Note: While this story does have some anthro-furry elements, its most fun and devious transformations are what you have come to expect from my stories.

Themes: Hyper-cock growth, muscle growth, dumber, hair growth, anthro-dog tf, pussification, feminization, masculinization, humiliation, goblins, satire, transformation, shrinking, huge cock, small cock, small penis humiliation

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Quick links

• Chapter 1 – scroll down!
• Chapter 2
• Chapter 3
• Chapter 4 – posted 09 August 2025
• Chapter 5 – posted 10 August 2025
• Chapter 6 – posted 10 August 2025

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Chapter 1

Captain Brighton’s entire unit was taken by the goblins. He left only for a few minutes to walk the camp’s perimeter and take a piss. When he returned the entire camp was empty, the desert wind blowing around the tents as if they’d been long abandoned. Hands on his hips and machine gun over his shoulder, he stared at the empty camp in consternation. His initial reaction was to yell out but he quickly stifled the impulse. If he yelled, the goblins would come back and grab him, too. If he had any chance of rescuing his platoon, he needed to stay calm and silent.

He ran a hand nervously through his blond hair, his blue eyes filled with trepidation. At thirty, he’d spent the last decade in the army and had the body to show for it…mostly, if he could ever teach himself to lay off the carbs: He wasn’t even six feet tall and weighed well over two hundred pounds. His muscles filled out his sweat-stained tank top, his shoulders were wide but so was his belly; he had a noticeable paunch rounding out from his stomach. His love handles sagged slightly over his belt, jiggling when he shifted position.

While impressively built, he was keenly aware of his shortcomings, mostly that he wasn’t nearly as big and bulky as the rest of his men and that he couldn’t compete with them below the belt. Unlike the rest of him, his penis never went through puberty and remained the same size as when he was twelve years old. It was supremely humiliating, especially in an all-male unit where nudity was common. He clenched his jaw, feeling the emptiness in the cup of his jockstrap. 

Why the fuck am I thinking about my tiny prick at a time like this?

He shook his head, trying to clear it, ignoring the jiggle of his belly overhang.

It was evening and the sun had sunk below the horizon. A rugged mesa rose off to the west, a stark outline against the mauve and blue sky. Behind him, the crescent moon sent his pale shadow stretching out before him. His skin was covered in gooseflesh and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end.

He knew it was the goblins! Who else could it be? His unit had been tracking them for days, growing ever closer to their nest. Fuck! They’d been so careful, too! How? How did the fuckers find them? The slimy, green bastards had notoriously good noses but they’d been covering their clothing with goblin scent. Other units had done the same thing and avoided detection. How come their camp had been discovered? It didn’t make sense.

As if in answer to this question, he spotted the reason the goblins had found their camp.

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

The fucking idiots!

They’d lit a fire! 

Even though he’d ordered them not to, one of the fucktards had disobeyed him and lit a fucking fire!

Scowling, he paced over to the remains of the still-smoldering campfire. Someone had hastily kicked dirt over it but by that point it had already been too late; the goblins had found them. He looked around, heart thumping. There was a freshly-dug hole beside the fire. The little clawed demons must have burrowed into the camp that way. Goblins were incredibly good diggers. He shook his head, peering down into the hole. A rank odor emanated from within. Goblin scent.

Both furious and afraid, Brighton carefully scouted the camp, taking note of the subtle signs of a scuffle. The goblins had moved quickly, subduing their captives no doubt with a bite to the neck. Goblin saliva wasn’t just green and gross, it was also a potent neurotoxin. The soldiers hadn’t stood a chance. He’d only been gone for a few minutes and that was all it took. He rubbed his sweaty forehead, fighting back panic. If he panicked, though, he’d end up a captive, too. He needed to stay cool.

The first thing was to find out the other end of that hole. He paced around, ignoring his empty stomach, making ever wider circles around the camp. In a few minutes, he’d found it. The exit hole was behind a boulder about fifty feet from the fire. Brighton smiled grimly as he took note of the tracks. The sand was covered in them, all three-toed, the footprints of goblins. There were drag marks, too, from where the creatures had dragged the unconscious humans along behind them. 

The goblins had been careless in leaving their tracks but they’d probably thought they’d captured all of the soldiers and therefore didn’t have to worry about pursuit. He clenched his hands, both angry and afraid. He was a really tough man but he was still only one person. What could he do against a horde of goblins?

He’d have to call for help.

If he could get the coordinates of the goblin nest and get some reinforcements, his superiors would call in an air strike and demolish the infestation once they’d rescued the captives. Time was short, though. Brighton shivered when he thought about what might happen to his men. He had to save them ASAP or they wouldn’t be worth saving at all.

There was green slime covering the armored personnel carriers. Brighton kicked the tires of the vehicles in frustration. He knew better than to touch the slime. God only knew what might happen to him! The presence of the wretched stuff basically made the vehicles unusable because he didn’t have enough disinfectant.

He cursed loudly when he saw the goblins had even contaminated the water tanks. Green ooze trickled out of them, smelling thickly of goblin musk. To drink that water now meant…he shook his head, not wanting to even think about the possibilities.

The radios were likewise out of commission, drenched in the green liquid the goblins squirted out of their rear ends. (Goblins were such vile little creatures!) He scoured the camp but he couldn’t find any way to contact Central Command. Even if he had a smartphone, there wasn’t any signal here and, besides, what would he do? Place a call to the base and ask to be patched through? Angry at himself, his men and this awful predicament, he kicked the sand.

“It’s not that bad, bro,” a gruff voice called out behind him. “At least they didn’t get you.”

Brighton whirled around, blinking in surprise and confusion. For a panicked moment, he thought he’d come face to face with the Egyptian god of the Underworld himself, Anubis! The creature towered behind him, his tall and muscular physique limned in the pale moonlight. Radiating blackness, he stood erect, his long, pointy jackal ears rising above his head. Brighton clutched his machine gun, getting ready to shoot.

Anubis seemed amused by this and grunted, “Brighton, you fucktard, put the fuckin’ gun down. I ain’t gonna hurt ya.”

He knew that voice! But how–? Then he saw the telltale shadow of an AR-15 slung over Anubis’s shoulder and he sputtered, “Suarez? Is that really you?”

‘Anubis’ offered a crude rebuke, “‘Course it’s me, dickhole. Who the fuck else would it be?”

Brighton wouldn’t relax his grip on the gun. “Suarez, if that’s really you, how come–?”

“What? How come I look like a fuckin’ dog?” the shadow asked, chuckling. “Use yer fuckin’ skull, Brighton. Why do you think?”

Brighton swallowed, panicked brain unable to fathom what this…creature…who claimed to be Suarez could mean. All he could do was sputter, “We thought you were dead!”

“Well, you was wrong,” Suarez muttered dryly, “I was captured but I ain’t dead.”

Brighton’s mouth was hanging open as he stared at the immense dog-like man. Suarez had always been a big dude but now he was even taller, probably thanks to his elongated, recurved lower legs that ended in a pair of saucer-sized paws. Backlit by the moon, his long, lithe body was covered in a short coat of coal black fur.

Apart from his pointy ears and strange legs, he still basically possessed a man-shaped body but he was incredibly sleek, lean and muscular…far more so than any human male should be. When Suarez turned his head to the side, Brighton was surprised that he didn’t have a snout; his face was still just the same as ever. Huh? Weird. The fur, long limbs and strange ears seemed to be the extent of his canine features. Oh, and the paws. Can’t forget the paws!

Brighton was astounded and more than a little freaked out to discover his lost comrade–presumed dead for over a year–was not only alive but also transformed into a dog-human hybrid. He didn’t know what to think; his brain simply could not process what he was seeing and yet the…monster…standing in front of him was clearly Captain Suarez, a man he’d known since his first year as a recruit.

When he spoke, his voice was thick, “Suarez, man, I…don’t know what to say.”

Suarez slapped him on the shoulder, “Join the fuckin’ club.” 

Brighton shook his head, “Why didn’t you come back? Where have you been? What happened to you?”

“Bro,” Suarez drawled sarcastically, “as much as I’d love to have a little heart-to-heart with ya an’ share all my feelins, I’m kinda busy right now. I gotta follow those fuckin’ green assholes.” He shrugged his AR-15 up onto his shoulder and turned to leave, saying over his shoulder, “Be a good little boy and toddle off back to base, Ok? Yer in way over yer head here.”

“What?! No way!” Brighton scrambled around to get in his former buddy’s face–or at least he tried to; it turned out that he was far too short. “I’m not leaving until I get my men back.”

Suarez laughed at this. “You? There ain’t nuthin’ a lil’ pussyboy like you can do here. Yer no match for them fuckers. Trust me when I say yer men’re toast anyways. Even if by some miracle you found ‘em, you’d be too late an’ you’d only get yerself in trouble.” He snorted derisively, “Leave this to a real man, bro.” He pushed Brighton out of the way.

Now Brighton’s dander was up. Enraged, he yelled, “WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN?! I’M THE CAPTAIN HERE, NOT YOU!”

His little display had no effect on Suarez who simply muttered, “Yell a little louder, bro, an’ you’ll have the whole fuckin’ horde breathin’ down our necks.” He pointed his clawed finger at Brighton’s chest, pronouncing, “You stopped bein’ the captain the minute yer men were taken captive. Face it, bro: You failed. It’ll be better for everyone involved–especially you–if ya juss give up right now an’ head back to base.”

Brighton clenched his hands into fists and would have taken a swing if Suarez hadn’t caught his hands and pinned them behind his back. The man-dog’s breath was hot in his ear as he growled, “I’m losin’ my patience here, bro. And, even more important, every second you make me wait is a second I lose against the goblins. Here. Take this and skeedaddle.” He tore a canteen off of his backpack and handed it to him, explaining, “This here’s enough H-Two-O to get ya back to HQ. I don’t need it but,” he gestured to the nearby water tanks covered in green slime, “you do. Unless you got a stash somewhere else. But yer such a numbnuts that I’m sure ya don’t.”

Brighton batted the canteen away, shouting, “I won’t go! Those’re my men, dammit! I’m not gonna fuckin’ lose ‘em! I tole ‘em I’d give my life for ‘em and I wasn’t lyin’!” He jabbed his thumbs into his chest. “I’m goin’ with you!”

Suarez crossed his furry, muscular arms. “Dude, I hate to break it to ya but yer weak compared to me. This body of mine might be totally freaky but it’s designed ‘specially for a desert environment. I don’t sweat, ‘cept through my paws an’ from pantin’ and I barely need no water. I can run for miles without gettin’ tired and I barely need to eat. You, on the other hand, won’t make it more than one day out here, even with my canteen. Yer a liability.” He paused before adding ominously, “Plus, yer better off if you don’t go nowhere near that fuckin’ goblin nest. I’m already a freak. They can’t change me no more. You,” he pointed an inch-long claw at Sayer’s chest, “are still human. If they get their talons–or, worse, their slime–on you, yer done. I’m tellin’ ya this for yer own good.”

“No. No. NO!” Brighton shouted, adamant. “I’m goin’ with you! It’s my duty and it’s my mission. I was given orders to destroy that nest an’ I’m gonna do it!” He got up on his tiptoes again, “And you can’t make me stay behind!”

“Oh, really?” Suarez loomed over him. “An’ what’re you gonna do to me?”

Confronted by the brunt of the big beast of a man’s towering musculature, Brighton swallowed nervously. Suarez was really big and apparently very strong, too. Somehow, though, he managed to stammer, “I-I-I’m stayin’ with you. A-A-And that’s final!”

Suarez regarded him skeptically, impatient to get going. Finally, he nodded, “Fine. But I won’t wait for ya if ya can’t keep up. Now let’s go. I hope ya weren’t plannin’ on gettin’ any sleep tonight.”

With that, he turned and loped off into the desert, following the goblin tracks across the sand.

Brighton looked around the camp wildly, trying to find supplies to bring along but the goblins had destroyed the field rations, too. Not only did he have no water–apart from Suarez’s canteen–he also had no food. No food, no water, no transport, nothing. There was nothing for him here. Casting about one last time, he finally gave up and jogged after Suarez who was already disappearing into the distance.

Suarez kept up a brutal pace and Brighton had to run to keep up with him. The big dog-man didn’t relent, either. If anything, he loped along even faster. It soon became clear he was trying to lose him and this infuriated Brighton. Despite his best efforts, though, he started falling farther and farther behind as the night wore on. Worse, he quickly consumed all of the water in the canteen. By the early morning hours, he was stumbling along like a zombie, nearly asleep on his feet and dying of thirst. He lost sight of Suarez completely.

The goblin tracks led into the hills towards the west. It was amazing how much ground they covered so quickly! Brighton had no idea how they moved like that while dragging a bunch of captives along behind. If he was in bad shape, he could only imagine what condition his men were in. Fear for their safety, though, spurred him onward.

Just as the first rays of the morning sun were casting a golden glow upon the cactus and sagebrush, he found Suarez. Backpack and gun set aside, the beastman was kneeling down beside a tiny pool of fetid water, lapping it up with his long, prehensile tongue. Brighton was right behind him and saw for the first time the man’s chopped off stump of a tail. It stuck up behind him as he bent over, lifting up to reveal his tender, pink butthole–Brighton cleared his throat and looked away, uncomfortable. Suarez looked over his shoulder at him, licking his chops. Then he grinned, exposing teeth that were decidedly pointed. Pushing himself upward, he turned and stared back at him with an expression that could only be described as hungry. Unconsciously, Brighton took a step backwards.

Seeing Suarez in the light of day was a surreal experience. The night before, he’d assumed the man was wearing at least a pair of shorts but, no, he was entirely naked, his only ‘clothing’ being a pelt of very short but very dense fur. Brighton looked away awkwardly when he saw Suarez’s crotch. A huge pair of black balls dangled between his thighs and his penis was encased in a furry sheath. His fur was deep black but there were patches of russet fur on his chest, the sides of his head and his pointed ears. Suarez’s face was the only part of him that remained unchanged…with the exception of his sharp teeth and long tongue. The rest of him really was more dog than human.

A Doberman, he thought. He’s a Doberman Pinscher.

“What’s wrong?” Suarez demanded. “Why’re you lookin’ at me like that?”

“You need to ask?” Brighton snorted defensively, uttering under his breath, “Freak.”

Suarez straightened, stalking over to him on his enormous paw-like feet. He had to be close to seven feet tall and his body was so long and sleek! Looming over him, his lips twisted into a snarl. “Listen to me, asshole,” he barked, “The only freak here is you. Got that?” He gestured to the desert around him. “This is my home and you don’t belong here. Yer already dehydrated and draggin’ yer fat, sorry ass while I’m doin’ just fine.” His dark brown eyes danced with an inhuman light and his pointy teeth were clearly visible in his mouth. 

