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I've been spending a lot of time lately taking care of others, saying how I'm being such a good person by giving up so much. Well, I decided to make a story where the protagonist can be a little greedy...

                Another day, another time where somebody else besides me gets taken care of.

 

                A heavy sigh escaped me as I tossed my bag onto a nearby chair, having just returned home from yet another shift looking after my grandfather. It’s not like I don’t want to help, don’t me wrong. It just get frustrating when it seems like everyone and anyone wants me to take care of stuff for them at the expense of any kind of concern for my health and well-being. It’s bad enough when I have to do it at work; at least there, I’m getting paid to spend most of my time cleaning up my co-workers messes. Not nearly enough, of course, but I am paid.

 

                No, what’s worse is all the uncompensated work I have to do when I’m off the clock. Running chores for my mother/landlord, having my niece and nephew dumped on me by my brother, friends always expecting me to chip in equally for group purchases that I barely get to use; it sucks. It feels so often like all I do is give and give and give, and get nothing back in return. I’m not asking for a reward or compensation every time, but to never get it at all is quite annoying.

 

                Really, what probably bothers me about it more than anything else is that it’s rarely ASKED if I’d be willing to help/do someone a favor. It’s just assumed I’ll put up with it without question, even if it’s at the very last minute and interferes with my own plans. On the rare instance when I push back, I get crap and made to feel like I’m a monster for turning them down no matter how unreasonable the request is. It’s hard not to feel like an afterthought even when what I’m asked to do is important.

 

                Take last night’s request for example, the reason I was walking in the door so early in the morning. My grandfather, who I’ve always known as Pop, is over 90 years old now. My mother(his daughter) wants him to feel as independent as possible despite dealing with severe memory loss and early dementia. His wife passed away long ago before I was even born 26 years ago, and despite most of his other children living closer than us, they always have a reason that they can’t help with his needs or even keep him company. She does a bulk of my grandfather’s caretaking, but she also expects me to pick up shifts looking after him as well, often with barely a moment’s notice.

 

                I sorta can’t blame her, but I really can’t blame Pop despite him ultimately being the source of my frustration. It’s not like he asked for his current condition, and taking care of him isn’t really difficult either. All I really have to do is make sure he takes his medicine, make him some dinner and breakfast, and stay overnight in case of an emergency. Otherwise, all he wants to do is watch TV and tell stories of dubious levels of truth and ever changing details, something everyone’s owed in large part to his dementia. He did have a new story for me yesterday, though, and one that came with souvenirs.

 

                Shifting through my overnight bag, I pulled out the long wooden box Pop had given me. It was about a foot long on each side and a little more than that in depth. From one of the pockets of my bag I pulled out the small metal key that matched the lock on the front. Pop said it was something special, something I deserved. I wasn’t sure about that, but the whole exchange in which he gave me this box was just plain weird.

 

                “You’re a good looking guy, Xavier.” I never really thought of myself as that, being a bit over 200 pounds and not much of it being muscle. The fact that he was also bringing this up out of nowhere in the middle of the string of game shows we were watching on TV also caught me off guard. “And you’re a good person, taking care of an old man like me when you should be out there, living your life.”

 

                Lately Pop only responds when he’s spoken to, so him talking to me at all without prompting was weird enough. My blue eyes followed him when he rose out of his easy chair and wobbled over to a nearby brick wall and stared very intently at it, I was worried he was having a mental episode. He knew what he was doing as he pulled on one of the bricks, which slid out with ease. Reaching his hand in, he pulled out the box I was holding now and motioned for me to come over. He said it was an artifact he’d gotten when he went overseas during WWII(Mom said he never actually got deployed, so this claim seemed dubious at best), and was something he’d keep for safe keeping.

 

                “You’ve been giving a lot of yourself to others. I think you’ve earned the right to be a little greedy.” With that, he handed the odd box to me. The whole time he sounded oddly lucid, at least compared to how he’s been lately. Soon after the box was in my hands, he seemed to go back to normal(or his version of it), asking where the box he’d just given me came from. I figured it was best not to tell him that he was the one who’d handed it to me and guided him back to the chair before storing the box away in my bag.

