Clubbing (Patreon)

It was Friday night, and Charles was spending it more or less the way he usually did. That is to say, not doing much of anything. He hadn't liked anything on TV for years; every game was either already beaten to death or just not mood appropriate; his boyfriend was out doing something probably illegal... It was the kind of evening where you have absolutely no excuse not to go out and do something social beyond being a sad bastard.

…

Charles was gonna settle for being a sad bastard no one would dream of calling out. However, as if called the poor decision fairies, the doorbell rang. Charles checked the peephole, eventually shoving horse head past massive shoulders to get at the lens and quietly wishing he'd bought a more appropriate house. His guest was having equal difficulty being seen; a sea of gold courtesy of a pair of massive malamute mammaries standing between his viewpoint and a smiling face so wide you could print 'tone it down' on 100 pt type on it.

Amy. Coworker, fellow abomination of mad science, stealer of his stuff, and polar opposite personality.

Probably here on behalf of the poor decision fairies, come to think of it.

“What do you want, Amy?” Charles said.

“We should hang out.” Amy replied.

“What?”

“It just makes sense. You're huge and still growing, I'm huge and still growing. We work at the same place. The universe might be doomed if we were enemies. It just makes sense to be friends!”

“That logic was kinda all over the place.”

“And what place has logic in FRIENDSHIP!?”

“I feel like that question being asked calls into question both of our job qualifications. Aren't you supposedly a genius programmer?”

“It's surprisingly easy to just type crap and adjust until it compiles when you have enough free time.”

“I don't think that's true...”

“It's why I got demoted back to secretary, at least. Now, do you want to sass me or do you want to go clubbing.”

“Sass, obviously.”

There was a horrible grating noise that sounded to Charles suspiciously like his front deadbolt being sheared in half. The door opened, revealing Amy looking amused as she pushed it open with one finger.

“Too bad. Get out here now or I'm carrying you.”

“No! I have no interest in clubbing. I barely know you and this is ridiculous!”

“Tough shit, pony rides, your social skills are fucked right up and I'm in the mood to do some superhero work; tonight that means fixing the antisocial manhorse of the apocalypse.”

“You can't MAKE me do anything, Amy.”

“Point. Counterpoint: I CAN throw you downtown.”

“What?” Charles said, “That would be a disaster!”

“Yep. But I said I'd teach you to save lives and you can save some immediately by just agreeing with me! I'm not a monster, though. I'll give you two options. Option 1: You get dressed, we go party.” Amy said deliberately, before launching into the second half voiced just oddly enough to make Charles focus on processing it. “Option 2: we go to the new gym and show the hell off.”

“The latter sounds pointless AND dickish,” Charles said, “They're not going to have enough weights for us to feel it and any gymgoers we show up will probably have worked harder than I have.”

“CLUBBING IT IS!”

“Wait. Waaait. Crap.”

Amy shoved the door back into it's frame and held it there, confident in having won the argument. Given that Charles couldn't really afford to lose the entire house, he threw his hands up and settled on getting dressed. It's not like he'd never considered going to a club... insofar as he at least vaguely considered almost everything, anyway.

Charles finished getting dressed in the closest thing he had to appropriate attire and went back to his door and flicked it back out of its frame. Amy was still on his stoop, leaning casually against a rail that was slowly deforming around her weight. She had somehow acquired hot pink daisy dukes and a large pile of glowsticks.

She caught his look and said, “Ironic glowsticks I swear. Better than your plan at any rate. Leather Pants? Seriously?”

“Somehow, I'm not embarassed.”

“Not yet, but knowing you that's only temporary. FORTUNATELY I HAVE PRESENTS!” Amy grinned dangerously wide with the last line as she pulled out a bottle of pills.

“I'm not doing ecstasy,” Charles wasn't negotiating this one.

“Good news, then! It's something the boss gave me to give you... a few months ago, actually. I just remembered tonight. ANYWAY, point is they're supposed to enhance your control while altering your metabolism.”

“The last time I altered my metabolism, THIS happened,” Charles flexed a single pec for effect and accidentally tore his tank top before even getting it out the house. He liked his massive beef, sure, but he could do without the 0% bodyfat and constant feeling of starvation.

