The Interview: Bear Country (Patreon)

A few patterns were starting to emerge at this point.  They were always  men.  Usually fit, usually younger.  I say usually because I've found  some cases of older guys.  All straight before it happens.  Always more  than one person.  Not that any of this tells me anything.  Are these  things that made them targets?  Or are they young and fit because those  are the kinds of people who usually do outdoorsy things?  And then  there's that.  It didn't always happen in the woods; just areas that  were isolated.  I found cases that took place on boats in open water,  during urban exploration, construction sites, in empty houses, even  driving through the desert.  There was a basic sequence of events  regardless of the setting.  Those affected had a compulsion to document  increasing, aggressive sexual activity ultimately resulting in some kind  of changes.  Sometimes the changes were extreme.  Sometimes they were  subtle.  After the incidents the behavior is similar again.  There's an  aversion to clothing, the same aggressive sexuality, and an ability to  provoke an arousal response from other men, gay or straight.  I'm still  stymied on the government's involvement.  I don't believe they're  directly responsible.  Or at least they're not targeting people.  Whatever this is, I don't think it's been weaponized.  Whether they  created this, or let it out, I don't know.  I didn't have enough data  yet.  I still don't.  That's another part of the reason I'm putting this  out there.  If you're reading these for answers - spoiler alert: I  don't have any.   
 

I haven't slept in a couple days now.  I'm afraid to.  There's this humming whenever I close my eyes and it's getting louder.   
 

After meeting with Andrew and Bryan I spent the next several days  poring over the list. I dug up anything I could on the names.  Not  surprisingly, I came up with very little.  I decided to work my way  backwards from easiest to hardest.  Maybe investigating the others would  provide more information about the apparent ghosts on the list.  I  started with the group that I was able to find the most on.  Four guys:  Brendan, Dylan, Tim and Johnny.  I stumbled on a newspaper clipping  about a chemical spill in a Montana river and a picture of four young,  fit guys in front of kayaks.  That was about it.  A little more digging  led me to a club in Colorado called The Den and another picture, this  time of three large, middle aged guys.  It was all I had to go on.  It  took several phone calls and name dropping Andrew, but I finally  convinced them to meet with me.  A week later I was on a plane.   
 

I went straight from the airport to the club.  It was the middle of  the afternoon, but I was told this was the best time to stop by.  I'd  spoken with Brendan on the phone and he assured me they were there  pretty much all the time.  I'd looked the club up ahead of time and  discovered it was a hot spot for bears.  Not the four legged kind.  It  had a reputation as an "anything goes" type place, so I had no idea what  to expect when I walked in.  
 

The entrance was down a long alley off a side street.  It took a  minute to find the door since there wasn't a sign.  Just a nondescript  brick facade that looked like an old industrial building.  It took a  minute for my eyes to adjust to the haze inside.  There were small  windows along the tops of the walls that did little to let light in from  the already shadowy alley outside.  It was a large, open space with a  long bar off to one side.  There were several poles on the open floor  area and a small stage in the back.  "Sorry, we're not open yet."  A  young man popped up from behind the bar, giving me the fake smile that  you give someone when you're annoyed.  "Can I help you with something?"    
 

"I'm here for Brendan?"   
 

He looked me up and down.  "Are you J---?"  I nodded and he picked  up the phone.  "He'll be right down," the man said, going back to what  he was doing.  I looked around while I waited.  There were several  doorways covered in curtains along the opposite wall.  One of the  curtains was open and I could see some sort of contraption inside.  I  had no idea what it was and I didn't get a chance to take a closer look  before a deep voice boomed behind me.   
 

"J---?"  I turned and froze, coming face-to-face with an absolute  beast of a man.  He swallowed my hand in a meaty paw.  "Brendan," he  said, his friendly tone doing nothing to diminish how physically  intimidating he was.  The only words that come to mind are wide, round,  and solid.  He was about my height, but he looked like I could fit  comfortably inside him.  He was wearing one of those swoop-neck muscle  shirts that were all open at the sides and a pair of baggy sweat pants.   The shirt could have fit me like a dress and it was still stretched  tight across his beefy torso.  His face was round, with a trim beard  covering his puffy cheeks.  He had equally full lips and a button nose  that seemed out of place on his huge body.  What little hair he had on  the sides of his scalp was buzzed, and the rest of his head was bald.   Lack of hair wasn't a problem for the rest of his body.  His round face  didn't leave room for a neck, but starting at his wide shoulders he was  covered in a blanket of wiry brown fur that only made him look bigger.   His pecs were two huge sacks of muscle that sat on top of a protruding  gut.  His large, solid belly stood out so far its ability to defy  gravity seemed magical.  His arms were equally thick tubes of muscle  that hung out at an angle from his sides, ending in short, squat  fingers.  The huge sweatpants did little to conceal his tree trunk legs  and powerful backside, and even with the extra bagginess at the crotch, I  couldn't help but notice the solid object pressing them outwards.  "I  don't bite."  His laugh was easy and he was giving me a look that told  me he was used to this reaction.   
 

