City of Bears: The Skin Between Us
published June 19, 2018
Trey is Changing, and losing his ability to relate to the City around him. A stranger tries to help him resist it, but the City is old, its magic strange, and consequences can be dire.
Trey didn’t want to admit it, but he was miserable. He hadn’t always been miserable, after all, he hadn’t even always been this self, just like everyone in the city, but he couldn’t remember ever being so tired of himself in such a long time, and he didn’t even think he’d been…this for very long. He was in front of the mirror again, wishing he wasn’t, looking at himself, looking at everything he…detested about himself, about this self. He hated being this age–too old to be a cub, too young to be a bear or a daddy–he hated his pudgy gut and thin arms. He wanted to be hairier, he wanted to bald a little, he wanted…well, perhaps that was the problem. He didn’t want this, but he didn’t know what he could want instead. He lived in a city where he could be anyone, anyone other than this, and yet, he didn’t want to be…anyone else. He didn’t know what he wanted, and that made everything so much worse.
He had work the next morning, and he knew he shouldn’t go out, but he wanted to anyway, because he knew if he laid down, he wouldn’t be able to sleep. Instead, he would just think about everything else, about everyone else, about himself, and how he wished he could be anyone else, and wondering how everyone else managed to be happy, and wondering most of all if he’d ever be happy again, and wondering how long he was going to be alone, now, because most of all, he’d lie in bed thinking about Willis.
Because that’s what hurt the worst–that he was alone now. So many men in the city, so many men he wanted, and…none of them seemed to want him at all. Because all of this wasn’t even really about him, he supposed, it was about Willis. It would have been easier, he supposed, if Willis had Changed, when he’d left him a few weeks prior. Trey would have loved to have something to blame other than himself, but as it was, he had nothing else, and he knew it. It was his fault. He’d been so…content. Everything had seemed so easy–Willis had been so…empty to him. Someone he could put all of his desires on, someone who seemed to have endless patience and appetite. At times, Willis had thought of him as a doll, as a thing he possessed, as something he could fool and toy with, something for his pleasure first and foremost. He’d thought he was into it, honestly–he’d seemed to like it…but looking back, how could he have missed the rifts between them? He’d been so focused on how he’d seen him, that he’d missed…everything else. Willis had been pulling away, but Trey assured himself he would always be there–after all, didn’t Trey own him? Then he was gone, he’d lost everything, every bit of himself he’d put into him, and Trey didn’t know what to do anymore. Trey didn’t know who he was anymore.
It had been a blow, he could admit that now. He’d been so…happy as himself, but he hadn’t ever bothered to notice how much he’d needed someone else with him, until they were gone. Someone to be a mirror, to hold his reflection in place, to keep him steady. Slowly, he had found himself Changing. He lost the age, he lost the confidence, he lost the gusto and fur and muscle. He lost everything, and without it, who was he, really? Without Willis holding him in place, how could he be anyone? He was just a loser. Secretly, he wondered if this thing he was becoming was who he’d been this entire time, even with Willis–if Willis had been the magic in him all along. He knew he needed to apologize, he knew that he needed to acknowledge that he’d been cruel. Facing him like this, showing him who he really was filled him with dread, but what other choice did he have?
He knew this was a bad idea, that lying in bed at least wouldn’t destroy his ego utterly, but he got dressed and made his way through the streets to Cubsters, where he knew Willis would be, because that’s where Willis always was these days. He’d followed him through the night enough times to know that. Walking the streets was its own torture, mostly because he felt like he was invisible. Nothing he was now, was going to be enough for any of the men around him. He got the side-eye at the bar from the bouncer–Trey wasn’t really a bear, and he wasn’t really a cub, but he got waved in anyway. He didn’t feel like he deserved to be there though. Once he was inside, all of his insecurities come roaring back, all over again. He didn’t belong here, he should be back in his room. He could watch some porn and jack off a few times–that always made him feel better. He shook that urge off, knowing it wouldn’t end well, and then pushed through the crowd of young, sweaty cubs shaking and dancing to the throbbing music. It had always been infectious, the few times he’d come here before, but now, it just felt…loud and uncomfortable. He’d rather just be home, stroking off, feeling shitty about himself stroking off and…maybe ordering in a few pizzas…
He ordered himself something mild at the bar. He needed to stay…normal, if he was going to do this right. He staked out a table on the upper floor, where he could scan the crowd and look for his ex, and try and script something out in his head that would make…sense. But why was he even here, anyway? What was he hoping to get out of this? Did…he want to get Willis back, or was he just trying to get himself back? He couldn’t even really remember who he’d been before all of this, and he could feel it all slipping away faster by the day. But he did like watching, didn’t he? Yeah, he definitely liked watching guys fuck, hell, he liked it more than fucking now. It was the kind of thing a loser like him would enjoy. He slipped a hand into his shorts, seeing a cub get bent over a pool table down below, another guy coming behind him to fuck him…but he pulled his eyes away. He wasn’t here for that. He was here to apologize, he was here to try and…stop this.
He kept scanning the crowd, and told himself he’d give it another half an hour before he abandoned the venture, went home, jacked off a few times, and fell asleep. He didn’t know whether to be relieved or terrified when Willis finally walked through the door of the club, but the dial went to terrified and ashamed when he saw Willis head for a group of other cubs and start making out with…all of them. This had been a mistake. This whole thing had been such a terrible, terrible idea, and he knew that, but what had he really imagined might happen? How was this ever going to end, between that handsome fucker he’d lost and the loser he could feel himself becoming every moment? He should just leave. Not even this would last forever, he knew that, but now he knew, for sure, that he deserved it. But what was there back at his apartment? Just his computer screen. Just porn and misery and the fact he found himself enjoying both of those more and more each time he came. He went downstairs but didn’t head for the door. Instead he went to the bar, and ordered something strong. He chugged it, and when it was gone, he didn’t know who he was, and that was exactly who he wanted to be–anyone other than who he was slowly becoming.
He could be someone else, he could be this person. In one of the mirrored walls, he checked himself out, and he looked…good. He looked like a handsome cub, manly but soft in all the right places, hungry and desperate to be fucked. He’d get Willis back like this, wouldn’t he? Isn’t this what he wanted now? It’s who he was with at least. Trey could do this, he could be whoever Willis wanted him to be. He didn’t want to be anyone without him, he didn’t want to be a loser, he didn’t want to deal with that anymore. But as he crossed the dance floor, he forgot about Willis too. He forgot about everything except for how hot he was, and how the music was throbbing in his heart, and in his cock, and every cub around him smelled fantastic, and so he danced, and passed from man to man, losing himself in them as quickly as he could, seeing himself in all of them and none of them. Whenever the feeling started to fade, he went back to the bar and got another drink, and just kept going. He had to believe connection was possible. That he could look into a cub’s eyes, feel their tongue on his hot lips, and know that they saw him, that they could hold him back from the despair creeping in around the edges. That all of this could still be real. He pushed hard against them, pulled them tight, trying to meet every point of his skin with theirs, but it didn’t last. They were always pulled away, or pushed themselves away, and he spun to someone else. Then, when the drinks started to fade, because the night was winding down into dawn, he went from clinging to drinks to clinging to whoever was nearby–the world spinning until everything was fading away, and then it was morning, he was in his bed, his head was pounding, but worst of all, he was late for work.