“Yes. This is to help you manage some of that,” Amy explained with exaggerated patience, “Look, they've even got Frank's signature, you have to trust that.”

“I guess so. Hand one over,” Charles was too lazy to object to things forever.

“I've even got some drink for you,” Amy handed Charles one pill and a bottle of water.

Charles took the pill, pouring half the bottle in after it and braced for impact before coughing, “Was that everclear?!?”

“Pregaming!” Amy said.

Charles had bigger problems. He swore he felt the pill sinking into his stomach and then sizzling heavily. He could practically hear a pop as it released its contents.

The first changes were felt almost immediately. They felt a lot like burning.

Sweat poured out of Char. His body had gone months without being able to release anything and was desperate to make up for lost time. His fur plastered tight to his flesh; his almost airtight pants stuck so close to him they may as well have been a second skin. His hair was matted to his head and slick, slipping out of his grip almost effortlessly as his scalp started itching furiously. Char doubled over as there was a deafening crackle, and he stumbled back inside the house as Amy gasped.

Charles managed to get out the thought that he needed a mirror, needed to see what was about to happen, and he stumbled into his bathroom. His hair was slowly falling out all over, both mane and tail vanishing before his eyes. His eyes... which didn't look normal either. A green sheen slid over his irises, changing their color and making his vision swim. He doubted his eyes even more when the next thing happened.

His head caught on fire. Where his mane had been before, now there was only roaring flames. Soon, his tail joined in, becoming a trail of fire behind him. The constant crackle in his ears made his vision focus, and soon he had to admit that it was really happening, he was burning.

Char certainly felt the heat inside, his entire body burned. Just standing in his air-conditioned home felt like being in a sauna at all other times, but rather than relaxed he just felt antsy, like there was something he needed to do. He looked himself over just to make sure nothing else was changing, maybe those feelings had a source.

Char flexed his arms. Then, just in case they were somehow lying the first time, he flexed them again. When he moved his arms, he bulged. When he balled them up, his biceps were boulders. If he actually flexed, he could watch mountains appear. He couldn't see below his pecs, but he could make them dance. He couldn't reach his abs, but he could feel the currents and drops getting lost in their deep grooves. His obliques were an iron ladder, capable of supporting platoons at a time. His forearms were elegant blueprints, countless lines illustrating the roots of strength itself.

But... that wasn't new.

Yet somehow it all felt so much grander than it had a moment ago. Somehow he could look at himself and see the miracles so much more clearly. Was it not the height of selfishness to have something so grand and not appreciate it? He thought he was better than that. He thought he was amazing.

Clearly, he had a duty to go out and share that. With everyone.

“Alright toots, I'm ready!” Char confidently strode back to Amy for a night on the town.

“Oh good, personality changes, those are just the best,” Amy said in a tone that might have been sarcastic.

“Do you want to sass me, or do you want to go clubbing?”

“Clubbing, obviously,” Amy smirked.

They both took off for downtown, a sort of amicable silence following as Char remained hyper-focused and Amy didn't really want to poke what she thought might be a volatile situation before it could explode on something really funny.

The pair eventually made it to one of the trendier areas of town, when Char had an idea. A deliciously sinister idea. He made his plans as he watched them slowly pass the clubs one by one before finding one relatively cut off from the other buildings... and ducking down an alley.

He could run rather fast when he needed to, and now was definitely the time. He was going to ditch Amy, not to go back home, but to party on his own for once. Anywhere Amy went she inevitably became the center of attention, but he wanted a term this time.

Char approached his club of choice as quickly as he could. There was a line, but Char simply flashed a smile and got let in. Whether it was because they thought he was handsome or because no bouncer wants to piss off a multi-ton man on fire Char wasn't sure, but letting him in was definitely the right choice.

The club was an assault to the senses, countless furs of all different creeds were dancing and grinding on each other in myriad ways. The pumping of the music was more feel than sound, the heartbeat of the club pushing everyone inside it onward. Lights flashed from overhead, lending a hypnotic quality to every movement.

