Interactive: Kingsbury Harbor, ch. 1 (Patreon)

Mike stretched out on the sand, his feet just outside the reach of the rolling waves.  He didn’t know why people had told him to stay away from the sleepy little town.  True, there wasn’t much to do in the way of tourist activities, but that’s exactly what he was looking for.  He wanted solitude and nature, both of which Kingsbury Harbor provided in abundance.  He enjoyed strolling along the wharf and looking at the variety of fishing trawlers, small boats, and rugged fishermen more than any boardwalk full of carnival games and annoying teenagers.  The sound of the gulls overhead and the gentle lapping of the sea against the bobbing hulls was about as much excitement as he was looking for.  

He’d needed to get away from the constant noise and stress of the city, and for the past week, he’d sit for hours every day on the nearby bluffs that overlooked the historic little town of Kingsbury Harbor.  Its narrow, winding streets were lined by a mix of Colonial and Georgian architecture, the gabled roofs gradually giving way to large Victorian homes and more modern Cape Cods the further from the center of town one traveled, before eventually reaching the dark, dense forests that isolated Kingsbury from the rest of the county.  Their shadowy interiors were made up of coastal pines and gnarled live oaks that stretched up out of the ground like monstrous, bark-covered tentacles and had to have contributed to the towns dour reputation.  The elevated vantage point on the cliffs also gave Mike a perfect view of the towering lighthouse situated on the small island at the edge of the harbor, its light flashing in his direction at regular intervals.  On foggy nights the beam could be seen slicing through the darkness like a knife, the illumination splashing against the window of the small cabin he’d rented like a comforting nightlight.  

And the people he’d met so far had been nothing but friendly, including some of the more weathered individuals down on the docks.  They were a bit more abrupt, but that was nothing out of the ordinary for a group of gruff fishermen, and everyone else he’d come across seemed to get along with one another.  Mike was familiar with how small towns operated, and he was sure there were more than a few secrets lurking beneath the polite veneer, but nothing that suggested the ominous urban legends he’d heard.  

On paper, Kingsbury sounded like a decaying hovel, not the quaint, sunny little seaside getaway he’d found.  He’d been told that people went there and never came back.  It was full of ghosts, they’d said, and witches who’d escaped from Salem.  Monsters supposedly crept through the woods, and it was rumored that strange creatures came up out of the ocean at night in search of either victims or tribute.  There were even outlandish tales of abandoned government experiments and black freighters lurking amongst the waves.  It was as if all the legends from all the towns up and down the New England coast had been thrown in a blender and poured on top of Kingsbury, a fact that only added to the obvious ridiculousness of it all as far as Mike was concerned.  The only thing they were missing was an alien abduction.  Now, sitting as he was at the water’s edge, listening to the bassy rumble of the crashing waves and watching the pinkish purple hues fade with the setting sun, the stars winking to life overhead, Mike couldn’t imagine anything remotely sinister about such a magical place. 

He gave a contented sigh and climbed to his feet, brushing the sand from his perky rear and reaching his toned arms to the darkening sky in a long stretch, wishing he didn’t have to leave the following day.  The thought of returning to an office job in a crowded city was less appealing than ever, and he started to wonder how much he’d really be giving up if he just tossed it all and stayed where he was.  

A glint caught his eye while he was running the numbers in his head and he looked down to see the last bit of daylight reflecting off a small object that had washed up a few feet away.  He hurried over to grab it before the next wave could pull it back out to sea, snatching up the small metal disk just as the surf slammed into his calves.  It looked like a gold coin, but it was far too shiny and unblemished to have been in the water for long.  Turning it over in his hands, the glittering metal looked almost brand new.  

“Well hello there,” he muttered, inspecting the strange markings covering both sides.  When it came to sunken treasure and pirate loot Mike only knew what he’d seen in movies, and none of them ever featured coins covered in such curved, irregularly spaced markings.  The lines seemed to form connected images, but what those images were supposed to depict Mike had no idea.  He’d seen novelty “loot” for sale in some of the little boutiques downtown and chalked it up as a lost souvenir.  “Looks like someone dropped you in the water...hope they at least made a wish first,” he shrugged, pocketing the coin.  

With a final look at the secluded cove he turned and began climbing back up the rocks, the sound of squawking gulls filling the spaces as the crashing waves grew quiet in the distance.  He paused when he reached the top, the soft grass of the hillside replacing the rough sand and smooth stones under his feet.  

“Shit...must’ve lost my flip-flops when I grabbed that coin,” he said as he looked down at his bare feet, deciding against going back to search for his missing shoes.  He’d picked them up for a few dollars and was probably going to toss them once he returned to the city anyway, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been able to walk barefoot through the grass without having to worry about stepping on hazardous litter.  

