Overcast, ch. 2: Caught (Patreon)

Luke groaned around the warm organ filling his mouth, feeling as though each and every one of his ample muscles was melting.  His strong, gym-calloused hands clung to Matt’s plump rear while his head bobbed, leaving his own exposed rod untouched and oozing.  He wanted nothing more than to tear his stocky friend out of his clothes, to grab the open fly and elastic waist of the other man’s jeans and boxers, to peel them away like the skin of a buff, hairy banana.  But he held himself back.  “Fuuuuck, bro,” the pretty-boy brunette moaned with an almost drunken laugh.  “Can’t believe I’m, like, actually sucking your dick right now.”

“That makes two of us,” Matt grunted, shaking his head as he looked down at his friend.  Despite the hunk’s dazed expression, Luke looked as frustratingly perfect as ever.  His broad shoulders, wide back, prominent pecs, and tapering waist were entirely at ease being on display, and the deep, golden tan his smooth skin had recently acquired only accentuated his superior physique.  The skimpy, neon orange briefs that lay discarded next to Luke’s kneeling thighs and meaty rear largely explained the lack of tan lines on the young jock’s piston arms and muscled legs, though their very presence in the first place was still odd.  “I still don’t know why you fucked with a Caster to begin with.”

Luke shrugged as he gave Matt’s wide log a few tugs, flashing the dim smile that had become a permanent fixture on his handsome features.  “Maaaannnn, I don’t even know,” he laughed, seemingly oblivious to the cum-slick coating as he ran a hand through his short, chocolate crop.  If he was at all aware of his now-spiky hair it didn’t show.  “I can’t, like, remember shit anymore, dude.  I mean, I, like, still know stuff, you know?  I know I never used to suck dudes off like this…and I know I used to, like, wear waaaaaaaaaay more, but, I don’t know…shit gets all fuzzy.”

The stocky blonde sighed, his expression going from exasperated to sympathetic.  Though Luke may not have remembered any more, the shorter man clearly recalled his friend telling him about how he’d found a “deal” on a Caster a few days prior.  Apparently the altered stud had come across a posting offering discounted rates since the rookie Caster was “still practicing”, but, before Matt could try and talk his friend out of it, the other man had come home in his current condition.  From the outside, the athletic brunette appeared unaltered.  His envy-inducing physique was as impressive as always, a fact that both he and their other roommate, Nate, had been able to easily confirm since all Luke had worn on his return was a pair of flip flops and a tiny, turquoise speedo.

What Luke did with that body, however, couldn’t have been more different.  The strapping brunette had stripped himself bare as soon as he’d stepped inside, eagerly and openly encouraging his twitching cock to full length with a few absent tugs.  He’d also been entirely confused by his friends’ shocked reactions, seeming more focused instead on getting them to join him in his uninhibited state.

It was immediately apparent that something had gone terribly wrong.  Not only was the formerly straight stud intent on getting his male roommates as naked and aroused as himself, his personality seemed to have been power washed.  Luke had never been overly shy about his body, nor was he the most uptight guy in a room, but the giddy, grinning nudist was a far cry from the brunette’s original state.  The stripped stud was working on an MBA.  He was quick and sharp in a conversation, adding an infuriating level of intelligence to his infuriatingly superior looks.  He’d never been a straight-A student, but he wasn’t a dumb jock, either, which made his pleasantly dazed state all the more jarring.  The pretty-boy brunette seemed to have been locked into a perpetually good mood, his brain eschewing anything unrelated to his own, or someone else’s, dick.  Luke’s priorities had been restructured around feeling good and getting guys off, with non-essentials like modesty or embarrassment no longer registering.

And it wasn’t just their friend’s behavior that told Matt and Nate something had gone wrong, as their own reactions hovered between surprise and amusement instead of shock and horror.  It was common knowledge that, when someone purchased a Casting, the world adjusted to match.  The way it should have worked was that only the Caster and the customer knew anything had happened at all.  But the shocked pair could clearly remember Luke the way he should have been, and instead of being mortified at their friend’s aroused exposure, it landed as a minor annoyance.  While they could still remember Luke as a charming, intelligent ladies man, they now simultaneously accepted him as their horny, himbo friend who couldn’t keep his hands, or mouth, off their dicks.