Char remembered why he didn't usually like this kind of thing, but tonight... he just wanted the competition. He strode confidently into the dance floor, his sheer bulk prompting even the drunkest patron to step out of his way as he went for the center. Once there, he began to dance. As a rule, he had no rhythm, but the principle of 'expose parts of your body to the beat' was an easy enough one to follow. His freestyle was as much flex show as anything, but it was definitely his best foot forward.

Slowly, people in the club began crowding him, sweaty, fuzzy bodies crowding him as he exerted himself, sending his coat from shiny with sweat to positively soaking. His flames didn't seem intimidating to the crowd at all, though given the looks of the other visitors it might have been interpreted as some kind of costume.

The sheer heat radiating from him boiled his own perspiration, an evergrowing cloud of the scents of raw effort and masculinity enveloping the dance floor, ensuring other attendants were slowly overrun with the horse's sheer presence. That suited him just fine. He had enough attention. He felt READY.

“Well, don't be shy anybody, if you've got anything to say, I am here to entertain.” If Charles ears could have heard exactly how much his mouth made the word 'entertain' sound like 'fuck literally all of you into screaming piles of pleasure and want' an hour ago he would have been shocked. Now it was just a matter of saying what he wanted. “I take requests.”

“Yeah, bro, hold a space? I came out here to dance and find a chick, and I feel like magical sex auras are kinda cheating,” a white fox who couldn't have been a day over 21 spoke up without hesitation. “I'm diggin' your vibes, or however you'd say it, but if the ladies all swoon over you without noticing the real stud in the room crimes will have occurred, if you see what I mean.” The fox was wearing fishnets and jeans so tight they revealed that the gods of biology have absolutely no sense of taste. If there was a bit of justice out there this idiot would have the most massive balls in the goddamn state.

Char backed up with a grin. “Any other takers? It looks like there are two heroes on the dance floor, it'd be a shame for that to go to waste.”

It would be a shame for that to go to waste, and Char thought anybody bold enough to join his dance needed the heroic build to match. It was time to try something crazy.

When Charles talked about his ridiculous amount of muscle, he wasn't boasting. To say there was more muscle in his tongue than in a bodybuilding championship's entire roster was not hyperbole. It took the most mad of science to grow him past the point of sanity and the most expensive of technology just to fit him inside buildings afterwards.

Usually he was a slave to his body, a mere escort for the urge to consume more and grow more. He had a very selfish body, and anything that went inside him would never again serve another purpose.

But not tonight. Drugged and burning, he somehow felt more in control. He was less of a witness to his body, and more its master. An unending world of beef was his to command. After so long taking, maybe it was time to give back.

He kissed his dance partner. Purely, passionately, in a way that made every girl in the audience who had ever thought gay guys were hot thank their lucky stars for their location just a little more, but not actually for romance. Char pushed the breath of strength deep into the smaller fox, pouring his wishes into the smaller male despite a futile struggle.

“Yo, what the?!?” the fox did not swing that way.

“Just wait for it.” Char knew that.

The fox grew. From two heads below Char to only one. From athletically appealing to gorgeously beefy. From visibly toned through tight jeans to visibly massive beyond tattered denim shreds. His voice deepened, his fur thickened, and a manic grin formed before it was even halfway over. There was nothing inappropriate about his bulge size now, at least, not in the design sense. In the lewd sense it was about to bitchslap the Queen of England.

“AWWW YEAH. Alright ladies, you saw it, ya boy here now has blessing to carry both senses of style. So, who here is ready for season seven of Firefly?”

Char was somehow unsurprised that the fox was unsurprised, although he had to ask: “Firefly?”

“The best thing that's ever been on a Fox, now as long as you wanted it!”

Char rolled his eyes at the rather ridiculous joke, but danced alongside his eager companion... taking extra pains to loom over him. He was the real star of the night, after all. He could give people the bodies they wanted... but it would be him handing them out, imitations of the real king of the floor.

There was a classy way and a crass way to get all eyes on him.

And given the way the night was going... the choice was obvious.

Char removed his pants.

Rather, he tore his pants into nothingness with a smooth motion. His previously airtight pants. That he'd been wearing around his crotch while engaged in a level of sweating it would dehydrate most people to look at. The wave of funk that swept over the crowd was the end of the club that night. The raw sex stamped out all other thoughts except desire, and every pair of eyes was on Char.

