Date: Sun, 29 Jan 2006 10:52:10 -0800 (PST)
From: Alistair Bentley <xformguy@yahoo.com>
Subject: Headshop-Neighbors-Chapter 3-Rabbit Hole

Headshop: Neighbors
Chapter 3: Rabbit Hole

By Xformguy@yahoo.com


Cameron pressed himself against the door, his panic rising as the creature
that was his best-friend Duane brayed at him, clearly out of control of
himself. Duane stomped around on huge black hooves in frustration and his
eyes watered as his mouth and neck strained to produce the huge sound.
Cameron could not believe that Duane, usually so meek-mannered and gentle
despite his size, could make such a voluminous sound.

Hearing the sounds Duane made, Cameron found himself grunting equally
controllably. He removed his knit cap and let his ears flare outward. When
Duane's bray drooled itself down Duane oriented back at Cameron and the
anguish in his face brought Cameron down from his panic.

Duane and he had been friends for years, having met at work and hit it
off. They watched one another go through several relationships with women
that rose and fell, and commiserated with one another over beers and
work-outs. They had made a real difference in each others' lives and it
caused Cameron real pain to see Duane so distressed and so deformed.

Duane saw Cameron's ears and focused on Cameron's snout and this shocked
him out of his own freak out. "Cam? Cam?" he said, his voice thick and
sluggish, "He got to you too?"

"A . . . (grunt) . . . different one," Cameron said, holding up his
two-fingered hands and gesturing at his ears, "That fag. . .  (grunt)
. . . down the . . . (grunt) . . . hall."

"Oh god!" Duane exclaimed, "Why are they doing this to us?" Duane folded
his back legs underneath him and sat down heavily, giving Cameron a view of
his cock and balls. Cameron blinked and couldn't resist the flood of images
that struck through his mind. Whatever had happened to Duane had expanded
his nuts to the size of baseballs and his cock . . . his cock was enormous
and thick, almost as thick as Cameron's forearm. It hung, attached to
Duane's belly, a tube of furry meat.

Cameron wanted it. His mind fixated on it instantly. He thought of holding
it, watching it expand into a monstrous, animal thing. He imagined tasting
it, forcing the wide head into his mouth, letting his tongue roam over it,
stimulating . . .

Cameron balled his hands into fists and pressed them against his head. It
was his best friend he was imaging violating. The chemical in his system -
- whatever Brandon had given him - - was forcing him into these thoughts,
these fantasies. He resisted, but still they seeped in between every one of
his rational thoughts.

"You have to fuck me!" Duane said. He stood clumsily and reoriented his ass
toward Cameron. While his legs were half-transformed into donkey hooves,
his ass was still the one Cameron had seen in the gym many times. It was
rounded and muscular, with deep indents on the sides where his workout had
paid off. Now, it was covered in light gray fur and had a rope-like tail
attached at the top of the crack. Duane's tail swung upward and his cheeks
parted and Cameron was looking at the pink bud of Duane's asshole.

"NO!" Cameron said, propelling himself off the door and away from his
mutated friend. The thought of this was even more disturbing than blowing
him and even more "out there" from Cameron's experience with guys. As much
as he'd never had the desire to touch or blow another man's cock, the
thought of shoving his own inside another man was unthinkable.

"He said," Duane wailed, lumbering over to him again, "He said I have to be
fucked to change back."

Cameron sat down at Duane's dinette set and refused to look at his
friend. This was all too much and he felt himself getting light-headed
again. He felt as if he was in a bad nightmare watching himself and Duane
from outside his body. He wanted to wake up, but the soft grunting he felt
vibrating in his sinuses told him he wasn't going to wake up.

"They . . . (grunt) . . . told me . . . (grunt) . . . I have to
. . . (grunt) . . .swallow your load," Cameron told Duane, "We're both
. . . (grunt) . . . trapped."