In spite of himself, Brighton drew back, averting his gaze and apologizing, “I’m sorry! Really! I juss–you know, I juss haven’t ever seen anyone like you before! I didn’t mean to offend you.”

The silence stretched between them until finally Suarez growled, “Fuck off and stay outta my way.” He strode away, his gait effortless, his body sinewy.

Realizing he was thirsty, Brighton got down on his knees and cupped his hands, preparing to drink the nasty water. He took one sip, though, and spit it out. It was alkaline!

“Yer screwed, bro,” Suarez observed cruelly as he slung his pack over his broad shoulders and hefted the rifle. “You shoulda turned around back at the camp like I said.” He turned to look back at the sun cresting the horizon; it was already hot and growing hotter by the minute. “Yer gonna die out here.”

Brighton bridled, yelling, “Oh, fuck you! I’m fine! I’m juss fine. Let’s go.” With that, he stomped off into the sagebrush, halting a moment later when he realized Suarez hadn’t budged. 

Looking over his shoulder questioningly, Suarez rolled his eyes and pointed in the opposite direction. “That way, bro. The goblins went that way.”

“I knew that,” Brighton stated indignantly, turning back and following behind the dog-man as he trotted down the rough trail, following the goblins’ three-toed tracks.

***

He did his best to keep up and, for a time, succeeded. Suarez kept up a punishing pace, though, and Brighton was suffering from a lack of sleep, hunger and dehydration. To distract himself, he gasped out little bits of conversation. It had the effect of causing Suarez to slow down slightly which helped Brighton keep pace.

“So, bro,” he began, panting. “Why’re you, ya know, naked?” From behind, he had a perfect view of the beastman’s furry buttocks which were surprisingly substantial considering how lean he was. His stubby tail was so short it didn’t cover his…

“You lookin’ at my butthole, bro?” Suarez asked, stopping to give him the gimlet eyeball. His big balls slapped against his furry thighs. The dude’s ball sac, Brighton saw, was completely hairless, the skin a deep shade of black. A tiny pink pinprick at the top of his hairy sheath betrayed the presence of Suarez’s retracted dog penis.

“I can’t help it!” Brighton complained, averting his eyes from the dude’s male equipment. “It’s like right there in my face!”

“You like that, dontcha?” Suarez goaded, stepping closer. A hot wind blew over them, ruffling the thick, black hair on his head. (The top of his head still had human hair on it and it had been trimmed recently, albeit inexpertly, as if Suarez had given himself a haircut.) A fly buzzed, landing on his penile sheath before he brushed it away. “I remember how ya looked at me in the showers during basic training. Yer lil’ pee-pee was hard…or was it?” His voice trailed off as he pondered the memory, finally concluding, “Yer so tiny down there, it was hard to tell for sure.”

“You–!” Brighton hissed, clenching his fists. “I’m not a fag!”

“I didn’t say ya were,” Suarez replied, turning around and once again presenting him with his hairy backside and the perfect pink pucker under his stubby tail. It was made even more obvious by the fact it was surrounded by so much black fur. “You could be bi. You could juss be curious. I don’t give a fuck.”

Brighton was seething with rage by this point. He wasn’t gay! “Fuck you, Suarez! Fuck you to hell!” He didn’t realize it but he’d started jogging fast, his rage making him forget how tired and hot he was.

Suarez was amused by his outrage and only picked up the pace. Soon, he’d left Brighton far behind. Brighton seethed with indignation, hating his former colleague with a passion. How dare he call him a homo! All he’d done is ask why he didn’t cover himself up! It didn’t mean he was gay! Anyone would notice Suarez’s nudity. The dude was so tall his doggy dick was practically in his face!

Slowly, his irritation faded as he grew more and more tired. The sun was beating down on him and he was sweating profusely, losing more precious bodily fluids. His stomach was empty and he felt like shit. His steps grew more confused and his vision blurred. Soon, he was weaving on his feet. His skin felt cold and clammy. In a far off corner of his mind, he realized that Suarez was right and he should never have come along. He was going to die of heatstroke and dehydration!

Collapsing to his knees, he cast off his rifle and slumped down in the sand. Eventually, he rolled over onto his back and closed his eyes. The sun was a white hot ball blazing through his eyelids. 

He passed out.

***

Chapter 2

Water! At last! Precious drops of water were trickling down his throat. He swallowed and swallowed again. The flow was barely more than a drip at a time but it kept coming and he kept swallowing. He moaned, opening his mouth wider, eager to get every bit. This went on for a very long time as he drifted in a half-awake, half-asleep state. Finally, he felt restored enough to open his eyes. When he did so, he gave a start and backed up on his elbows, shouting, “What the fuck?!”

Suarez was kneeling over him, his mouth positioned over Brighton’s own.

He’d been spitting into his mouth!

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!” he shouted, feeling ill. He could feel his gorge rising in his throat as all the ‘water’ he’d swallowed threatened to come spewing back out of him.

Suarez wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, “Saving yer fuckin’ life, bro. That’s what.” He pushed himself up off his knees and extended a paw. His arms, like his legs, were incredibly long and sinewy. “C’mon. Let’s go. We’re wastin’ time.”

Disgusted, Brighton batted the paw away and staggered to his feet. The sun was low in the west which meant he’d been out for most of the afternoon. His body felt shaky and he was still hungry but, even though his stomach was queasy after being filled with Suarez’ spit, he actually felt Ok.

“We’ll camp there,” Suarez informed him, pointing to a low ridge of rock in the distance. Behind it, the massive, arid mesa rose in the distance, its stark rocky walls appearing blue in the haze. “I’m pretty sure the goblins took yer men there.” He jerked his chin at the mesa, “It makes the most sense.”

Brighton looked down at his feet, realizing the ground was so rocky here there was no longer any evidence of tracks. “How do you know?” he queried. “We’ve lost their trail!”

“No, we haven’t,” Suarez declared, lifting his nose and wuffling the air. “I can smell ‘em.” He pointed toward the mesa, “And that’s the direction they’re goin’.”

“Oh.” Brighton kept forgetting that Suarez was mostly a dog now. Of course, he could track the goblins by their scent!

Suarez began striding easily along and Brighton stumbled after him. This time, he managed to keep him in sight and was only about a quarter of a mile behind when they reached their camping spot. Suarez was already gathering bits of brush for a fire when Brighton staggered up, collapsing heavily on the rocky ground and holding his head in his hands. 

He roused himself enough to ask, “Should we make a fire?” He looked off towards the mesa, “Won’t they see it?”

Suarez shrugged. “It don’t matter. Yer men’re toast already anyways. An’ I can hold ‘em off if they try to attack us. Remember, bro, they already got me,” he gestured to his doglike body, “they can’t change me again.”

Brighton opened his mouth to argue with him but closed it again, realizing it was pointless. He sat there, stewing over their predicament and hating Suarez for being such a know-it-all asshole. Finally, he couldn’t remain silent any longer and he asked, “What happened to you, Suarez? How’d they do this to you?”

Suarez paused as he blew on a bit of tinder. A tendril of smoke curled up into the air before twisting away in the evening wind. “You don’t wanna know, bro. Believe me, you don’t wanna know.” He shuddered at the memory, “It was the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“But I don’t get it!” Brighton pressed. “I’ve never heard of anyone being turned into a…” his voice trailed off as he found himself unable to complete the sentence.

“A lapdog?” Suarez finished for him, laughing bitterly as he looked down at himself. Settling on his haunches, he regarded Brighton with his depthless brown eyes. “They don’t teach ya nuthin’ ‘bout them goblins, do they? But I guess it makes sense.”

“Why? Why does it make sense?”

Before Suarez could answer, though, he suddenly started kicking sand over the little flame he’d been tending. Lowering himself down behind a boulder, he barked, “Get down quick! Hide!”

Brighton didn’t understand but obeyed instinctively, crouching beside the big man. “Why?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”

Suarez turned to look at him. The sight of his human face in a dog’s body still gave Brighton a start every time he looked at him. “You don’t hear that?” he whispered. “Shhh. Listen!”

Then he heard it. The low chop-chop-chop of a helicopter. He looked to the west and saw the tiny speck of the chopper as it flew in and circled the mesa before climbing to the top and disappearing. At first hopeful that it was an army helicopter, Brighton grew confused when he realized it was a civilian craft. Even though it was so far away, he knew it wasn’t one of the army’s. But what was a civilian helicopter doing out here so close to a goblin nest?

Suarez was watching him, scorn clearly written across his (very handsome) face. “You still don’t get it, do ya? Pffft, so dumb!”

“I’m not dumb!”

“Oh, yeah?” the dog-man challenged, “Lemme ask you this then: Where’d the goblins come from, bro?”

Brighton blinked. “That’s easy. They’re aliens!”

“Aliens?!” Suarez barked, incredulous. “You really think those little green men actually came from outer space?”

“Of course, I do!” Brighton protested, stung. “Where else would they come from? They’re invaders and it’s our job to wipe ‘em out!”

Suarez shook his head, “So naive! So dumb! Ha! What a fuckin’ idiot!” He slapped his knee before pushing himself to his feet and changing the subject, “In any case, the chopper’s gone now and it’s safe to make a fire. How ‘bout you do that and I’ll go see if I can find some water an’ catch us some dinner?”

Not waiting for Brighton to reply, he grabbed the canteen off Brighton’s shoulder and loped off into the dusky sagebrush, nose lifted as he sniffed the air. Brighton watched him go, clenching his hands. Why did Suarez–who was nothing but a fucking dog!–always have to make him feel like a such a fool? Brighton was a captain in the army! He had twenty men who served under him, more than ten years experience in the field and four years of experience chasing down and exterminating goblins. Yet, when Suarez was around, he felt like he was a helpless, clueless, little boy. It was infuriating!

***

Suarez returned at the last of the sun’s light tinged the cactus a velvety violet. He had a full canteen, a bloody mouth, and a couple of jackrabbits dangling over his brawny shoulder. Squatting down next to the fire, he panted, “Here.” He thrust the rabbits over to him, “I field dressed ‘em but they need to be skinned before roasting. You can do that, right?”

Brighton nodded, still angry from earlier. He’d built a nice fire that snapped and crackled in the darkness, warming him. After being hot all day, the desert was rapidly cooling and he was chilly. He huddled next to the flames as he used a hunting knife from Suarez’s pack to prepare the rabbits. 

Suarez sat next to him, leaning against a boulder and sipping from his canteen. When Brighton reached for it, he pulled it away, admonishing, “Nope. Too salty for humans.”

“What?!” Brighton complained. “Does that mean–?”

“Yeah, more spit,” Suarez grunted, smiling to himself. The tips of his sharp teeth were visible through his parted lips. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing the blood.

Brighton was appalled and queasy at the same time. “I’m not drinking yer spit again! Ugh! That’s the grossest thing I’ve ever done!”

Suarez regarded him through lidded eyes, “If that’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to you, bro, consider yerself lucky.” He laughed harshly, looking down at himself. “You could always be goblin spawn like me.”

“Goblin spawn?”

“My term, not theirs,” Suarez clarified. “It’s what happens to people once the goblins get ahold of ‘em…if they ain’t turned into a goblin first.”

Brighton’s mouth fell open. “Wait. They can–?” He only knew that goblin goo was toxic to people. He didn’t realize that goblins could actually… “My men!” he exclaimed, suddenly anxious. “We gotta save ‘em!” He stood up and would have taken off toward the mesa if Suarez’s paw on his arm hadn’t stopped him.

“Sit down, bro,” he ordered. “You can’t save ‘em. They was already doomed the minute the goblins got ‘em.”

Brighton shook off the paw angrily, demanding, “How do you know? There’s still time! I know it! We can save ‘em!”

Suarez shook his head, “This never was a rescue mission, bro. All it’s ever been is a revenge mission.”

“Revenge?” Brighton repeated, mystified.

“Yeah, revenge.” Suarez squeezed his paw into a fist. “My revenge, not yers. But ya might wanna get revenge, too, after ya see what they’ve done to yer men.”

Brighton’s face had gone white. “No,” he pleaded weakly. “No!”

“Juss shut up and eat,” Suarez grumbled, grabbing the skinned rabbits back from him and skewering them on a couple of sticks. Handing one to Brighton, he held his skewer over the fire. Soon, the air was filled with the rich smell of roasting rabbit as the meat crackled and browned on the scrawny carcass.

Brighton was famished, although it was a tossup between thirst and hunger by this point. His head was spinning and he was overwhelmed by everything. When his rabbit was finally cooked, he devoured it noisily while Suarez nibbled almost daintily on his own, his razor sharp teeth tearing off long strips of moist flesh before he extended his long tongue and lapped them into his mouth. Brighton finished before him, his rabbit having been reduced to bones and sinew, and Suarez handed his own half-eaten hare. He accepted it without saying thank you.

Suarez leaned back against the boulder and watched him eat, his eyes flickering in the orange firelight. When Brighton was done, he asked, “Ready for some spit?”

Brighton glared at him but the truth was that he was so thirsty he was almost past caring where the water came from. He was so desperate he’d even drink Suarez’s piss if he had to! Obediently, he lay down on his back and opened his mouth.

Suarez settled over him, pinning his head between his paws. Brighton stared up into those feral brown eyes, feeling like a small animal trapped by a wolf. He swallowed. Was this how the jackrabbits had felt just before Suarez tore open their throats?

It soon became clear, however, that it was a very different sort of hunger burning in Suarez’s gaze. “Yer awful pretty, bro,” he rumbled. His voice was a growl emanating from deep within his chest. “Anyone ever tell ya you like a girl?”

“Shut up! I’m not a girl!” Brighton twisted angrily, trying to get out from underneath the big man but Suarez had him trapped. Instead of freeing him, Suarez’s groin pushed down upon him. 

Suarez caressed his smooth cheek. “Yeah, juss like a pretty lil’ girl. Ya can’t even grow a beard!” His gaze traveled down Brighton’s body as he added cruelly, “A big-boned girl with lots of meat on her bones and a hot pussy between her legs.”

