Portrait of a Pack, ch. 1 (Patreon)

It was the flash.  It had to be.  No one else seemed to remember anything odd about it, but Brad could still feel it searing into the back of his brain.  It was like someone had stuck a match through his eye and ignited the grey matter, changing everything he thought he knew about who he was and the world he lived in.  Looking at the string of pictures, he was well aware that the men in the photos weren’t the men who’d entered, just like the spacious master bedroom he found himself in was nothing like the ratty apartment he should have been sharing with Tucker and Kurt.  His two friends were still sound asleep on either side, the recently grown hair on their chests sending a strange thrill through him as the three of their naked bodies mingled under the thin sheet.  

Brad could still clearly remember a time where this would have been impossible.  Not just their luxurious new townhouse, but the three of them being naked in each other’s arms.  Tucker and Kurt certainly never would have fucked for hours as they had the night before, and Brad could never have imagined a time in his life where he’d have wanted to watch such a spectacle, let alone jerk off while doing so.  Yet there he was, wedged between his friends’ spent, burly frames, memories of their ecstatic howls making his squat cock tent the sheet.  

It was an odd sensation.  They were on the University’s football team and had lived together long enough to already be intimately familiar with the sight of each other’s naked bodies.  They’d seen each other hard and had fucked coeds in the same rooms before, but never once had the thought of Kurt or Tucker’s broad, muscled body turned him on.  He knew his friends were attractive.  With their thick, beefy builds and full, round faces they weren’t the looker that he was with his wide jaw, sharper features, and shredded build, but they were good looking enough.  Usually Brad used his raven hair and dreamy eyes to draw the attention, letting Kurt and Tucker then pick from his leftovers.  Having heard the moans firsthand, Brad knew his friends didn’t leave anyone unsatisfied, putting their smooth, bulky bodies to work.   

Or at least they should have been smooth.  Since the flash their bodies had started to change, with dense patches of hair sprouting on their chests that spread across the solid pecs to coat their arms before trailing down their abs in a thin line to envelop their sturdy legs.  Even the stubble on their faces seemed to be coming in faster and thicker, changing their All American, Boy-Next-Door features to something darker and more masculine.  They weren’t excessively hairy or walking furballs, but it was a jarring shift.  

Brad had been horrified at first.  He liked the way his sculpted pecs looked without the hair, and he didn’t want a wiry coating to obscure the definition he’d worked so hard to build on his beefy arms.  The impossible speed with which it all sprouted was his second clue that something impossible was happening.  The first was the altered picture, the string of photos that showed the three of them as they were now, and a version of Justin that Brad confusingly hoped would become just as real.  

An unaccustomed stab of guilt hit him as he thought back to how this all started.  The three of them had been down on the boardwalk trying, and failing, to get laid when they’d spotted Justin.  They knew him from campus as the smaller, thinner man was always in the student center handing out fliers for environmental causes, or the University’s LGBT group, or whatever other cause he was championing that day.  Brad had honestly never thought much about him one way or the other, but with their frustration bubbling over and their boredom steadily growing, the three of them needed an outlet.  Justin was doing what he always did, standing with a clipboard and trying to get people on the boardwalk to sign a petition, when the three of them jumped him.  

They didn’t hurt him.  Brad knew he and his friends were assholes, but they didn’t think of themselves as monsters.  The intent was never to actually cause him any harm, just blow off some steam.  It was the kind of prank they’d played on each other dozens of times over the years.  They hadn’t even planned on going into the photo booth.  When Kurt and Tucker each took one of Justin’s scrappy arms and pulled him along, the booth had just been the first thing they saw.  They’d pulled the stunned Justin in with them and Brad had put him in a headlock while Tucker took his pen and wrote “fag” on his forehead, and they’d all posed for the camera.  

It made Brad sick to his stomach.  He’d started to feel bad as soon as he’d let go and Justin had bolted, and that guilt had only continued to grow once he saw the pictures that the booth spit out.  Instead of what he remembered, it showed Kurt, Tucker and himself in matching outfits of custom jerseys that hung loose on their broad torsos and dark denim.  Brad’s jersey sported a number one, while a number two sat between Kurt’s meaty pecs, and a number three rested on Tucker’s chest.  He could already see the hair on the exposed patches of their prominent pecs, but more confusing were the obvious outlines of his friends’ rigid cocks in their tight jeans, and how they seemed larger than they should have been.  Both of his friends seemed slightly taller and leaner, not so much losing muscle but looking more tapered and chiseled to match their extra inches in height.  Other than the hair Brad didn’t notice any obvious changes to himself, aside from the way he clutched Justin tightly against his chest instead of putting the smaller man in a headlock.  Where “fag” had been written, now Justin’s forehead sported a greek “omega” symbol, and he was clearly blushing as Tucker and Kurt leaned in on either side, one kissing Justin’s neck while the other’s lips were approaching the smaller man’s crimson cheeks.    