Despite the altered memories already confirming the new reality of their situation, the first thing Matt and Nate had done was run off to inspect Luke’s room.  As they’d feared, and now recalled,  instead of clothing normally worn by an athletic man in his early twenties, they’d discovered a wardrobe that had seemingly been reduced in time with Luke’s new attention span.  The fit brunette literally no longer owned a shirt, with only a small array of shell necklaces taking their place, while his pants and boxers had become a bright collection of tiny shorts, speedos, and revealing underwear.  Luke couldn’t walk around in public the way he did at home, but he could, and now frequently did, strut right up to the line, getting away with a level of exposure that would land anyone else in jail.

It had been a dizzying few days.  Matt still caught himself feeling like he should try to stop Luke whenever the other man went for him, but he never actually did.  Even that first day, the burly blonde had only lasted an hour before his eager friend had fished his stout, wide cock free, dropping to his knees and vigorously blowing him in the middle of their small living room.  It hadn’t even occurred to him that they should go somewhere private; he’d simply let his friend have his way with him, treating the whole thing with a kind of grudging acceptance.  That Nate was seated on the nearby couch with an unobstructed view was just a fact of life, a lesson that Matt learned for himself only a short time later when he emerged from his room to find the wiry, ruddy-haired man bare from the waist down, hammering into Luke’s muscled cheeks in the narrow upstairs hallway.

Even in the moment, even after crossing the line with Luke himself, Matt knew it should have been a jarring sight.  Seeing Nate’s tight, toned body draped against the bigger brunette’s back, the smaller man’s perky, soccer-player cheeks dimpling and bouncing as he pumped his hips like a piston, should have been inconceivable.  Being a group of virile, athletic young men sharing a house during grad school, they’d grown accustomed to a certain level of exposure.  Accidentally walking in on someone jerking off, or groggily stumbling around in tented underwear first thing in the morning, was expected to a degree.  And while drunken horseplay sometimes took things further, none of them had been the kind of guy who’d wanted to fuck in front of his friends, or make masturbating a group project.

Yet, suddenly, all of that had changed.  A side effect of Luke’s ravenous new appetites and unburdened existence was a shared level of exposure.  It wasn’t just Luke’s dick that Matt had become intimately familiar with.  The stocky stud was still amazed at how commonplace the sight of Nate’s spurting rod had become, as well as the ecstatic expression on the wiry man’s face and the sounds of his grunting whimpers.  He knew the same could be said for himself, that Nate had seen more of his pudgy pole in action than ever before, but neither of them could do anything with that knowledge.  They’d even seen their friend Greg in all his glory, when what should have been a routine night of drinking and movies turned into the dark-haired hunk having his impressively long dick sucked for hours.  The mediterranean meathead was like a rugged version of Luke, his brooding features and burly bulk driving the brunette wild.  Greg hadn’t just found his bottoms stripped free but his tank-top as well, leaving the muscled stud bare and blushing while the giddy brunette alternated between working his dick and lapping at his plump pecs.  They’d all known how odd it was, but they were all silently bound under the same spell as soon as Luke walked into the room.

After the odd few days, Matt had hoped some distance would clear his head.  He’d gone to the gym in an attempt to burn the confusion away, but no amount of aching muscles could distract him from the odd desires.  In a way, the musky haven only made things worse, as the furry blonde kept catching himself staring at the other guys, wondering what they’d look like taking a turn with his altered friend.  The constant lack of inhibition had also already had an impact, as the stocky stud found himself lounging with his bulky body on display in the locker room, sauna and showers, not even thinking twice when his log of a cock went hard.  He’d been mortified when he’d finally followed another man’s eyes to his waist and saw the rigid club beneath his hairy muscle gut, but other than a light shade of pink draping across his blunt, square features, he might as well have been with Nate at home.

His attempted hookup hadn’t gone well either.  Though he was shorter and more unrefined than his friends, the buff blonde never had any difficulty landing an interested partner.  It may not have happened as quickly as it did for the hunky Luke or the charming, boy-next-door Nate, but it would always happen.  That night, though, Matt had felt like he was swimming upstream.  By the time he did meet an interested young redhead he’d gotten so drunk that he’d only made it as far as her couch before passing out cold.