“F-F-Fuck you!” Brighton sputtered, furious and humiliated…and thirsty. “Stop it! I ain’t no girl! I’m a man!” But he was in no position to make demands, trapped as he was beneath Suarez’ big, lean and very muscular body. The man-dog was strong. Far stronger than he could ever hope to be. When he realized how helpless he was, Brighton’s eyes got round and he begged, “Don’t, Suarez! Please don’t! I’m not ready. I mean, I don’t wanna–”

Suarez’s eyes softened and some of the hunger faded from them as he reached down to pet Brighton’s cheek. “I’m juss teasin’, bro. Well, sorta. You are real pretty. I always thought so. The truth is I’m so fuckin’ horny I’m nearly ready to explode. It’s been a whole year since I fucked my wife the last time! Can ya believe it? I’ve been alone for a whole year! Yer the first girl I’ve seen since–” His voice choked off and he refused to finish the sentence.

Brighton gave a start when he realized there were tears in Suarez’s eyes. Even though he was offended by Suarez’s insistence on calling him a girl and felt profoundly uncomfortable under the beastman’s bulk, he also understood how lonely and desperate he was. He would feel the same way if he were in Suarez’s position. It didn’t excuse his cruelty but it made Brighton feel somewhat sympathetic towards him.

“Your wife,” he began, “Amelia, right?” He even remembered to use the Spanish pronunciation.

Suarez nodded. A tear slid down his cheek and fell with a splash onto Brighton’s face. “Yeah, that’s right. Amelia. I ain’t seen her in almost a year. And my kids–” He closed his eyes and shook his head angrily. “I’ll never see ‘em again, bro! Never!”

“You don’t know that,” Brighton reasoned. “Maybe–?”

“No! There ain’t no maybe!” Suarez insisted almost savagely. “Look at me, bro! LOOK AT ME! Can you imagine what Amelia would say if she saw me like this? And ‘sides, there ain’t no way the army would ever let me near her. They’d fucking kill my sorry dog-ass before I ever got close to her.”

“What?! Why?!” Brighton couldn’t believe the military would ever be so cruel.

Suarez’s eyes narrowed. “How many freaks like me have you seen walkin’ around back in civilization, bro?”

Brighton swallowed; his mouth was very dry. “Uh, none.”

“‘Xactly. That’s the point.” The bitterness in Suarez’ voice was palpable. “None. Zip. Zero. ‘Cuz they can’t let none of us escape. If word got out, there’d be fuckin’ riots in the streets, bro.”

“I don’t understand.” Brighton was honestly mystified. “Why?”

“Oh, Jesus, bro! Wake up! It’s the fuckin’ army that’s in cahoots with the goblins!”

Brighton’s mouth fell open. “What?! No! That can’t be! The army’s killing the goblins! We’re eradicating them!”

“If that was true,” Suarez reasoned, “dontcha think they’d be gone by now? Think ‘bout it, bro! The goblins’ territory is small. It’s just a bit bigger than half the state of Arizona. If the U.S. military was serious ‘bout exterminating them, they’d drop a bunch of bunker-bustin’ bombs and be done with ‘em. It wouldn’t be pretty and a lot of Native American land would be toast but that didn’t stop ‘em back in the 40’s when they was testin’ the nukes.”

Brighton was silent, considering this. What Suarez was saying actually made a lot of sense. Sure, destroying half of Arizona would be horrible but it would rid the world of the goblin scourge. Instead, the army’s approach was to send in elite squadrons like Brighton’s to ferret out and destroy the nests. This tactic hadn’t changed in a decade and it also hadn’t changed the situation on the ground. It was a stalemate. The goblins were still just as pervasive as ever, albeit contained in a no man’s land of sorts, the perimeters of which were under constant surveillance. 

“C’mon, let’s get this over with,” Suarez huffed. “I’m tired an’ need to sleep. Open up, bro.”

Brighton wanted badly to keep arguing but he was also quite thirsty and tired of having Suarez on top of him. The man’s breath was hot on his face; he smelled like roasted hare. Closing his eyes, he opened his mouth, swallowing when Suarez’s spit hit the back of his throat.

It took forever to swallow enough spit to rehydrate himself! Not only that, but he got more and more grossed out the longer it went on. Finally, he opened his eyes, getting ready to complain but stopped when he saw the way Suarez was looking at him. The beastman’s mouth was only an inch from his own and his eyes were unusually soft, almost tender. He spit and Brighton swallowed, unwillingly captivated by Suarez’s gaze.

Something ineffable shifted then and he forgot his impatience, even almost forgot his disgust at being forced to swallow another man’s saliva to survive. They lay like that for another hour before Brighton had finally gotten sufficient liquid in him.

“Ok,” he whispered, lips almost touching Suarez’s, “that’s enough. Thank you.”

Suarez smiled and rolled off of him, promptly falling into a deep sleep. Brighton lay beside him, feeling the heat radiating from his lean, taut body. It was a chilly night and Brighton was cold now that Suarez was no longer on top of him. After debating for a moment, he gave up resisting and curled up next to the big guy. Suarez moaned in his sleep, shifting around until he was spooning Brighton. Soon, Brighton’s eyes closed and he drifted to sleep in his arms.

***

Chapter 3

“Wake up.”

Brighton opened his eyes to find Suarez looming over him. The dog-man tossed something down at him and Brighton caught it instinctively, looking in wonder at the bright reddish purple fruit in his hand. “Prickly pear?” he asked, rubbing the little bristles off the fruit and biting into the succulent flesh. Inside the meat was sour and sweet and slightly pulpy. It tasted good.

Suarez nodded, “Yep. Breakfast.” He tossed down more of the spiny fruits and Brighton scrambled to catch them before they hit the sandy ground. “Eat up. We leave in five minutes.”

Brighton obediently devoured the fruit, realizing he felt a lot better after doing so. While he peed on the other side of the boulder, he examined his urine and was relieved when he saw it wasn’t overly yellow. That explained why he felt so good: He was no longer dehydrated and had food in his stomach.

“Ready?” On the other side of the boulder, Suarez’s voice was gruff, all traces of his tenderness from the night before gone.

“Yeah!” Brighton zipped up his trousers and dusted himself off. Now that he didn’t feel like he was dying, he really wished he could take a bath. His fatigues were filthy and he smelled like a barn. Permanent sweat stains were etched under both armpits. He’d never been this dirty, even during the worst of basic training.

Suarez gave him the once over after he reappeared and promptly took off at a jog. Sighing, Brighton followed along behind him. He wasn’t looking forward to another day in the hot sun. Worse, the mesa looked just as far away as the morning before. He hated how distance was so difficult to judge in the desert!

Maybe it was his imagination but Suarez took it easier on him today. The pace wasn’t quite as grueling and they stopped more frequently to take breaks. There was a pleasant breeze, too, which helped somewhat. It was still brutally hot, though. The ground was rising ever so slowly as they approached the mesa and Brighton could’ve sworn the higher elevation brought some relief from the heat.

They stopped in the heat of the day at the foot of a deep arroyo. The sediment on either side had been etched away from millennia of rainfall. Brighton knew that rain was sparse but it was also the monsoon season in Arizona and thunderstorms weren’t unheard of. As if on cue, he heard the telltale sound of trickling water. At that moment, they rounded a little bend and found a tiny rivulet of water raining down from the face of a steep cliff. It gathered into a small pool surrounded by meager reeds. Scarlet dragonflies darted amongst the greenery, dipping down to snag midges dancing on the surface of the water.

Suarez drew to a halt beside the pool and, getting down on all fours, started lapping up the water like a dog. Which, Brighton reasoned, kind of made sense since he basically was a dog. He watched as the man’s rope-like tongue extended from his jaws, the water flowing into the fleshy ridges before being slurped up. 

Realizing he was staring, Suarez looked up at him, licking off his face with his tongue and demanding, “What?”

Brighton shook himself. “Nothing! I was just wondering if it was safe for me to drink, too.”

Suarez nodded, “It’s fine. Not too salty. Go ahead and drink up!”

Suddenly bashful, Brighton approached the pool and squatted down beside him, dipping his hands into the water and sipping. It tasted fresh and light, almost sweet. It was delicious! Which made it even more confusing when he found himself pronouncing, “Ugh, no. It’s way too alkaline.”

“Huh, really?” Suarez shrugged, getting to his feet. “Guess you gotta make do with my spit again then.”

Brighton pretended to frown, “Guess so.” 

Suarez paced off behind him and Brighton heard him unsling the gun from his shoulder and toss his backpack down on the ground. A moment later, there was a loud splattering noise and Brighton turned to see Suarez standing there with his dogleg cocked, a violent stream of urine gushing out of his doggy sheath. From his lower vantage point, he had the perfect view of Suarez’s backside. His stubby tail was raised and his pink butthole was winking at him. Further back, his big, heavy balls sloshed languidly in his black-skinned nut sac. Brighton coughed when Suarez caught him staring. He grinned, flashing his pointy teeth and letting his long, pink tongue dangle suggestively from his jaws. Brighton looked away.

When Suarez was done pissing, he returned to Brighton’s side, waiting patiently. Finally, he asked, “Thirsty?”

Brighton swallowed inadvertently, remembering the sensation of Suarez’ spit trickling down his throat. The sick thing was that he was actually craving it! He flushed, pushing the thought away, and shook his head, “I am but I wanna take a bath first. Do you mind, uh, maybe waiting over there while I do?” He pointed to a sagebrush bush about fifty feet away.

“Really, bro?” Suarez questioned. “We’re both guys, even if I’m mostly a dog now. I’ve seen ya naked, I dunno, like a hundred times! I already know ya got nuthin’ between yer legs.”

Brighton’s cheeks were hot. “It doesn’t matter. Can you please just humor me?”

“Suit yerself.” Suarez stalked off behind the bush.

Once he was out of sight, Brighton checked to make sure he wasn’t looking and stripped out of his clothes. He sighed in exasperation when he removed his jockstrap. This was the reason he didn’t want Suarez to see him naked: He was sporting an insistent erection, his pitiful three-incher was pointing out from his shaved pubes like a soldier at attention. He shook his head at himself. Why the fuck was he hard now of all times? 

He lowered himself down into the warm water, moaning with relief. It felt so good! The pool’s bottom was sandy and the water was bright and clear. He splashed himself all over, rinsing off all the sweat and dust. He frowned when he noticed his belly and lovehandles. How come he couldn’t even manage to drop a few pounds when he was basically starving? The fat pad over his bald pubes made his erection look even more pathetic. He gritted his teeth and forced his attention away, waiting for his hardon to soften. He really wanted to rub one out but he was afraid Suarez would catch him jacking off.

It took a long time before he calmed down and his circumcised cock shrunk back under the overhang of his soft belly. Even though he was still really horny, he felt better after being in the cool water.

“Can I come out yet?” Suarez sounded forlorn.

“Just a sec!” Brighton finished stepping into his jockstrap, relieved that his erection was no longer poking out. “Ok, you can look now.”

Aggrieved, Suarez stomped out from his concealment. “Jesus, bro! You took forever.” He pointed at the sun which was already past its zenith. “We’re never gonna make it to the mesa by nightfall at this pace. And you still gotta drink my spit!”

Brighton lowered his head. “I know! I’m sorry! I was just so stinky and gross that I couldn’t stand it any longer.”

“Huh. And here I thought ya smelled fine.” Suarez lifted an arm and sniffed his armpit. “What about me? Do I need to wash, too?”

Brighton approached, tentatively sticking his nose in the big man’s hairy pit. He sniffed deeply. “No, you smell good. I like the way you smell.” He tried to walk it back as soon as he said it but Suarez merely grinned proudly.

“So, you like my scent?” His grin broadened and his teeth glittered in the sunlight. “Thanks, bro.”

Brighton’s mind was spinning. He felt weak but it wasn’t from the heat or dehydration; he just couldn’t get Suarez’s rich, musky scent out of his nostrils! Giving up trying to climb out of the big, gay hole he’d just inadvertently dug himself into, he settled down on the ground, inviting, “I’m ready to drink.”

Suarez eyed him lasciviously as he lowered his big, sinewy body down on top of him and puckered his lips, gathering spit. Brighton squirmed beneath him, opening his mouth like a baby bird ready to receive a worm.

Plop.

A gob of spit landed in the back of his throat and he swallowed, opening his mouth again, ready to receive more precious bodily fluid. Suarez put his elbows on either side of Brighton’s head. Their mouths were less than an inch apart. Suarez’s breath was on his face, hot and humid and full of his potent scent.

They locked eyes, shared hunger reflected back at each other.

Suarez was so close Brighton was almost cross-eyed as he lost himself in the depth of the other man’s cinnamon and russet-colored eyes. Fuck, everything about Suarez was beautiful. Everything. He was just perfect.

He kissed him.

Fuck.

Why did he do that?!

Why?!

The problem was he didn’t know why.

He just did it.

Suarez’ lips had been so close to his own that it was almost an accident.

Almost.

Surprise flitted across Suarez’s handsome features and then he returned the kiss, taking Brighton’s face between his paws and kissing him deeply. It was a tender and intimate kiss, not too invasive and not too chaste. Just the right kind of kiss. Just what Brighton needed at that moment. 

That tongue! Fuck, Suarez’s tongue was so long! It was bigger than a dog’s, far longer than a human’s should ever be. No wonder the dude could lick his entire face off with it!

“So cute. So pretty,” Suarez murmured, his long tongue flicking out to gently lick Brighton’s lower lip before extending to mop along his jaw, jowl and nose. “Yer my fat little girl!”

Even though the words were mean, when they came out of Suarez’s mouth, they were thrilling. Brighton swallowed, squirming with eagerness beneath the big man’s bulk. “And yer…yer…yer,” he struggled to find the words. Finally, he said, “Dominant.”

Suarez blinked and then laughed. “Dominant? Huh. I guess so. I’ve never really thought ‘bout it but I guess yer right. I mean, yer pretty dominant, too, bro. For a girl, at least. That’s why I like ya so much.”

“Not as dominant as you are.” Even before Suarez had been transformed into a dog, he had already been the top dog among all of the other captains.

“Well, duh,” Suarez said, chuckling. “You are a pussyboy after all.”

 “What do you mean?” Brighton was legitimately confused. The way Suarez said it, it sounded so matter-of-fact. Like everyone knew it.

“C’mon, bro!” Suarez chided, tracing his tongue over his forehead and then down along his cheek before slurping it back inside his mouth. “With an ass that big and a dick that tiny, what else could ya be? Me an’ the rest of the guys in basic training took bets on which one of us would stretch out yer pussy first.” He snorted. “It was a miracle ya got made a captain. They musta been desperate.”

Brighton knew he should be furious at this but instead he let the words settle over him, trying them on for size. He was surprised when he realized they fit him pretty well.

“When was the last time ya had sex?” Suarez pressed. “With a woman, that is. I already know yer a slut for a big cock.”