Brad sighed, his cock throbbing harder than ever at the sensation of Justin’s wiry body in his arms.  As much as he strangely enjoyed Tucker and Kurt’s ample muscle, something about Justin’s boyish face and sandy blonde hair drove him wild.  He wanted nothing more than to leap from the bed and run to wherever the smaller man was, to apologize for what they’d done and show him exactly how sorry he was, whatever that took.  For whatever reason, the thought of Justin being in pain was unbearable, and the thought that he’d caused it was torture.  

The intensity was disorienting as those feelings extended to Kurt and Tucker.  Brad liked to think of himself as a loyal friend, but the thought of anything bad happening to the naked studs on either side made him bristle.  It was an overwhelming urge to protect that bordered on possessiveness, matched only by the equally overpowering contentment he felt knowing the two were safe in his sturdy arms.  

None of it made any sense.  Though Brad desperately wanted to track Justin down, he didn’t even begin to know what he’d say.  Almost as soon as they’d exited the photo booth his world had stopped making sense.  First there was the strange photo, which neither Kurt nor Tucker found at all odd, and then there was the way the two men’s behavior began to change.  As they walked along the boardwalk they began to stand closer than they needed to, brushing against each other and becoming increasingly handsy.  Brad also noticed a strange look on their faces when he spoke, like they were hanging on his every word.  It was a look he was used to seeing on women’s faces right before they fucked, not one his friends should have been giving him.  

By the time the strapping pair began flanking him as they walked, Brad’s body was already starting to itch.  He hadn’t even realized he’d been hunting for Justin in the crowd instead of an easy lay, and when it became clear they weren’t going to find him he decided to call it a night.  He’d expected at least one of his friends to keep trying to find a hookup, but as soon as he’d said he wanted to go home they snapped to attention and followed.  Brad was already starting to notice their changing height, having to raise his eyes when speaking to them and seeing how Kurt’s buzzed, auburn scalp and Tucker’s brunette mop stood slightly higher than his own.  

Feeling like he was drunk, Brad walked in a daze, his head still spinning from the bright flash that seemed to burn at the edges of his vision.  He didn’t notice that, instead of heading for their small, dingy apartment, they were walking towards the expensive section of town.  Even when it registered that they were walking down a street lined with expensive townhouses, Brad felt like his body was on autopilot.  He didn’t know why he was walking up the stairs to one of the pricey homes, or why he had a key that fit the lock.  He didn’t know why Tucker and Kurt strolled casually in, or why he could see items that clearly belonged to all of them inside.  

Brad definitely didn’t know why his friends automatically peeled out of their shirts, or why they popped their jeans open as if they were about to strip.  Like their taller height, Brad’s eyes went wide when he saw how the pants hung loose around the pair’s formerly thick midsection, their waists having pulled inwards.  The mass appeared to have been pushed up and down in either direction as they both sported chests that seemed larger, as well as plump rears that were just slightly rounder, though it was hard to tell through the obscuring layer of hair that had sprouted.  

He had a thousand questions he wanted to ask, but as he watched his friends shuck their jeans and begin pawing hungrily at each other his attention was pulled in another direction.  Before he could process any of it they were all upstairs in the massive bedroom that he somehow knew they all shared, with Tucker and Kurt desperately clutching at his own hairier torso.  Brad tried to muster at least a token resistance, but his head was already filling with new memories.  He wasn’t a barely-middle-class student going to school on a football scholarship anymore.  His family was loaded.  He had a trust fund with more money than any of them knew what to do with.  He didn’t live in a ratty apartment; the luxurious home was his, as were Kurt and Tucker.  

The three of them weren’t just teammates anymore.  Brad barely remembered cumming without warning, spraying down Kurt’s throat as his head filled with the countless hours the three of them had spent in just such a position.  They weren’t friends; they were a pack, and he was their leader.  The dark-haired stud wanted to be embarrassed when reality shifted and he suddenly recalled the numerous men they’d shared instead of women, but it felt so good and seemed so natural that all he felt was satisfied.  As he watched Kurt and Tucker’s bodies continue to change, shedding any excess bulk until they were long and chiseled, he couldn’t muster any of the horror he’d initially felt.  Even when he looked down and saw how his own cock had widened, becoming almost uncomfortably thick where his friends’ dangling members had grown longer, he only felt a swell of pride.  He was the Alpha, after all.  It only made sense that he wouldn’t be easy to take.  