He’d snuck out as soon as he’d woken up, hoping the early morning hours would mean that his roommates were still asleep.  And while he’d been hopeful at finding the house dark and quiet, as soon as he’d crept up the stairs and turned the corner Luke had been waiting for him.  Matt hadn’t even tried to deny his friend, telling himself that he was frustrated and horny and just wanted to get off and go back to bed, but now, as he listened to the brunette describe his drastically altered existence as things merely being “fuzzy,” he regretted his decision.

“Too bad that’s the only thing fuzzy about you, bro. You’d look hot with fur like mine,” Matt said, absently running a hand across his bare, burly torso.  He gripped one of his slab-like pecs and gave it a squeeze, pursing his lips.

Luke responded by giving one of his low, drunken laughs.  “Nah, bud.  You’re the little teddy bro…that’s all you.”

It wasn’t until Matt heard himself responding with the same dull chuckle that he realized something was wrong.  “Wa…wait…where’d my shirt go?  Wasn’t I wearing a…” he asked, his heart racing as he looked down at his exposed barrel of a torso.

“You’re asking me?” Luke laughed again, shrugging.  “Fuck if I know,” he said, running his hands up the furry trunks that were Matt’s legs.

The blonde groaned at the sensation of his friend’s strong fingers gliding up his hairy quads before the discrepancy registered, and Matt gasped at the sight of his bare, sturdy legs hanging exposed from a pair of ridiculously small denim cutoffs.  The stocky stud was certain that he’d been wearing jeans, but somehow the pants had traveled so far up his legs that the bottoms of the pockets hung equally exposed, and they’d become so tight that there was no way the open waist would ever come close to concealing the stuffed pouch of the bright purple thong that had replaced his boxers.  “Fuck!  Wait…what’s…like, what happened to my shit, bro,” the blonde stammered, squirming as he felt the simultaneous sensations of open air on his mostly-exposed cheeks and the thin string wedged between them.  Instead of poking through the fly of a pair of boxers, his fat cock and heavy, churning balls spilled from the bright pouch that Luke had simply pushed aside.  And instead of alarmed by the discovery, he merely sounded amused and confused, which, terrifyingly, was also all he felt.  “Dude…bro…is, like, something happening?!”  Matt’s head spun as he looked around his room, his stomach dropping when he saw discarded bikinis and tiny little shorts like the ones Luke normally wore in place of his regular dirty laundry.  It was clear what was happening, he knew he was somehow becoming like his friend, but trying to hold onto a single thought for any length of time was already like trying to grab a fistful of water.  “I…I gotta…” he sputtered, forcing himself away from Luke’s luscious lips in a titanic display of his remaining willpower.

Matt stumbled into the hall and shook his head, as if the action would somehow clear the fog cementing itself around his thoughts.  He could feel the shell necklace that had formed around his wide neck, and he tried to ignore the sensation of his bare, meaty cheeks rubbing directly against the tight denim instead of his usual underwear as he forced himself down the hall to Nate’s room.  He clung to the idea of his friend like a life preserver, hoping that the other man could somehow help him or stop what was happening.

Even in his dazed state, Matt knew the horrifyingly familiar, horrifyingly dull, laughter coming from the other side of Nate’s door was a bad sign.  “Dudes!  What the fuck, bros,” he cried when he flung it open to find his wiry, auburn-haired roommate getting pummeled by Greg.  His friend looked like a toned twunk in his hot pink jockstrap and matching shell necklace, the exposed, perky cheeks rippling as the raven-haired hunk hammered into them.

“Matt!  Like, omigod, bro, where’ve you been, bud?  You’ve been missing out,” Nate said, his voice punctuated by the bigger man’s vigorous thrusting.

“But…but what…” Matt grunted, forcing the words out even as he reached down and started tugging away on himself.  “...what…happened to us…”

“Fuck if…I know…dude…” Greg hissed, his wide jaw slack with ecstasy as he spoke.  “I like, just came over last night to hang out and get my dick sucked.  But then, like…shit just…got wild,” he laughed.

“It was crazy, bro,” Nate said, nodding like a bobblehead.  “Our clothes were like…gone.  Just gone.  It was scary as shit, but then, like, everything just started to feel real good, you know?  Like, bro…getting fucked is great, dude!  Fuck…why didn’t I ever try a dick before?  Greg’s a fuckin’ beast too, bro!  Aren’t you, bud,” Nate asked, looking back at the determined stud.