“Fuck, god fucking damn it…” Trey fumbled for his phone on the nightstand, and ended up nearly tumbling out entirely, catching himself with a hand on the floor, next to a set of underwear he didn’t recognize as his own. His arm gave way, and he tumbled the rest of the way out of the bed and onto the floor, with a thud and another string of curse words, loud enough to wake the bear in the bed with him.
Trey stood up, rubbing his shoulder where he whacked it, and looked at the stranger under the covers who had been sleeping with him, looking over at him blearily. “Uh, Hey, “ the man said, “You, uh, you alright?”
Trey looked around them, at the state of his apartment, at the state of himself, at the state of his whole reality slowly deteriorating into something he loathed, and all he felt was a deep, hopeless, shame. “I…sorry, I was sexier last night, I know,” he muttered, “and I hate to just…kick you out, but I have to get to work.”
The bear smirked, “No worries, I wasn’t quite myself last night either, but we had some fun, right? Or, at least, I did,” he stretched, and swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. The man was right–he wasn’t the chubby little cub Trey had taken home with him from the bar, in the same way Trey hadn’t been the swaggering cocky fireplug of a top eager to stuff the chubby boy’s holes. “It’s nice getting out of your own skin on occasion–you seem like a fellow who knows what I mean. The name’s Darren by the way, don’t think we exchanged pleasantries last night.”
“I…look, that…it was nice, but I really need to get going, I’m running really late,” Trey said, and pulled on a dirty workshirt and pulled up a pair of overalls. Darren watched him with a confused look on his face.
“Never much one for work, myself…but you don’t strike me as the sort of guy who’d be working in gear like that.”
“It’s complicated,” Trey said, “It…I mean, can you just go? I’m sorry to just kick you out, but it’s been…a weird few days,” Trey said, but noticed Darren wasn’t looking at him, he was looking at the table, where a hard hat was resting.
“Is that…what I think that is?”
Trey heaved a sigh.
“You’ve got a RuffHat?” Darren said, and he couldn’t quite contain his glee, “Holy fuck, no wonder you’re so eager to get to work, I fucking would be too!” he shook his head, “How the hell did you get into that anyway? That shit is hard to find, ever since the Boutique disappeared when Old Abrahams Changed finally.”
“Friend of a friend. It’s not as exciting as you think, trust me.”
Feeling self-conscious, Trey walked over to the table and picked the hat up, and Darren just stared at him. “Well, put it on, I won’t bite.”
“I don’t put it on until I get to the site, it’s…otherwise I can have a hard time getting there.”
Darren was looking at him again, sizing him up more, “I thought they were supposed to, you know, have…certain effects.”
“I haven’t been at it for very long.”
Darren just looked at him again, a bit longer, and then shrugged. “Fine, don’t show off for me, sexy.”
“Trust me, it isn’t as sexy as you think. Reality is always a little disappointing.”
“Well maybe we should test that out sometime.”
Trey looked at the clock, and hissed a sigh, “I have to get going, alright? There’s…some food in the fridge if you’re hungry, just lock the door on the way out.” With that, Trey didn’t say anything else, he just pulled on some socks and work boots, and then left Darren to his own devices in his place, and hurried down to the street so he could get to work at the construction site, hard hat in hand.
Work, in the city, was an odd endeavour, and it certainly wasn’t for everyone, or even for most. After all, what was there to labor for, in a city where everyone could have what they needed at any moment? The city provided everything you might need–everything but a purpose, but most men could find ways to manage that inconvenience. Still, work did have a certain appeal, to a certain kind of character. For some, play felt so much more rewarding after a day of work, while for others, work became a kind of service, something they could provide for their own innate pleasures, or perhaps for the pleasure of a Master. Some others desired it merely as a way to fill time, something to provide a rhythm to the endless cycle of change, something they could use to entertain themselves while they waited for a better reason to come along, as reasons had a way of doing, eventually.
But Trey wasn’t working for purpose, or for pleasure, or for service. His was a more…desperate measure, and much of that had to do with the hard hat he held in his hand, better known as a RuffHat, as they had been branded years ago, when, as Darren had said, the old craftsman Abrahams had first manufactured them. He had been an odd craftsman–most bears who crafted gear like this found pleasure in creating things that brought about a rather instant effect, but Abrahams advocated the particular pleasures of a slower, more deliberate process. He claimed a Change lasted longer for two reasons–first, if you wanted it, and second, if you earned it. So, he sought to give people ways to earn them.
Trey caught a bus, checked the clock again, and if he ignored the growl in his gut, he could almost convince himself all of this had turned out alright, and he really wasn’t running all that late. The bus moved out of downtown and towards an outlying sector of the city where much of the…rougher work happened in the city–the docks, the warehouses, the factories. He was headed for Construction Zone #5, where he worked as a grunt worker–building a new factory, or a new warehouse, or a new dock. It hardly mattered. Everything in the city was always changing anyway, and buildings and their purpose were no exception. When they finished, Zone #5 would move elsewhere, possibly tearing down some other, now derelict building, just to give the men something to do. Trey tried not to think about it, it was easier to not think about whether there was meaning in process with no resolution. Better bears then him had driven themselves nearly mad trying to reason their way to the meaning of the city and everyone’s place within it. Better to just exist. Better to stay in the moment.
He got off the bus and made his way towards the zone. The streets were full of men, most of them on the way to the same sorts of jobs he was going to, and all of them looking like they…belonged here. It only seemed to heighten what he’d been losing all of these last few months. Why was he even doing this? He’d been lying to Darren earlier, telling him this was something new he’d been doing, working with the RuffHat. He’d had this job for almost two months, and the only thing the hat had done for him was slow down his Change. It seemed like a joke somehow, that the hat was refusing to help him, most likely because his own guilt and insecurity was holding him back. He knew he didn’t deserve anything other than what he was sliding towards, and secretly, he was wondering if he might really want it, as well. He should give it up, and just give in. It would be…so much easier, at least. He’d enjoy it too–giving into a Change always felt so satisfying, and maybe he’d finally be able to forget about Willis and quit being haunted by all of this…but he didn’t want to be that–this loser. This pervert, this slob, this waste. He hadn’t been good to anyone before, but he wouldn’t be good to anyone like this, either.