There was silence except for Cameron's uncontrollable grunting and they
both considered this. Brandon and the Latino boy had done a number on
them. They had set this up to make Cameron and Duane have sex with one
another or to be stuck as these barnyard creatures. He didn't understand
why they had done this; who could be this vile? How could they have this
much disregard for morality or ethics?

Cameron felt the cool linoleum on his forehead and felt his fleshy snout
pressed against the smooth surface. The wave of nausea and light-headedness
had passed and he was looking at his two huge fingers on his right hand. He
felt is tusks with his tongue. He found images of cocks floating through
his head with such strength that it momentarily overwhelmed his rational
mind. This was all really happening to them both.

And they were each other's way out. The only other choices they had were to
wait for Brandon and the Latino boy to come back - - and this thought
turned his stomach - - or find strangers to do it. Neither of these were
acceptable to Cameron, and he surmised, to Duane.

Cameron pulled his head off the table and looked at Duane, his human
expression framed by the ridiculous donkey ears. "Please," Duane pleaded,
"I can't stay like this."

Cameron reached out and touched Duane's face, putting his palm against
Duane's cheek, feeling the gray beard hair that clung there. He felt
something now for Duane, an emotion he had a hard time parsing out, but it
was something he'd never felt for another man before. There was a
connection between them that had just been friendship, but was not moving
into something more powerful and fundamental. He loved Duane, but not on a
level of romance. It was intimate, but not necessarily sexual. This
experience was bonding them together as brothers.

"Please," Duane muttered.

"We have . . . (grunt) . . . to help . . . (grunt) . . . each other,"
Cameron said. Duane considered this and understood. He nodded his assent
and Cameron stood up, trying to puzzle out how to make all this happen.

Cameron stalled. He wasn't sure how to start having sex with his best
friend - - the animal deformities making that harder still. He bent down,
still sitting in the chair, and untied his shoe laces with his strange
fingers. He fumbled with them, but eventually got both shoes off. He swiped
both socks off his feet too, then stood and shucked his shirt. He did all
of these things slowly, deliberately stalling the inevitable. His shirt got
stuck on his stupid ears and he wrangled with it until he got it free.

Duane had retreated a little, watching Cameron undress. It was difficult to
tell, but Duane seemed nearly as freaked out as Cameron. Knowing he needed
to get fucked - - to have a load of cum dumped inside him - - was one
thing, but actually participating in it was another.

Cameron unbuckled his jeans and pushed both them and his boxer briefs
down. He stepped out of them both and stood before Duane, flaccid and
piggish. Duane's eyes settled on Cameron's deformed cock, which hung down 9
soft inches, in a corkscrew. He'd been naked in front of Duane countless
times after a shower at the gym, but there was something insulating about
the locker room environment, something safer than being naked in the living
room of your friend whom you intended to fuck.

Cameron was suddenly embarrassed, and he found his hands drifting in front
of his genitals. He felt himself flush red and he had the sudden urge to
put his clothes back on and bolt. He had always been proud of his body. It
was lean and solid, with curves in the right places, groomed patches of
body hair that he never let out of control. He didn't have any weird scars
and, thanks to the tanning bed, wasn't fish pale. Looking down at himself,
he knew he was currently a mess, with all the black hair dusting his skin
from head to toe, the gross physical deformities themselves, and his
crestfallen stance. Maybe it was part of what was happening in his brain,
but he felt utterly humiliated standing there naked.

Cameron swallowed it. It was hard, but he knew that Duane must surely feel
the same, after all, he was naked and deformed, too. He pushed the emotion
down into his gut. He knew what needed to be done. He padded over to Duane
on his bare feet, then, knelt.

In sight of Duane's donkey cock, a hairy, sheathed bundle of flesh, the
sexual images in Cameron's head reared back to life in full
measure. Whereas before, Cameron had fought it, this time he allowed it to
happen. He turned his intellect away from what must be done. He needed to
be a full human being again. He needed it on a paramount level. He would do
anything - - and this was it.

