In The Hills (vignette) (Patreon)

It’s funny how many things you take for granted every day. All the little things, the muscle memories, and the reflexes that you don’t have to think about, you just do. They’re like blinking; you don’t even notice that you do them. Until you can’t. 

Getting out of bed is still one of the worst. It takes a lot of focus to get through the day any more, so when I’m half asleep it’s a losing battle. Something as simple as getting up to take a piss usually winds up with me in a heap on the floor. If I’m lucky the guy in my bed won’t wake up and I won’t have to play it off. How would I even explain that I’m not used to my stubby new legs not reaching the ground when I sit? That for 24 years I used to be taller than them and I’ve only had 10 months to adjust to my new perspective? Half of them aren’t even sure why they’re in my bed, and I’m sure as hell not used to it yet either. Most mornings involve an awkward, embarrassed exchange that only lasts as long as it takes for one of us to get dressed and get out. 

The gay guys always look at me like they can’t tell what the hell they were thinking going to bed with someone like me, but it’s the straight ones that really get thrown for a loop. They get a deer in headlights look the second they open their eyes, and even the ones who try to play it cool can’t hide what they’re really thinking. I know because I had that same look and went through the same thought process. If it’s still weird for me, it has to be especially jarring for your run of the mill dude bro to not just wake up next to another man, but a short, misshapen one at that. 

It’s not that they don’t remember what they did or weren’t in control; they just don’t know why they did it. When they still get hard looking down at me in the morning light while stammering out excuses, it only makes things worse. These are guys that are used to hot blondes with big tits and nice asses, not a stocky, puggish dwarf. 

The gay guys at least would have gone for my former look. I wasn’t a model, but I was tall and lean with a boy-next-door vibe. I was never the hottest guy in the room, but that worked for me. I wasn’t as threatening as they were, and once you got my clothes off and saw my defined abs and solid build people rarely regretted their choice. Especially after we got down to business. I could use every one of my thick six inches to make girls squirm, and I had a tongue that could last for hours. 

Things were simpler then. I went to work, I hung out with my boys, I played sports, I hooked up with girls on the regular; your average typical guy things. I wasn’t complicated. When I wasn’t busy doing any of that, I was outside hiking and climbing. Give me the woods and mountains over a gym or a track any day. It was my real passion. It was also my downfall. 

In horror stories the monsters always come out at night.  The daytime is supposed to be safe.  I’d heard the stories about that area of the foothills.  Everyone had a friend or a cousin or an uncle who had some kind of run in out there.  They called it Witches Cross, plural, not possessive, on account of the coven that the locals burned out there back in the 1700s.  Or because of the pair of trees that grew into the shape of an X.  Or because of the toothless hags that still lurked out there.  You name it.  Depending on who you talked to, it was simultaneously haunted, home to a satanic cult, filled with inbred cannibals, and/or the site of multiple alien abductions.  Pick an urban legend, and someone said it happened there.  Yet for someplace so dangerous, hordes of teenagers managed to make it out and back in the middle of the night while drunk, high, and with their hands all over each other.  

I didn’t believe any of it.  I wasn’t superstitious, and even if I was, my plan was to make a day hike.  I’d tapped all the other local spots to the point where I could navigate them blindfolded.  I was one of those horny teens in my younger days and hadn’t been back since, so it was perfect.  It was close by and relatively unfamiliar.  

I set out like I always did.  It was just before noon, which gave me a solid eight hours of daylight.  Since I wasn’t planning on more than a day hike, all I brought with me was my phone and a couple water bottles that I stashed in my cargo shorts.  Otherwise it was just my hiking boots and an old t-shirt.  I parked the car in the small turn off and made my way up the hill.  

It was exactly what I wanted.  The terrain was a mix of rocky cliffs and level ground, all well shaded by the mix of tall pines, broad oaks, and plentiful maples.  The leafy forest floor was criss crossed by the occasional brook and covered in a smattering of short, weedy growths.  It was actually gorgeous.  The views from the high ground looking back were picturesque, and the constant up and down and over was just the workout I wanted.  Soon I had my sweat soaked shirt tucked into the back of my shorts and my ass and calves were burning from the constant ascent.  

That was my favorite part.  The feeling of the stray beam of sunlight and the fresh, warm air washing over my bare chest was exhilarating.  It felt primal and raw.  When I stopped to take a leak and felt that same breeze waft into my open fly, it was tempting to just strip bare.  I’d actually done it before in the more out of the way spots.  There was an exhibitionist thrill, and it wasn’t like I was shy about my body.  