Since it was his last night he decided to skirt the town, taking the long way amongst the winding foot trails that led back to the little seaside shack he’d rented for the week.  He’d be amongst buildings soon enough, and the warm, salty breeze wafting in from the dark waters felt wonderful against his bare torso.  

“Wait...wasn’t I wearing a…” Mike trailed off and froze, a hand instinctively reaching up and running along his exposed stomach.  He was certain he’d just been wearing a t-shirt.  Even a few years ago at his fittest he was never one of those guys who went around shirtless unless he was swimming or in a locker room, and even then he was still self-conscious.  Now, pushing thirty and with a body that was closer to average than athletic, the bashful brunette was even less likely to traipse around bare-chested.  Yet there he stood, looking down at his modest pecs that were very much on display while the elastic band of his boxer briefs poked up from beneath his chino shorts.  “Fuck...guess that vacation brain really kicked in,” he laughed to himself, blushing slightly and feeling a bit of an exhibitionist thrill as he resumed his walk.  The embarrassment eventually faded altogether, leaving just the primal sensation of the night air against his skin as he wandered along the winding trail that didn’t seem to be bringing him any closer to his intended destination. 

Mike could still hear the waves crashing in the distance and he could see the town lights twinkling below while the treeline formed a dark wall off to his right, but it occurred to him that he had no idea how to get back to his cabin from where he was.  Feeling like a sailor who’d lost his way, he focused on keeping the flashing lighthouse in front of him, knowing that as long as he did so he’d eventually hit a familiar part of the path, or at least come to a road he could follow.  

He told himself it made sense.  He’d only followed these paths during the day, and even then he barely knew which way to go, so it was no surprise he’d gotten turned around trying to navigate them in the dark.  But he didn’t need to worry.  If anything it was just another excuse to stretch the pleasant walk out even further.  He paused to look up at the countless stars now peppering the cloudless sky, the moon a small sliver hanging low on the horizon, and took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the clean, spicy air.  Letting the stillness of the moment wash over him, Mike reached down to adjust his tight speedo and kept walking, making it several yards before the strangeness of his actions registered.  

“Shit!  What the fuck am I...where’d my shorts go?!” he yelped, quickly looking around to make sure no one could see him.  Instead of his khaki chinos, or even his grey boxer briefs, Mike stared in wide-eyed shock at the tiny, navy blue speedo that had replaced them.  The revealing garment, with its repeating pattern of anchors, left nothing to the imagination as Mike’s squat cock and heavy balls were clearly outlined and thrust forward, and he could feel the warm breeze drifting across more of his ass than he cared to think about.  “This isn’t...this can’t be happening…” he stammered.  

Mike took off at a run, his frantic thoughts focused only on getting back to his cabin where he could sort everything out.  He knew something bizarre and impossible was happening, and all of the warnings he’d so blithely ignored replayed in his head as he staggered and stumbled.  At first he attributed his faltering steps to the dark hillside, but it quickly became apparent something more terrifying was to blame when he picked himself up after a tumble and looked down at a body he no longer recognized.  Instead of modest, his pecs were large and round above a set of defined abs, having inflated like the thickened arms on either side, and he began to feel his meatier thighs brushing against one another with each desperate step.  The extra mass at his lower half had the added effect of further tightening his speedo, and Mike wasn’t sure if that or something else was to blame for how much larger his package was starting to appear.  

His expanded chest heaved as he struggled for breath in his panicked flight.  Mike tried to ignore the way his enlarged cheeks bounced and shook with each heavy footfall, having to focus instead on simply staying upright on his altered legs.  He had a sinking suspicion that the impossible muscle had come at a cost, but until he could get in front of a mirror, or at least some object he could compare himself to, he had no way of confirming his fear that he was shrinking.  All he could do was bolt down the hill, running towards the water and keeping the blinking lighthouse in front of him until he hit a familiar landmark.  

Mike nearly cried tears of joy when he saw the familiar building come into view.  He noted how much taller the door seemed as he bolted inside and slammed it shut behind him, leaning against it with his eyes closed as he struggled to process everything that was happening.  

“Hey hon, enjoy your walk?”  

Mike froze at the unexpected sound of a man’s deep voice from the other room.  His eyes shot open and his still-racing heart beat even faster as he looked around at the unfamiliar interior.  He wasn’t back in his cabin, but in one of the small Cape Cods that sat on the hillside.  Horrified that he’d burst nearly naked into a stranger’s house he turned to flee, but barely had time to grab the handle before the man came around the corner.  He looked to be in his mid-forties, with dark, salt-and-pepper hair that sat short on his head and covered the rest of his strapping, muscled body in a sparse, wiry coating.  He had a towel wrapped around his waist, and his brawny torso still glistened with beads of water from his recent shower.  Mike gasped, unprepared for the gut-punch of fluttering that erupted in his stomach at the sight of the rugged man’s stubbled, lantern jaw.  