Cameron reached out and grabbed Duane's cock. He leaned into it,
half-crawling underneath Duane's donkey frame, and pushed his pig snout
into the opening of the sheath. Grunting harder now, he inhaled the scent
of Duane's cock. He smelled an echo of Brandon's crotch - - not having a
comparison point, he wondered if cocks and crotches all smelled vaguely the
same - - but it was mixed with a heavy does of musky funk, the animal that
Duane was becoming.

Duane's bulk shifted around over him and he let out a hoarse sigh at
Cameron's ministrations. Slowly, Duane's enormous cock got hard, poking its
way out of the sheath bit by bit. Cameron gave a relieved sigh when he saw
that, except for it's size, it was a human shaped cock. The images in
Cameron's head didn't include beastiality, so he was thankful he wasn't
actually going to have to blow a donkey.

Cameron's body just wasn't big enough to fully blow what had become of
Duane's cock. When it reached full size, it had to be least two-feet long
and so thick that Cameron's fingers didn't fully close around it. He jacked
Duane's shaft in a sexual haze, slathering over the glans with his tongue
and grunting constantly. His own cock had gotten fully hard now and he had
felt it turning over and over on itself as it corkscrewed, but he didn't
dare touch it. Cameron was mesmerized by Duane's cock, the largest he had
ever seen and would ever see. He rubbed his face against it, worshiped it
with his tongue, jacked it hard and fast, then soft and slowly - - to
pleasing sighs from Duane.

Cameron was already close to shooting - - he was worshipping the god of
cocks - - but a sliver of him knew that he needed to save it to help
Duane. When a dollop of pre-cum oozed from the tip of Duane's cock, Cameron
lapped it up and was moved to state of arousal that was nearly
apoplectic. He had had good sex before, sex where he and his partner's body
moved perfectly in synch and each telltale movement brought pleasure to
both of them. Sex where emotions ran high and he had been lost to desire,
barely in control of his own actions. What happened then, when Cameron
tasted Duane's juice, shoved him past those experiences roughly, as if he'd
been shoved off a speeding truck.

Cameron's mind shut down his body took over completely. He was lost to a
deluge of real physical sensation and those of his fantasies intermingling
in a complex tapestry that blinded him from himself. He sucked Duane. He
worshiped cock. He loved his friend. He did all these things with an
intellectual and emotional abandon that scared him. He wanted to be able to
blame the chemical shit in his system for what he felt, but it was so
overwhelming that he wondered if he could.

Duane was breathing hard, his chest was heaving, and sweat was pouring off
of him, giving him a rank, barnyard odor that only enticed Cameron's
piggish mind further. Duane started thrusting his huge cock toward
Cameron's mouth and Cameron wished he could get it all into his throat. He
tried as he might, and managed to get the huge glans into his mouth. A
steady stream of pre-cum was flowing into Cameron's throat and he was
gulping it with every thrust.

"ohman," Daune said in his hoarse voice, "ohfuck." He clopped his hooves
wider and thrust harder toward Cameron's mouth. Duane hung his head down,
panting hard, his face and chest flushed, "shit, shit," he said, "yeah
. . ."

Cameron worked harder, but after minutes passed, it became clear that Duane
was having trouble topping over. Cameron was desperate. He needed Duane's
juice and the pig noises he was making were growing louder in volume the
more the worked Duane's huge cock. While Duane was red-faced and panting,
it wasn't quite enough. Cameron's memories of their talks at the pub
resurfaced briefly and he remembered once when they'd talked about sex with
their women. Duane had admitted something to him in a beer induced haze.

Cameron reached down to Duane's nuts, each testicle the size of one of
Cameron's fists held in a tight sack of gray-furred flesh. He wrapped his
hand around the sack, pushing both nuts to the bottom and pulled on
it. Duane's breathing stopped and for a second, Cameron thought that maybe
he'd pulled too hard. Duane's face was a crimson mask of pain or pleasure
or both. Cameron worked the shaft with his other hand.