I played it safe that day since I wasn’t familiar with the area, and the farther I went, the more I started to get a weird feeling.  It’s easy to dismiss as a cliche the talk about how woods “go quiet” when something nasty is lurking nearby, but once you experience it, you know exactly what it feels like.  I’d encountered it once before, only to turn a corner and come face-to-face with an equally surprised bear.  Luckily in that instance the bear took off and ran, but that same hair-raising sensation was creeping up my spine.  It was the kind of quiet that shouldn’t exist in a dense forest.  No bugs, no birds, no scurrying ground squirrels; there wasn’t even a breeze.  The only thing I could hear were all of the stories and conspiracy theories about the woods suddenly running through my mind.  

I took a moment to steady myself and looked around.  On the surface, I was surrounded by the same beautiful scenery, which actually made things worse.  It was like when you meet a person that you know in your gut is a creep, but they’re all smiles and charm and you can’t put your finger on it until that mask finally slips.  And by that point, as it was for me, it’s usually too late.  

I’d just decided to turn back when I heard it.  A loud snap of branches, accompanied by a wet, slopping sound.  I froze.  The snap of branches was normal for a forest, but I couldn’t place the second noise.  It was like moving water, it had a liquid quality to it, but the pattern was all wrong.  This wasn’t a babbling brook or a roaring waterfall.  It was a dull, wet slap.  Then shuffling branches.  Then another slap.  Brooks and waterfalls also don’t typically come towards you.  

I started walking faster, my pride not letting me break into a full sprint.  I forced myself to look straight ahead while doing the mental math and trying to figure out just how far I was from my car.  For a few paces I didn’t hear anything, but just as I was about to breath a sigh of relief, I heard it directly behind me.  

I still have a hard time describing it.  It was taller than me, which, considering my 6’3” height, is saying something.  It was also nearly twice my width.  Again, I wasn’t some swole bodybuilder, but my years of athletics had left me with a set of broad shoulders and a decent wingspan.  Whatever it was, the thing was huge and shapeless.  It gurgled and shuffled by somehow undulating itself forward like a huge piece of living jello.  I could see through it, but there appeared to be an opalescent sheen like an oil slick on its surface.  

I tried to run.  I actually thought for a moment that I’d managed to escape it, until I realized that I was suspended in midair.  Whatever the creature was, it had enveloped me entirely.  I remember the flood of panic.  I could barely move.  I don’t know what it was made of, but it was thick and viscous.  I thought for sure I would suffocate when I realized I wasn’t breathing, but my body wasn’t acting like it was lacking oxygen.  I tried to scramble forward and free myself, but just as I realized my predicament, the world exploded around me.  

The first thing I felt was a numbing jolt, like an electric shock.  My whole body tensed and I remember looking down and watching my clothes dissolve.  Shorts, boots, underwear, socks; everything went until I was floating naked in its grip.  My skin crawled as the viscous material seemed to pulse and throb.  Thinking back on it, I think it was tasting me.  It was sizing me up to see what I had to offer and what it could take.  

Then it started in earnest.  There was another jolt, only this time I didn’t go numb.  This time I felt everything.  Literally.  My head swam from a mix of horror and bliss and terrified joy while my body alternated between searing pain and unbelievable pleasure.  I was hard and cumming, experiencing the most intense orgasm over and over while at the same time feeling like I was on fire.  

In the midst of all this, I learned I wasn’t the first.  Not by a long shot.  There was some kind of connection between me and it and while it fed, I could see all the pieces of the others that it had taken.  Flashes of personalities, faces, and memories all flooded into me until I could barely remember who I was.  That’s when the physical changes started.  For a long time I blocked this part out, only having flashes in dreams until the memories came back in full.  I wish they hadn’t.  

I couldn’t tell at first if I was really looking at me or still remembering some other person when I watched my long, toned legs start to quiver.  My narrow feet started shortening and widening while my calves drew up towards my knees, which were busy rising up my firm thighs.  I don’t know how long it took, but soon I was staring down at a pair of thick, stubby legs.  My arms went next.  My fingers drew inwards towards my palms while my forearms grew shorter and shorter and the distance between my elbows and shoulders became less and less.  I would have screamed if I could, but whether it would have been from horror or the all consuming pleasure would have varied by the second.  My torso didn’t change nearly as much.  My back took on more of an arch as my stomach squished downwards, thickening my abs slightly into the beginnings of a muscle gut while my pecs bulged out farther as my shoulders drew inwards towards each other.  My face was changing too, but I wouldn’t find that out until later.  

