the big bully, he ran toward him, wrapping his arms around his waist and burying his face in his shoulder. Neil froze, his muscular boy’s body going rigid, and then he did the most surprising thing: He hugged Dylan back. Pulling him behind a shrub, he sat down and pulled Dylan along with him, urging him to straddle his lap. Dylan wrapped his legs around the boy’s taut waist and clung to him, wailing almost as loudly as the old woman.

After a while, Neil started rubbing his back. And then he kissed his neck. And his ear. “Shhh, Princess,” he soothed. “Shh. It’s alright. You went and saw Xavier, didn’t ya?”

Dylan nodded, trying to stifle his crying but not having much luck.

For some unknown reason, Neil didn’t act angry and didn’t insult him. He just let him cry, rubbing his back and kissing him. Soon, his hands were exploring Dylan’s body in places that no one had touched before, at least not since he was in diapers. And then their mouths were open and they were kissing. His crying stopped and he surrendered to Neil’s roving fingers, gasping and moaning when he scored a particularly sensitive place.

“You’re so pretty,” Neil purred. “My little princess. Yer prettier than any girl. I want you for my own. I don’t wanna share you with nobody. ‘Specially not Xavier.”

These words were as exciting as they were confusing to Dylan. On the one hand, he knew he shouldn’t trust Neil, that the kid was a horrible bully and would go right back to abusing him as soon as they were in public. Right then, though–-and every time they were alone together from then on–Neil became a different person. He treated Dylan with the utmost respect and doted on him. He went out of his way to delight him, teaching him the pleasures of his body. Neal learned to play him like a supple instrument and used his lips, hands, and eventually his penis to awaken Dylan to the joys of gay sex. 

All that, however, was a ways off. Neil was in no particular hurry. He knew that he wasn’t ready for adult sex yet and, if he wasn’t ready, then Dylan certainly wasn’t. He was only thirteen years old and Dylan was only twelve. It would be another two years, when Neil was the quarterback of the junior varsity team and Dylan was a tight end, that they finally consummated their relationship. For that evening and many evenings thereafter, they remained relatively chaste, fondling body parts through clothing, kissing passionately but only on the mouth, slowly exploring each other, learning what the other liked. It was so much fun that Dylan forgot about Xavier…which, of course, was what Neil had in mind from the start.

Dylan was surprised that Neil was crying when they finally pulled apart. The boy rubbed his eyes furiously as if the very act of crying was humiliating for him. It was almost completely dark by then and the woman’s singing was getting quieter, the drum beats growing softer. The silence grew between each note. Something was closing, Dylan felt, something was going to sleep.

They stepped out from behind the shrubbery and brushed at their dirty clothing. Dylan knew his mother would be worried and wanted to head back home. “Wait,” Neal said. “I wanna introduce you to my grandma.” He tugged Dylan by the hand over to the small group of tribal members, waiting patiently until the song was over. Then he pulled Dylan over to the old woman. “Nana, this is Dylan. He’s…special to me.”

The woman surveyed Dylan critically, her expression unreadable. Finally, she nodded once and then turned away. Neal squeezed Dylan’s hand and led him away. “She likes you,” he whispered. “I can tell.”

Dylan wondered how he could tell! Certainly nothing about her cold demeanor indicated that. He was about to ask but Neal stopped him. “Don’t ask me nuthin’. I don’t wanna talk.” He lifted his hand and rubbed his tears away, before deciding to offer a few little tidbits even so. “I don’t got no home. Well, not a real home at least. An’ the fuckin’ State won’t let me live with her because she don’t got no address.” He snorted angrily. “She don’t need one! She lives in the Forest! The fuckin’ bastards don’t know nuthin’! Someday this whole fuckin’ place is gonna be Forest and then what’ll they do? Probably make me leave. I sure hope I’m eighteen by then ‘cuz I ain’t leavin’! I ain’t!”

This time it was Neal who clung to him and it was Dylan who offered comfort. They stood there, hugging and crying. Finally, as a barred owl hooted from the trees in the distance, they pulled away. Holding hands, they walked back into town. Behind them, deep in the shadows of night, Xavier watched them go. Tears were running down his cheeks.

***

For the next six years, Neal proceeded to make Dylan’s life hell during the day and then made it up to him at night. It was a total mind fuck, not the least because Dylan realized he actually preferred it that way. Some perverse part of him got off on being abused almost as much as another part got off on being worshipped. Neal told him he was only doing it for their own good, that otherwise they’d both be harassed and eventually separated from each other. By bullying him, he was actually ensuring they stayed together. And, truthfully, he enjoyed being a sadist as much as Dylan enjoyed being abused. Their game worked. No one ever suspected they were lovers and no one ever came between them.

Except for Xavier, although Dylan was careful to keep this a secret.

Xavier was Dylan’s first love and no one could ever really make him forget that. First loves are like that; they haunt you forever, especially when they are unrequited. Dylan never talked about Xavier with Neal and, as a result, Neal was oblivious to the Changeling’s hold over him. As far as Neal knew, Dylan never went back to see Xavier again after that fateful night. The truth, however, was that Dylan did go back.

He went back one last time to give Xavier what he wanted most.