He slowed down as he got to the zone and ducked into the nearby alley, where he prefered to change. Everyone in the zone knew he was a Ruff, but he…hated changing in front of them, he preferred arriving and leaving as the person working, without having to admit who he really was–without having to admit this wasn’t working at all. After all, Ruffs commanded a certain inherent respect. It meant someone was working to improve themselves, and Ruffs were usually the hardest workers on any zone, when one showed up. It was…humiliating, in its own way. With a deep breath, he put the hat on his head, and felt it wash down over him. He leaned into the brick to steady himself, looking down at his body, watching his frame fill out the overalls, hair covering his arms and shoulders, his mind slowing down to a relative crawl–but a happy crawl. He was going to work. He liked working. He liked lifting things, and hammering, and carrying stuff, and he was good at it! He was a Ruff, after all, and that’s what Ruffs were most good at in the whole world. The Ruff grinned, wiped a thick hand across his heavy, tanned brow, and realized he needed to hurry. He was running late, and he’d feel real bad if he was late for the job–a good Ruff was never late. They worked hard, all the way to quitting time, and then they were done, and took off the hat, and then the Ruff could go away knowing he had done a good job until the next day, when he would get to work again.
The Ruff stepped out of the alley and hurried down to the zone, apologized to the foreman waiting for him for being late, and then got to work. Work was the best, wasn’t it? Nothing could satisfy a man like work. The Ruff could feel the apprehension inside him, which he was holding at bay for the moment, and it made him a bit sad, as he started hauling some bags of cement over to where some men were working on the foundation. Still, he’d work as hard as he could–it was all he knew how to do. There wasn’t anything more to being a Ruff than that, after all.
Trey didn’t go out again for the next few days. In fact, it was difficult to even find the energy and gumption to get up in the morning and go to work. He was spiraling down further and further into himself, into whatever and whoever he was Changing into, putting on more weight, looking at more porn, jacking off more and more–enjoying his own company, and the company of his computer more than anything else. He was close to giving in, and he could feel it, that thin membrane between one self and the next, when you slide from becoming someone into an uncoming, and then the final retreat away from a set of memories that you can no longer relate to, except as ghosts. He still thought about Willis, though. He found some old pictures of him on his hard drive, more than…he remembered having before, and he found himself jacking off to those over and over, jacking off to him even as his memories of being with him were fading, finding it a comfort that now he was just an image. Flat. Now, he could finally be exactly what Trey wanted him to be, and nothing else. Nothing complicated. Nothing real. Just a handsome cub, his favorite cub, maybe, but nothing more than that. Nothing that could change.
He found the little note from Darren eventually, that he had stuck to the fridge, when Trey decided to finally try and cook something for himself, rather than just ordering something in again. It had a phone number, and a suggestion that they go out again sometime (as themselves or as someone else), but Trey assumed it was just a polite gesture, but not a serious proposition, until he got a knock on the door late one evening, while he was busy at the computer, masturbating again. He simply assumed it was some food he’d ordered and forgotten about ordering, cleaned himself up a bit, tucked his dick back into his underwear, and answered the door.
He didn’t recognize Darren at first, not because Darren had done anything to change, but just because Trey had been in such a hurry that morning he hadn’t really bothered taking stock of the man he’d ended up going home with. He was older than he’d thought, somewhere in that middle age valley most men in the city settle into, a little pudgy, with a round face and square goatee. He had no food with him, and so, Trey had no real idea why this stranger had knocked on his door.
“Looks like someone could use another night out,” Darren said. “You doing ok?”
Trey just looked at him another moment, until it finally occurred to him who this must be. “Darren…right? Uh…why are you…here?”
Darren shrugged, “Well, you didn’t call or text, and I was nearby, and wanted to…see how you were doing.”
Trey found that difficult to believe.
“You, uh, need some company?” Darren asked.
Trey just gave him a side eye. “I’m, uh…not really expecting company, or anything,” he looked down at himself, at his rather slobbish, gross self at the moment, and then back at Darren. “Why are you really here?”
Darren sighed, “Look, I’ve been there man, most of us have been. You…obviously don’t want to be doing this to yourself, or you wouldn’t have gone to the trouble of getting a damn RuffHat. But you can’t do it alone, right? You need some company, someone who can break you out of your self-sorry rut. If you don’t want help, or even some company, if you just want to keep jacking off in there until you don’t want to do anything else, fine.”
It sounded rather final, and a bit harsh, but Darren didn’t turn around and go. He just stood there, until it was clear he was going to make Trey do the dirty work of telling him to leave, but he honestly was glad to see someone else’s face, and the fact that Darren had come all the way here to see him was touching. “I’m not doing anything else, I suppose, so come on in.”
Darren shook his head, “Nah, why don’t we go out?”
Trey heaved a sigh, “Look, I…I had a nice time, before, but that’s not something I usually do. It makes me…selfsick, bouncing around like that.”
“Well you’re never going to be someone different than this if you don’t go out and be someone,” Darren said, “Look, I had an idea. Just give me one night with you, and if you don’t enjoy it, you don’t have to do it ever again, and you can just keep being…this, if that’s really what you’d rather be doing.”
Trey didn’t have anything else to do, and so he stepped aside and Darren entered, looked around the place, before finding some of Trey’s work clothes on the floor, and told him to put those on. Trey didn’t get it. “I thought you wanted to go out somewhere?” he asked.
“Just humor me, come on.”
So Trey humored him, though they didn’t fit particularly well on his chubbier frame, since he’d bought them more for when he had his RuffHat on–and that was when it clicked. “Hold on, you just want to get me into the RuffHat. Is that what this is all about?”
“What? No…I mean…alright, fine, you got me, but you have to admit it’s a good idea, right?” Darren said, “That’s what those hats do after all, the more you wear it, the burlier you get, right? You just haven’t been wearing it enough, obviously.”
Trey sighed, and started getting out of his clothes.
“Hey wait, what are you doing?” Darren asked.
“You don’t get it–have you ever even been around a real Ruff before? Have you even been a Ruff?”
“I can’t say I’ve had the privilege, no, but for me, I’ve always been a lot more interested in being with one than being one.”
“That’s not…look, I understand the appeal, I really do, there’s always been a whole thing about them for guys, but I’m not just going to be your little…fantasy thing, for you.”
“It’s your fantasy too, or else why are you putting it on everyday?” Darren said, “Not like it’s working, I mean, look at yourself.”