 

                The story was weird, but the box did have something in it judging from the sound it made when I shook it gently. I had the place to myself for the moment, and Pop did specifically give it to me. If it was something valuable, I could always ask Mom what she thought we should do with it. Might as well see what this is, I thought as I stuck the key in the lock…

 

                …and my next conscious thought was noticing the golden, jewel adorned bracers around my forearms.

 

                “…Wait, what the hell?!” The box was on the floor, though I didn’t remember hearing it hitting against the hardwood as it feel. Nor did I remember taking out or putting on the strange things now on my arms, but there they were. And around the edges of my arm around them…are those burns?! And smoke coming up from under the bracers?!

 

                “What the hell?!” I repeated, looking over my arms. Both forearm bracers seemed to be made of solid gold, with a set of 4 large jewels spaced roughly an equal distance around each bracer.  Each of the gems were roughly the size of a golf ball, the ones on my right arm a deep red color and the ones on the left were all deep blue. And the bracers seemed solid to a point that I had no idea how they got on or how to get them off. There seemed to be no seam or anything that I could use to open it, nor when they move when I tried to slide them off. It seemed like they had fused to my skin judging from the burns and smoke, but weirdly I felt no pain from them either.

 

                I supposed the nerves could’ve just been fried to the point that I couldn’t feel pain, but my hands and arms felt and moved normally, and I could feel the muscles of my forearms moving under the bracers without pain. So they were smoking, had apparently burned my skin, and yet I felt no pain…again; WHAT THE HELL?!

 

                Well, whatever was going on, I needed to get these stupid things off. No amount of physical force was making them move, so maybe there was another way? Maybe one of these jewels activated a mechanism that opened them, somehow. How about this one here on my right arm; this one jewel seems to be a little differently colored than the others…

 

                Uh-oh; that did something, though given how the bracers began to glow it wasn’t what I wanted to happen. Soon the glow started to turn into an intense heat, the smoke coming off the bracers starting to grow thicker as well. The heat surged downwards into my hands, and though still not necessarily painful it definitely didn’t feel good either as they started to go from normal pink skin to boiled lobster red in a matter of seconds while swelling like an overcooked hotdog. Just as they felt like they were about to explode… well, they kind of did, but not in the way I expected.

 

                I could only stare in numb shock as thick brown hair suddenly burst through my skin, covering both of my hands instantly in a thick coat of brown fur. My fingernails were lost under the new fur coat, replaced with the end of each finger becoming hard, flat and coarse. My hands looked almost hoof like, though despite their increased size and thickness I hadn’t lost any kind of dexterity. It looked like I was wearing the gloves from a sports mascot.

 

                The thought, “Is it over?” had barely crossed my mind before I realized that it was nowhere near over as the heat started working its way up my arms. The same reddening and heating up feeling that had gone through my hands was being matched on my arms. It wasn’t content to stop when it reached my shoulders, spreading to my chest and core quickly thereafter. The heat was becoming unbearable as I tried to make it to the nearby couch before my legs gave out, only able to get behind the couch and grip the back of it before I felt too dizzy to move.

 

                I heard the wooden frame of the couch creaking as I gripped it in my hoof-hands, growing louder as my forearms starting to swell. The bracers seemed to enlarge and swell along with them, remaining about the only part of my body that wasn’t feeling like it was submerged in boiling water. I assumed the bulging veins along my arms were what was making it look larger, but no, my arms weren’t just growing in proportion to my hands. There was a noticeable increase in their definition and thickness, and that was before the explosion of fur and size hit them like they did my hands. When they did…

 

                CRUNCH!

 

                That was the sound of the couch frame crumbling to splinters in my hands, sending me crashing into the back of the couch as my arms suddenly surged with muscle. Even the new fur coat that stopped just below my shoulder did little to downplay the size of my biceps, the bulge seeming as big as my head as I flexed. My triceps looked equally powerful, and somewhere in the back of my mind I wondered how ridiculous I must look with the massive furry arms on my human body as I struggled back to my feet. Even aware of my strength, the unbroken parts of the couch I gripped when I tried to get back to my feet felt like they would snap with just a little more effort.