"Sorry," I said quickly, feeling myself blush.  "You, uh, certainly have a presence when you enter a room."   
 

"So I've been told.  I've also been told you're the guy who's going to help us figure this out?"   
 

"You talked to Andrew?"   
 

"He vouched for you."
 

"Do you guys talk often?"   
 

"Like a support group?  No," he shook his head, his smile fading.   "He reached out to us a while back.  Said he believed us, but he and  Bryan were the only ones until you.  I'm guessing he told you all about  it?"   
 

"No, actually.  I'm trying to keep from jumping to any conclusions.   I don't want to get fixed on an idea and miss something.  I did a  little research, but I want to hear it straight from you guys."   
 

He nodded.  "Smart.  We should probably talk about this upstairs.  Dylan and Tim are up there."   
 

I followed Brendan behind the bar and through a door.  His huge  frame eclipsed my view as he led the way and I heard the stairs creak  under his weight.  "Home sweet home," he said as we entered a ratty,  threadbare apartment.   The main room was sparsely furnished with a worn  couch whose checkered pattern told me it was probably older than me.   There was a small TV and a makeshift coffee table.  It felt like the  kind of place college kids would live.  I'd soon learn the reason for  that.  "This is Dylan."   
 

Sitting on the couch was a mountain of brown flesh.  The couch  groaned loudly when the man stood and I immediately wondered if this is  how Andrew felt all the time now.   He was slightly taller than Brendan,  and just as large.  He looked to be about the same middle-age and had  the same round head and full face, only his chubby cheeks were as smooth  as his bald scalp.  He had patches of curly hairs on the rest of him,  but nowhere near as much as his friend.  His midsection was equally  large, only he seemed less solid.  Brendan gave the impression of a  powerlifter where Dylan seemed to sag a bit more.  When he stood and  moved his belly and thighs bounced with the movement and his chest was  less defined.  None of this should imply that he wasn't built.  He was.   I got the impression he could have picked me up singlehandedly and not  broken a sweat.  There was just a softer layer on top of that muscle.   All he had on was a pair of purple briefs that bit into his sides and  his chunky thighs.  It was hard to gauge the bulge in those briefs as it  struggled against the mass of flesh around it.  "Dylan," he said,  swallowing my hand like Brendan had.  He flashed a dazzling smile that  caused me to wonder if they had the same effect on people that Andrew  and Bryan did.  "Tim's just getting out of the shower.  Should we wait?"   Brendan shrugged.  "You want anything?  I just made some coffee."  I  was still jet lagged, so I gladly said yes to the caffeine.  We stood in  their equally desolate kitchen while Dylan asked about my flight and  how I heard about them.  "I know it's crazy," he said, looking down at  himself, "but when I first talked to those two I didn't believe them.   Even after what happened to us.  It just seems so impossible."   
 

"That's why I'm looking in to it.  There's no way this is happening without someone knowing something."   
 

"They do know, they're just trying real hard to keep it quiet."  The  unfamiliar voice was followed by yet another imposing presence.  A  dripping, mountain of a man turned the corner.  I wondered how this  apartment could support the weight if they were all in the same room.   He certainly completed the set.  He was the shortest of the bunch by a  few inches, but by no means was he smaller.  He had a small patch of  thinning hair on his head that connected to his round, hairy cheeks in a  chinstrap beard.  Like the other two, he had no neck to speak of, just  slabs of muscle at his shoulders that eventually turned into hefty,  undefined arms and wide, sausage fingers.  His round, hairy pecs looked  like a mix between large breasts and a bodybuilder's chest.  It was like  someone took a soccer ball, cut it in half, and glued it to his skin.   They stood out above a gut that continued the round motif.  His stomach  puffed outwards like he was pregnant, expecting to give birth to a large  beach ball.  Having just left the shower he had a towel wrapped just  under the large gut.  It was a sizeable beach towel, but still it barely  made it all the way around.  I wasn't overly surprised when he  nonchalantly tossed it over a shoulder.  His lower half was no  different, with a giant, round ass and meaty thighs that fought with  each other for space.  With nowhere else to go, his equally beefy  package was thrust forward.  A long, thick hose draped over a pair of  heavy, low-hanging orbs.  Unlike his two friends, Tim's ruddy, pink skin  was totally smooth, a trait that only accentuated his round appearance.   "There's a lot to look at," he said snidely.   
 

"Play nice," Brendan said sternly.  "He's here to help."   
 

Tim sighed and stuck a hand out.  "I know, I'm just fuckin' with him.  Tim."   
 

"J---."  I was determined not to flinch at his lack of clothing.  "So where do you guys want to talk?"   
 

"Living room works," Tim said.  "Let me go put something on real  quick."  I watched him lumber from the room, his bare ass looking like  two basketballs shifting while he walked.   
 