“I fucking know that,” Trey said, “You think I can’t fucking see that?” He started getting out of his work clothes, “Get the fuck out, this is such a fucking waste of my fucking time.”
“Oh yeah?” Darren said, “and what are you gonna do instead? Sit in here and feel sorry for yourself, if you feel fucking anything at all?” He sighed, and sat down on the bed. “Look, we…don’t know each other, I get that. I don’t have any right to tell you what to do, or who to be, but I just…you were so much…fun that night, and in the morning, I could see how miserable you were, but you don’t have to be. Maybe you’re right, maybe it won’t work, but then we could always try something else. So what do you say, you wanna have a bit of fun? Or do you just want to be miserable?”
Trey sighed, and looked at the Ruffhat in his hands, and down at himself, already mostly dressed. “I’m not…opposed to going out somewhere. We could go to Cubsters again, or something a little rougher if you want, but this…this isn’t going to work how you think it’s going to work.”
“You mean it’s not going to turn you into the hulking, muscular, hairy construction worker of my deepest fantasies?” Darren said, and Trey chuckled.
“Fine, you know what? You wouldn’t believe me even if I could tell you, so how about I just show you instead? I’ll put it on, you’ll see what I’m talking about, and then we’ll take it off, have a chuckle, and figure out something else to do instead.”
Trey took a deep breath, and set the RuffHat on his head, and the last thing he remembered seeing clearly was the pure glee on Darren’s face, and then the familiar sensation of pleasant, happy dumb settled over his mind like a fog. The hat was on; it was time for work, right? But around him…this wasn’t a place for work, right? It wasn’t even the time for work–it was dark out. Not morning dark, not get a cup of coffee and get to work dark. Night dark. Sleep dark.
Darren watched the change sweeping through Trey’s body, from the head down to his feet. He’d…heard about these before. Hell, he’d even known a few guys who’d owned one at one point or another, but they’d passed them along or lost them in the course of a Change, as things go. The face–it was still Trey’s face, mostly, but as the hat went on him, there were small shifts in him. His jaw grew more angular, his eyes sank back into a heavier brow, a thick stubble grew in across his cheeks, and became a full beard in a matter of moments. The rest of his body followed suit, remaining similar, but taking on new characteristics. Broader shoulders, even as he shrank slightly, losing a few inches in height, giving him a thick silhouette. More hair filled in, not that all of it was easy to see, but from the coating across his shoulders under the straps of his overalls, he likely had quite the pelt…but just like everyone had always told him–it was the smell that was most divine.
Sawdust, fresh sweat, gravel, the heat of the sun. It was all there, and it was so divine. All of him was so divine. “So…uh…ya got some work for me to do ‘round here?” he said. “I, uh, don’t really see any tah do, but I’d be happy tah–”
Before the Ruff could say anything else, Darren moved in closer and kissed him, and for one magical moment everything was exactly how he imagined it, and then the Ruff sputtered and shoved him away.
“What the hell’d you do that for?” the Ruff said, wiping his lips.
Darren just looked at him in confusion. “Because…because you’re sexy as all hell, man, what’s wrong with you?”
The Ruff just shook his head. “No, see, I do work–that’s what I’m for. You…you have some work? I could, uh, hammer things, or carry some stuff, or, well, you know, things like that! I’m real good at it. There has to be some work, or else, why am I here?”
“Work?” Darren said, “I get it–yeah, I know some work for you to do, for sure.” He stepped close again, and undid the clasps on the Ruff’s overalls before he could stop him, let them drop to the floor, and reached for the Ruff’s cock, only to find…hair. Confused, he looked down and saw that where the Ruff’s cock and balls should have been, there was…nothing. Just a dense patch of pubes, and nothing else.
“What’d ya do that for?” The Ruff said, and pulled the overalls back up, “I can’t work without my overalls up.”
“But…but where’s your cock? What the fuck is this?”
The Ruff just looked at him, confused. “Cock?”
“Yeah, cock! A dick, a penis–what you fuck with. You fuck, right? Getting all hot and sweaty on the job site with those other big men, you get all horny, and you fuck. I know all about those construction zones, and what you all really do all day.”
The Ruff scratched his head, carefully to avoid displacing his hat, like he was trying to think. “Is…is that what they’re all doing? I don’t know, I just keep working, until my shift is over, then I take the hat off, and I’m done.”
Darren just stared at him, and then put his head in his hands.
“I’m starting to think you don’t actually have any work for me to do, so I’m gonna…go, I think,” the Ruff said, took off the hat, and after a moment, Trey was standing there like before.
He took one look at Darren’s shocked face, and started laughing. “There, see? I told you you’d be disappointed.”
“Are you telling me, that all this time, there hasn’t ever been a Ruff with a–with–” he paused, running his tongue around his mouth, “Why the hell can’t I say it?”
Trey shook his head, “Part of the deal. No one can talk about it.”
“But…but everyone always thought…”
“I think Abrahams started the tales as a bit of a joke, especially since no one can say anything about it. It’s weird. But no–Ruffs are all work and no play, literally. It makes for a pretty boring workday, believe me, especially when everyone around you is enjoying themselves.”
Darren just stared at him for a moment, and then sat down in a chair, head in his hands. “This…I can’t fucking believe it. All this time, all of the times I jacked off thinking about fucking Ruffs, and…”
Trey set the RuffHat back down on the table, “Don’t feel bad man, it’s not like you could have known.”
“You don’t fucking get it, I’ve been looking for one of these for…for fucking ever, and I thought I’d finally…” he looked over at Trey, “He did smell…so fucking good though…”
Trey nodded. “So, you still wanna go out? Cubsters, or maybe Sid’s Shack? I’ve had some good times there, if you don’t mind things getting rough.” Darren didn’t say anything in reply, and Trey walked over and set a hand on his shoulder, “Hey, come on, you aren’t the first guy to get duped by the thing. Don’t let it get to you. It’s just a damn practical joke.”
He sighed, “Yeah, Sid’s sounds good, I guess…still, it was a dream, you know?”
“Yeah, I do know. Truth hurts. But come on, let’s deal with it later, yeah? We can go be a couple fucks who don’t give a shit–and I could use some not giving a shit at the moment.”
A few hours later, the two of them burst back through the door of Trey’s apartment, looking rather different. Darren had opted for the biker brews–sampling a bit more than he’d been planning on, bulking up, clothes turned to leather, pushing Trey against the wall, wearing a ratty undershirt and smelling of ash and grease, trucker hat on his head, rubbing their guts together. It was good for a while, but when dawn came it faded, leaving Trey feeling…worse than before, somehow, and not just selfsick from swinging between bodies and minds. Darren was still sleeping beside him, and Trey couldn’t help but wonder if he would have ever come back to see him if he hadn’t had that RuffHat. Probably not. Why would he have wanted to? What could Trey have possibly offered him? What could he offer anyone? Willis had seen the truth, he supposed, that Trey was no one at all, just a lead weight holding him back with nothing to offer. It was like he’d been able to see Trey Changing before he’d even noticed a thing about it himself. Maybe he wasn’t even really Changing at all.