"ohgod. ohGOD! ohGAW . .  HAW . . . HEE HAW . . ." Duane began braying at
the top of his lung and Cameron was finally rewarded with a mouthful of his
spunk. He swallowed it reflexively, but before he could be satisfied,
another came, and another, and another. Duane was shooting a donkey-sized
load into him. Ropes of jism were being blasted into his mouth and throat
. . . so much volume he couldn't keep up with it. The cock-mania kept him
on Duane's rod and Cameron realize he couldn't let go even if he wanted to,
which he did. The cum spurted out of his mouth coating his chest, legs and
the carpet.

When the sensations became too much for Duane, he clomped away from
Cameron, catching his breath. Cameron, completely out of control, was
running his hands over his body, collecting Duane's cum and shoving it into
his mouth. He bent down and snorted it off the carpet, grunting furiously
as he did.

Cameron stopped when the pain hit. He felt Duane's come ripple through him
roughly. In the middle of the room, on his hands and knees, he
shuddered. The super-fingers on both hands suddenly split in half in a
crunch of bone as if someone had used a hammer and chisel. The tusks felt
like they were being drilled into his lower jaw and he let out a cry that
was less pig and more human for a change. His cock unswirled with a
deliberate force, like a spring-loaded window-shade being released. He fell
over on his back when this happened and looked down at his cock - - it had
returned to the 6-inch pink spike he remembered, completely untwisted. Then
he felt like someone hit him in the face with a shovel and his cry of pain
was completely human.

Cameron lay there panting, still shining with sweat and glazed with Duane's
jism. Slowly, the pain subsided and feeling returned to his limbs. Cameron
got to his feet, aware that Duane was watching him closely, and shuffled to
the bathroom, using the walls for support as he went. He examined himself
in Duane's mirror, checking every inch of himself. He'd returned to normal,
everything had reversed itself, including the tail. He strange coating of
black hair flaked off his skin wherever he touched it and this sent Cameron
into a frenzy where he ran his hands over every square inch of himself,
dislodging the animal hair and leaving a halo of it on the floor around
where he stood.

He looked at himself in the mirror, panting in a stunned shock at
everything that had happened. Whatever had affected Cameron's mind had also
faded, leaving him woeful disgusted at himself and what had occurred. He'd
blown his friend - - his half-donkey friend - - and was covered in a layer
of Duane's shot.

Cameron jumped to the toilet and hovered over it, retching. The thought of
a pint of cum in his stomach made him nauseous, despite his best
efforts. He retched a couple of times, but then the wave subside. He
immediately got into the shower and turned on the water, sluicing off the
slime that coated him.

"Are you okay?" Duane called from the doorway.

"I'm fine, Duane," Cameron called, "Back to normal. Give me a minute."

"You're still going to fuck me?" Duane asked desperately, "I can't stay
this way."

Cameron heard the desperation in his voice, gravelly and distorted that it
was. He understood Duane's situation - - he'd just been in it himself - -
and as strange as it was to his mind now, he would fuck Duane, he would
dump his cum in Duane, to turn him back into a normal person. It freaked
him out though. "Yes," Cameron answered after a pause, "I
will. Just. . . give me a minute, okay?"

"Okay." He heard Duane's hoofed steps tromp off down the hall.

Cameron stood in the water wishing this entire experience could wash off
him. It was late by now and he his body was as sore as his mind was
tired. This was all so much to deal with and he felt like he'd fallen down
the proverbial "rabbit hole" to a place where his normal choices didn't
apply. He wanted to sleep and, in the shower, he felt the fatigue catch up
with him heavily - - probably the adrenaline wearing off.