"So when you met with Andrew and Bryan did they..."
 

I knew what the pained expression on Brendan's face meant.  "Oh,  yeah, sorry.  I should have said that.  Whatever's most comfortable for  you guys."   
 

"Good," Brendan sighed in relief.  "I didn't want to freak you out.   Tim loves doing that to people already."  He peeled out of the muscle  shirt and dropped the sweatpants.  My guess about his mammoth, hairy  thighs was correct.  What I wasn't expecting was the beer can pushing  out his orange jockstrap.  That's not an exaggeration.  His cock was so  thick and stout that it could only stand straight out.  It pushed the  pouch of the jock outwards, exposing his tight, hairy balls underneath.   "It's just as much of a pain as it looks," he said awkwardly.   
 

Luckily Tim came back in before I could say anything stupid.  He'd  put on a green tank top that failed to cover the bottom of his gut and  left most of his round pecs exposed.  Beneath that he'd put on a pair of  grey cotton gym shorts, his huge package pushing out the front like  someone stuffed a wad of socks in them.  "What the hell did I get  dressed for?"   
 

"He's cool," Brendan laughed, sitting on the couch next to me.  With  him on one side and Dylan on the other I felt like a child sitting at  the adult table.  Tim grumbled and left, coming back in pair of grey  bikinis.  His package was precariously covered at best, threatening to  burst free any moment.   
 

Dylan broke the silence that fell over the room.  "So where do you want to start?"   
 

"At the beginning.  How long ago did this happen?"   
 

"First," Tim pulled an old, puffy chair over by the couch and sat  down, his protruding gut covering most of his stuffed underwear.  "How  old do we look?"   
 

I knew this question was a trap.  "Late 30s, early 40s?"  They all laughed.   
 

"23," Brendan said, pointing at himself.  "24, 21" he pointed at Dylan and Tim respectively.  "It happened two years ago."   
 

"So...those young guys with the kayaks were you?"  I hoped I didn't look as stunned as I felt.
 

"Yep.  Four guys out for a kayak trip."  Brendan reached for a laptop under the makeshift coffee table.   
 

I was waiting for a mention of the fourth.  "That's right," I said,  not liking the change in their expressions.  "Is Johnny here too?"     
 

"He was."  Everyone in the room stayed quiet as Brendan brought up a  picture of four, shirtless young men standing next to their kayaks on a  river bank.  "That's us," he said.  I couldn't believe what I was  seeing.  The four men in the picture were still in their prime, when  maintaining a killer body was nowhere near as hard as it would become.   They were all toned muscles, obliques and cute faces with full heads of  hair.   
 

"You can guess which one is me," Dylan laughed, but his eyes looked  pained as he stared at the built, ripped young black man in the  form-fitting swim trunks.   
 

"That's me," Brendan said, pointing to the lean, sculpted young man  with shaggy brown hair.  "That's Tim."  The smiling young man with  buzzed hair at the far end looked like a fledgling body builder, covered  in striated, bulging muscle.   
 

"And that's Johnny?"  Standing between Tim and Dylan was another  smiling young face.  He was shorter, with buzzed black hair and a  stocky, wrestler's build.   
 

"Yeah," Brendan finally said.  "We'll get to that."  Another silence.  There was a growing tension in the room.   
 

"It's my fault," Tim said quietly.   
 

"Dude," Brendan's tone told me this was a conversation they'd had before.   
 

"No!  No.  We're telling the story so we need to tell it right.  It's my fault."   
 

"You had no way of knowing any of this would happen.  Or that it wouldn't have happened otherwise."   
 

Dylan filled me in.  "We all went to high school together.  We'd  talked about doing this kayak trip but between me and Brendan going off  to school, Tim joining the service, and Johnny working all the time, we  couldn't find a time.  That summer it looked like it was going to work  out, but we rescheduled it a few weeks later so Tim could come when he  was home on leave."  Dylan reached over and put a hand on Tim's thigh.   "But it's NOT your fault man."  Tim stayed sullen and silent.   
 

"So yeah," Brendan continued, "we set out.  This was up in Montana.   Absolutely gorgeous.  I've never seen anything like it.  The mountains  are insane up there.  We'd all been camping together before so we picked  a river that was remote.  We wanted to get away, you know?  We were  supposed to be gone a week."   
 

"How long did it take before...things started happening?"  I asked.   
 

"Almost from the start."  Brendan clicked through a few pictures of the group paddling down the river.    
 

"I don't...is there something there?"  It all looked normal to me.   
 

"That wasn't like us," Tim said, breaking his silence.  "We weren't  big phone and camera people to begin with.  The whole point was to get  away from all that shit.  But right from the start it was....it was like  this urge to document each other.  Not the nature around us.  Us."   Another batch of photos, including several close ups of the various guys  and their shirtless torsos.  "None of us were mentioning it at the  time.  It wasn't until after that we all said we felt it."  He shook his  head.  "I mean, it didn't feel weird at the time, so why would we?"  I  wondered: was the need to document each other related to the need to be  exposed now?  If felt like there was something there.   
 