The first girl to approach was surprising. A chubby snake-girl slithered up to him. Her dress was barely worth talking about, her looks were just okay, and she had the look about her of someone who didn't want to be here and wasn't prepared at all. However, Char was nowhere near disappointed. The horse was in her shoes just a few hours ago, after all. He liked to think that he gave off an aura of approachability, though it probably needed more help given the far more obvious aura of lust. He winked at her affectionately and beckoned her over.

She looked at him with lust in her eyes and not a hint of fear. She was here to make the king of the club feel as royal as he deserved to; and the notion of being able to go overboard seemed insulting to her. She started with a single hand, caressing the oversized member and pulling its attention to her. She winced a moment from the sheer heat coming off of it, but rather than consider safety she simply glared and committed.

Up and around, over and down, the flat head was wider around than her entire face, but she only greeted it more enthusiastically. Every throb threatened to knock her down, but she wouldn't let it deter her. Every moment she touched it, she could feel herself being burnt beneath the haze of pleasure, but she wouldn't let it defeat her. Wordlessly, she threw herself over the massive cock, body straddled across it.

“Vicky,” she introduced herself, a little desperately trying to hang onto some dignity as the shaft throbbed underneath her.

“Didn't ask,” Char cracked in return.

Her tongue flicked around the cock as she nibbled on the edge, razor fangs still unable to so much as dent the pulsing flesh. “Can I... take this?” she asked, almost to herself.

“No,” Char still answered, “but I can fix that. I can make you worthy of this cock. Just tell me how you want to improve.”

“I want...” she shuddered, “I want tits that won't quit, as big as my head! An ass that claps when I just walk! Fat in all the right places and no gaining weight anywhere else ever! I want a cunt that can take a telephone pole and still be tight as a VISE.”

Char paused, “That was remarkably thorough.”

“I've been fantasizing about being claimed by a god since I was sixteen,” she admitted.

“Well,” Charles started to say something about him not being a god. One final modicum of restraint. But then he realized he might as well be. He could make of people what he wanted. Nothing in the universe could surpass him.

And he definitely intended to be “All-loving.”

“Well, get to worshiping then.”

She didn't need more than a second, jaw unhinged and stretched wide around his cock, her entire body disappearing over it in the way only a snake's can. To her credit, Char REALLY felt it, and the old him might have cum from just that. The pleasure was intense, an entire body was being dedicated to pleasuring entire meters of cock, every flex became a massage, every moan became a vibration.

But there was only one sex god here, and Char grabbed her face, pulling her tighter and plowing her across the dance floor, the audience still lost in stunned silence... but beginning to masturbate and get closer themselves.

As he fucked, she grew. Taller, curvier, her body steadily became less of a condom and more of a pornstar. Precum poured into her, carrying pure power with it, her stomach distending around it as the bulge from the cock itself grew increasingly indistinct.

The snake girl spluttered, backing off the pouring cock and gasping for air for a few moments, weighing her massively inflated gut...

Before in a second it sank to a perfect, thin stomach with just the slightest line of muscle on it, her tits ballooning well past head sized and her ass enlarging to jiggle with every breath. Even her face looked improved, lines gone and her entire body growing younger, hardier, no longer bothered by the heat.

Char just grinned as his cock continued to pour.

“Gimme a minute,” Vicky gasped, “Of course I want to go again...”

“Again?” Char asked, “That wasn't even one.”

“You mean?” Vicky looked awed all over again...

“I mean every single person here couldn't BEGIN to use me up,” Char smirked, avoiding a rather cliché line.

“But I invite them all to try.”

It was the opening of the floodgates, in more ways than one. Instantly Char found himself inundated with requests... and those eager to skip a few steps and just claim his cock directly.

“I want a nine inch cock!”

“I want a twelve inch cock!”

“I want a fourteen inch cock!”

“I want an eighteen inch cock!”

“Two feet.”

“Three!”

“Four!”

Two femboy raccoons who looked like twins dropped their pants and approached him at once, each one trying to one-up the other in demand. Char just rolled his eyes at their small thinking and decided to give them what they really wanted.