Even last night, as much fun as it had been…had it even been real? Had he and Darren really gotten to know each other any better? Within minutes of stepping into the bar, neither of them had been themselves anymore, after all. He felt closer to that biker, who was now gone with the dawn, than he did with the bear still sleeping in his bed, who’d replaced him. Could you ever really know anyone in the city? It felt like, more and more, like there was something surrounding Trey, separating him from everyone else–a force, or a screen, or clothes, and even when you got down to their skin, that still wasn’t close enough. All you got was what was on the surface, but what if you wanted more than that? What if there wasn’t anything else? He had to believe there was more than that…or else what was he? Just a doll for Darren to dress up at night, and ignore during the day?
The thought depressed him, and he rolled Darren out of bed and told him he needed to go. Darren seemed a bit lost himself, and Trey noticed him casting a few longing glances at the RuffHat still sitting on the table as he put his clothes back on and left. Trey found himself alone, and staring at the hat too. He should go to work. He should keep trying…but it all felt so hopeless now, like everything had been laid out in front of him, neatly, in the light of day. He’d been a fool to even imagine, for a moment, that anyone would want to be with him. Better to not inflict himself on anyone–better to stay here, eat, jack off, and stop pretending he was fit for anything more than that.
It was a few days later. Darren pounded on the door again, refusing to give up quite yet. He could hear Trey in there–or at least, he could hear someone in there, listening to porn, and given the general track of Trey’s change that he seemed to be progressing down, it was likely that his Change had progressed further–which had Darren worried. When people changed–it wasn’t just them that shifted, after all. Everything, and everyone, around them could be affected as well, especially their things. He pounded again, and he heard a voice inside give a curse and a grunt, and the door opened a crack. It was Trey’s face, mostly, that Darren could see through the crack, though it was looking quite a bit rounder, the eyes bloodshot, the teeth crooked and yellow, and there was a cigarette in his fingers. “Fuck off, I’m fuckin’ busy in here,” Trey said, but Darren pushed on the door and stopped in from shutting.
“Trey, I…dude, you’re letting yourself go man, I thought you didn’t want this?”
Trey scowled at him, “Like you fucking give two fucks about me, ya just want a Ruff, or some trucker, or some cub, you don’t give two shits about me.”
“Look, you’re right. I’m sorry, I know it was shitty, but I can see you aren’t happy like this. I’m just trying to help.”
Trey took a drag off his cigarette, and then stepped back from the door, letting Darren push his way inside. The place was filthy, but even he had to breathe a small sigh when he saw that the RuffHat was still on the table, where Trey had set it down the last time it was there. “You haven’t been going to work?”
Trey whirled on him, “I fucking knew it! You and that fucking hat! You know what, if you want it so badly, fucking take it. At least then I won’t have you interrupting a hot session again.”
“That’s not what–”
Trey grabbed the hat and shoved it into his arms, “I’m fucking done, I’m done with you, and Willis, and every bear is this fucking city. I’m done. None of you give two fucks about anyone other than yourselves and your fantasies, and your superficial fucks. At least this makes me feel good, you know? At least I know I’m a fucking disappointment.” Trey went and sat back down at his computer, dug around in the filthy underwear he had on and started groping himself hard again. “Now leave me the fuck alone.”
“Trey, fucking look at yourself! When’s the last time you even stepped outside? Look, forget the hat, let’s just go out, let’s go be someone! You don’t really want to be this, do you? I can’t believe you really want…this…”
“And what if I do want this?” Trey said, “I feel good here. I’m happy. I don’t have to do anything, or worry about people, and disappointing them, or them disappointing me. Pictures are easy, and sexy, and that’s what I want. Easy. I do want this, alright? I’m…tired of trying to figure the rest of it out. Now get out, and don’t fucking come back here again.”
Darren looked at the hat in his hands, and the bag he’d brought along, full of the things he’d spent the last day collecting, since he’d had the idea. He could leave. He didn’t need Trey, now that he had the hat, he supposed, and it wasn’t like Trey–or whoever Trey was Changing into–wanted him to be here. Darren barely knew him, anyway, they’d just had a couple of flings, and not even as themselves…but he couldn’t help but feel something for the guy, all the same. It was pitiful, is what it was, seeing a guy in a city where you could be anyone, and have anyone, just give up like this. Still, if he knew what Darren had in mind, there was no way he’d be willing to try it. So…why not just do it? Easier to ask forgiveness than permission.
In one motion, he dropped the RuffHat on Trey’s head and then held it down. Trey cursed him out for a moment and tried to force the hat back off, but his resistance only lasted a couple of moments, until the comfortable numbness of the Ruff’s mind settled in over him. He stood up, swaying a bit, his shoulders broadening, hair filling in, and the musk bloomed, making Darren sigh with delight. Even if this didn’t work, at least he got to smell it one more time. The Ruff looked similar to how he had before, but with a few shifts, given Trey’s change–a bit fuller in the gut, a bit grubbier, with grease and dirt on his hands.
The Ruff scratched his head under the hat, and looked down at Darren. “Oh, you again? You…didn’t have any work for me last time, did you? You just did that thing where you pulled my pants down.” He scrunched up his eyes a moment, and then shook his head, “The guy–in my head, he’s real mad at you, I should let him back out–” he went to take off the hat, but Darren grabbed him by the wrist and pulled his hand back down.
“Wait! Wait, I do have work for you today, actually. It’s…well, it’s probably not like any work you’ve done before, but I bet a big guy like you would be great at it.”
“Oh! Uh…it ain’t…hard, right? I’m not too good with thinking and stuff, but I like carrying things! Can I carry some stuff?”
“Uh..it’s not really a carrying job, no…”
“Oh…” The Ruff looked rather dejected, “I haven’t gotten to carry anything in a while, so you can’t blame a guy for hoping, ya know?”
Darren just stared at him a moment, “Are you…serious?”
The Ruff just stared back. “Why wouldn’t I be serious about work?”
Darren didn’t quite know how to respond to that, so he just moved on. “Alright, so, this job needs a special uniform, so go ahead and get out of…that,” Darren said, pointing at the grungy undershirt and underwear of Trey’s that he was wearing. The Ruff did as he was told, and Darren dropped the bag he had with him on the table, and started pulling out the things he’d brought along. “First things first, you need a very special tool for the job,” he pulled out a thick, rubber dildo–or strap on really, and took it to the Ruff. “Here, step into this like it’s pants.”