"This part was actually normal for us. Aside from the taping, but  honestly, we'd probably have taken some embarrassing pictures anyway."   Before I could ask Brendan what he meant he brought up a video.  They  were at a bend in the river with the four kayaks up on shore.  Brendan  and Tim were swimming, while Johnny and Dylan, who was filming, were  sitting on the bank.   
 

"Dude, he's gonna be sooo pissed," Dylan said from off camera.   
 

Johnny gave a predatory smile.  "He's the youngest one.  He knows  the rules."  A few minutes later Brendan and Tim splashed to the shore.   They really were in good shape.  The lean muscles covering Brendan's  broad shouldered, whipcord body glistened in the bright sun, while Tim  had clearly spent plenty of time lifting and sculpting his body during  his time in the army so far.  They waited until Tim was just at the  waters edge before pouncing.  Brendan hooked his arms from behind while  Johnny moved with surprising speed to rip off Tim's board shorts.   
 

"HEY!" Tim half laughed, half yelled as he was suddenly stripped  naked.  "What the fuck are you....fuck!"  His laughing died away as  Johnny pitched the trunks into the fast moving water on the other side  of the bend.  "You assholes!"  Tim shoved Brendan and ran towards the  other side, the muscular globes of his ass bouncing as he bounded across  the rough terrain, but he knew it was futile.  "What the fuck was  that?!"  Tim didn't seem phased in the least by his nudity.  But if I'd  had a body like that, I wouldn't either.  The same huge package that  swung between his built thighs was the same one he had now, only it  looked even more impressive on his smaller body.   
 

"Don't worry, Army boy, we've got you covered."  The camera panned to Johnny, who was holding two small pieces of clothing.   
 

"Oh hell no," Tim said, blushing on camera.   
 

"It's these or nothing," Brendan said firmly, arms crossed.   
 

"I..." Tim hesitated before finally relenting.  He took the small  wad of fabric and pulled the speedos up his leg.  They had a white front  and a white back with small pink panels on the side.  They were also  about two sizes too small.  Tim pulled them up as high as they'd go, but  even with his large cock snaked off to the side he was barely covered.   The same could be said for the back as the top two thirds of his solid  ass were left exposed.  "No way...nuh-uh," he said, looking at the next  item.   
 

"It's a package deal," Johnny said, not budging.   
 

Tim gave the camera a pleading look.  "Sorry dude, I don't make the rules," Dylan said.   
 

"Goddamn you fuckers are the worst."  His face was bright red as he  pulled the hot-pink shirt on.  The bottom and sleeves had been cut off  so that it came to just below his chest.  "Princess" was written in  sparkly letters across his bulging pecs.  Everyone could be heard  laughing while Tim sulked towards his kayak.   
 

Present-day Dylan clarifies.  "We fucked around with each other like  that all the time.  Tim got it a lot because he was the youngest.  But  when we all saw him for the first time after he got back?  Tiny Tim  built like a tank?  There was no way we were letting that go."   
 

After that it was more pictures.  Tim still had his shirt on and was  usually giving a middle finger to whoever was taking the picture, but  it was clear they were all having a good time.  The next video opened  with one of the guys filming as the other three banked their kayaks.  It  must have been Brendan as Johnny and Dylan followed, with Tim's pink  shirt coming in last.  The camera was focused on Tim as the young man  climbed out of his kayak, causing the other three to burst into laughter  again.   
 

"What?"  Tim had a confused smile until he looked down.  The white  parts of his speedo were completely see thru after getting wet, leaving  his meaty cock clearly on display.  He just shook his head, his face  turning beet red.  "You guys are dicks, you know that?  Total dicks."   The laughter continued when he turned around and his ass was equally  visible through the wet fabric.  This was followed by more pictures of  the guys setting up camp.  We get a shot of naked Dylan from behind as  he's taking off his trunks.  His broad shoulders and tapering torso give  the impression of a natural athlete.  The next one is of Johnny in a  pair of small black boxer briefs standing triumphantly next to the tent  he just set up.  He's flexing an arm that's large and solid and grinning  a charming smile from ear to ear.  Then another video.   
 

It's almost dark and there's a fire going.  The camera pans around  camp and we can see Johnny, Dylan and Tim.  Johnny's still in the same  underwear we just saw and Dylan has on a similar pair.  We can see  everyone's trunks hanging in the background, except for Tim, who still  has his outfit on.   
 

"Dude, where'd you put it?"  Johnny asks, digging through a bag.   The camera zooms in on Johnny' s ass while he bends over and searches  through a bag.    
 

"No, not that one....hold on..." the camera is set down and we see  Brendan, wearing a pair of tiny blue briefs, cross the frame.  "Here."   He digs through another bag and produces a bottle of whiskey.  The guys  gather around the fire and pass the bottle.   
 