 

                “AH!” A sudden spasm down my spine made me arch my back, almost breaking the couch again at the shock. The feeling almost, but not entirely drew my attention away from the bubbling sensation that was building along my upper and back and shoulders. The sweat pouring off my body made my t-shirt cling tightly to me, though my shirt was the least of my concerns now. My heart was pounding in my chest in a way I never felt before, each beat pounding in my ears.

 

                What happened next occurred in a few seconds, but in my mind it felt like it had taken an eternity. The first was the, “SHRRIP!” sound of my t-shirt splitting down my back as my shoulders and upper back exploded with size, my neck feeling like it was trapped between a pair of fur covered boulders. The second was the, “SHRRIP!” of the couch being torn in half as my newly expanded back forced my arms and hence my grip further apart, holding a half of the broken couch in each hand. The next was the, “BOOM!” of what felt like a bomb going off in my chest, drowning out the sound of the couch remains getting tossed aside as more changes occurred.

 

                I couldn’t tell if the noticeable flabs of fat on my chest disappeared or simply blended in so deeply with my filling pecs that it looks that way as my chest pushed forward. As fast as my chest was bulking up, my gut was slimming down and tightening as the heat seemed to boil away all the fat around my belly and sides. Soon the size of my pecs and the thick mat of fur made it impossible to see my abdominal development, though I could still feel the solidness and firmness I’d never known before in them as they flexed. If I had any means of conscious thought I might have been ecstatic with them, though nothing compared to the feeling as the heat reached my groin.

 

                The changes hadn’t been painful, but they hadn’t exactly felt good either until the heat started to permeate my cock. As soon as the heat touched it I was hard, the jolt of pleasure combined with my heavy upper body and normal human legs finally causing my knees to give out and send me crashing toward the floor. I couldn’t tell if it was just my hardening cock that was making the seat of my pants feel tight, but in the time from when my butt flexed as it started to head toward the ground and the moment it made contact with the ground, my jeans had split at the seat and my fully exposed ass was hitting the floor. The firmness made me bounce up a little at first, and in the milliseconds between bounces my butt was cushioned by fur on the second hit

 

                My cock surged again, and it might have been painful if my quads hadn’t quadrupled in size to split the denim even more to relieve the growing stress on my cock. O.K; quadrupled may have been a bit of an overstatement, but my thighs were two thick pillars of corded muscle that were now rubbing up against each other. The changes continued further down my legs as my calves were starting to feel closer to cows, though I barely noticed. My attention was instead fully locked on what had happened to my groin.

 

                What had happened was surprisingly little; yes, I was hard as hell, but other than that my cock and balls had escaped the changes that had hit the rest of my body save for my head. It was almost disappointing that my normal 6 or so inches was still just so, and I felt like I could go off at any moment. When I prodded it with one of my hoof hands, the familiar feelings of an approaching orgasm started to rush through me. My butt clenched as the orgasm hit… and then things got weird(Well, weirdER).

 

                My cock started to throb and pulse like normal, but instead of my seed shooting out of my dick, my cock just… grew. I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me for the first few pulses, but by the forth my cock was noticeably bigger. My nuts also started to feel heavier as they rested against my thighs, but no cum seemed to be coming. Soon my cock seemed to be pushing double digits while being about as thick round as a bratwurst.

 

                For the first time in a while, a conscious thought passed through my mind. It wasn’t why this was happening, or how I could stop this strange transformation. It was just one simple word that went through my mind as I wrapped my hands around my member. More.

 

                “More.” I gave voice to my desires as I started to pump my dick, the rough hoof structure of my hands feeling weird but not unpleasant as I stroked. I pulled my cock against my body, feeling the head rubbing between the ridges of my 8-pack under the fur as it continued to creep its way up. A piece of my shoe flew past my face as my feet changed, though I didn’t see nor care what was happening there. My cock was the only thing that mattered now.