“That’s not–” He stopped at the look in Suarez’s eyes and looked away. “I’ve never actually had sex…with a woman. But that don’t mean I’m a faggot! Sure, I’ve let the guys fuck me every once in a while to, uh, relieve tension and, um, ya know, to build unit cohesion. But you said it yerself: My dick’s tiny. It’s too small to penetrate a vagina.” He shrugged, wiggling uncomfortably under Suarez’s bemused scrutiny. “Juss ‘cuz my dick’s too small to fuck a pussy don’t mean I’m gay!”

“You let yer men fuck you, bro?” Suarez shook his head. “That’s pretty sick, dude. No wonder ya wanna rescue ‘em so bad. Yer not doin’ it outta yer sense of duty, yer doin’ it ‘cuz yer worried ‘bout losin’ out on all them thick dicks in yer slutty hole.”

“Hey! Both can be true!” Brighton protested. “But, yeah, Ok. I admit it. I’m a joke as a captain. The only reason I’m still in my position is–”

Suarez finished the sentence for him, “–’cuz yer favorite position is on yer back with yer legs in the air. An’ yer men all know it.”

Brighton flushed, unable to look Suarez in the eye, as he admitted, “Yeah, that’s basically it.” He looked off to the side, crying, “I fuckin’ hate myself, bro! I’m a total cockwhore! I have been years!”

For some reason, saying the words aloud–the first time he’d ever done so–helped. He didn’t know why but something akin to recognition and resolve kindled in his chest when he claimed his new/old identity. It actually felt good to finally admit he was a cockslut.

“Good. Glad it’s out in the open,” Suarez rumbled. “There ain’t nuthin’ I hate worse than a fuckin’ poser. So, you like a big cock up yer pussy? Fine. I don’t give a fuck. Juss be honest ‘bout it an’ don’t try an’ cover it up with patriotic bullshit ‘bout protectin’ yer country. Yer a slutty lil’ pussyboy an’ that’s enough. Ya don’t need to be nuthin’ else. Juss like I ain’t nuthin’ but a rich fucker’s lapdog.”

“Wait. What do you mean?”

“Ha!” Suarez’s laugh was bitter. “Ain’t it obvious? Who do ya think made me like this?”

“The goblins,” Brighton replied. “If what you were sayin’ is true.”

“It is true, bro. But dem goblins ain’t got enuff smarts to do dis to me.” He jerked his chin at his transformed body. “They’s juss a bunch of minions. It’s who they work for that I’m after. The Big Dude himself.”

Brighton’s poor brain was addled by this point. He was overwhelmed by the force of Suarez’s big, potent body over him and the sensation of his lips on his mouth, not to mention the lurid confession Suarez had just forced out of him. And now this? What the fuck had happened to Suarez? He felt suddenly like he was treading water and on the verge of drowning. It was all too much!

Suarez seemed to sense his inner turmoil and took it easier on him. “Here, bro. Let’s juss kiss and share some spit, Ok? We don’t got much time. I wanna be at the mesa by nightfall. Then I’ll tell ya my plan.”

***

“Ok, we stop here.”

Brighton looked around the sere rockfield that spread out before then, reaching for nearly a mile up to the mesa’s barren cliffside. “Why here?” He was tired, thirsty and extremely horny. Walking behind Suarez and watching the man’s tight hole winking at him for the past three miles had been torture but not nearly as torturous as seeing those massively huge low-hangers sloshing back and forth in his dark sac. His tiny pee-pee had been hard for hours and he had a serious case of very tiny blue balls. Oh, how he wanted Suarez to fuck him!

His aching desire must have been obvious by the tone of his voice because Suarez turned toward him with a grin, his long tongue lolling out of his mouth. It hung down past his throat. 

“My poor lil’ cockslut wants da bone, huh?” He cupped his huge balls as Brighton lowered his head bashfully, cheeks burning with humiliation, sunburn and arousal. Suarez grinned as his balls spilled out of his big, padded palm and a couple inches of his pink ‘lipstick’ thrust out from his black, furry sheath. “You wanna do it doggy style, bro?” he taunted, waggling his cock and balls at him. “You’ve never been fucked by a doggy dick before, have ya? You should see how big I am, bro, when I’m fully erect. Ain’t no man alive with a cock as big–and slimy–as mine!”

Brighton licked his dry lips, ready to drop to his knees and worship that giant, smelly cock, but Suarez stopped him. Clasping him about the shoulders, he lowered his head and kissed him, whispering, “Not yet, bro. I promise I’ll stretch out yer hole when we’re done but we gotta take this place down first. Are you ready? Can you focus on the mission an’ not on my big dog-cock? It’s real important ya do ‘cuz my life–and yer body–are on the line here.”

“I can do it.”

Suarez was skeptical. “I’m serious, bro. It’s great havin’ ya by my side but I can do this alone. That was the plan all along anyways. I don’t need no help. It’ll be tough and I might wind up dead but at least you’ll be safe. This is yer last chance, bro. I can’t guarantee yer safety after this. Think ‘bout it. Think real hard.”

Brighton’s eyes widened fearfully but he was resolute, “I’ll do it. I’ll do whatever it takes to save my men. Don’t worry ‘bout me. I’ll keep my head in the game.”

“Game?” Suarez repeated, regarding him skeptically. “This ain’t no game, bro. I’m serious. They’ll kill me if they catch me. But you…they won’t kill you. You’ll wish you was dead when they’re done with you but they won’t kill you.” He took Brighton’s chin between his claws and lifted his head so he couldn’t look away. “Yer pretty, bro. Anyone can see that. Ain’t nobody else like ya that I’ve ever met: Slutty and innocent at the same time. I’m sure yer the reason they sent the goblins after yer company. Shit, it’s prolly why the top brass made ya a captain in the first place. They planned to hand ya over as a peace offering.”

“Peace offering?” Nothing Suarez was saying made any sense.

Suarez’s eyes danced at Brighton’s ignorance. “I already tole ya the army an’ the goblins’re in cahoots.” He paused, scratching a furry, odiferous armpit. “But the goblins’re stupid. They’s juss tools. A means to an end. They do the Big Guy’s bidding. It’s the big guy who calls the shots.”

“‘Big Guy’?”

Suarez nodded, never looking more handsome than at that moment. “You’ll meet him soon enough if my plan works out.”

Brighton swallowed, “What plan?”

“I’m gonna use ya as bait.”

“WHAT?!” Brighton backed away, holding up his hands.

“Relax, bro,” Suarez soothed. “I ain’t gonna do nuthin’ without yer consent. It’s why I’m tellin’ ya this right now.” He swept out his paws to indicate the arid expanse behind them. The evening sun had set a while ago and the desert sand, scrub and mesa were tinged blue in the gloaming darkness. In the east, the first sliver of the rising moon was peeking above the horizon. Its light was wan right now but was growing brighter by the moment. “You can’t see it but there’s a line over there,” he pointed to a lone cactus amidst a cluster of boulders. Once you cross it, you’ll be on their radar and they’ll know yer on yer way.”

“How do you know this?” Brighton demanded, creeped out by Suarez’ seemingly endless knowledge about the goblins and the military. Everything he said ran counter to what Brighton had been told by his commanding officers, not to mention by the media. Fuck, it was common knowledge the goblins were aliens who preyed on people and needed to be annihilated! 

But…

On the other hand, Suarez talked as if from firsthand experience. That and the fact that his body had been…modified…so freakishly lent credence to his otherwise delusional ravings. He stated everything flatly as if it was all patently obvious. Only someone who had seen the inside of a goblin nest could talk like that. It meant that Brighton took him seriously even if he badly wanted to dismiss his assertions as lunacy.

Suarez spread his paws. “I ain’t hundred percent sure, juss guessin’ that this mesa’s laid out like the one where I was held captive and turned into a total freak. The Big Guy’s owns several mesas in this area. He hops around between them, throwing parties and generally gettin’ in trouble.”

“Wait, throwing parties?!”

Nodding, Suarez growled, “He’s just a rich asshole. One of them big tech billionaires. Has loads of other rich, powerful, horny and sadistic man-friends. Brings ‘em here for a little fun on the weekends. That was his chopper we saw last night. He was flyin’ in another batch of pals to party.”

Brighton was silent as he attempted to digest this sordid and outrageous assertion. It made him realize he wasn’t prepared for anything that had happened to him over the past two days. If what Suarez said was true, was he ready to go along with his plan? Who knows what might happen to him once he crossed that line?

“That ain’t even the worst of it,” Suarez continued. “The big fucker’s the one who created the goblins in the first place. He made ‘em out of genetically modified humans an’ then spread the bullshit story about ‘em bein’ from outer space. The military and the government went along with the story ‘cuz he and his asshole buddies own the whole fuckin’ country. Been that way since the second Trump administration. Maybe even before.”

Gobsmacked, Brighton felt the foundation of his ironclad belief in the United States as a beacon of freedom and justice begin to crumble. “But, why?” he gasped, taking Suarez’s paws in his hands and moving them to his waist. He gazed tearfully up at the big dog-man, pleading for something–anything–to restore his faith in his country. “That can’t be right! There’s no way!”

“Sorry, Princess,” Suarez rumbled, squeezing him against his big, muscular, furry chest. “It’s the truth. The goblins are a useful tool, nuthin’ more. They catch soldiers that yer army sends in to clean out nests, hauling ‘em back to a lab to turn into freaks like me…or worse. It’s all just to amuse the Big Guy an’ his pals. Didn’t ya never wonder why so many soldiers don’t come back from out here?”

Overwhelmed, Brighton sank down onto his haunches, his big, heavy butt sagging out behind him and his love handles spilling over his belt. He held his face in his hands, choking back tears. After hesitating a moment, Suarez squatted beside him, offering, “Lemme make ya a deal, bro.”

“What sort of deal?” Brighton croaked, feeling miserable.

Suarez squeezed his knee, explaining, “If ya don’t wanna go, I’ll fuck ya silly right here, right now. But it’ll juss be a one-time thing. You won’t never see me again after this.”

Brighton’s tongue was thick in his mouth as he gasped, “And if I come with you?”

Suarez gave him a toothy grin, “I’ll make ya my wife an’ never leave yer side for the rest of yer life…if we make it out of there alive, ‘course!”

Brighton lifted his head and gazed into Suarez’ dark eyes, “Huh?”

Suarez’s sharp canines gleamed in the moonlight as he put it more succinctly, “I can fuck ya a new hole an’ leave ya in the dust or ya can come with me. Once this is all over and I take my revenge, you’ll be my wife.” He held up a claw, warning, “But if you come along, I can’t guarantee yer safety an’ ya might not recognize yerself once it’s over…if we succeed, that is. There’s a good chance we’ll fail.” He shrugged, grin widening, “In that case, you’ll definitely wish ya chose the first option.”

Brighton swallowed, heart thumping in chest.

“So, bro?” Suarez pressed. “What’s it gonna be?”

***

Chapter 4

Brighton made his way to the mesa alone. Once he’d agreed to accompany Suarez, the big man had given him instructions and then disappeared, saying over his shoulder that he would see Brighton again at the top of the mesa.

The moon rose up behind him, casting his long and somewhat pudgy shadow across the field of scree before him. Even though the ground was flat, the going was treacherous. He could feel the sharp rocks through the thick soles of his boots. Even though he wasn’t cold, he shivered.

He was just about to the base of the mesa and had started to look up at its sheer face, pondering how to climb it, when he stepped on a trigger. Instantly, a curved pole shot upward beside him and a net scooped him up. He let out a startled grunt when he found himself dangling haplessly in mid air. So, he thought as he struggled to free himself, Suarez was right: I was captured pretty much right away. He sighed in resignation. Suarez might be an arrogant fucker but he sure was right an awful lot!

He didn’t remember being captured by the goblins.

They must have drugged him or something because all he remembered was a sharp pain in his buttock and then everything went dark. The next time he awoke, he was lying on his back in what appeared to be a shipping container. It was dark and stuffy with only a little light filtering in through the cracks around the sliding door at the fore. The scent of unwashed male bodies filled his nostrils. 

He groaned. His body felt heavy and dull; it was a struggle to lift a hand to mop his brow. He gave a start when he realized a very hunky young guy was peering down at him, face only inches away from his own. As soon as his eyes blinked open, the guy exclaimed, “He’s awake! Cap’s awake!”

Brighton labored to push himself up on his elbows, staring in surprise. Around him, a chorus of happy grunts rang out as the men in his unit surrounded him, faces split into wide grins. Private Nakamura, the one who had been leaning over him, clapped him on the back before pulling him into his big, brawny arms and squeezing him tightly. When he let go, he kissed him on the cheek, murmuring, “We thought we’d never see ya again, Cap! Glad yer Ok!”

Soon Brighton was being manhandled by all of his men as they took turns hugging and fondling and kissing him. Each one took it further than the last until he’d been nearly stripped naked and his neck was covered in hickies.

Under normal circumstances, he would have been embarrassed by such an improper show of affection but he’d been sick with worry for these guys–his men!–and, thanks to Suarez’ ravings, had fully expected them to be turned into God-knew-what sort of perverted monsters. But they were fine! They were all fine! He breathed a sigh of relief, returning Private Swindle’s kiss and hungrily devouring the young man’s mouth. Swindle laughed, his tongue doing things to Brighton’s mouth that would have been difficult even for Suarez’s prehensile appendage.

Finally, after a very long time, reason won out over desire and he gently patted Swindle on the shoulders before staggering to his feet. He wove on his feet, his body weighing him down. That tranquilizer had sure been potent! He wiped tears of happiness from his eyes, “You’re all Ok? Nothing bad happened to you? I thought–” His voice choked off as he was overwhelmed by emotion. He hadn’t realized he cared so deeply for his men!

“We’re fine,” Private Nascimento grunted, looking Brighton up and down lasciviously. The young man’s attention sent a thrill down his spine. “The fuckin’ green gobs didn’t do nuthin’ to us. Fuckers musta drugged us and hauled us back here. We woke up just ‘bout an hour ago to find ourselves stuffed inside this here box. You was passed out, completely asleep.” He took an eager step forward, adding, “We, uh, wanted to strip ya naked an’ have a go at yer hole but that fuckin’ priss Vivek stopped us.” He turned and glared at Corporal Patel, a tall and muscular man with short, intensely black hair and an even shorter beard. Patel glared back at Nascimento but remained silent. Nascimento took another step closer, offering, “Now that yer awake, Cap, how ‘bout we–?”

Brighton’s ears colored and he cleared his throat and his little penis strained hard and ready in his jockstrap. He was sorely tempted to bend over and let his men fuck him–they’d certainly earned the privilege after what they’d been through–but he knew they were far from safe. As much as he wanted a bunch of big, stiff cocks up his worn-out hole, he had to put his duty first and the priority was to escape. 

