Helping a Brother Out part 2

By The Flesh Lab published March 14, 2019

When his buddy Ron gets dumped, Tamal turns to The Flesh Lab for help.

At work I sat in my cubicle trying to return some calls, but all I could think about was Ron getting big and hairy. And dark. And what was I gonna do about it. I should have never been so crazy as to even email that Flesh Lab place. But who thought that shit would actually do something?

Someone’s deep voice kept booming across the office, interrupting my thoughts. I stood up and looked over and it was Ron. Was he always that loud, and his voice that deep?

He was over there chatting with Takisha and Porsche, our two receptionists, acting like they was old friends. I didn’t know they even talked before, outside of a good morning here and there. And he was all charm too. Smiling his big gap-tooth smile. Flashing his dark brown eyes. Never mind that his eyes were blue a few days ago, and no one barely paid him any attention then. Weren’t people noticing this? Weren’t they wondering why he was looking so different?

I had to go over there and see what they was talking about, all that laughing and shit.

Ron was telling them some story about he was on his lunch break, in his suit and tie. He was at some store, standing near the front door when some shoplifter ran out.

“Folks came up to me like, where’d he go. Which way did he run? They were all confused, like why didn’t I stop him, looking at me like I was the security or something. I had to say, I don’t work here.”

The girls were cracking up over it.

“For real though,” Takisha said. “They see some big, black guy at the door wearing a suit, what else they gonna think?”

“Right?” Ron said.

But I was thinking, what the fuck are you talking about? Ron ain’t black! But I was too shocked to say anything.

They thought it was the funniest shit they ever heard, and Ron was loving it.

Our office manager, Tom, had to come around to us and be like, “Folks, get back to work.” ‘Cause they wouldn’t stop cracking up over it.

I had to confront Ron though as we walked back.

“So, now you trying to be black?”

“I ain’t trying to be anything,” he said. “I was just telling my story.”

But looking at him, his black hair, his dark eyes and skin, it was easy to see how people could make that mistake about him now. Even his face was looking different, not bad, better if anything, but different. I watched him the rest of the day, walking around like he was hot shit, like he owned the world.

The next morning while I sat at the kitchen bar and drank my coffee, I emailed the Flesh Lab and told them what was happening, how the lube they sent was turning my roommate into another person. Changing his ethnicity even and was that some kind of a side effect? They wrote back only four words: Use only as directed.

I was like, how else you think he’s gonna use it? Drink it?

How about he stops using it? That seemed like the obvious solution to me.

My plan was to get into his room and take back the lube, pour it out and replace it with some other lube, and hope he wouldn’t notice a difference, or catch me doing it. The opposite of what I had done to begin with. Of course I’d considered that I might want to use the lube for myself. Turn myself into a hairy, muscular dude. But, ultimately, that’s not what I wanted. I mean, muscles, yes. But who wants to be all hairy? That seemed uncomfortable as fuck. And who knew what the lube might do to me. Just because Ron reacted one way to it, didn’t mean that I would too. Honestly, I was not trusting this Flesh Lab shit.

But I had a hard time getting a moment alone in the house. And when I finally did, the lube wasn’t were he kept it before, in his bedside table. Had he used it all? I stood there in his room in a panic, hoping he wouldn’t come home and find me there. I didn’t have time to go digging through all his shit, trying to find this lube. Plus, he would probably notice his shit had been gone through and I couldn’t risk that. I’d have to wait for another chance.

The next day we was in a meeting in the conference room. Our manager Jennifer was presenting some shit, and about halfway through Ron about jumped out of his fucking seat. He excused himself, like he’d got sick or something, and when he didn’t come right back, I followed after him. He was in a restroom stall being like, oh fuck, oh fuck.

I knocked on the door to see if he was okay.

“Tamal, man,” he said. “You gotta see this shit.”

He swung open the door and he was standing there, pants around his ankles, cock in his hand.

And let me just say, his cock was fucking huge. Thick and rough with hair and veins. And black as fuck, with a bright pink head. And as dark as he’d gotten, his cock was even darker.

I was all, “Shit man, what the fuck are you doing?”

“This skin man. This fucking skin. It slid over the head while I was sitting there and ‘bout jolted me out of my chair.” He was half hard and pulling the skin on his black cock up and over the edge of his pink head.

“That’s as far as it wants to go, ‘bout halfway up like that, but it never did that before. I mean, it moved, but it ain’t never moved that far.”

“This what you was talking about the other day?” I asked, barely believing he was showing me his cock like it was no big deal, like he wasn’t even shy. I mean, I knew we were close but still. I think his cock was even darker than mine.

“Yeah, man, exactly. I think you’re right. I think it wants to be a foreskin. It don’t wanna stay back. I think it’s gonna cover the whole head soon. It’s gonna be like I’m uncircumcised, like I’m an uncut dude. I’m gonna have a foreskin man! I’m gonna be uncut! What the fuck is happening?” He dropped his cock back into his shorts and snapped the elastic shut. He ran a hand up his hairy abs and up under his shirt, like he was feeling himself up, feeling how hairy he was and had got. “These hairy muscles and this cock. I don’t even know anymore, man. How is this even real? How is this happening to me?”

And then he gave me this look, that I only now understand, like he knew something, like he knew that I knew what was happening, like he was baiting me to say something about it.

And fuck if I could do anything but just stand there and shrug. I mean, it was that fucking lube, but I couldn’t tell him that. I couldn’t even look him in the eye.

i told him we needed to get back to the meeting. I tried to focus on getting my work done, and planning how to get that lube back.

And Ron kept getting bigger, his pecs, his shoulders, his cock. He’d stopped shaving altogether, cause he said his beard was too thick and shaving hurt. But not only his face. He’d stopped shaving his back and shoulders too, just letting all that hair grow.

He’d come out to the kitchen each morning, yawning, rubbing his eyes, his whole body now covered in a curly, black moss of hair that seemed to be getting thicker and thicker each day.

When I asked him about it, like damn dude you’re hairy as shit, he said, “I can’t reach my back no more.” But he didn’t seem upset about it. In fact, he seemed to be loving his new self. Strutting around, wearing tight-ass shirts, collars all unbuttoned to show off his hairy black chest. We didn’t mention his cock again, but I could see it sitting thick and heavy in his crotch.

We’d stopped going out together, ever since that night I caught him in the men’s room getting sucked off. But he was still hitting the clubs, living it up like he ain’t never had. I’d find fliers around for different parties. Kodiak, Muzzle, Brutes. i didn’t even want to know. He’d be bringing different dudes home nearly every night of the week. And I mean dudes. Muscular, athletic, black dudes. I’d try not to listen as they fucked.

Before my eyes, Ron was transforming into a hairy, bearded, black man, tall, muscled, and handsome. Not that there was anything wrong with all that, but this was not at all what I’d wanted when I decided to help him out.

“Fuck, man,” he said in his new deep voice, half-naked in the kitchen one morning. “I’m hungover as shit.” He dragged his hands down his face. His eyes, nose, lips, and even his cheek bones looking different to me. Grunting and moaning, he pushed one big hand though the thick hair on his pecs while his other hand adjusted his heavy cock.

I had created a monster.

And then I got the email from work that I was being sent out of town for a week, which fucked up everything, ‘cause I had no time to search for the lube, and Ron had all the time to keep changing.

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