Cameron soaped himself up and down, then rinsed in the hot water. He stood
with the stream hitting the back of his neck for a couple of minutes, the
shuddered at the memory of what he'd done. He soaped himself completely
again, and rinsed off again. He wondered sourly if he'd ever feel clean
again. At least now the sweat and the donkey shot was off his skin. Cameron
knew that Duane was waiting - - and in serous angst while he did - - so he
turned the shower off, dried off, and padded out into the living room,
sheepishly covering his cock with his hand.

Duane perked up immediately and before he could say anything, Cameron waved
him silent. They both knew what needed to happen and, at this point,
Cameron didn't want to discuss it. He looked at his friend, muscular,
hoofed, and covered in gray hair, and he circled behind him, breathing hard
to quell his anxiety. He stood behind Duane, looking at Duane's bubble
butt, covered in gray hair and sporting a ropy tail that flailed about
expectantly. Duane was breathing hard too, taking in expectant gulps of
hair and swallowing them with a subtle whine of anticipation.

Cameron closed his eyes and started to jack himself. Despite that he wasn't
feeling sexual now at all, he worked hard to get himself in the mood,
coaxing an erection out of is cock by remembering past encounters with the
many women he'd had in the past 37 years. He focused on their bodies, the
acts they performed, the beautiful feeling of penetrating them. Unlike the
last several hours, no images of cocks popped into his mind; he imagined
his own cock only.

When he had himself hard, he opened his eyes and reached out to touch
Duane's firm, furred ass. It was muscular and flexed under his palm. He
took a breath and followed the crack with his finger until he touched
Duane's hole, feeling the soft lips. He circled them, letting both Duane
and himself get comfortable with the idea. Cameron had never touched
another man's asshole and was surprised to find it so . . . so
. . . supple? He didn't quite have the words to describe it. He found
Duane's hole already slick with lube - - and suppressed the idea that this
was a holdover from the Latino guys - - and his index finger slid
inside. Duane sighed a throaty animal noise. Cameron pumped his finger in
and out a few times, hoping to work Duane open, but he found Duane's hole
tight but flexible. He was ready.

Cameron stood behind him, nervous. He didn't want to hurt Duane and had
trouble reconciling that sticking his cock inside of Duane wouldn't hurt
him. He jacked himself to full mast, then raised up on his toes and lined
himself up with Duane's hole.

"do it, do it, do it . . ." Duane was repeating. Cameron couldn't read
Duane's feelings on this - - was he horrified? Dreading the contact? Was he
just enduring it? There was something in his voice that wanted it
badly. Was it only because it would change him back into a man?

Cameron put the head of his cock against Duane's hole and pushed. He was so
nervous that his hands were shaking. He felt light-headed again, as his
cock started to slide into Duane. Duane's hole parted around his cock,
forming a tight seal and Duane grunted in what might have been satisfaction
or pain, he couldn't tell which. He pushed himself completely inside of
Duane and perched on the balls of his feet uneasily, putting his weight on
his friend. Duane's back leg kicked a little and Cameron felt the motion
work through Duane's ass muscles around his cock.

Cameron slid out and pumped back in one time, the sensation superficially
pleasurable, but tainted with the freak out that was forming in his gut. He
was fucking his best friend. He was fucking a man. He closed his eyes and
tried to think of women, of any of the many sexual encounter's he'd had
with women, from the gentle to the rough to the kinky. He imagined himself
fucking Gracie in the public bathroom at a pub whose name he couldn't
remember. He imagined himself easing into Megan's warm slit as they lay
beneath blankets on a cold night, how they had just lain there, entangled
for the longest time before he started pumping. He imagined and imagined,
but nothing could cancel the fact that his palms were holding Duane's furry
bubble butt.

Cameron's erection died and he was eventually trying to pump into Duane
with a limp cock. He tried to jack it back to full mast, but it wasn't
happening. Cameron sighed and took a step away from his friend. Duane
sniffed loudly; he might have been crying. Cameron didn't look; he wanted
to give Duane some measure of dignity. They stood there for several
minutes, Cameron trying hard to put aside what was happening and just
concentrated himself to an erection.