He hoped to God that Suarez hadn’t been captured. If he was free and had managed to infiltrate the mesa undetected, eventually he’d come for them. They just had to figure out how to make it to a safe place until then. And that meant they had to escape this fucking shipping container.

He put up his hands, forestalling further advances, saying, “Let’s see if we can get outta here first. Once we’re safe, I promise I’ll let all of you do whatever the fuck you want to me. Fair?”

“Fuck, yeah!” Nascimento shouted, pumping his fists. The other men joined him, crowding around Brighton again and getting him all hot and bothered.

“Stop, please!” he panted. “Let’s all think with our big heads and not our small ones!”

“Dude,” Private Swindle quipped, “speak for yerself. I’m hung like a fuckin’ stallion, remember?”

Brighton swallowed, unconsciously clenching his big buttocks, “Uh, yeah, how could I forget?” 

He flushed, thinking about the size of Swindle’s cock, before forcing his attention back to the problem at hand. Pacing around the container, he searched for any sign of weakness. He wasn’t hopeful he’d find anything and, sure enough, he didn’t. He was just jiggling the handle on the sliding door when it suddenly slid open. Fierce, desert sunlight streamed inside, causing Brighton and his men to shield their eyes against the glare. 

A man was backlit before the open door. He was wearing sunglasses, an unbuttoned linen shirt and a very revealing Speedo. Behind him, there appeared to be a pool filled with shimmering, blue water. The pool was surrounded by deck chairs and umbrellas. A handful of other men reclined on the chairs, craning their necks to see inside the darkened container.

“Oh, good!” the man exclaimed, clapping his hands in delight. “You’re all awake!” Motioning to them, he urged, “Well, don’t just stand there! Come out and get comfortable! The party can finally get started now that you’re here!”

Brighton and his men drew back. Brighton’s skin was prickling. He knew in his bones that this man was Suarez’s so-called Big Guy, the one who had purportedly turned Suarez into a dog. Outwardly, he didn’t look very sinister. He had a stylishly curly mop of brown hair and a blandly handsome face with slightly chubby cheeks and a trace of stubble. Something about him felt familiar and Brighton knew he’d seen him somewhere before but couldn’t quite place him.

When they hesitated, the man sighed and extended a friendly hand to Brighton, coaxing, “C’mon! C’mon! I’m not going to hurt you. My name’s Sam, by the way.” He smiled as he gripped Brighton’s hand, pulling him out of the container and onto the tiled patio. “I apologize for capturing you in one of my traps, Captain Brighton. You can never be too careful these days. Haha!” Leading him around the pool toward his friends, he invited, “Relax with us! We have plenty of food and, of course, drink. You must be very thirsty after your trek across the desert!”

Brighton allowed himself to be led around the pool. Behind him, his men slowly emerged from the shipping container. Their jaws fell open when they beheld the understated opulence of the patio. Compared to the past three months in the brutal desert, this was a veritable paradise. They were so starstruck they barely noticed when the section of floor beneath the container had started to descend behind them. Slowly, the big metal container disappeared from view and the floor closed over its top. They were left gaping in the sunlight and looking distinctly out of place in their grungy, dun-colored fatigues.

Sam seemed amused by their reactions and laughed warmly. “Why don’t you boys get more comfortable?” he enticed, fanning his toned, tanned torso with his linen shirt. His bulge, Brighton couldn’t help noticing, was truly epic. “It must be awfully hot in those uniforms! Go ahead and take them off!” Turning to Brighton, he said, “And you should take off those dirty rags and kick off those filthy boots. Relax and get comfortable! Relax! Relax! Relax! You’ve earned it! Haha!”

Brighton hesitated, still taking in the surroundings. They appeared to be on the top of the mesa that he’d been attempting to scale when he’d been captured. Behind him was a very modern-looking, palatial estate with a wide, green lawn that led back to a low, long building lined with windows. He marveled at it, wondering how such a place could exist out here in the middle of nowhere.

Looking back at the patio, he realized that the pool alone was over an acre in size. It was so large that the entire patio jutted out over the rim of the mesa. The dropoff behind the low wire fence in back was truly precipitous and left him feeling dizzy. A hawk circled lazily nearly at eye-level as it rode the updraft from the mesa wall. In the distance, a rugged line of mountains was hazed with blue, wispy clouds. 

A pleasant breeze ruffled his blond hair. The temperature was easily twenty degrees cooler than down on the desert floor. There were plenty of potted palms and a large overhead canopy gave relief from the brutal sun beating down. Flanking either side of the pool were two open bars, the shelves behind the counter filled with hundreds of bottles of the rarest liquors. Brighton’s eyes narrowed when he saw that the bar was staffed by sickly green goblins. The ugly creatures grinned toothily back at him and a chill ran up his spine. He’d never been this close to a gob before and didn’t relish the experience!

Sam noticed his wariness and smiled, “Don’t worry your pretty lil’ head, Captain! I keep all my pets on a short leash. You don’t need to worry about them!”

But Brighton couldn’t stop staring at the green beasties. They wore little white aprons and jaunty white caps on their bald heads. Their faces were truly ghoulish! It was like someone had smooshed their craniums, causing their facial features to bulge and bloat. They peered back at Brighton through beady green eyes under the overhang of their heavy browridges. Their noses were long and bulbous and their chins were elongated; their wide mouths were filled with razor-sharp, long, green teeth. Scuttling around the bar like crabs, their miniature bodies were twisted and their limbs were emaciated, their fingers tipped with long, curled claws. When one turned, Brighton blanched at the sight of its obscenely swollen bare bottom. Its hideous cheeks were both swollen and slightly pointed, evidence of their ability to squirt viscous green goo when provoked. He choked back the urge to throw up.

In a daze, he turned to Sam, “So it’s true. You made them? They’re your creations?”

“Oh, please! I’m not God!” Sam replied modestly. “I merely took what was offered by nature and improved it. They’re nothing, really. Especially compared to what I’m truly capable of. Still, my goblins have been most useful.” He spread his arms to encompass the magnificent estate, “None of this would have been possible without them.”

“They…built…this place?” Brighton asked.

“Of course!” Sam’s falsely modest smile deepened. “What do you think I am? A billionaire?! Haha! Why, it would’ve cost a fortune just to cart all of the raw materials up here. My goblins are such a fantastic source of free labor!”

Brighton felt ill at these words and realized that, once again, Suarez’s bizarre conspiracy theory had been proven right. Brighton hadn’t wanted to believe him when he said the goblins were merely minions! Having Suarez’s words confirmed made his already strangely heavy body sag.

With effort, he forced himself to study Sam more closely, memorizing every detail of the man’s face and physique. The result left him feeling more creeped out than ever. Despite his sunny and demure disposition, there was something uncanny about Sam. His body was too proportional, his skin too perfectly tanned, his muscles too perfectly sculpted, his eyes too shiny. Brighton couldn’t quite put his finger on it but he got the distinct feeling that the man wasn’t human. 

He was about to say something when someone whined, “Saaaaaaam! Yoohoo! Over here! Did you forget about us?! Come share your new treat with Lady G!”

Brighton turned to see a pudgy, old guy with a thick southern accent waving at them. Reclining beneath a pink parasol, he had on a pink sundress and a pair of frilly pantaloons. Sam grinned back at him, murmuring so only Brighton could hear, “Don’t worry. I won’t let him touch you. You’re all mine, Brighton.” He slung his arm around Brighton’s hips and pulled him protectively against his hard body, calling out, “Lindsey, darling! You have a whole platoon to pick from. This one’s mine.”

Complicated feelings surged through Brighton at these words and, behind them, he heard his men grumbling. They were naturally protective of him and thought of him as their possession–he was their captain after all! 

‘Lady G’ thrust out his lower lip in a pout but he brightened again when his eyes slid over to the studs arrayed behind Sam and Brighton. Waving to them, he enticed, “Helloooooooo, boys! Why don’t you make yourselves more comfortable and take off your clothes? I’d love to see your naked guns saluting me! Heehee!”

Sam rolled his eyes but nonetheless turned and barked at Brighton’s men, “You heard him! Take off your clothes! NOW.”

His voice had an edge of steel to it; it was the tone of a man who was used to getting what he wanted. It had an immediate effect, too. Against their will, each of Brighton’s men was forced to disrobe in front of everyone. Despite trying hard to resist Sam’s command, they inevitably complied, peeling out of their dusty gear. First, they kicked off their heavy boots. Then came their rugged overshirts, followed by their stained wifebeaters. When they fumbled with their belts and began to lower their trousers, though, they yelped in surprise.

“Whaaaat?!” Nascimento exclaimed. “Why the fuck am I wearin’ these?!”

His confusion was mirrored by the other men as they all discovered the same thing: Beneath their dusty trousers, each guy was clad in a pair of tiny pink panties. They immediately tried to pull their pants back up but Sam waved a finger at them, warning, “Um, no. Off with your pants!” He smiled wickedly, adding, “Hold on to your panties, though. You can keep them on for now.”

Behind him Lady G whined, “Panties? Oh, poo! Sam, you’re such a meanie! They should be wearing manly jockstraps!”

Sam cocked an eyebrow, looking back at the aggrieved oldster, “Don’t worry, Lindsey. I reserved one in particular who should be more to your liking.” His gaze swept back behind the rest of Brighton’s men where two soldiers remained frozen in place, their arms held rigidly against their sides. A pit of foreboding formed in Brighton’s stomach as he looked at them. Private Swindle and Corporal Patel met his gaze, fear written across their faces.

“What did you do to them?” Brighton demanded. Much to his confusion, though, he didn’t try to pull away from Sam’s grasp. He knew this man was wicked to the core but somehow that thrilled him more than it revolted him. He sighed, not understanding himself at all.

Sam lowered his head and kissed Brighton’s ear, “I improved them. Just like I improved the rest of your men. And just as I will soon improve you.”

“I-I-Improve?”

“Shhhh, baby.” Sam’s tongue tickled his earlobe. “Watch and learn.” 

Pulling Brighton along with him, he sauntered over to the bar and ordered a drink from the goblin bartender. The green fiend nodded obsequiously, sliding a cold brew across the counter to him. Sam caught it and knocked it back, taking a long swig. Setting the frosty mug back down before him, he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, smacking his lips with satisfaction.

“See?” he sighed boozily. “They look so much better this way, don’t they?” He gestured to the group of confused and embarrassed soldiers. They were milling about with reddened cheeks in their tiny, frilly pink thongs. More than a few were looking down at their crotches in embarrassment. The men in the company were overwhelmingly hung–Brighton knew how to pick ‘em!–and their hefty equipment put a severe strain on their skimpy attire. Clearly, the thongs had been designed for the female anatomy and not a fulsome, swollen man-sized cock and a pair of hulking bull balls.

Brighton watched them, his tongue thick in his throat and his penis hard as a pebble in his jock.

“What’re you having?” Sam asked, pushing him down onto a leather stool beside him. Once Brighton was seated, Sam propped his chin on his palm and gazed adoringly back at him. The evil green bartender leered at them, barely tall enough to peek over the counter.

“I’ll have a gin and tonic,” Brighton murmured in a daze. Beneath him, the stool groaned as if it was hard-pressed to hold up his weight. This struck him as odd but his thirst distracted him from further contemplation and he felt compelled to add, “And a big glass of water.” When the goblin arched a fuzzy green eyebrow, he amended, “Please.” The ugly beastie sneered before pouring water into a large mug and pushing it over to him. Then it turned and busied itself preparing his drink.

Sam was positively devouring him with his sultry gaze. Even though he wasn’t handsome, Brighton decided he made up for it with a strange kind of charisma. “I could stare at you all day,” he purred, brown eyes half closed. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to get my goblins on you!”

Brighton opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by the most tantalizing scent wafting through the air. It caused his stomach to grumble, reminding him he hadn’t eaten since the meager breakfast of prickly pears the other day. He turned and, for the first time, noticed an earnest-looking man with tightly curled hair and a narrow face standing in front of a fire pit. His mouth was sealed in a tight line as he methodically turned a spit.

“Wait,” Brighton said, watching the guy’s focused concentration, “is that a…goat?”

Sam had heard his stomach and laughed, “Hungry?” He motioned to the man, “Bring some over, Zuck! My lovely piece of ass here wants some meat!”

The man looked up, eyes quickly and coldly assessing Brighton before looking away again. “It’s not ready yet,” he grumbled.

Sam waved dismissively. “That’s Zuck for you! All business and no play. You know he killed that goat himself?”

“Really?” Brighton looked back at the hapless carcass browning over the intense heat. He noticed then that there was no fire in the firepit. Instead, the red light licking the seared flesh appeared to be artificially generated. Lasers? He was cooking the goat with lasers?

Sam watched with amusement, murmuring, “Such a showoff.” He moved his hand to Brighton’s knee and squeezed, letting it linger there. His hand was cool, almost cold.

Losing interest in the goat barbecue, Brighton looked back toward the pool where his men had either grown accustomed to their new attire or had been worn down by their proximity to the sparkling blue water. They’d slipped into the pool and the whole group was horsing around, laughing and splashing and generally showing off in front of each other. Brighton smiled despite himself; his men were always so competitive! Besides, it was undeniably hot watching them cavort in their revealing pink panties…

Only Private Swindle and Corporal Patel remained clothed and unmoving. Brighton observed them with a renewed sense of foreboding. He was tempted to ask Sam what he intended to do with them but decided against it. Instead, he looked past them to a pair of men reclining on matching red lounge chairs. At first glance, he took them to be father and son but soon realized they weren’t related. The older man had an excessively dour mien and was staring restlessly into a glowing crystal ball. The skin on his smooth face was stretched into a rictus, making his head look more like a skull than a face. His thin lips were pursed and his blue eyes were icy.

Beside him lay a stout man with a round, bearded face and the demeanor of a caged pitbull. He sat there with folded arms, clothed in a business suit. It was clear that he was only present at this ‘party’ under duress. Brighton watched as the thin-faced, tight-lipped older man placed his hand proprietarily on the younger man’s leg and squeezed. The younger man gritted his teeth, whimpering, before the older man released him. His lips curled into a malicious grin and he went back to examining the crystal ball.

Curious, Brighton leaned forward to get a better look at the strangely glowing orb. It was only about four inches in diameter but nonetheless looked very heavy. All sorts of images flitted across its surface before it suddenly began glowing a fiery orange. Brighton gave a start when a huge eyeball emerged from the flames to peer out at them. It took up the entire crystal ball, a huge, slitted pupil surrounded by burning flames. As he stared, the eyeball swiveled around, searching for something. The flames burned brighter, as if its owner was confined to the burning pits of hell.