He visited Xavier almost a month later, on the night of the full moon. He sneaked out of his apartment and crept across town to the edge of the Forest. It was October and the air was chilly. The moon was just rising in the east, shrouded by the towering trees. Only little slivers of soft light fell on the leaf-strewn ground at his feet as he stripped out of his clothes. 

Naked, he crept along a little pathway that led to Xavier’s haunting grounds. A screech owl’s rising whistle and fluttering lower notes filled the air and a rabbit zipped away, startled. The earth was moist and loamy between his toes and his penis–already stunted compared to other boys his age–shrunk up tight against his microscopic nut sac, making it look like he had a vagina between his legs. He still lacked any trace of pubic hair, much to his embarrassment.

His body was beginning to develop in other ways, though.

Thanks to Neil’s encouragement/torment, he’d started playing flag football. He was a terrible player and endured endless teasing and ridicule from the rest of the team. Neil wouldn’t let him quit, though, for reasons that soon became clear when the coach required Dylan to lift weights in order to build up his muscle mass. Neil made sure he focused almost exclusively on his lower body, forcing him to do endless sets of squats. The torture paid off and Dylan had outgrown a pair of pants already. When he ran, he could feel his buttocks bouncing behind him, much bigger than any of the other boys’. Neil liked him that way. He really, really liked him that way.

And, as he was about to discover, so did Xavier.

He felt the Changeling’s presence more than he saw him. Entering a small clearing where the night sky opened overhead and the first rays of the moon slanted through the trees, he stood and waited. Mist twined through the branches and the air glowed silver, almost as if it were alive. A long, vaporous serpent, ephemeral as a boy’s youth.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

Stifling the urge to jump at the Changeling’s much deeper voice, Dylan ignored Xavier’s commanding tone. It took some effort, though. The Chaneling’s voice grated on his nerves, exciting him. He barely recognized the boy’s formerly light, lilting tone. Now Xavier sounded like a man…and something else.

Kneeling down, Dylan used the little pieces of flint he’d brought to start a small fire. He gathered dried grasses and bits of twig. Dew had moistened everything so it took some effort but he finally succeeded in lighting a small blaze. He built the fire not because he was cold, although he was quite chilled, but because he wanted to see Xavier.

“Come out,” he called to the shadows. He could feel Xavier watching from behind a small clump of red osier dogwood. “Come out, Xavier.”

“You don’t want to see me.”

That voice! It was so guttural. So bestial. It made Dylan’s heart thud against his narrow breastbone.

“Come out.”

Xavier stepped out, placing a hoof in the dirt next to Dylan’s foot. Dylan jumped. He’d thought the Changeling was in front of him. He turned and gazed in awe at the immense creature looming over him. Xavier grinned, a particularly ghoulish expression on his ruined face. “I told you you don’t want to see me, Dylan.”

Resisting the urge to flee, Dylan instead threw his arms around the creature’s furry waist, clinging to him and burying his face into the musky hair. Xavier froze for a moment before lowering an awkward foreleg over him. His hands were gone and all he could do was run his long, sharp hooves over Dylan’s back. Xavier’s barrel chest began to shake and Dylan felt something hard and slimy slip upward along his sternum. 

“Dylan, I-I-I can’t control myself any longer. You need to go! If you don’t leave now, I may kill you if I mount you!”

Dylan looked up, quailing in horror at the boy’s formerly handsome visage, now twisted into a hideous grotesquerie. Thick, massive horns sprang out of the top of his shaggy head and his ears were long and slanted and very hairy. His eyes blazed a feral red in the flame light.

“Then kill me.”

The slimy protuberance sliding up his stomach was growing larger and thicker and his little butthole clenched with expectation. Dylan was naive and sheltered but Neil’s attention and ministrations had awakened something inside him. He now had an inkling about why both Xavier and Neil seemed to focus most of their attention on his buttocks. Acting on this intuition, he grasped Xavier’s forelegs and pushed them downward until they rested on the rise of his newly-muscled butt cheeks. Xavier’s hooves spasmed, pulling him in tighter.

Dylan took a deep breath and, gathering his courage, dropped down onto his haunches. Then he provocatively turned and stuck his buttocks in the air, offering them to Xavier.

“Dylan,” came the beast’s strangled voice, “are you sure?”

Dylan looked back over his shoulder, grabbing handfuls of grass in his hands and arching his back. “Yes.”

“It will hurt.” Xavier paused, agonized between the burning need to rut and the wish to not harm the one he loved most. “I-I-I might even rip you open. Dylan, I couldn’t live with myself if I did that!”

“Do it!”

Xavier stood behind, his big hooves planted on either side of him. The air filled with his rich musk and his heavy panting. Dylan quivered beneath him, both afraid and excited. Something wet and hot landed on the small of his back and his little penis grew hard, thrumming with eagerness. He strained, arching his back until his muscles ached.

“Please,” he begged. “Just do it!”

There was a long, difficult pause and then, much to his exasperation, Xavier rumbled, “No. You’re too young. I won’t do this.” He knelt down behind Dylan and then gathered him in his embrace as best as he could. He lowered his great head, antlers falling low, the tines forming a crown over Dylan’s much smaller head. “I love you, Dylan. I will always love you.” He pressed his great, furry body against him, making Dylan cry. “I have to leave you now, though. I won’t see you for a long time but I will find you. I promise. When you need me the most, I will be there.”

***