Why don’t I just hold it in my hands?”
“Uh…you’ll be doing other things with those! If we put this on here, it makes the job a lot easier,” he said, pulling the dildo up to the Ruff’s hairy groin.
“It’s a tool? What does it do?”
“It’s…a bit like a hammer, and a drill.”
I like hammers,” The Ruff said, and he swung his hips, the rubber dong whipping around and smacking Darren in the cheek, the Ruff gasping. “I…I felt it?”
Darren had worried it might not work right with a Ruff, so that was one problem he didn’t have to worry about. He had a feeling everything was going to be a bit easier now. “Yeah, that just means it turned on.” He reached out and stroked the rubber cock, and the Ruff groaned, and then stepped away from him, his cheeks flushed red.
“Are…are you sure this is work? I…I don’t, I mean, that felt good and all, but this isn’t like any work I’ve done before.”
“You’re doing great, don’t stress out about new things, you’re perfect for this.”
“I…I don’t think this…I don’t know about this, I feel weird.”
“It’s alright, you’re doing great.”
“I…feel so hot.”
“That’s normal,” Darren said, and took the Ruff’s hand and pulled him closer, one hand slowly stroking his rubber cock, and seeing the Ruff’s breathing quicken. “Now, how about I show you how to use this new tool of yours? It can be a bit strange to begin with, but I think you’ll be a natural.”
“Do…do I use it on…on nails, or…” The Ruff stammered, “Or like, metal, or…or would you stop that?” he pushed Darren’s hand away, “I…It feels really good, but I can’t think…”
“You don’t need to think for this job–you just need to feel good,” Darren said, and gripped the shaft again, stroking it a bit faster, “If you feel good, and I feel good, then you’re doing good work.” The Ruff didn’t object right away, and Darren took the chance to enjoy his body a bit, smelling and tasting his divine pits, feeling the soft fur all over his body, always stroking, getting the Ruff accustomed to pleasure–probably for the first time in it’s occasional existence.
The Ruff began to squirm, and then pulled away again with a shudder, a flustered look on his face. “This isn’t right, this isn’t the right work, I…I don’t feel right,” he reached up to take the hat off, but Darren lunged forward, dragging his arms back down.
“No, you aren’t done with the job yet,” Darren said, “I’m…I’m the boss right now, you know. I’m the foreman. That means you have to do what I say, and you aren’t done with the work until I say so.”
The Ruff didn’t know what to do, but it…felt good to have a foreman, someone to listen to, someone who could direct him. He nodded. “A-Alright, if you…say so, but it doesn’t feel right.”
“Just trust me, it’ll feel amazing once you get used to it,” Darren said, and went back to slowly stroking the rubber cock, but it was clear that the Ruff wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself. His hands kept moving, first landing on his hips, and then just hanging at his sides, and on occasion he would moan or whimper with a bit of pleasure, but also wince, like something had unexpectedly hurt. Still, Darren didn’t really care–he was getting what he’d wanted, what he’d always fantasized about, and he wasn’t about to stop now. “Alright, now why don’t I show you how to use your new tool?”
The Ruff nodded, and let out the breath it had been holding. It…didn’t like how it felt, when the foreman stroked his tool. It felt…good on one hand, but it made his head hurt in a way that really worried him too, in a way he couldn’t quite explain. “Yeah, I think I like work better than…this. Just show me what you need me to do.”
Darren stripped, and the Ruff just looked at him, confused, and Darren climbed up onto the bed, his ass pointing towards the Ruff. “Alright, do you see the hole back there?”
The Ruff nodded.
“Alright–here’s your job. You’re going to put that tool in the hole, ok? Slow at first, just kind of ease it in there.”
The Ruff felt the nerves return, and he took a step back. “This…still doesn’t seem like work.”
“This is the job–I thought you Ruffs were supposed to be good with tools?”
“I am, but like, normal stuff. Hammers and nails, not…not this, I guess…”
“Well, I think you can do it–why don’t you at least give it a try?”
The Ruff supposed that just trying couldn’t really hurt. He stepped up, put the rubber tool against the hole, and pushed, gently, until the foreman told him to push a bit harder, and the dildo began to slide into his ass. The same pleasure was there, and the deeper the tool went, the better it felt, but the pain would come too–a few flinches at first, but when the dildo was about halfway in, something worse happened. To the Ruff, it was like someone had taken a mental mallet and slammed it against his skull. He cried out and pulled the tool free of the hole, stumbling around, trying to focus again, and Darren flipped over and looked at him, confused. Neither of them noticed the hairline crack that had appeared in back of the RuffHat, running from the back brim, all the way to the crown. “No,” the Ruff said, “No, that…I can’t do that, it hurts!”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Darren said, and got off the bed, “It feels good, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah, but…but then it hurts, I don’t like this job, can’t I do something easier?”
“Here, let’s try it a different way,” Darren said, walked over, and grabbed hold of the Ruff’s hand, pulling him over to the bed. “Go ahead and lay down here, alright?” The Ruff tried to protest, but Darren just shoved him down onto the bed, climbed up on him, and straddled him, his ass over the rubber cock, and he lowered himself down onto it. “Yeah, that’s it,” Darren said, “We’ll turn you into a fucker one way or another.”
The Ruff didn’t know what to do, and so he just froze, feeling wave after wave of pleasure washing over him as Darren slid down onto the rubber cock, taking the entire thing into his ass, and then sliding back up. The pain was there still, but not as forceful as it had been, but it also wasn’t going away. All the Ruff could do was hope Darren’s job would be over quickly. Darren began fucking himself on the tool faster, and the pleasure kept getting stronger. The Ruff…felt like he was coming apart at the seams, like he didn’t know how to even begin processing what he was experiencing. There were other flashes of pain, not as harsh, but strong enough to make him wince. Then, without warning, there was a splitting ache in his mind, and the Ruff came apart.
The RuffHat shattered with the force of all the energy stored with in it, and shards of heavy plastic spun off in every direction. Darren let out a shout and flung up his arm to try and deflect the shrapnel, losing his balance and falling off the bed backwards onto the floor. Trey, on the bed, clutched his head, trying to get a handle on the splitting headache still ricocheting around his mind. “Fuck, what the god damn…” He took a couple of deep breaths, his heart rate slowing down, and he managed to roll over and open his eyes, feeling the chunks of plastic crunch beneath his head. He ran his hands over his scalp and through his greasy hair, but aside from a few scratches he was unharmed–but everything else was a blur. Usually he had a pretty clear memory of his time as a Ruff, but everything was as shattered as the hat. He had heard the thud at the foot of the bed, however, and he rolled over and crawled to the edge, where he saw Darren lying on the ground, with several shards of plastic embedded in his body.