“He’s here!” the older man intoned in a reverential whisper, “He’s here, JD!” He once again cruelly clamped down on the younger man’s leg, hissing, “Bow to our master!”

The younger man rolled his eyes, his furry jowls puffing up. Prying the hand off of his leg, he complained, “He’s dead, Peter! The Orange One is dead! When are you gonna–?”

“SILENCE! BOW BEFORE YOUR MAKER!” the older man bellowed. His eyes flashed and spittle flew from his mouth. A few chairs down, Brighton saw that Lady G had prostrated himself before the burning eyeball, his pink bloomers billowing up in the breeze.

Sam watched the scene with amusement for a moment before gently chiding, “That’s enough, Peter. Put the Palantir away. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named can chill out. I think you’ve mistaken this party for a show of party loyalty. Relax and enjoy one of the fine morsels of manhood I’ve procured for you.” He pointed toward Private Bronson, a bulky, jowly, bearded young man who was presently splashing around in the pool nearby, “That one in particular. I selected him because he looks so much like your precious little acolyte, JD.”

Despite himself, Peter looked away from the glowing orange eyeball long enough to be enraptured by Bronson’s swaggering, hulking, nearly naked presence. Oblivious to their scrutiny, Bronson paraded around with a laughing Nakamura straddling his wide shoulders. As he watched the pair, Brighton observed that Bronson did indeed bear a strong resemblance to JD. JD must have been very much like Bronson before he’d grown drunk on power and convinced of his superiority. 

“Don’t worry, JD,” Sam soothed when he saw the jowly man frowning unhappily, “I haven’t forgotten you, either.” He gestured to the still frozen Corporal Patel, calling out, “C’mon, Vivek. Come say hi to JD and make sure you treat him right.”

Patel grimaced, his shoulders thrust uncomfortably back like a soldier during inspection. Brighton’s brow furrowed when he thought he detected something amiss beneath the bulky contours of the corporal’s fatigues. “What the…?”

Patel refused to move, remaining rigid and unyielding despite Sam’s order.

“Private Bronson!” Sam barked suddenly, startling everyone. Bronson froze, Nakamura still giggling on his shoulders. Sam gestured at Corporal Patel, “Please escort Vivek to JD.” When Bronson’s forehead furrowed, Sam clarified by pointing at the jowly, sullen man next to Peter, “That guy.”

Obediently, Bronson shrugged Nakamura off of his back and sloshed out of the pool, taking Patel by the elbow and steering him reluctantly over to JD. JD sat up, staring at Patel as if he was seeing a ghost. His face grew pale at first but soon Brighton saw the tips of his ears had turned pink. Beside him, the grumpy and obstreperous Peter sat up at attention as well, his icy blue eyes raking up and down Bronson’s brawny body.

Sam watched the strange tableau for a moment before ordering, “Patel, strip!”

Patel cast an agonized look over his shoulder at Sam, eyes stormy with humiliation. When Sam nodded coldly, Patel sighed and robotically began to disrobe. JD leaned forward, captivated by the man.

Brighton groaned in disbelief as Patel’s shirt fell off of his shoulders, exposing the incongruous and unexpectedly soft curves beneath. This wasn’t the ripped, muscular Patel that Brighton remembered! What the fuck had Sam done to him? Patel hung his head, tears of humiliation streaming down his bearded cheeks. When he raised his chin again, JD had already jumped to his feet and was prowling around him like a starving wolf, his gaze on fire with lasciviousness.

“I know your tastes, JD,” Sam cooed from the sidelines, clearly amused by JD’s abrupt shift from a bored acolyte to a wanton horndog. “He has Usha’s body now. He looks just like her before the children, doesn’t he? Tender, soft, busty and virginal. Go on. I’m giving him to you. Take him. Play with him. Teach him the ways of the world. He’s so innocent. So pure, so ready for you to defile him…” His voice broke off with mocking laughter. Brighton stiffened beside him, chilled to the bone. He was ashamed to admit, however, that he was sporting an insistent boner in his overly tight jockstrap.

JD needed no further encouragement and promptly stripped the quivering Patel completely naked. Everyone gaped at Patel’s changed body, unable to believe their eyes. In place of his previously rugged, tight, sinewy and very hung body, he was now one hundred percent female below the neck. He was completely hairless, too, his hips wide and curvaceous. A pair of perky yet pendulous breasts jiggled alluringly from his chest. And, most astoundingly of all, between his legs were a moist, dripping pair of shaved pussy lips. They parted slightly, pink and virginal, already bedewed with amorous honey.

JD promptly pushed him down into a lounge chair. Patel sprawled out beneath him, his legs spread wide as the bearded man stuck out his long tongue and went to town on the languorous folds of his unfucked vagina. Despite his horror at being violated in such a manner–and turned into a woman to boot–Patel flung his head back and moaned loudly, writhing beneath the storm of JD’s onslaught.

Beside them, Peter looked on, his face twisted by ferocious scorn. He pursed his thin lips and sulked until Sam took pity on him, cajoling, “Don’t worry, Peter. I didn’t forget you.” He gestured toward the burly, bearded Bronson who was still standing awkwardly behind JD as he ate out Patel’s new pussy. “He’s all yours. A carbon copy of your beloved protege when you first met him, his dewy peach as yet unsullied by your shriveled Schwanz.”

Peter’s eyes slid over to Bronson and, just like that, his sour mood evaporated. Patting his lap, he beckoned the private over, calling out in a chillingly sweet voice, “Come here, Büblein. Come to Vater.” 

Bronson jerked into motion at these words, lumbering over and plopping his wide, thick butt onto Peter’s lap. Peter exclaimed with happiness, every bit the doting father. Laughing, he reached around and stroked the private’s privates through the satiny material of his thong. Bronson reluctantly moaned, face growing slack with desire as he lay back and allowed his new daddy to spoil him.

Forgotten, the Palantir with its fiery eye fell to the ground with an unceremonious plop and rolled slowly toward the edge of the patio. Teetering on the edge, Brighton watched the orange eyeball spin crazily as if its owner was lost in a fit of apoplexy. And then it rolled off.

Something didn’t sit quite right with Brighton and it wasn’t just the inherent creepiness of JD and Peter’s antics. He squinted, staring at Bronson’s crotch. Was he imagining things? Hmmm… He turned and studied his other men. They had stopped playing and stood silently in the pool, their hard bodies dripping with water that was quickly evaporating in the low humidity. Their tiny pink thongs looked even tinier than a few minutes ago. Brighton’s eyes zeroed in on their crotches, eyebrows lifting in surprise. No, he thought, I’m not imagining it!

Sam watched him, quickly deducing what he was looking at. Massaging Brighton’s knee, he laughed, “Except for Lady G and myself, the men here are old-fashioned when it comes to dick: They don’t like it.” He reached up and petted Brighton’s cheek, soothing, “But don’t worry. You’re safe with me. I have other plans for you…”

Brighton was about to ask him what he meant by that when they were interrupted once again by Lady G’s plaintive Southern drawl, “Sammmmmy! What about me, Sammmmmy? I’m all alone over here!”

He was flouncing about in irritation, his lower lip thrust out as he watched JD and Peter’s sexcapades. He looked to be on the verge of throwing a tantrum. Sam sighed heavily, reassuring, “I haven’t forgotten you, Lindsey! Look over there!” He pointed to Private Swindle, the only one of Brighton’s men who remained fully clothed. An expression of pure terror passed over Swindle’s face when he realized what fate Sam had in store for him. Brighton watched Swindle’s extraordinarily large Adam’s apple bob up and down, his deep brown eyes going wide with fear. Oblivious to the private’s terror, Sam ordered, ‘On your knees, Private! Go serve Lady G right now!”

Swindle fell to his knees, moving awkwardly across the pool deck before coming to a halt before Lady G’s chair. The old man licked his lips, grinning from ear to ear as he took in Swindle’s studly beauty. Brighton felt a little stab of jealousy. Of all of his men, he was closest to Eddie Swindle. The two of them were particularly compatible below the belt; Swindles’ giant, uncut cock was the perfect fit for Brighton’s stretched-out hole. On top of that, Swindle was just a really great guy, kind and sweet and unfailingly gentlemanly. And dominant, too. Incredibly dominant. Next to Suarez, Swindle was the only person he’d allowed himself to develop feelings for. It bothered him immensely watching this beautiful man about to be debased by the simpering Lady G.

“My Black beauty!” Lady G chirped, batting his eyelashes. “My Black stallion! I can’t wait to have you nosing about inside my petticoats! Mount me, Stallion! Mount me!”

Brighton felt sick and Swindle looked like he wanted to vomit. There was something particularly heinous about watching a Black man being treated in such a profane and humiliating manner by a rich, white Southerner.

Sam noted Brighton’s clenched jaw and lifted his hands placatingly, “You want me to make Lady G stop?” Brighton nodded vehemently and Sam sighed, “Well, Ok, but you have to give me something in exchange.”

“Like what?’

Sam was thoughtful, “Hmmmm, that’s a good question. What can you give a man who has everything?” He laughed, shrugging, “Why, nothing, of course!” He waved this off, continuing, “Never mind, I’ll make him stop.” He snapped his fingers and instantly Lady G froze in place, his face twisted into an epicene leer. “There,” Sam pronounced. “That’ll hold him for a while.”

“How’d you do that?” Brighton asked, voice shaking. Everything that was happening was surreal in the extreme. Not even Suarez’ warnings were enough to prepare him for this seriously fucked up situation. And, speaking of Suarez, where was that fucking dog? He was supposed to have saved Brighton by now!

Swindle cast a glance back at them, his handsome face flooded with relief. Sam smiled at him, “Don’t worry. You’re free…for now. Go ahead and join your friends. I think you’ll find them much more fun now that they’ve been altered.”

Swindle looked confused at this and turned to stare at the rest of his company, eyes widening when he saw what had happened to them. For their part, the men were only just now waking up to the fact that their lives had just taken a severe U-turn. One after another, they stared down at their crotches in horror.

“My dick!” Private Washington agonized. “What the fuck happened to my fuckin’ dick! My big dick! It’s gone!”

He wasn’t alone. When the men pulled back on the dainty elastic band of their thongs, they all stared in consternation at what lay concealed within. “A PUSSY?!” someone yelled. “I’VE GOT A FUCKIN’ PUSSY???!!!”

Sure enough, with the exception of Brighton and Swindle, all of the men in the company had been pussified. While they weren’t as bad off as the pathetically feminized Corporal Patel, it was still a matter for debate who had gotten the shorter end of the stick. Brighton gaped at the whole caravan of camel toes pressing luridly against the sheer crotches of his men’s panties.

The men started wailing and moaning.

Amidst the cacophony, only Swindle was silent. His sly expression became distinctly leonine as he took in his comrades’ feminized fate. His hand fell to his crotch and he stroked himself, eventually extracting his long, thick, uncut cock from his zipper. His comrades carried on for a while, lost in their outrage and grief. One by one, though, they fell silent as their gazes landed on Private Swindle’s masterpiece. Their mouths fell open and their tongues lolled when he shook his giant anaconda in their direction.

“You gurls wanna piece of this?” he goaded, wagging his beast provocatively. “You wanna real man-cock up yer fishy pussies, huh?”

Unwillingly, his compatriots nodded, their expressions haunted, humiliated and hungry all at the same time.

Swindle’s grin widened, “Then get on yer knees and bend over. Ima gonna fuck yer sloppy cunts to Newark an’ back!”

No sooner had he uttered the command then all of the men were lining up next to each other on their hands and knees, their hefty buttocks thrust achingly upwards as they begged Swindle to breed them. He folded his arms, clearly pleased by this turn of events. Before he consented to fuck them, though, he made them each suck his cock, cursing and slapping the side of their heads if they failed to keep their eyes locked onto his own. The sight made Brighton’s tiny hardon ache; Swindle was such a dominant stud! 

The whole while, Mark continued roasting his goat over the pit, completely ignoring the depravity going on behind him.

“They’re adjusting,” Sam mused as he watched the men worship Swindle’s cock. He slid his hand up Brighton’s thigh, adding, “they always do.” Turning from Swindle, he lost himself in Brighton’s soft (and somewhat fearful) eyes. “You’re beautiful, Brighton. So beautiful. And I’m going to make you even more beautiful. You ready?”

Brighton hated himself for quivering at Sam’s touch. He knew he should be doing everything he could to resist but instead found himself panting, “Yes, what’ll you do to me?”

Sam laughed, “It’s already been done while you were asleep. Now it’s time to wake your body from its slumber so you can become a whole new man.”

With that, he rose and extended his hand. Brighton took it and Sam hauled him unsteadily to his feet. He turned and Brighton lurched along behind, allowing himself to be led behind a scrim of muslin curtains that billowed in the gentle breeze. Lying down on a bed of silk pillows, Sam beckoned for Brighton to join him. Brighton swallowed nervously when Sam’s ridiculously girthy, circumcised cock thrust out from beneath the drawstring of his Speedo. 

Sam’s eyes devoured Brighton’s voluptuous body and he purred, “Come to me. Come meet your maker.”

***

Chapter 5

Even though only a thin, muslin screen blocked their view of the rest of the party on the patio, Brighton felt like he was completely alone in the world with Sam. A cool breeze wafted over him, whispering through his blond hair, as Sam lay back and beckoned him onto the cushions.

They kissed.

Sam took charge, of course. He was tender and sweet, slowly removing Brighton’s sweat-stained clothing piece by piece until he was down to his sweaty jockstrap. He hesitated before removing it, a smile curving his lips. “Why’re you wearing this?” he teased, cupping Brighton’s micro bulge. “You don’t need it.”

“Shut up!” Brighton panted, on fire with lust. He had grabbed Sam’s hard cock and was jacking it, getting the man ready to mount him. After suffering from a very tiny but no less painful case of blue balls over the past few days, he was ready for a big cock up his ass.

Sam laughed, running his confident hand down into the pouch of Brighton’s jockstrap and tickling his tiny member. “Brighton, I know you better than you know yourself. I know everything about you. I’ve studied you closely. I know what you want more than anything else.”

“Ungh! Wh-wh-what is that?” Brighton moved his hand up and down Sam’s achingly hard shaft. The man’s cock even put Private Swindle to shame.