“You know it, bro,” Greg cheered, leaning in for a long, sloppy kiss.  “Fuck you feel good, dude,” he groaned, reaching down to fish Nate’s cock from the cum-damp jockstrap.  “Gonna cum so hard bro,” he purred, pumping away on the smaller man’s oozing log.  “You gonna cum with me?”

“Fuck yeah I am, dude,” Nate grunted, his eyes wide.  “Oh fuck…bro…gonna…dick the…biggest load…outta me…”

“Bigger than my mouth did last night,” Greg asked, slowing his pace to a series of rough, deep thrusts.

“‘Bout to…find…outtttt…” Nate broke off in a hissing whimper, his cock erupting like a shotgun.  His wiry body was a sweat-soaked, glistening map of definition as he bucked and sprayed, his slack jaw slowly turning into a dim, dazed grin.  Behind him, Greg’s rugged features followed a similar trajectory as his every ample muscle tensed, held, and then slowly relaxed when his thick pole finally finished spraying into the smaller man’s perky bubble.

In the doorway, Matt had already forgotten about any attempts at finding help.  He’d already forgotten there was anything he even needed help with.  Luke had finally decided to come down the hall and join them, and just before his friends on the bed erupted, the buff brunette had slipped inside the stocky blonde.  As Matt stood writhing and grunting at the end of another man’s dick for the first time, his square, stubble-covered jaw hanging open in a mix of shocked bliss, he wasn’t thinking about Casters or spells-gone-wrong.  He wasn’t thinking about his altered future or the dazed, distracted new trajectory his life had taken.  He wasn’t even thinking about how they’d all be prancing around in bright, skimpy clothes, hopping from man to man as often as possible.

All he could think about was how right Nate had been.

************

Jordan shook so hard he thought his glasses would slip off the end of his long, sharp nose.  It was the moment the scrawny, would-be-Caster had been waiting for ever since his disastrous working the week before.  Some idiot jock had wanted to be even more appealing than he already was, and Jordan hadn’t quite been able to stick the landing.  He’d marshaled the appropriate arcane forces, he’d ripped a hole in reality, but then his thoughts had wandered.  Dumb jock.  Pretty idiot.  Horny closet case.  Years of being called a nerd and shoved into lockers and picked on because of his slender shape and bookish nature surged to the surface with unexpected intensity.

And just like that, disaster.  Jordan’s reality-bending abilities were still blossoming, he hadn’t fully mastered the mental discipline necessary for larger Castings, but that’s exactly why he’d been trying to practice in the first place.  If he wanted to land a spot with Casters Inc. and not wind up in a BMR colony he needed to be on top of his game.  He couldn’t risk registering as soon as his blood awakened and just let someone else decide.

So he’d been trying to quietly hone his abilities.  It was all surprisingly easy, and his skills had already grown exponentially while also earning a tidy sum for himself in the process, but now he was about to lose it all because of a few horny hunks gone wild.  To be fair, Jordan knew that “a few horny hunks gone wild” was actually a magical virus his own simmering resentments had unleashed, and that “one dumb jock” had now turned into a small army of scantily clad idiots fucking and flexing all over campus.

He’d tried to stop it, but it was already well beyond his control after only a few days.  He didn’t yet have the surgical precision of a seasoned Caster, and he hadn’t taken a scalpel to reality, but a hammer.  His next plan had been to try and skip town, and while he’d managed to make it two states over, Jordan realized the futility of his efforts when he walked through the door of his ratty motel and found himself instead stepping into an ornate office.  He wasn’t familiar with the skyline looming beyond the glass wall at the far side, but the imposing, well-dressed figure seated at the equally imposing desk was instantly recognizable.

“You do impressive work, young man.”  Jordan swallowed hard but still failed to find his voice.  The fact that he was suddenly face-to-face with Samuel Pitman, the very head of Casters Inc., was more than he could process at once.  The man at the desk smiled as he watched the newcomer squirm, his grin seeming almost out of place on his preternaturally perfect features and immaculate, bronze hair.  His age was impossible to distinguish, he could have been fifty or twenty, and he had a body that was equally ambivalent about labels, looking simultaneously trim and massive.  His aura was intimidating in its charm, and the nervous young man couldn’t decide whether he was terrified or turned on.  “You can speak, you know.  That was a simple teleportation spell, not a cone of silence,” Samuel said, his tone both disarming and intimidating.