Brad sighed and ran one hand over Kurt’s buzzed scalp while the other stroked through Tucker’s chocolate hair, enjoying the view of the water through the wall of windows at the other end of the room.  “MMMmmmm...good morning,” he laughed, arching up off the bed when Kurt’s meaty paw began stroking his wide cock.  “Someone’s feeling sneaky this morning.”  

Kurt smiled, his eyes still closed, and nuzzled against Brad’s chest while he pumped.  “If you hadn’t woken up first I really would’ve surprised you,” he said, finally opening his eyes to gaze longingly at his friend.  

Brad folded his brawny arms behind his head and closed his eyes.  “I can always pretend.”  There was a flurry of movement as the sheet was flung aside before he felt Kurt’s soft, full lips wrap around his wide rod.  Before he could open his eyes, Tucker’s hand began stroking through the dark forest of hair on his chest, the other man’s breath hot on his cheek.  

“You guys always start without me,” he yawned, his lips brushing against the side of Brad’s face.  

The dark-haired jock didn’t feel even a shred of surprise when he turned and pressed their mouths together.  His tongue probing the inside of Tucker’s mouth only filled him with that same sense of satisfaction.  “We’re just getting warmed up,” he purred, gently biting the other man’s lower lip.  He nodded down at Kurt, whose hairy cheeks stood in the air as the other man knelt and worked his girthy pole.  “How about you go give Kurt some love?”  

It all felt so normal.  Brad knew he’d just ordered Tucker to go fuck Kurt.  He’d seen the look of eagerness in both of his friends’ eyes at the suggestion, and the way Kurt began shaking his hips in anticipation, but he had to consciously fight to tell himself that things should be otherwise.  The idea that they’d ever been a trio of straight bros with smooth, beefy bodies seemed entirely ridiculous, and nothing about their behavior suggested otherwise.  When Tucker lined himself up and plunged in, he and Kurt fell into an almost clockwork rhythm.  The prone man didn’t even break his stride while sucking and lapping at Brad’s aching cock, merely adding a pleasant, grunting hum to his bobbing motions.  

Watching it all happen, the way Tucker rolled his hips and the way Kurt’s muscles bounced from the impact, all Brad could think about was how content the sight made him.  His two boys were happy and having fun, and that’s all he wanted.  

“Guuuhh...good job…” Brad grunted when he came, the copious release spilling down Kurt’s stubbled jaw as the penetrated stud tried his best to guzzled down as much as he could.  He smiled at the proud look on his friend’s face as he motioned for Kurt to flip over.  He slid down the expansive bed while his friends shifted position, settling next to the prone hunk so he could tug away on Kurt’s oozing pole while Tucker continued to pound away.  

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck,” Kurt groaned, his fingers clutching at the sheets.  “This is...you guys’re...mmmmgggppphhh…” He was cut off when Brad leaned in and planted a long, rough kiss, keeping their lips locked even as he spasmed and came.  “Go...goddamn Tuck…” he panted when Brad broke it off and lifted himself up to do the same to the sweaty brunette.  He stroked the dark-haired man’s perky bubble while his friends kissed, loving the sight.  

“You like that,” Tucker asked when his mouth was free, giving Kurt a smug grin.  

“Fuck’s it look like,” Kurt laughed, nodding down at the puddle of cum streaming down his sides.  He started to sit up but Tucker darted forward, pinning him to the bed between his straddled thighs.  

Brad smiled and shook his head while the two made out, almost making it to the large walk-in shower before the two were hurrying in behind him.  He didn’t have to say anything for his friends to start scrubbing him down and then toweling him dry, nor did he have to ask one of them to bring him his robe.  It was just assumed, as if they all knew their proper roles in the group.  

“No, don’t worry about that,” Brad said, stopping Kurt and Tucker as they started to pull on matching pairs of briefs.  “You both did good this morning...you can stay like this for a while.”  Instead of looking embarrassed at being ordered to stay naked, they both grinned from ear to ear.  “Why don’t you go start breakfast...I’ll be down in a minute.”  

Brad watched his friend’s hurry out of the room, their plump globes shifting and bouncing as they ran naked down the hall.  Already he felt a pang at being out of their sight, but he needed to figure out what he was going to do about Justin.  The missing man was the fourth member of the pack whether he knew it or not, and Brad needed to bring him home.