Sam sat up but didn’t remove Brighton’s hand from his cock. “There are three things you want. First,” he kissed him teasingly on the lips, “you want a big dick.” Brighton nodded. Yes, that was exactly correct; he did want a big dick. Or at least an average-sized one. He was tired of being the butt of jokes for having a little boy’s penis. “Second,” this time Sam used a little tongue when he kissed, “you want to be ripped.” Sam moaned involuntarily, partly because Sam’s tongue felt so good inside his mouth and partly because Sam had put his finger on another one of his insecurities: He was sick and tired of being soft and pudgy. He returned Sam’s kiss, inviting him with his body to reveal his third most intense desire. He didn’t have long to wait. “And finally,” Sam reached down and grabbed Brighton’s voluptuous and very feminine ass cheeks, “you want to be masculine.” He laughed, “You hate it when people treat you like a silly little girl.”

True that.

Brighton was stunned by how easily Sam had named his inner demons. It left him feeling shaky and exposed. Even so, Sam’s adept reading of his soul had opened up his heart in a way no other man had done before. Maybe it was from being seen in such a deep and unflattering way? Whatever the reason, Sam had done it effortlessly. 

Brighton blinked back tears when he realized he would have come to terms with his homosexuality a lot sooner if he’d met Sam earlier. The truth was his heart had been locked and sealed long before he’d even gone through puberty. From as early as he could remember, he’d been mistreated and abused by other boys and men, starting by his father and older brothers. 

He’d always been a plump, ineffectual and effeminate boy. He’d always struggled to be taken seriously. He’d never been as fast or as strong or as tough as other boys. Making matters worse, his body had been slow to develop. This exacerbated his insecurities and detracted from his already low self-esteem. Eventually, he’d taken on the identity of a hapless joke of a boy who lagged behind his peers but nonetheless doggedly kept playing along, always hoping to be noticed, to be cared for…to be cherished.

It had never happened, of course.

All of the men in his life treated him the same way. And why wouldn’t they? If he didn’t value himself, why would they? Even Suarez thought he was pathetic. Attractive, yes. But also pathetic. Much like the men in his unit.

Sam watched him as he processed this, a sad smile on his face. After he saw the understanding settle over Brighton, he said, “I’m going to change all that today. From now on, you’ll have everything you need. Today the world will witness the birth of a whole new Eric Brighton.”

Brighton swallowed back more tears. It had been so long that someone had called him by this first name that he almost forgot he had one. Lifting his lips, he kissed Sam, admitting, “I-I-I’m sorry. I was wrong about you.”

Sam’s face brightened, “Really? Oh, that’s good to hear! I’m a lot like you in some ways, terribly insecure about, well, everything. If you get to know me–and almost no one has–you’ll realize what a wretched mess I am.” He grinned, adding, “I’ve just learned how to cover it up. You see, I learned a long time ago that people see only what they want to see. I learned early that people crave a visionary leader, so I became one. But here’s my dirty secret: My ideas aren’t really all that visionary.” He laughed ruefully, holding up his index finger, “The trick lay in convincing others that I was a visionary. Haha! Once I’d done that, the rest was easy. Just ask ol’ Zuck!”

Brighton’s head was once again swimming and he felt like he was in way over his head with Sam. As much as he wanted to believe he understood this strange and alluring man, he realized he didn’t…and he never would.

“But enough about me,” Sam continued, “look over there.” He pointed to a full-length mirror propped up against the railing beside them. Brighton blinked at the hazy image reflected back at him: An overweight, soft, blond-haired man who lacked any discernible body hair. He gave a start when he realized the image wasn’t hazy: He was hazy. Everything about him was blobby and undefined.His face was pretty, sure, but he looked naive, almost clueless. His blue eyes were too guileless and his cheeks and other features were so rounded that he did look very feminine. With his big, soft butt and big, soft belly and swollen tits, he was distinctly bovine, like a heifer ready to be bred.

He had to look away.

He hated seeing himself.

“No, Eric,” Sam ordered, taking his chin between his fingers and forcing him to look back at the mirror. “See yourself the way I see you.”

At first, Brighton closed his eyes but Sam was persistent and after a while he opened them. He blinked. Wait. What was going on? This time, his jawline was more rugged, his features sharper, his face less soft. His jaw went slack as he watched all of his facial features begin to shift and change. Whereas before they’d been feminine and indistinct, now they were sharp and hard and linear. His chin widened, his jawline straightened, his nose shrank and became narrower. His cheeks deflated and a dense coat of brownish stubble coated them. His eyes lost their innocence, growing clearer and more focused. His gaze became impassive, stoic. His forehead stood up, growing boxier and taller. His face widened, grew bold and heroic.

He wasn’t just handsome.

He was incredibly manly.

The man staring back at him wasn’t the least bit feminine. He was battle-hardened, gruff and supremely confident.

And the changes didn’t stop there.

He soon realized why his body felt so heavy.

All of the fat and blubber around his belly and butt reformed, shrinking in on itself to become hardened muscle. His shoulders swelled, filling out and widening until he would have trouble making it through a normal-sized doorway. His neck grew thicker, his traps climbing upward to swallow his ears until they were just a couple of tiny handles on the square jug of his head. Below the waist, his buttocks grew firm, blocky and angular even as his waist narrowed and his wide back tapered down to a classic V-shape. His thighs, which had always been too jiggly and prone to cellulitis, not only grew bigger but also denser and squarer. His calves swelled into a pair of perfect, large diamonds.

And he finally had abs!

For the first time in his thirty years of life, he had abs!

He stared in fascination as those new, heroic abs absorbed all of his belly fat, thrusting outward in hard, angular ridges.

By the time his miraculous transformation was complete, he didn’t have a trace of fat anywhere on his physique. He was rugged, sinewy and ridiculously muscular without losing any of his flexibility or speed.

It was miraculous!

In his jockstrap, his tiny pee-pee thrust out against the pouch.

When he opened his mouth, he was greeted by an incredibly deep rumble as he moaned, “Uh, like wow! Fuckin’ incredible, man! Shit, I feel so fuckin’ good but I look even fuckin’ better!” He flexed a bicep, staring in proud disbelief when an enormous globe of dense and heavy muscle bulged out. “Fuck, man! Fuuuuuuuuck!” was all he could say.

Sam was watching him with a sphinx-like smile, his head propped on an elbow. Nodding, he commented, “Fuck, indeed. You’re prescient because that’s just what I intend to do!” He held up his finger, though, before Brighton could get too excited, “Wait a moment, though, my beautiful beast, there’s more.”

“Whut?” Brighton’s tongue had grown thick like the rest of him, making it hard for him to speak properly. As much as he loved his new, deep baritone, he had to admit he now sounded kind of dumb.

Sam grinned indulgently. “Did you forget already? Remember I said there were three things you craved more than anything else. What were they?”

“Uh, fuck. Is dis a test?” Brighton rumbled, scratching his melon head. “‘Cuz I ain’t no good at geometry.”

“Funny,” Sam quipped as his gaze raked over Brighton’s magnificently angular body, “it seems to me you have aced that particular exam.” He laughed when Brighton scrunched up his heavy (but very masculine) brow, “But never mind that! Let me tell you, Eric: Your penis. Don’t forget your penis!”

“Oh, yeah!” Brighton’s gaze inevitably traveled below his navel where he had a great view of his crotch now that his belly and pubic fat pad had evaporated. His circumcised nub was sticking out like an eager toothpick from the pouch of his jock.

“You, um, might want to remove that now,” Sam prompted, inclining his head toward Brighton’s jockstrap. “Because it’s not going to fit you for much longer.”

It took a moment for the meaning of these words to sink into Brighton’s thicker skull. (He truly had become thicker everywhere.) When it finally dawned on him, he whooped and rolled over onto his back, kicking his heavy legs in the air and shimmying out of his suddenly much better-fitting jock. When he was finally completely naked, he was pleased to see he’d grown a thick bush of blond pubic hair over the top of his cocklet and grape-sized testicles.

They didn’t stay grape-sized for long!

Brighton arched his back and let out a long, low, guttural moan as he felt his balls begin to grow. Slowly at first and then with ever-accelerating girth, they swelled to golfball size, then orange size and finally to the size of the largest, roundest, juiciest pair of MacIntosh apples.

For a moment, he looked kind of ridiculous with such a hefty pair of low-hangers under his flimsy microdick. But his cock soon caught up and eventually surpassed his testicles in proportion.

“UNNNNNNNNNNNGH!” he bawled as his dick lengthened and girthified, stretching far past his tiny, taut navel and growing thicker than a man’s arm. In less than a minute, it was close to fifteen inches long. He couldn’t believe it! It was a truly magnificent appendage that put every other man (besides perhaps Suarez) to shame.

“UNGH! FUCK! UNGH!” Brighton panted, his tongue hanging out of his mouth as he reached down and held the gigantic and incredibly heavy fuckstick between his legs. His cockhead alone was bigger than his fist! It was so fantastic, so beyond the realm of his wildest dreams that tears rolled down his stubbly cheeks even as he jacked his mammoth masterpiece to its full, stupendous length.

“Hold on, my little fur baby,” Sam teased, running his hands over Brighton’s toned, hairy chest and cupping his swollen muscle teats. “Don’t you dare cum yet! I haven’t fucked you yet!”

Brighton froze at these words, “Wha? Huh? But I thought–?”

“What? You thought you’d fuck me?” Sam shook his head. “If so, then you’re not only dumb but delusional!” He waved his huge erection in Brighton’s startled face. It wasn’t as big as his monster but it wasn’t much smaller. “Never forget who’s on top, Eric,” he warned. “That’s my advice to you. There’s no way I would ever let a dick that big anywhere near my hole.” He shuddered. “You might be transformed into the man you always wanted to be but you’re still just as much of a slutty cock-hungry bottom as ever.” There was a significant and somewhat ominous pause that Brighton would have picked up on had he not been rendered so pathetically stupid. Sam grinned, eyes full of malice and glee, “In fact, you’re even more of a bottom now.”

Brighton swallowed his thick tongue, tiny pea brain working overtime to figure out what Sam meant. It didn’t take him long for his body to show him.

It turned out that his dick wasn’t done growing.

In fact, it was nowhere done with its growth spurt.

Brighton lifted his melon head to stare in disbelief as his cock spasmed. Unfortunately, this had nothing to do with an impending orgasm. While he was definitely close to cumming, the nefarious spasming had a completely different source. 

Poor Brighton!

When the spasm subsided, his already enormous cock had grown another four inches longer and added at least an inch in diameter. Another painful spasm and his cock had thrust up between his breastlike pecs, girthing up to more than six inches in diameter.

“Whut’s happn’in?” he bellowed like a frightened bull. “Make it STAHP! PUH-LEEZ! MAKE IT STAHP!”

“Oh, honey,” Sam chided, eyes dancing with delight; he was getting off on his torment. “It’s barely even begun! Why would I make it stop when you have SO much more growing to do?”

He lay back against the silk pillows and placed his hands behind his head, a shit-eating grin on his face.

Brighton could only lay there as his lifetime dream of having a big dick turned into a waking nightmare. He’d wanted a big dick for so long that he’d never realized it was possible to have too much of a good thing. By the time his cock was over three feet long and had swelled to the diameter of a fire hydrant, though, this was all too clear. A big dick taken to extremes was most definitely a curse.

His dick just kept growing.

No amount of wailing, whining, pleading, moaning or tears made it stop.

At some point, he was forced to sit up on his haunches because his dick would’ve smothered him if he continued to lie on his back. He squatted there on the balls of his feet, staring in horror at his wiggling and writhing cock monster. It was like an ungodly worm, intent on slithering away from his body. Worse, it remained exquisitely sensitive and the friction of its inch-worming along the tiled patio sent waves of ecstasy cascading over him. A long vein snaked out from his pubic bone, growing longer and thicker along with the rest of his penis. Soon the vein alone was several inches in diameter and pulsed like a convulsing snake beneath his soft, pale and oh-so-sensitive penile skin.

His glans was determined not to be eclipsed by his shaft, growing to the size of a soldier’s helmet before swelling even larger. Soon, it was almost the size of an inverted bucket seat. For its part, his poor shaft was verging on seven feet long and was now well over two feet in diameter.

Not to be outdone, his balls caught up, inflating in one excruciating minute from the size of a pair of softballs to the size of twin beach balls. He held his head in his hands and cried.

Only then did its stupendous and ignominious growth spurt stop.

He sobbed. Precum oozed out of his gaping piss slit, soaking the tile floor with slippery, translucent goo. Sitting back on his heels, he moaned and groaned and whimpered as he beheld his ruined penis. It looked  like a beached whale trapped between a pair of boulders, gurgling goo from its blowhole. He wanted to curl up and die. How the fuck would he ever get around with a cock this huge? He might only have a walnut for a brain now but even he could understand the obvious impediment such an extreme appendage posed to his daily life.

Too much of a good thing, indeed.

“You see now, don’t you?”

Lost as he was in his deluge of humiliation and despair, Brighton had all but forgotten about Sam. He swung his bull head around to gape at the smiling, naked man next to him. His oversized Adam’s apple slammed up and down as he gasped, “WHUT?”

Sam’s Cheshire Cat grin widened. Before he could answer, though, someone knocked over the flimsy partition separating them from the rest of the perverted company. There was a low growl and then a familiar but exasperated voice shouted, “Oh, for Chrissakes! What the fuck happened to you, Brighton?” Finally, an aggrieved Suarez stepped in front of Brighton’s field of view. Placing his hands on his hips, the studly dog-man huffed, “Guess I got here too late, huh?”

***

Chapter 6

Brighton started blubbering as soon as he saw Suarez. He was so worked up and so miserable that he didn’t even have the mental wherewithal to question Sam’s blasé reaction to the appearance of the towering dog-man. He merely blinked up at him, saying, “Hiya, Diego! Long time, no see.”

Suarez ignored him, kneeling down beside Brighton’s bloated, humongous, ugly cock. It was bigger than two of him put together. His mouth hung open and his long tongue unfurled to hang listlessly before he recovered enough to suck it back into his mouth. Finally, he leaned over to take Brighton’s face between his paws. “Brighton!” he cried, shaking him. “Hey, bro! Snap out of it!”

Brighton rolled forward, wailing when his enormous shaft twisted painfully at his crotch. He buried himself in Suarez’s brawny arms, completely inconsolable. Suarez sighed, returning the hug and patting his mountainous back as he soothed, “Shhh, hey, stud. Shhh. It’ll be alright.” He moved around behind him and urged him to lean back against his firm, sinewy, furry body. “Hey, buddy,” he whispered, kissing his ear, “don’t sweat it. We all pay a price here an’ yer no different.” He laughed, “It could be worse, right? You’ll get used to it. And, hey, we may even be able to fix it…a little.” He hastened to add, though, “You’ll never go back to the way ya were but in time yer big dick might grow on ya. Kinda like it already has. Haha!”