"So can I take this off yet?  It's starting to chafe."  Tim is shifting uncomfortably and tugging at the tight speedo.   
 

Johnny looks around.  "I don't know...guys?"   
 

"I don't know man, it's a really good look."  Dylan is grinning from ear to ear.   
 

"We worked hard picking that out.  It's only fair that some effort goes into taking it off."  Johnny winked knowingly.   
 

Brendan paused the video.  "This is where it really goes off the  rails.  The plan was to make him wear it for a bit and that's it.   Johnny told me afterwards, when we were all living here, that he had no  idea what made him do it."   
 

"Shit, I'm the one who agreed to it," Tim says.  "I heard him say  and thought to myself, no way.  Absolutely not.  And then next thing I  know..."  
 

Brendan starts the video back up.  Tim is seen thinking about what  Johnny said for a second.  "Oh, come on!  What is with you guys?!  This  is worse than the shit I put up with in basic."  He looks around at each  of them but the guys are stone-faced.  "Fine," he sighs.  He grabs the  whiskey and takes a long pull before standing and slowly starting to  gyrate his hips.  His movements are clunky at first, but surprisingly he  falls into a quick rhythm.  Watching it now, it's actually pretty hot.   This young stud gyrating around the fire, his muscles flexing and  flickering in the firelight.  He actually drops the speedo first,  leaving his huge cock bouncing below the tight "princess" across his  chest.  He's getting more into it.  He's popping his hips and twerking  while flexing his strong arms behind his head.  The laughter from the  guys in the video dies out rather quickly until they're all staring with  a spaced out look in their eyes.  It's Johnny who breaks the spell.   
 

"Dude!"  He points at Brendan behind the camera.  "Do you have a boner?"   
 

"What?!  No!"  The camera pans down and then quickly back up when we  see that Brendan's blue briefs are tented.  "Well it's not from...we've  been drinking!  It's this air!"  He laughs nervously.   
 

"Whatever man," Dylan says calmly.  "You're sleeping in Tim's tent tonight."   
 

We take a break from the video and I look at the huge men in the  room around me.  It's jarring, going from the people on screen to these  guys.  "So you two were the first," I ask Brendan and tim.   
 

"Just keep watching," Brendan sighed.  Like Bryan and Andrew when  they watched their old footage, his face was bright red when he resumed  the video.
 

"Come on...it's not like that..." Brendan continues protesting.  Tim  slows his gyrating by the fire and comes to stand directly in front of  Brendan.  He pumps his hips and bounces the cock that's at eye level.   His own cock is starting to harden.  
 

"You sure it's not like that?"  Tim asks, his twitching rod inches from Brendan's face and the camera.     
 

"Alright!  This got weird," Johnny laughs, standing up.  "We were  supposed to make Tim uncomfortable but he just made all of us  uncomfortable.  Good job.  I'm going to bed."   
 

"Uh, me too," Dylan says, making like he's going to follow Johnny.   Instead, he pushes Brendan backwards off his log.  The camera is a blur  of motion and we hear the sounds of struggle until it's picked back up  by Dylan just in time to see a naked Brendan clambering back up to his  feet.  His thin cock is rock hard.   
 

"What the fuck!" He yells, his face crimson.  "Did you guys plan that?"  He's trying to cover himself but failing.   
 

"Nah," Johnny says, holding up the tiny briefs, "it just felt right."  He casually tosses them into the fire.   
 

"Hey!"   
 

"We chucked Tim's shorts.  It's only fair."   
 

Before Brendan can respond, Tim comes up next to him and throws and  arm over his shoulder.  You can see Brendan tense at their naked bodies  suddenly touching.  "I know I'm the youngest," Tim says, looking down at  Brendan's rigid pole.  It looks tiny compared to Tim's monster.  "But  he's the smallest, right?  Shouldn't he be the princess?"   
 

"Fuck you!" Brendan laughs, blushing harder.   
 

"Makes sense to...whoa!"  Johnny gets cut off when Dylan reaches  over and tugs his boxer briefs down.  The stocky man's stout rod is hard  instantly but that doesn't stop him from responding in kind.  You can  see where this is going.  Another brief tussle and all four are naked.   Dylan's got an arm over Johnny's shoulder, his lengthy cock standing  straight out.  The camera winds up propped against a log so we can see  everyone.   
 

Tim looks around at the naked guys.  "Yep, Brendan's the smallest."   Brendan doesn't say anything.  He still seems like he's in a daze.   
 

"I'm okay with it," Johnny says, only half paying attention.  We can see his hand has drifted down to Dylan's ass.   
 