I thrashed helplessly as the forest around me darkened and vanished.  I was falling through the countless memories of the creature’s previous victims.  It had been doing this for centuries, roaming the hills and finding victims when it could.  It was like a jellyfish, floating along until prey stumbled into it.  I learned all of this as it felt like the viscous material was seeping into my head, sucking out parts of me.  Memories blurred and faded and I could feel myself changing deep down to my core.  

Then there was nothing.  I still don’t fully remember being found naked on the side of the road three days later.  I was next to a dense patch of woods four counties, and nearly a hundred miles, away.  No one believed me when I told them who I was.  When I saw myself, I couldn’t blame them.  The handsome, 6’3” athlete was nothing like the barely four foot, disproportionate man they saw.  My shrinking hadn’t been spread out equally.  I had stubby arms and legs but an almost normal length torso.  When my legs had shortened, the extra mass had gathered at my rear, leaving me with a large, round ass that further threw off my profile.  Compared to the shortened limbs, my unchanged cock now looked huge dangling between my round little thighs.  It certainly felt huge when I wrapped my shortened fingers around it.  But other than my slightly distended stomach and meatier pecs, my midsection was more or less the same as everyone else’s.  Then there was my face.  My whole head seemed too large in general, with a widened, prominent forehead and a squared off jaw.  The rest of my features seemed blunted and squished, with a wide mouth and button nose.  

Looking at myself that first time is when I knew something deeper than mere physical changes had happened.  I should have been in shock.  My body had been impossibly twisted and deformed against my will like some kind of horrible fairy tale, but I just felt numb.  When they finally established that I was the person I claimed to be, the doctors said it was shock, or head trauma, but I knew otherwise.  I didn’t feel much of anything anymore, my brain having been blunted like my features.  

Since I was more or less physically unharmed, the hospital eventually released me into the custody of my friend Dane.  While my reaction may have been muted, there was no lack of shock amongst the people I knew.  Over the next few days the guys all came to see me, but quickly left, not knowing how to handle what happened.  It was all made worse by the fact that there was no explanation.  It was just a “freak occurrence.”  I had the feeling that they all knew much more than they were letting on, but I couldn’t bring myself to pursue it.  

I was too busy trying to navigate my new existence.  Suddenly everyone towered over me and my body didn’t move anything like the way it used to.  My voice had a slight squeak and I walked with an unsteady waddle.  My arms were uncoordinated and cumbersome.  I didn’t have any clothes or shoes.  There was a constant haze in my head that made focusing difficult.  I was literally starting over.    

Dane was a prince.  We’d been friends for almost our entire lives and he made it his mission to make sure I was taken care of.  He was just as freaked out as everyone, but fortunately for me he got over it quick.  He didn’t bat an eye about things like helping me in the shower since I couldn’t reach to adjust it anymore and I was still getting used to my range of motion.  I knew that had to be hard for him.  He was lean and toned, built like I used to be, so it had to be jarring to see my naked, dwarven new shape.  But he stripped down and jumped in with me like old times.  Neither of us was shy, and we’d lived together enough in the past and shared enough locker rooms that it wasn’t weird behavior.  Being eye-level with his exposed package was a new experience, and when I got hard as he scrubbed my back we both just laughed it off.  

But what I appreciated most was how he didn’t question sharing his bed.  It wasn’t even an option.  That first night, after the shower, he slipped on a pair of boxers like always and tossed me an old tshirt that now fit like a gown, and helped me up.  Blunted emotions or not, that was the first time I felt even remotely content since everything happened.  This continued for about a week.  I got more and more accustomed to my new shape and he helped me out as much as he could.  There was a growing weirdness, but I chalked it up to both of us just trying to figure out the new dynamic.  Neither of us realized how much it was about to change.    

I was watching Dane get ready for bed.  He pulled off his shirt and undid his jeans, and I couldn’t take my eyes off him.  I was practically counting the wiry hairs smattered across his lean pecs, and I throbbed when he pulled his jeans down and I saw his tiny, solid bubble in the back of his boxers.  

“You okay?” He asked me when he turned and caught me staring.  

I traced the line of his obliques into the crooked, lowriding waist of his boxers and nodded.  “Yeah...just out of it…” I said.  

“You’ve had a rough week.”  I watched his trim hips sway as he walked over and shut off the light, his cock bouncing against the thin cotton of his shorts.  I tried to tell myself that this was all just a natural reaction.  I already loved Dane as my friend, so this new affection was just a natural response to him taking care of me.  I tried to tell myself that I was staring at his body out of envy for what I used to have, not anything else.  