He wanted to divert his eyes, but his eyes seemed to be frozen forward. What on earth had happened? His vision was focusing in further, on the thick shard embedded in Darren’s face, lodged between eye and nose, driven deep into his skull by the explosion. It didn’t seem real to him, somehow. Perhaps it was because there didn’t appear to be any blood–or any edges to the wound at all. The plastic simply seemed to meld perfectly with his skin. Beyond that, Darren wasn’t moving at all–he didn’t even seem to be breathing.
It wasn’t something Trey had ever seen before in his life–after all, death wasn’t something anyone in the city grappled with–or at least, not death like this. Everyone was busy dying in other ways, all the time, and so while it did happen on occasion, it was something no one knew how to understand. To see a body without a mind in it, even just for a moment, filled Trey with a supreme dread so unknowable he could barely comprehend what it was he was feeling. It was a relief, somehow, when he saw the shards begin to slide into the wounds in Darren’s body, the bone and skin sealing up behind them. It was a relief to know that something was alive, even if Trey wasn’t certain what it might be. It turned his stomach, but at least something was happening–after all, Darren couldn’t just…stay like that, could he? Something inert and unchanging? Everyone had to Change, right?
The plastic shards slid the rest of the way into Darren’s body, and in the places where they entered, Trey could, for a moment, see something strange bulging under the skin until it dispersed through his body, and something about the his face changed with a slow shudder. It took Trey a moment to realize why the changes seemed familiar, until he realized that the heavy brow, the thick jaw and beard, the muscles and hair–they were all the things that happened whenever he turned into a Ruff–but something else was wrong–it was his skin, and his hair, in the areas around the points where the plastic hat had pierced him. They weren’t…skin. Or at least, they didn’t look like skin. He reached over the edge of the bed to touch the side of Darren’s head where the plastic had slid into him, and felt the skin of his face–it was smooth, like plastic or rubber–but not…quite alive. The hair, too, seemed synthetic, more like the sort of hair you’d find on a doll. He pressed harder, but there wasn’t much give, he leaned closer, towards the eye that looked more glass, or plastic, when it shifted suddenly in its socket, and he flung back. Darren gasped, a great long inhale, and rolled over, coughing, clutching and scratching at himself, trying to dig at his skin where the plastic had seeped into him and corrupted him, stammering and stuttering, but not speaking anything that was making sense.
“Hey, hey, it’s…you just have to calm down, it’s alright, I’m…I’m here..” Trey said, but he didn’t know what to do. Darren just seemed panicked, and he pushed himself upright, shaking his head, and trying to clear it.
“I…I don’t…I was working, and…and then I was…I don’t know…” he stumbled and caught himself on the chair by the computer, hauling himself up into it. “I…I was fucking…fucking me, working, and then I…I was gone, and now, now I don’t know…”
Trey got off the bed, and felt the massive rubber cock slap against his thigh. He hefted it, and felt the jolt of pleasure from it, and was…confused. Why was he wearing this thing? The last thing he remembered clearly, he was at his computer, and he felt something land on…on his head…
In the wall next to him, he saw a shard of plastic sticking out of the drywall, and he tugged it free. It was bright yellow and rigid, and he…he knew it. It was part of the RuffHat. “You…you fucking piece of god damn shit!” he screamed at him, “You dumb fucking–what the fuck were you thinking, trying something like that? Do you know how fucking dangerous this shit can be?”
Darren didn’t seem to be reacting to what he was saying, he was just…shaking, hands exploring his body, finding the places where the plastic had entered him, trying to understand what he was…feeling, and why his body, and his head, felt both crowded and empty at the same time. He could remember some things, things about being Darren, but there was someone else in him too, or fragments of someone else, and they were terrified, they didn’t know what had happened. They’d just been trying to work, they’d just wanted to do a good job.
Trey, however, could barely contain his rage, and he tore the cock off of him, and threw it to the ground. He gripped the plastic shard harder in his hand, and he felt it…quiver, and begin to push its way into the palm of his hand, and he dropped it to the ground. Things like this–the only people who really understood all of the craft involved in them were the people who had made them, and Abrahams was long gone at this point. When something like this broke, there was no telling what could happen. He needed help–there were special craftsmen who could deal with situations like this, and they might–might–be able to do something for Darren, but he might also be…well, who knew what he was, now.
Darren had seen the shard of plastic drop to the ground, and part of him…needed it. He got off the chair and crawled to it, picked it up in his hand, and it…it felt like it belonged to him. Before Trey could stop him, he’d pushed it into his arm, muffling a cry of pain, and Trey watched, mouth agape, as a chunk of his arm turned to the same plastic as his face, and then he scratched at it with his nails, like he couldn’t understand what he’d just done. “I…That…it was part of me, but that’s not…what’s happening to me?” he muttered. “I I need all of them, I need…I can feel them…”
Trey heard an odd scritching sound, and saw the shards all over the floor, the bed–even in the ceiling, were rattling, and moving, drawn towards where Darren was on the floor. Trey backed away as they surrounded him, forcing their way into Darren’s body, more and more of him becoming plastic, spreading all over him until, as far as Trey could tell, his entire surface of his body was no longer flesh, but just the strange, rubbery substance. When the last shard had found its way to him, he gave a shudder, and relaxed, a strange, rattling sigh leaving his body, and no inhale followed. All Trey could do was wait in the quiet room, waiting for something to happen, but nothing came, and he too, exhaled the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “D-Darren?” he said, “Are…are you still there? Can you get up?”
Darren didn’t say anything, but he did try and push himself up, but didn’t seem to have enough strength to get up from his hands and knees. Trey helped him, and together they were able to get his standing. He was…lighter than he should have been, Trey noticed, but when he stepped away from him, he tipped over, forcing Trey to lunge and catch him before he crashed to the floor again. The closest thing was the bed, and Trey heaved Darren onto it, splayed about awkwardly, eyes not looking anywhere in particular. It was…disturbing, and Trey turned around, not really able to handle whatever he was looking at. He started scrounging around on the floor, looking for something other than the filthy underwear he wore constantly, but there didn’t seem to be anything fit for the outside anymore. He remembered what Darren had asked him, about how long it had been since he’d left the apartment. He knew it couldn’t have been more than a few days since Darren had last come over, but he also couldn’t really remember…leaving. It felt like a dream, something imagined. He’d Changed so much in the last few days, sliding into this new person, this homebound pervert–but this mattered. He had to get help…but he needed a moment first, to try and collect himself. He needed a cigarette most of all, and he sat down at his computer and lit up, taking a deep inhale, the comfortable smoke sliding into him, relaxing him, clearing his mind.