Tim turns his attention back to Brendan and finally pulls the pink  shirt off.  He just nods and Brendan raises his arms obediently.  It's  loose against his leaner chest and hangs closer to the end of his  shoulders.  "Looks good, Princess," Tim says, reaching down and  squeezing Brendan's perky ass.  There's a pause.  Without warning, Tim  pulls Brendan against him and kisses him roughly before shoving him  away.  He doesn't say anything.  He doesn't have to.  With the same  glassy look, Brendan drops to his knees.  Johnny and Dylan advance, and  soon Brendan is taking turns blowing all three of them.   
 

Present-day Brendan advances the video.  His face is a mix of embarrassment and pain.  "You, uh, get the idea."   
 

I can't think of anything to say.  "Wow."  It's the best I can manage.
 

"I don't know what came over us, man."  Dylan shakes his head and  looks at his two friends.  "One minute we're just fucking with Tim  around a fire, and the next we're literally fucking with Tim and loving  every second of it."  Tim doesn't say anything.  He just looks at the  screen, his face blank.   
 

Brendan clears his throat.  "So yeah, it's downhill from here.  We went it at it pretty much all night."   
 

Another video.  We see Brendan gathering up the camp while Dylan and  Johnny bathe in the river behind him.  Or more specifically, bath each  other.  Brendan's wearing Tim's pink and white speedo, which fits his  thin build perfectly, and the now-stained Princess tshirt.  "Come on,  man," he says quietly.  "You aren't weirded out by last night?"   
 

Tim sounds calm.  "No, dude, relax.  We're drinking out in the woods  in the middle of nowhere.  We're just blowing off some steam."  He sets  the camera down and walks into the frame.  He's wearing a yellow pair  of Brendan's briefs that don't fit him any better than the speedo.  It  seems perfectly natural when he wraps his burly arms around Brendan,  sliding his hands into the back of the speedo, and bumps their foreheads  together.  "What happens on the river stays on the river."  Their lips  brush as they talk and the scene ends just as they start to make out.   
 

The pictures follow the same trend.  More kayak pictures.  Brendan  is still wearing the Princess top, but his speedo has been tied to the  front of his canoe.  There's a shot of Tim and Dylan making out from  their separate canoes, followed by another of them wrapped in each  other's arms in the water after they fell out.  There's another of Dylan  spread eagle on a river bank, his thick cock pressed into Johnny's face  while the other man attacks his balls with his tongue.   
 

"This is when it gets crazy," Tim said, breaking his silence.  Next  to me on the couch, I can see Dylan's still-thick cock straining his  briefs.  I can't tell if Brendan is hard or not, but it looks like  there's a damp spot on the front of his jock.  Tim's bulge hasn't  changed.   
 

Brendan pulls up another video and we see Johnny talking to him.   Johnny looks desperate, his squat, thick cock oozing.  We know he's  talking to Brendan because in the background Tim is on his back with his  legs on Dylan's shoulders while the other man pounds into him.  It's  quite a sight.  The guys in the room are staring longingly at the sight  of their old bodies, and their absent friend.   
 

"Please Brendan," Johnny begs.  "I need it."  His face lights up  when Brendan sets the camera down.  We see Johnny drop to all fours  facing the camera while Brendan comes around behind.  Without any  fanfare, Brendan pushes his way in and Johnny practically screams.  He  starts writhing and wiggling his tight, powerful build, his face a  cascading array of ecstasy while he moans and whines.  The scene breaks.   It's now sunset and the four guys are laying in a heap.  They must  have switched throughout the day because Johnny is curled against Tim  and they're making out while Brendan and Dylan paw sleepily at each  other next to them.  The only sound is the gentle running water of the  river.  Until Brendan sits up.  "Do you guys hear..." and then the  camera cuts out.   
 

"So that's when..."  
 

"None of us remember how long we laid there.  The next thing we  remember was waking up in the hospital."  Brendan's voice catches in his  throat.  "That was rough."   
 

After my previous meeting I'm surprised when Brendan pulls up a  picture of himself, his current self, in a hospital bed.  His hulking  frame looks sedated and you can see the tent in the sheet where his new  cock is pressing it upwards.  "They let you keep these?"   
 

Dylan shrugged.  "Word got out about some kind of accident before  the government guys could show up.  Pictures were already all over the  internet.  We all had a bunch of friends and big families.  If they  tried to make it disappear completely it would have raised more  questions than anything else.  They spun their chemical leak story so  well that they didn't need to take the hospital pictures.  Let it be a  warning to others to stay out of the area."   
 

"And it's not like we were going to show anyone the pictures from  the trip."  Tim's voice was strained.  "Imagine looking like we did,  then waking up like this. With no explanation."  We flipped through the  hospital pictures.  Terrified, hollow eyes.  Confused family members.   Confused doctors.  They pause on a beefy figure I don't recognize.  The  man's short, portly frame is bulging out of his gown.  He's like a  jiggling wall of flesh.   
 

"Johnny?"  They all nod.   
 