"Wait . . . Hayyyyayyyyayyyy," Duane brayed suddenly, "The guy. He left a
cock ring. On the coffee table."

Cameron saw it. It was heavy and silver and still looked slick with the
lube from the small bottle that sat next to it. He shuddered a little at
the thought of wearing another man's cock ring, but he'd also already had
this argument in his head. He and Duane both knew what needed to happen. He
strode over and picked up the ring. It was chrome with smooth, rounded
edges, was fairly thick, and had a Celtic pattern engraved on it. Cameron
had used cock rings before, but they had been the rubber kind; he fumbled
with the metal one.

When he'd gotten his nuts through the ring and then shoved his soft cock
through it, he realized it was too big around to really work. It wasn't
going to constrict him enough. Then, Cameron's eyes widen and a sinking
feeling came over him. The metal tightened around the base him, as if it
had just shrank spontaneously.

"Fuck," he said quietly.

Duane looked over, hope in his eyes. His frown soften as he saw Cameron's
cock start to harden.

"I think this is a problem," Cameron said. He pulled at the ring, but the
more he tried to take it off, the more it seemed to tighten around his cock
and balls, until it was nearly painful. The more it tightened, the harder
his cock got until it arched up from his crotch, a pink spike curved toward
his belly.

"It's working," Duane countered.

"I can't . . ." Cameron muttered, tugging at it, ". . . get it. . . off."
He tried several times, altering his footing and trying to grip it with
either hand. It was slick from the lube and he couldn't quite get his
fingernails under it. "Duane . . . shit . . . it's stuck."

"Please, man," Duane begged, "please . . ."

Cameron looked at his friend and nodded. Duane was right. He was hard. He
might as well not waste it. He got behind Duane again and lined himself up,
balancing his hands on Duane's haunches and rising up on his feet again. He
slid inside.

Something had changed. Cameron's cock vibrated once it was inside Duane. It
tingled and pleasure radiated around the head and up the shaft with such
intensity that Cameron gasped. Despite that part of him KNEW that this was
another unnatural effect from those two faggots, with their slime and their
cock rings, Cameron didn't care in the moment. He thrust into Duane once,
relishing the feel of his sphincter as it closed around his cock and
massaged his shaft.

He started fucking in earnest, bucking into his friends body with a growing
abandon. He moaned as his cock radiated pleasure, as his body tingled with
the exertion, and as his face and head flushed with blood. Duane's massive
body absorbed Cameron's thrusts effortlessly and soon enough, Duane was
panting in synch with Cameron. They both were muttering well-meant curses
under their breath. Every few strokes, Duane's tail would pulse reflexively
and slap Cameron in the chest.

"Feels different. . .," Duane said, " . . . that when you first entered
me. . .god, god, god. . ."

"For . . . me . . . too," Cameron confirmed between panting grunts. "I'm
getting there," he said, "Not far . . ."

And to his surprise, Cameron was getting there. He was fucking his friend
and lost completely in the physical sensations of it. He wasn't thinking
about women or other men, only the now. His cock was humming with pleasure
and his body was panting with it, giving off sweat and pre-cum in veritable
sheets.

He felt his orgasm rising up inside him and he couldn't talk. He grunted
and moan and Cameron fucked harder. He slammed into his friend, knowing it
was completely out of control; he couldn't stop or slow down now if he
wanted to. He wanted to relish this feeling, but it was too late. He was
driving toward an orgasm that couldn't be stopped or slowed. He drove
himself right over the edge without any warning or preamble, and he
shot. He shot and he shot and he barely slowed down the fucking to do
it. He pumped until the sensations were driving him nuts and then he pulled
out, falling backward onto his ass as he did.

Cameron sat there panting, his cock slick and throbbing - - and not showing
the slightest hint of subsiding. He watched as Duane's form started to
shake and shudder with a force the exploded inside him. Slowly, Duane
started to change.