I knew that wasn’t the case as soon as he climbed into bed.  “Thanks again for everything,” I said.  “This is all so...I mean...I…” 

He laughed it off and threw an arm around me, pulling me close.  “Dude.  You don’t need to say anything,” he said as we settled, his arm still around me.  “On the plus side, you make an awesome little spoon now.”  

“Fuck you,” I laughed, trying to ignore how good his warm breath felt on the back of my neck when he yawned.  

I wasn’t about to pull away, so eventually we drifted off like that.  When I started awake from a nightmare a few hours later, he had a leg draped over mine, and I could feel his solid cock digging into my back.  In my nightmare squirming I’d worked the baggy shirt up to my chest, meaning his warm, solid organ was resting against my bare skin.  

“Wha...wha’s matter?”  He said sleepily, my tossing and turning having woken him up.  

“Sorry...just had a nightmare.”  

He yawned and blinked, giving me a squeeze.  “S’okay...you good?”  I felt him tense as he said it, realizing at the same time that his rigid cock was wedged against me.  “Oh! Uh...whoops!” He laughed awkwardly.  “Sorry about that.”  

I rolled over, my own solid cock tenting up the sheet.  “It’s fine...you’ve seen mine enough lately.”  I couldn’t get over how beautiful his sleepy, handsome face looked.  I felt small and ugly in his arms, but he was looking at me as though I was anything but.  

“At least it still works, right?”  His hand was resting on my bare stomach now and I felt him start stroking absently as he looked over at me.  A blank expression crept into his eyes as his hand drifted lower, and the next thing I knew, he had his fist wrapped around me.  I gasped, but didn’t pull away.  

“What...what’re you doing…” I remember asking him.  

He gave an embarrassed laugh.  “I...I don’t know...there’s just…” he struggled for the words.  “I know it’s weird, but all week there’s just been something about you that I…” 

He stopped talking.  His face was suddenly on mine and his tongue was in my mouth.  We writhed on the bed, my stocky, burly little body on top of his long, lean frame.  My shirt and his boxers were tossed aside as we explored every inch of each other.  I couldn’t get over how big and strong he felt against my tiny palms, or how good his big hands felt on my plump cheeks.  I quickly discovered a benefit to my widened mouth when I slid down and swallowed him whole without effort.  Neither of us knew what we we were doing or why; but we couldn’t stop.  

Just when I thought I couldn’t get any more surprised, Dane pulled himself out of my mouth with a pained whimper.  He clutched at his hair and his modest pecs were heaving.  

“This is gonna sound weird...I don’t know why...but I want you…” he finally stopped trying to ask and just rolled over, jutting his tiny bubble towards me.  He nodded when my eyes went wide and he buried his face against the sheets.  

I certainly didn’t need any more encouragement.  I had no idea why my completely straight friend was suddenly interested in being fucked, but I was more than happy to oblige.  His loud grunt and quiet whimpers drove me crazy as I pounded away at his tight, virgin hole.  The thought that I had this tall, muscular man writhing on the end of my dick was as intoxicating as it was confusing.  The next morning, we stammered out excuses until our bodies betrayed us and we did it again.  I’m happy to say that Dane has taken to bottoming like a fish to water.  A lot of the other guys took off after messing around with me for the first time, but Dane just rolled with it like everything else.  

I should have known then that this was all a result of whatever that thing did to me.  I have zero interest in women anymore.  None.  I haven’t so much as thought about a woman since waking up like this.  And I don’t know if it’s a parasite or a virus, but something about me makes other men lose control.  Gay or straight, it doesn’t matter.  Spend enough time around me and I’ll have the hottest guy in the room begging this stocky little man for his dick.  I’d feel arrogant about it if I wasn’t so afraid that I was passing something on.  Is it feeding through me?  Am I marking them for something later?  I tried to stop, but after a few days I lose control like they do.  I actually blacked out that first time I tried to hold off.  I was terrified when I woke up in a strange man’s house, just as freaked out as he was to have found me there.  

It’s been an adjustment, but in the months since I’ve at least started to establish a new normal.  Dane and I still fuck regularly, and other than the fact that we’re fooling around in the first place, he hasn’t shown any interest in other men or signs that anything is out of the ordinary, so hopefully my fears are unfounded.  I don’t know what the future will bring and I don’t know where that thing went, but eventually I’ll find out.  It’s still out there, feeding.