Instead of demanding that Mike leave, or reacting at all the way a person should when a stranger lets themselves in, the man just grinned as he casually approached.  “Everything okay?  You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he said, bending down to wrap a thick arm around Mike and pull him in for a kiss.  The addled brunette reached up to the man’s furry pecs, surprised that he didn’t push him away, but instead clutched and kneaded the muscular mounds as he returned the kiss in full.  

Mike was horrified at his actions, not as much worried about kissing another man as he was concerned by his calm acceptance over his altered body.  From his brief glance the other man couldn’t have been more than six feet tall, yet Mike felt towered over as he squirmed against the handsome stranger.  And while he’d always thought of himself as straight, his barely-contained cock throbbed at the heady scent of the older stud’s bay rum aftershave and stubbled cheeks scratching against his lips.  

He had no idea whose house he’d stumbled into, but Mike thought he remembered seeing the man working down at the docks on one of the fishing boats.  As his fear started to subside he was sure of it, remembering how he’d caught the other man checking him out.  He’d given a friendly wave, but from the hungry look in the man’s eyes it was clear he was interested in something Mike couldn’t provide.  At least until now.  

His head spinning, Mike found his hands sliding down the man’s back, sending the thin towel to the floor and letting the long, thick cock spring free.  His body was on autopilot as he dropped to his knees and slurped the hardening organ into his mouth, gripping it with his tongue as if he’d done this countless times before.  When his hands slid up the sturdy thighs on either side of his face and began kneading the man’s full, heavy balls, a wave of familiarity crashed over him.  The musky smell and salty taste weren’t as foreign as they should have been, weren’t foreign at all, as Mike felt himself start to slip away.  The kneeling, shortened hunk was no longer certain whether he really lived in the city and had an office job waiting for him.  A part of his brain screamed this at him, told him he shouldn’t be doing any of this, but that didn’t feel right.  

When Charlie pulled him to his feet and tugged his speedo down, Mike didn’t know why he’d expected to see a thin, six-inch cock instead of his fat, eleven-inch monster.  And he didn’t know why he kept thinking he should be taller.  He was just barely five feet, not six, but he had more than enough muscle, and ass, to make up for it.  Mike put both to good use when Charlie pulled him into their bedroom and shoved him down on the bed, grinning eagerly as he hoisted his short, wide legs onto the older man’s shoulders.  

He was certain things were exactly as they should be when Charlie shoved himself inside.  There was no way the blissful tide of pleasure pulling him under could be anything other than right.  Gawking at his slack-jawed, ecstatic face reflected in the mirror while Charlie plunged in and out, Mike knew he could never be anything other than a curvy little muscle bottom.  He worked in the kitchen at the Clamshell Diner, not in some office.  He had body, not brains, something he’d long ago accepted.  He was content with Charlie taking care of him and the massive cock leaking against his plump pecs.  He didn’t need some fancy degree to prove anything, and the thought of sitting at a desk all day sounded awful.  He wanted to spend his time outside at the beach, letting the surf and sun cover every exposed part of him.  

Mike reached up to pull Charlie down for another kiss as the older man kept pumping, pushing away the now-quiet voice that told him this was all wrong.  The taste of Charlie’s tongue was too delicious to be anything other than perfect, and Mike knew he’d been with Charlie for years.  Of course the brawny stud hadn’t done anything to cause this, other than swoop in and charm Mike right out of his tight pants.  It was foolish to think anything else.  

The spent, shortened stud was still basking in the afterglow when he saw Charlie walking in the yard through the bedroom window.  His first thought was of how good his older lover looked in nothing but the tiny cotton shorts that so perfectly accentuated his own impressive rear, but then he watched him toss what looked like a coin over the cliff and into the ocean.  Mike had a sudden memory of finding a similar coin earlier, and hearing it hit the floor when Charlie had pulled his speedo free.  He tensed, his heart racing from an unknown fear, but it subsided before he could put his finger on the cause.  He sighed and stretched like a contented cat, his oversized cock flopping heavily as he hopped to his feet and wandered through the now-familiar house, smiling at the pictures of himself and Charlie that adorned the walls.  

“Make a wish,” he asked when the older man came back inside.  He giggled when Charlie gave his jiggling cakes a rough slap and bent to plant a kiss on his forehead.  

“Already got it,” he said.  

***** For this interactive I wanted to go back to a more standalone concept like we had with the Wrong Number stories, but one that still gave the opportunity for recurring characters and a world that could be expanded on.  Hopefully the creepy little town of Kingsbury Harbor will let us do both.  This way the wheel doesn’t need to be reinvented with each chapter, and we’re also not locked into a single narrative.  We’ll see how it goes!  Depending on how the votes turn out, some of the higher scoring options might make a reappearance down the road, so if your number one choice doesn’t win it could pop up again.  Thanks for reading and voting!