“So…sorry,” Jordan finally stammered, a thin film of sweat beginning to soak through his clothes.  “This is just…if you know what I did, why am I not in a cell right now?”

Samuel’s sonorous laugh was almost painful in its impact.  “And waste all that potential because of a simple mistake?”

“But…but I…I messed up.  Bad,” Jordan said, refusing to try and make any excuses.  If he’d been effortlessly snatched into the head office of Casters Inc. he knew there was no point in anything but honesty.

Samuel nodded and shrugged.  “True.  Nothing we couldn’t clean up, however.  We have a running sweep for events like these…never know what kind of up-and-coming talent you’ll stumble across.  Trust me…I’ve seen much worse.”

Jordan felt the slightest sliver of relief.  “So you were able to undo it?”

“Undo?  No, not exactly.  The amount of effort it would have taken to fix them all one-by-one would have drawn far too much attention.  Your work was potent, though lacking in refinement.  The edges were too jagged.  This all spread because they kept tearing holes everywhere they went.  The final tally was thirty-three, by the way,” Samuel said, waiting for the number to sink in.

Jordan paled.  Instead of messing up one life, he’d messed up dozens.  “Oh…oh god…” he muttered, his knees going weak when it occurred to him just how bad it could have been.  “I think I need to…” he found himself seated across from Samuel’s desk before he finished the sentence, the other man’s overwhelming presence practically pressing him into the back of the chair.  “How did you…clean…it all up,” he asked, fearing the worst.

“Nothing so dramatic, I assure you,” Samuel said, letting out another laugh as he spun his monitor to the quaking youth.  “A few dozen people suddenly disappearing wouldn’t have gone unnoticed either.  Here’s your first official lesson: magic follows the path of least resistance.  Like water, it wants to flow.  All we had to do was take the groove you’d started and turn it into a proper channel.  To sand down those rough edges, as it were.  Like so.”

Jordan’s eyes went wide when the screen blinked to life and he found himself staring at a bevy of scantily clad men adorning the homepage of “Stud State University”.  Luke immediately stood out from the crowd since he was the only one Jordan actually knew, but along with him was a wide range of bare, masculine flesh in all manner of shape, size, age and race.  In addition to the young, sculpted jocks that normally filled such sites were their overweight or otherwise unassuming peers.  Though it all started with guys like Luke and his friends, once unleashed the contagion hadn’t sought out specific men, but all of them, leading to images like the one of an older doughy man tenting out his bright bikini briefs next to a naked stud with broad shoulders and piston arms seated in a wheelchair.  Jordan vaguely recognized the older man from around campus as a professor, while the handsome hunk using the chair appeared to be in his thirties, with the main commonality between the various men being the same dull grin on all their faces.   “But…but…they can’t just be stuck like that!  There has to be something we can do,” Jordan cried, a fresh wave of guilt slamming into him.

“Given how things began, this was the simplest option.  We managed to sweep it under the rug before it landed on the BMR’s radar, and we were able to polish it up well enough that there won’t be any lingering questions afterwards.  Whatever they were before, this is what they are now.”  Samuel nodded to the screen as the rotating slideshow landed on a picture of a stunning dark-skinned stud blissfully bouncing up and down on a heavy-set man’s broad, soft lap, both of them beaming.  “If it’s any consolation, everyone’s happy, healthy and well looked after.  Honestly, between the site, the “SSU” merchandise, and the events at the various “Stud State” houses, they’re all doing remarkably well for themselves.  You’ve given many of them a chance at a life they never would have had otherwise.  One man’s nightmare is another’s dream come true,” Samuel said, raising a hand to cut off Jordan’s protest before it could start.  “This is the cost, young man.  If it makes you uncomfortable…good.  Never forget this feeling, and never do it again.  We expect better of our employees.”

It took a moment for the imposing man’s statement to sink in.  “Wait…your what?”

Samuel stood and reached a hand across the desk.  “Welcome aboard.”