"We got it bad, but Johnny got it worse.  For the most part we're  still pretty solid.  Mostly," he smiles bashfully and squeezes his  softened gut.  "Johnny...it was like someone just pumped him full of  jelly.  You poked him and there was nothing solid there
 

"The doctors couldn't figure it out, but they didn't have to.  The  government swooped in and covered up whatever really happened.  A  chemical spill?  What the hell kind of chemical would do this? We were  just the unfortunate group to paddle through it, leaving us with these  swollen, poisoned bodies."  Tim's anger was apparent.     
 

"So did you all experience the same other effects that Bryan and Andrew told me about?"   
 

Brendan blushes.  "Sure did.  Those first days we were pretty much  walking geysers.  And Dylan woke up one night to a male nurse jerking  him off."  Dylan shrugged and nodded.   "But it wasn't just that.  Our  whole pleasure sensors got rewired.  All this extra mass brought a whole  new set of rules."   
 

"There's a reason I'm leaving these tits hanging out," Tim said.   Dylan reached over and squeezed one of them, tweaking the large nipple.   Tim gasped and squirmed and after a minute I could see a wet spot  darkening the front of his briefs.  "Try wearing a shirt when even a  light breeze can do that to you.  And this..." he stood and pulled his  underwear down, letting his soft cock fall free.  He grabbed it and  flopped it around while it continued to ooze.  "This took some getting  used to.  I still have a huge dick, it just doesn't work."  He pulled  his underwear back up and sat down.  "It still shoots like a hose, it  just doesn't get hard anymore."  
 

"Is it the same for all of you?"   
 

"It's similar."  Dylan looked down at his solid cock.  "Our chests,  our stomachs, pretty much any of this extra size.  I mean, yeah,  blowjobs are still great but nowadays a belly rub makes us scream."   
 

"So you were in the hospital, the government guys showed up, and then...?"   
 

"When the "chemical spill" story was good and saturated we were  released.  We got the same hush money in exchange for going along with  the story.  I mean, what else were we gonna do?  We still don't know  what really happened."  Tim is all anger again but I see Brendan look  away momentarily.
 

Dylan picks up the story.  "So just like that.  Other than appearing  to age 30 years and putting on a couple hundred pounds, we were  perfectly healthy.  After a few weeks we could more or less control  ourselves, so....there we were."   
 

"How'd you wind up here?"   
 

"We stayed in touch constantly," Brendan says.  "Our families  didn't....how could they understand this?  We were strangers to them."   
 

"My dad took one look at me and walked away," Tim says, more sad  than angry.  "His jock, lady's man son was someone else altogether now.   Same with Johnny.  His folks could barely look at him."  Brendan and  Tim both turn to look at Dylan, who gives an embarrassed laugh.   
 

"Shit, I can't keep my mom away.  I've tried."  He shakes his head.   "Of course they were freaked the hell out at first.  Who wouldn't be?   But I'm always going to be her baby.  She runs our house, so once she  said so, everyone else was on board.  She calls me daily asking if I'm  ready to come home yet."   
 

"Why don't you?"   
 

"And what?  Go back to my old life?  Like this?  No matter how much I  try and pick up the pieces I can't exactly go back to what I was doing.   It's like..." he pauses, searching for the words.  "It's been two  years.  I might not like it, but I should, we should, at least be  getting used to it by now.  But we're not.  Every day this feels just as  strange as the day we woke up."   
 

"Like the other guys," Brendan said, "we don't work out.  We can't  gain or lose any weight.  We're stuck like this.  Maybe inside, too."   
 

"Johnny lived out this way.  He's the one who found the club.  We  bought it with our hush money and here we are," Tim said, spreading his  arms wide.  "Home sweet home."   
 

"We actually do pretty well.  Because of our, uh, conditions, we get  a lot of repeat customers.  And word spread."  Brendan pulled up a  video of a noisy, packed club.  There are men of all shapes and sizes,  but the majority are beefy guys like these three.  Tim is naked and  grunting on the stage while a naked Johnny has what looks like his whole  hand inside the other man.  Tim's large new package is swinging wildly  while all I can see of Johnny's is a thick head barely poking out from  between his thighs.  The men are all cheering loudly.   
 

"If I'd known I could get paid to have sex looking like this I  wouldn't have worked out so hard," Tim jokes, even though he clearly  doesn't find it funny.   
 

"On the bright side, we don't have to worry about diseases either,"  Dylan says.  "I could get fucked by every guy in that club and not catch  so much as a cold."  
 

I finally ask the question.  "So what happened to Johnny?"   
 

"I guess he just couldn't deal with it."  Tim can't look up from the  floor.  "I don't blame him.  We've all talked about it.  But once he  was gone it feels like we owe it to him to see this through, you know?"    
 

"He left a note, but they never found a body.  Believe me, we've  checked every news paper in the tri-state area."  Brendan sighs.  "I  know it's stupid...we like to think he's still out there.  Maybe we'll  see him again.  Who knows."   
 