 

                “More!” My cock started to reach the bottom of my pecs, my hands slowly being prevented from fully encircling my cock as it continued to grow wider and longer. I could feel the bubbling feeling of transformation at the base of my neck, but it wasn’t my cock, so it wasn’t important in the slightest. I had to use both hands together on the same spot to continuing beating myself off, my legs kicking and squirming as my nuts continued to grow. It felt like a pair of oranges were stuffed in there, and yet I still didn’t feel like I was done.

 

                “MORE!” My voice sounded deeper that time, most likely owing to whatever was happening to my face. Another mini-explosion hit at the base of my neck, the fur seemed to grow up from my thickening neck in an instant as I went from clean shaven to full beard and mustache to coat of fur in seconds. Even my mouth and nose started to push out from my face, soon giving me a short furry muzzle. I should’ve thought it was awful that I was definitely no longer human, but the extra length of my mouth meant I could get the head of my cock into my mouth now, so it was the greatest thing in the world.

 

                “MPPH!” My muffled demand for more was not met this time, though perhaps that was for the best as my cockhead filled my muzzle. Even with the increased width and length of my mouth I could barely fit it in my mouth, the flesh so thick I had to use my teeth to even make a dent in the thick column of flesh. I still continued anyway to stroke the underside of my cock with one of my hands while the other slid down to my balls. Each of them were about a big as a softball and covered in the same fur as the rest of me.

 

                I was a virgin, inexperienced with either sex. Still, I was pretty sure men’s semen didn’t take like… well, the closest I could imagine to was thick, gooey honey that started to finally form at the tip of my cock. Neither was it supposed to be so hot that I probably should’ve been worried about burning myself as I eagerly lapped up the ambrosia. The heat continued to persist as it slid down my throat, down into the pit of my stomach, and fuck, did I need more. The more I drank, the more my cock seemed willing to provide.

 

                This was so, so wrong. I was some massive, muscular bull thing, who was becoming more bullish by the second if the strange itching sensation emerging from either side of my head. I was growing pointed horns that continued to push out from my skull with every passing second. My normally short and neatly trimmed hair was becoming a wild, thick mane that was flowing down my back. And somehow without even being able to see them, I knew my eyes were now a deep blood red, wiping away pretty much any trace of the human I once was. This was on top of the small puffs of smoke coming out of mouth from either my strange seed or something else.

 

                This was so, so wrong, and I was loving every bit of it. I was a monster, with a monster’s strength and size. I felt like my muscles could bend steel and break blades if someone were to strike me, and that was if said blade could even make it through the thick coat of fur. I felt so masculine, so powerful, so fucking STRONG! And not to mention my massive cock; how could THAT be really be so wrong?

 

                “FFFFUUCCCK!!” A sudden swelling of my cock forced my member out of my mouth lest I choke on it, letting my three foot length that was about as big around as a 2-liter soda bottle jut straight into the air. My hips bucked as my cockhead swelled again, slamming my fists into the ground and splintering the wood underneath them. The massive balls that were now my testicles clenched, the veins of my cock throbbing angrily and visibly underneath. And finally, I came.

 

                The windows rattled with the roar I let out as my cock exploded, seed shooting like a geyser from my monstrous member. The living room ceiling of the condo had to be at least 12 feet or more from the floor, and the first burst of my seed nearly hit the ceiling. The second one did reach as gravity took hold of the first burst, making it drop back on me and the surrounding floor. The seed felt warm as it covered my fur, small wisps of steam coming from the puddles that were forming around me. Thirty seconds in, and it showed no signs of slowing down.

 

                The seed covering my fur made my muscles seem even larger, and I couldn’t help but rub and squeeze my muscles as my cock continued to spew. As I flexed my left arm and licked my bulging bicep, I noticed in the corner of my eye one of the blue gems on that bracer were glowing softly. Something had changed, though what had made it happen or what it meant I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t sure of really anything at this point, except for one thing as I looked at my still spewing cock and bought my hands to it again.

 

                “More…”

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