“Alright babies, line up.” Char grabbed each of them in one hand and shoved them on his nipples. The insides of their mouths were comparatively cold and a tingle went through him as his nipples hardened... before he ordered some mass through there as well.

The two raccoons struggled around his massive pecs before feeling the change and beginning to suck greedily as they tried to outdo each other even here. Char moaned and focused as hard as he could on not releasing more than he meant to, they were going to be big enough. As he flooded them with mass, he gave them each a fond clap on the butt, partially for fun but mostly to support them for what was coming.

Their cocks exploded with size. Six inches became six feet and their balls grew to the floor and spread out until they were the size of beanbag chairs. The overwhelming pleasure of that much cockflesh simply being exposed to the air was enough for the two of them to moan, giving Char the chance to throw them both back, letting them land heavily on their balls.

“Bro, I'm huge!”

“Yeah, but I'm bigger.”

“You might be girthier, but I'm longer”

“No way bro, feel this shit.”

“Maybe I will, but only so I can say confidently that you need to worship the superior cock.”

The brothers scooted themselves towards each other, sloppy grins on their face. They were going to enjoy worshiping each other's identical cocks, and Char was going to enjoy helping the next in line.

“I want to be as strong as you!”

A scrawny dragon girl approached. Char couldn't really grant her wish, but he could pump her up enough that she'd never know the difference. He marched over and swept her off her feet, kissing her like a prince rescuing a princess as her center of gravity shifted. Nobody would ever call her scrawny again, she'd be leaving the club with an amazonian frame to make any bodybuilder jealous.

“I want to be ten feet tall!”

A musclebound bear, clearly realizing that enough could always be more. A quick cock spearing and Char let the man grow right back off again.

“I want to be a herm!”

“I want four arms.”

“I want the ass of the gods!”

“I want...”

“I want.”

“I...”

The requests started to trail off. Char was beginning to run on autopilot. The club had dozens, maybe HUNDREDS of people available and he had resolved to make ALL of them the happiest person alive. The dance floor was disappearing more and more. Anything that could distinguish the club as a place of business was fast disappearing under a still growing wave of flesh of all sorts.

An anonymous mouse's abs were blocking the window. Some cat had enveloped the bar in her tits. The chairs on the sides were irretrievable from between a femmy panda's cheeks. Giants were spilling out of the doors, trying to squeeze through before they asked to grow again. All of them, ALL of them lost in the evergrowing orgy that had taken over the club.

A six armed dragon had taken to building her hoard of hyper herms who groaned under the coordinated handjob as from behind massive dicked dogs of every body type from giant ass to wall of muscle thrusted at their buried vaginas while three amazonian elephants desperately grinded against each other and whatever flesh was momentarily exposed.

All the while, in the center Char stood looking over his work with satisfaction. In a way, the endless ecstasy of the night was all his and he was starting to feel it. He looked at his own cock, only to see that it already had a cow and bull working it over. It was a lot more modest compared to what he'd given out unthinkingly, but it was his, and it was starting to quake. He'd spent so long catering to desires, his own body was feeling dangerously neglected. Char thought he knew exactly what he wanted though.

He bellowed as he finally came, jets shooting out over the carpet of erotic actors and painting them all one last time.

“I want it all!”

“Okay, this is the last club in town and you clearly didn't go home, what the fuck man?” Amy bellowed as she burst through the door of the club.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!?” She had expected... not this. Not an entire business of transformed bodies, sleeping macros, fucking hypers, and everything else. It looked... damnit it looked better than any of HER parties.”

“Ah! Amy! So good of you to join us.”

In the center of the room, an enormous horse sat on a throne of moaning women, laying back casually as taurs to either side of him ran greedy hands all over him.

“I took your advice and had some fun.”

“You... I...” Amy stuttered.

“And your speechless for once! Oh this really is the best night ever. Please, join us.”

Amy didn't know where to begin, she didn't know how this could ever be fixed, she didn't know that anybody would accept it being fixed.

“Hey, sexxy momma, wanna join the only other man in the club who brings his mojo with him for a magical night?” one of the last furs standing, some fox butted in.

Amy supposed she did know that the meds wore off eventually, in the meantime, she did get to reap propositions from people too hot for nature to ever produce.

Consequences are for mornings.