Sniffling in a decidedly unmanly fashion, Brighton gazed down at the behemoth stuck to his crotch, whining, “I’m a freak! A TOTAL FUCKIN’ FREEEEEK!!!”

Suarez grunted, “Yeah? Well, get used to it. I mean, look at me! What was it? Two days ago when you was teasin’ me ‘bout bein’ a freak? Now ya know how it feels.” 

He gestured to the scene behind them where Private Swindle was pounding the pussies of his fellow soldiers and JD and Peter were molesting the feminized Patel and Bronson. The whole time, the goblin bartenders were looking on, jerking their tiny, green penises. Lady G was sitting frozen with his bloomers billowing over his head and, of course, Mark was still intently lasering his goat. 

Suarez rolled his eyes, “I’d say you fit right in now, bro. Are ya any worse off than the rest of these fuckers?”

Brighton sucked in on his lower lip, still sniffling, and Suarez’s eyes softened. Beside them, all but forgotten, Sam looked on with a blank expression on his blandly handsome face. 

Suarez cupped Brighton’s cheek and gently turned his head so he was forced to meet his beautiful brown eyes. “Not that it matters but I think yer super hot now, bro. Don’t get me wrong, I thought you was hot before, too. Fuck! What I mean is I think yer hot no matter whatcha look like. I’ve had a thing for you since basic training, ya know. Since the first time I laid eyes on ya, really.” He chuckled, “I tried to ignore ya, tried to tell myself I wasn’t attracted to ya, even tried to convince myself I was straight an’ found a nice girl to marry. But, you bro, yer special. If nuthin’ else, I’ve come to see that in these past few days.” He lowered his lips and kissed him gently, “I’m here for the duration, bro. Yer never gonna get rid of me. I’m stuck to ya like that big ol’ freakin’ ugly pecker of yers. Haha!”

Brighton’s eyes filled with tears at these words but, rather than self-pity, they were tears of happiness. In spite of his misery at being saddled with such a ridiculous penis, his heart was filled with love for Diego Suarez. “Diego?” he grunted, pleased now that his new voice was an octave deeper than Suarez’s. “Capt’n Diego Suarez?”

Suarez blinked, “Yes, Captain Eric Brighton?”

“Will ya be my huzz-band?”

This time the tears were in Diego’s eyes. Blinking rapidly, he sputtered, “I-I-I would love to!” He looked off to the side, brushing the moisture from his cheeks, “‘Course, I’ll need to get outta here alive and then divorce Amelia. But after that, I’ll gladly be yer blushin’ bride.” He held up a claw, amending, “But I can’t wear a white no more. Not after gettin’ a divorce.”

Brighton didn’t know why but hearing Suarez refer to himself as the bride touched him almost more deeply than his acceptance of his marriage proposal. He smiled and then Diego was grabbing his face and devouring his mouth in the longest, sweetest, profanest kiss imaginable.

***

The patio was thoroughly soaked with his precum by the time they were done making out and Brighton was beyond horny. He almost didn’t care about his mutant cock and giant balls. He wanted Suarez to fuck him that badly!

As eager as Suarez was to reciprocate, he held off. Putting his paws in the air, he promised, “We’ll do it, bro. I swear!” He looked around the patio, shaking his head. “Juss not here. My pecker won’t get hard with these fuckers around,” he jerked his chin to encompass Sam, Mark, JD, Peter and Lady G. “Talk ‘bout un-hot.” He shuddered, “I spent a whole fuckin’ year as Sam’s plaything. I ain’t ‘bout to relive those memories.”

Hearing Sam’s name, Brighton finally thought to ask, “Uh, bro? How come they juss let ya waltz in here? Ain’t nobody even tryna stop ya.”

Suarez grinned wickedly, exposing his exceedingly sharp canine teeth. “Simple: I severed the link.”

Brighton was not only horny, he was also dumber than before. His heavy brow furrowed, “Whut link?”

Exhaling patiently, Suarez explained, “These guys, ya mighta noticed, ain’t real guys.” He reached out and lifted Sam’s arm, waving it around like a puppet’s. “This ain’t really Sam.”

“Huh?”

“Yers such a big dummy,” Suarez said, rolling his eyes. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. I mean, this’s the same bro who thought the fuckin’ goblins were aliens after all!”

“Hey–!”

Suarez softened, “You got a lot to learn ‘bout billionaires, bro. ‘Specially the techy kind.” He pointed a claw at the still vapidly smiling Sam, “There’s only one thing that scares ‘em more than losin’ all their money and that’s dyin’. The motherfuckers’re scared as shit of death and’ll do anything to avoid it.”

Brighton swallowed, “Really?”

Nodding, Suarez continued, “Yeah, really. See, ‘bout a decade ago, that fucker over there,” he pointed at Mark, “figured out how to remove his brain from his body. Had it stored in a tank in an underground bunker.” He paused, musing, “I think that’s right around the time he came up with the idea of the ‘Metaverse’. Anyways, the fucker built ‘nother android body that looked enough like his old one that it didn’t make nobody suspicious. It’s that body you see over there.” Mouth falling open, Brighton stared at the man in question, realizing that his movements did look more than a little stiff. Suarez grinned wolfishly at his reaction, “He connected his brain in that bunker to his robot body through an encrypted channel. Basically, it allowed him to control it remotely. Because his brain’s suspended in life-preserving liquid an’ his body’s a robot, he’s basically immortal. Poof! No more death! He did what men have dreamed of doin’ since the dawn of time. Prolly the most brilliant an’ the stupidest thing he ever did.”

“Huh?”

Brighton’s poor pea brain was seriously overtaxed. The words Suarez was saying might as well have been spoken in a foreign language. Suarez read the confusion on his bovine face and smiled indulgently, “Don’t worry, stud. I’m almost done ‘splaining it to ya, then ya can go back to bein’ dumb.” He leaned back on the pillows, wrapping his arms across Brighton’s chest and pulling him close. His voice was warm and gentle in his ear, “His other tech buddies found out and wanted in on the deal. Soon, a whole passel of the eggheads had dug out their brains an’ buried ‘em deep inside the same bunker.” He nibbled Brighton’s ear, pricking the skin between his razor-sharp teeth, “News flash, bro! That goddamned bunker’s right under our asses. Their brains’re all stored downstairs in a super-secure, apocalypse-proof, steel-encased room.”

“Ree-lee?”

“Yeah, really.” Suarez grinned at his own cleverness, “An’ that’s why they’s so damned stoopid, bro! They  neglected to think ‘bout the obvious. Like what’d happen if somebody got in and scrambled the signal between their brains an’ their robot bodies. Ha! Somebody like me!” He slapped his knee, startling the sluggish Brighton. “Fuckin’ morons! All I did was lift my dogleg and let loose with a stinky stream of urine on their fancy encryption terminal. Haha! If that ain’t poetic justice, I don’t know what is! An egghead’s dream destroyed by a halfbreed mutt’s piss!”

“Uh, like, how come they ain’t dead now?” Brighton turned to the lascivious Peter and JD who didn’t look like they had been affected by Suarez’s urine attack.

Suarez’s eyebrow lifted, “Easy. It’s the failover protocol, bro. I learned ‘bout it during the year I spent as Sam’s sex slave.”

“Whut’s dat?”

“The failover protocol,” Suarez said as if he were talking to a small child, “is designed to handle lil’ glitches. When the fuckin’ robots ain’t connected to their brains, AI takes over. It’s fine for a minute or two but,” he laughed out loud, “we all know how thoopid AI is! At best, AI can only guess at reality an’ it’s easy to fool it. AI will start hallucinatin’ if there ain’t no human around to tell it what’s real an’ what’s not. Haha! That’s why I could stroll in here without anyone tryna stop me!” He paused and frowned when he noticed Brighton’s mouth had fallen open and a rope of drool was sliding out of the corner of his lips. “Aw, gees, bro!” he exclaimed. “Is it that bad? I can’t bah-lieve that fucker stole all yer brains, too! Fuck. He’s such a bastard!” He reached over and slapped Sam’s still rigid cock, causing him to yell out in pain. Suarez’s eyes narrowed as he vowed, “I’m gonna get even with ya, Sam. I ain’t done with ya yet!”

***

It turned out to be easier to increase Brighton’s intelligence than it was to decrease his penis size.

His smarts slowly returned over the course of the next several hours. This gave Suarez enough time to clean up the place and get rid of all evidence of his sabotage. He coaxed Mark to give him a portion of his roasted goat to feed Brighton and commandeered a troupe of goblins to wheel Brighton and his penis into a sumptuous bedroom overlooking the pool. With Brighton comfortable, Suarez set about laying the rest of his trap.

By the time the helicopters began arriving for Sam’s evening party, Brighton’s men were well versed in their roles and played up their parts as studmuffin escorts, ready to satisfy their patrons every whim and desire. Soon, the whole pool area was festooned with glimmering fairy lights and Jimmy Buffet played from the artfully hidden speakers. Goblins moved to and fro, dressed in smart tuxedos and bow ties, carrying trays laden with roasted goat and martinis. The guests were completely bewitched.

No one suspected that Anubis himself was directing things from behind the scenes. It gave Suarez endless delight to bark orders into a microphone lodged in Sam’s ear, forcing the hapless tech billionaire to serve as his puppet. Even under the best of circumstances, few people could tell the difference between the AI and the ‘real’ version of Mark, Lady G, JD and Peter. Get a little alcohol in them and no one suspected their brain links had been severed.

By the time the guests caught on, it was too late. Suarez howled with laughter as, one after another, the rich and powerful clutched their stomachs and began to scream in pain. Soon, their skin had taken on a distinctly greenish hue and their features were distorting even as their bodies shrank and contorted. Soon, they were unrecognizable to themselves; each and every one had been transformed into an ugly, green goblin.

Afterwards in the bowels of the bunker, Suarez disabled the main power supply and the numerous backup power supplies to the chamber that housed all of those billionaire brains. As he did so, he couldn’t help thinking it was somehow poetic that the man who had been turned against his will into the Egyptian god of the underworld was the same one who ended a rich man’s dream of immortality. Some laws, it turns out, cannot be broken. In the end, every human–indeed, every living thing–kneels before the reality of their own extinction. Sam was no exception.

***

“Hey, stud? You still up?”

Suarez crept into Brighton’s bedroom, carrying a dozen roses he’d just picked from Sam’s private garden. Brighton looked at him and smiled. He was ensconced in bed with his gargantuan penis and far-too-large testicles lodged between his outspread legs. It wasn’t the most comfortable position in the world but he was getting used to it. Being reunited with the handsome rogue, Suarez, helped. Yeah, it helped a lot, actually. He held out his arms to receive the flowers, pressing his face into their fragrant blooms, before allowing Suarez to place them in a vase by the bedside.

They kissed, Suarez drinking in his mouth like he was dying of thirst. It was a pleasant turnabout for Brighton after being forced to drink Suarez’ spit to stay alive. 

Suarez pulled away after a long time. “Your men miss you, bro. They wanted to come with me but I told ‘em I wouldn’t share you right now. Tonight is our night, after all.”

“They’re good guys. All of ‘em.” Brighton smiled up at his utterly handsome husband-to-be. “I’m lucky.”

“No, I’m lucky!” Suarez insisted. “I got the sexiest and hottest and prettiest man in the world as my guy!”

“Both can be true, Diego.” Brighton grinned, “But I’m the luckiest guy of all.”

Suarez’s teeth glinted wickedly in the candlelight as he agreed, “Yer damned right, bro!” He jabbed his clawed thumb into his chest, “‘Cuz you got me by yer side…and soon I’m gonna be in all three of yer holes.”

“All three of my…?” It took him a moment to understand and then he flushed, holding up his hands, “You can’t be serious!”

Oh, but he was! Suarez’s expression was positively predatory. His long, lascivious tongue rolled out of his mouth to swing against his robust Adam’s apple; saliva trickled down between his furry pecs. “You got two cunts now, bro,” he growled. “What’d ya think that big ol’ dick of yers is good for anyways? If yer goddamned piss slit’s big enough to fit my arm, it sure as fuck’s big enough to fit my dick.”

To underscore this point, his pink dog penis slid out of his hairy sheath at that moment. All twenty-four inches of it! Thrusting out like a glistening broadsword from his crotch, its bulbous base was bigger around than a tree trunk before tapering down to an almost elegant, if grotesque, pink tip.

Suarez wagged his giant cock in Brighton’s face, laughing proudly when he swallowed nervously, his eyes full of fear and trepidation. “Don’t worry, stud!” he soothed. “I know how to use it. Sam was useful for some things, I guess.” He shrugged happily, “An’ fuckin’ yer cock-cunt is gonna be a lot more fun than skewering a robot’s rectum.”

With that, he whipped the sheets off Brighton’s cock and straddled his chair-sized glans, pumping and grinding his hips as he drove his slimy member deep into the warm gooey tightness of that oversized urethra. His tongue hung out of his mouth and he panted and strained until he emptied load after load of cum inside. 

At first taken aback, Brighton soon realized the incandescent pleasure of having his cock sounded by a doggy dick. He stunned poor Suarez when he shot a truly enormous load of jizz. It rocketed down his long, long, long shaft only to be momentarily stymied by Suarez’s cock-stopper. Even Suarez’s giant penis wasn’t enough to slow it down for long and soon he was ejected by that ejaculate, falling back on his stubby-tailed bottom, only to be completely drenched by a flood of pent-up semen. Brighton’s cock spasmed and spasmed, nearly drowning Suarez in cum. When it finally dribbled to a standstill, Suarez sloshed around on the floor, slipping and sliding until he finally found his footing.

Standing up and flinging white goo away from his eyes, he slurped his tongue up and over his face, cleaning it thoroughly of cum. Both he and Brighton stared at each other stupefied for a long time before they both started laughing their asses off.

And then Suarez fucked him up the butt. And in the mouth. And in the cock again. And finally–yes, finally–he gave in to Brighton’s pleading and squatted down over his face and spread his black furred buttocks, exposing his pink hole for a thorough tonguing. Only then did they call it a night. 

Sleepy, Suarez mopped up the gallons of cum and changed the sheets. Then he fell asleep in his soon-to-be favorite position, straddling Brighton’s cock like it was an enormous bolster, his face nestled in the pleasant scratchiness of his thick pubes. Brighton periodically awoke with a raging boner and couldn’t fall asleep until Suarez gave him a full-body stroke-off. Neither one got much sleep but they didn’t give a fuck. They were in love.

It was the beginning of a long and profane marriage of two souls who were quite literally made for each other.

***