“Ok…ok, I…we just need to get you some help, find someone who can figure out what…happened to the hat…” he muttered, looked around again, and saw Darren’s clothes on the floor where he’d stripped them off. They…wouldn’t exactly fit him, but it was something. He pulled them on, the shirt and pants chaffing him, making him feel uncomfortable in his own skin. The shoes were the worst, somehow, but he managed to get dressed, looking somewhat presentable, and turned to Darren, who hadn’t moved from the bed. “Ok–I can do this, I’ll…find someone who can help, I’ll be back soon.”
He stepped outside into the hallway, still smoking, and all he really felt was…irritable. He didn’t want to be dealing with this, this wasn’t even his fault! It was all Darren’s doing. In the elevator, the annoyance escalated, and he tugged at the clothes, trying to figure out how to make them sit on him so they would be comfortable. Had he really worn shit like this before? It seemed ridiculous to even imagine it, that he’d ever really left his apartment, that he could even want to leave–because what was out there?
He stood at the door to the apartment building, looking through the window, watching men and cubs and bears walking down the sidewalk in the early evening through the glass–and it was so…comfortable, watching them. They were all so sexy, this far away, the glass giving them a certain sheen of virtuality, like the screen of his computer. He put his hand to the glass, but it felt as unreal to him as the false flesh of Darren’s strange body, something hard and impermeable. A skin between him and everything else, rendering all of it at turns unknowable, terrifying, and worthless.
Fuck, he was horny, and…and hungry. Why had he come down here, anyway? No–he knew why he’d come down here–he needed to do something for Darren…but it wasn’t like he was going anywhere, right? He’d just been in the middle of a nice edging session, and maybe…maybe he’d feel better after eating, and having a couple of beers, and blowing a load. He couldn’t deal with the world right now. He backed away and retreated to his room, where Darren was still lying on the bed, in the same position as before. Trey…felt like he owed him an explanation, for why he’d come back…but what could he say? He felt ashamed, but it was muted. Shame was for…other people, on the other side of the glass. He stayed in here so he wouldn’t have to feel that. So he wouldn’t have to feel bad, or be responsible for anyone but himself. He called for a few pizzas, and then sat back down in front of the computer, picking up where he’d left off before Darren had so rudely interrupted him–and soon had completely forgotten that he was there at all, sliding back into his comfortable zone of smoking and stroking.
The pizzas came, and Trey ate them at the computer, when he heard a thump across the room. There was, apparently, something of Darren in there which had tried to move, and the plastic body had slid off the bed and onto the floor, or maybe his position on the bed had simply been less stable than Trey had thought, and gravity had done it all on its own. In any case, he didn’t feel right just leaving him there on the floor, and so he got up and hefted him back up, this time lying him back on the bed, and Trey just stared at him, thinking about the pictures he’d been looking at, thinking about the glass and his separation from the world and everyone in it–and thinking about how sexy Darren looked, somehow. He ran a hand over his plastic leg, feeling how smooth the false flesh was, the synthetic hair poking out from it. He kept it there a moment, noticing that it was cooler than he expected–the same temperature as the room, but not the temperature of a person. He slid his hand up further, to the hairy crotch, checking for a cock or balls, but found nothing there at all in the hair, just like on a Ruff.
What was a Ruff, really, if not a doll? A living doll, sure, but just…nothing below the surface. A doll that worked, a doll you could pose, and look at, and smell, but a Ruff didn’t give anything back. A Ruff couldn’t feel anything. Is that what had caused it to shatter? The fact that, for the first time, it had felt something internal, something divorced from work and the outside world? From how it looked?
“Are you in there?” Trey asked, or muttered really. He was surprised at how little an answer would have really mattered to him, and Darren didn’t give him one. Trey dragged him up higher on the bed, and propped him up against the pillows and the wall at the head of the bed, posing his legs a bit more naturally (one with the knee up, the other extended down the bed) and then his arms (one relaxed at his side, the other thrown up behind his head, hairy pit exposed). Satisfied, he got off the bed and sat down in his chair, faced him, and started to stroke.
“Yeah, you’re a sexy fucker, aren’t you?” Trey said, taking a long drag off his cigarette, “Want me real bad, I bet, been waiting all day for me to get home, sitting there…fuck…”
He sat there for a moment, just enjoying the view, and then, a bit hesitant, he stood up and approached him, climbing up on him, straddling his hips and looking down at him, still stroking, a bit faster than before. He was gonna do it–it was worth it. He quickened his pace, and finally exploded, the load he’d been building up all day in his heavy, low hanging sack spewing out, all over Darren’s chest and face. He didn’t react. It didn’t react. Trey felt better forgetting it might be a person in there. It was safer as an object, as a doll. As…his doll.
He rubbed the cum into his doll hair and doll face. “You like that, don’t you fucker? You like having my nasty cum all over you, I bet. Well…well don’t you fucking worry, you’re going to get plenty more of that. My fucking cumdump doll, fuck…” He laid down with his doll, face next to his pit–and he didn’t smell anything at all. He licked it, enjoying the feel of the hair against his tongue, so much better than anything real, because…because his doll could be anything he wanted it to be, couldn’t it?”
Trey fell asleep that night, lying in the doll’s arms, and when he woke up, he decided that he didn’t care what might come of it–the doll was his. He spent the day posing it in all sorts of positions, ogling him, fantasizing about him, and around noon, he discovered the bag Darren had brought along with him and left in a chair by the table. Inside was an outfit of leather gear–a vest, muir cap, piercings and boots. Had it been a backup plan, or something he’d been hoping the Ruff would end up wearing? It didn’t matter really–in an hour, the doll was dressed up in the leather gear, the massive black strapon jutting up from it’s crotch, and Trey humiliated it, taunted it, wondered if it could see what it was now, some big leather master enslaved to a nasty, filthy slob like him. He pumped another couple of loads onto the doll’s face and chest, loving the dull sheen of dried cum adhered to it’s glassy eyes, wondering if he could see in there, if there was even anything or anyone in there at all.
More outfits appeared in his closet after that–or in the doll’s closet, really. Trey wore the same filthy underwear day in and day out, growing fatter, grungier, and meaner by the day. He loved his doll, but not as some treasured object. No–his doll was a dumping ground for all of his frustration and anger, channeling his own self-loathing and pushing it onto the doll. He would beat it, on occasion, the fact that it gave no reaction at all giving him an excuse to hit it harder and harder still, and treat it rougher and rougher, like it deserved to be treated. Like it was made to be treated. It was its job, after all, or so Trey would say. The only thing it was good for. The only use it could possibly do in the world. Eventually, Trey even believed what he was saying. Eventually, his doll believed him too.
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