The room goes quiet.  It's clear we're done here.  I thank the guys  for talking to me and tell them what I think.  Their story matches a lot  of what I've found out so far.  A pattern is starting to emerge, at  least.  I promise to call them as soon as I have any more information  and I let Brendan walk me out.  It's hard not to stare at his hairy  cheeks as he walks me back down to the bar.  When we get to the bottom  he turns so quickly I run into him.  It's like hitting a talking, hairy  wall.  
 

He swallows my hand again and puts a flash drive in my palm.   "Look," he says quietly, "that wasn't the whole story up there.  Yeah,  Johnny left, but he didn't leave a note.  Those pictures and videos?   Johnny was the one who put all that together.  The government let us  keep the footage, but they deleted certain files.  Johnny spent most of  his time going through, trying to piece it together.  The night  he...left...he found something.  The three of us were all downstairs  working, and when I came back upstairs to grab something Johnny was just  sitting on the couch, staring.  I had to shake him out of it and he  just gave me this look like I've never seen before.  He played it off  that he was tired.  I had a guy literally tied up downstairs so I had to  run, but  when I came back up later Johnny was gone.  There WAS a note,  but not the ones the guys saw.  It was a post-it on the computer screen  with an arrow pointing at a file.  All the post-it said was "I  remember."  Whatever was on that file is what pushed him over the edge."    
 

I'm hit with a mix of emotions.  I'm excited at having what could be  a huge break in the case, but more than a little nervous that it  potentially drove someone to drastic action.  "Did you watch it?"
 

"No..." he says, not meeting my eyes.  "I've never, ever, seen a  look like the one Johnny gave me.  I...I can't do it.  That's the only  copy.  I deleted it off the computer.  If there's something useful on  there please tell me.  If not...at least someone looked."   
 

I told him I'd let him know and headed out to my hotel.  I stared at  the drive for a good two hours.  I typed up my notes, sent some emails,  did more research; anything I could think of to give me a reason not to  look at it.  I wish I'd found more reasons.  Brendan, if you're reading  this now...I'm sorry.  I lied to you.  I hope reading about this  doesn't bring back the same memories that watching it would.   
 

Eventually I pour myself some bourbon, take a deep breath and click  on the file.  It picks up with the four young men piled together on the  river bank.  Their obvious contentment only makes what happens next even  worse.  The hum that I thought I heard kicks in.  Softly at first.  It  takes a minute before Dylan notices.   
 

"Do you guys hear that?"  He asks, sitting up.  The others look around.   
 

"That humming sound?"  Brendan nods.  It's steadily getting louder.  "What..."  
 

He doesn't get to finish.  The hum explodes into the loudest noise  I've ever heard.  I can't believe my computer speakers even go that  loud.  I'm hammering the mute button and trying to stop the video.   Nothing's responding.  At this point I'm covering my ears but it does  nothing.  It's like the sound a freight train having sex with a jet  engine at Niagra falls would make.  My bones are rattling.  That's when I  notice my glass of whiskey.  It's on the desk, inches from my laptop.   It should be pulling a Jurassic Park water glass with all the vibrating  I'm feeling but the surface is totally calm.  It hits me.  I'm not  hearing this sound; I'm feeling it.  The guys on screen are, too.  I  watch them cover their ears and writhe in pain until they eventually  black out.  All but Jason.  He's managed to hold on long enough for his  eyes to go wide with fear.  He's looking at something in the frame that I  can't see.  I see his mouth moving but can't hear what he's saying.   Even in his pained state he's scrambling on hands and knees trying  frantically to get away from whatever it is.  I actually let out a yell  when all of a sudden his body acts like something grabbed his feet and  drags him back to the others.  He's clawing at the ground while his feet  float in the air, suspended by an invisible force.  All four are  suddenly jerked into the air.  They're floating in place several feet  above the ground, all still unconscious except for Johnny.  I hate that  his eyes are still open when it happens.  They all start spasming and  jerking like they're being electrocuted.  The noise is droning on and on  until it feels like I'm going to pass out too.  I don't know how much  time passes.  It's becoming harder for me to focus on anything other  than the pain in my skull when suddenly it stops.  At the same time, the  four men on screen fall to the ground.  Already changes have taken  place.  They look thicker.  I can see Brendan's lost most of his hair.  Tim's gut is already bloating outwards.  I actually wished the noise was  still happening when I heard the sounds their bodies made as they  changed.  I ran to the bathroom and heaved for the next hour.  I didn't  come out until the sun was rising.   
 

The first thing I did was email Brendan.  "Hey Brendan.  Watched the  video.  Sorry to say it didn't shed much light on anything.  Just you  guys laying on the river bank until the batteries died.  I'll keep you  posted as I find anything."   
 

A surprising calm washed over me that morning.  That's the thing  about crossing the point of no return: you can only go in one direction  after that.  No more anxiety about "should I" or "shouldn't I."  No time  to think about the maddening implications.  Just a drive for self  preservation.  In my case, that could only come through getting answers.   I pulled out the list and got back to work.