The Fursuit

Daniel Murphy's sister was determined to make him "come out of himself." Dan was pretty sure she meant "come out of his shell," but with Elaine, you never could tell. "You remind me of Emma," he told her.

She'd narrowed her eyes. "Is she some slut you haven't introduced me to?"

Dan had chuckled. "No. She's a character in a novel by Jane Austin. She's always meddling in other people's business to terrible effect." Later, he was reminded of his conversation with her after the proverbial shit had hit the fan. It had been eerily prescient.

"Oh, good! She isn't real. I only meddle for your own good, Danny," she'd said. "You need to come to this party. Sally's gonna be there, and I know how much you like Sally!"

Dan had groaned. She was going to keep tormenting him until he said yes. "Shit, Lanie!" he'd cursed at her, "I like Sally, but I like a lot of girls."

Elaine knew when she'd won. She wasn't going to press the issue. She knew he was desperate to win a scholarship to go to a good school. Their parents couldn't afford to send either of them to Junior College, let alone a good school. He'd lettered in football and track his sophomore year, and was on track to do so again this year. When he wasn't hitting the books for his AP classes, he was working out or going to football practice. He used to be a science nerd, but now he was a big, powerful football player, a good-looking jock. He probably could have fucked his way through most of the girls in the High School--and quite a few of the guys--if he'd set his mind to it. He was, however, focused on keeping his 4.0+ GPA and acquiring almost perfect SATs.

Dan had to admit, however, that he was feeling pretty burnt out. It was late-October, and he knew enough about himself that it would be a slog to get to Christmas, let alone the rest of the year, without some kind of relaxation.

"Ok," he sighed.

Lannie just smiled. "Sally's going as Little Red Riding Hood," she said. "Guess what that makes you?"

Well, fuck. "I am not going as the big bad wolf," he said flatly.

"Actually, you are, big bru."

"Shit."

There was no arguing with her.

She grabbed him by the arm and dragged him into her POS Toyota. "Can't we take my Jeep?"

"You won't let me drive it!"

"For good reason, sis. Your driving would make the nuns at school get religion. Where the hell are we going?"

"A Magic Store," she said as she aggressively navigated Denver traffic and he tried not to scream.

"Where the fuck are we?" he asked.

"We're in the River North District," she said. "RINO."

"Hipsterville," he said. "Poser pissants."

"Yeah. Just around the corner." She pulled the car into the only space in a parking lot next to a craft brewery.

"Won't the brewery be pissed off that we're taking their last parking space?"

She shrugged. "Naw. They're cool as long as werewolves don't eat their clientele before they spend money.

Werewolves. Dear God, what was his sister smoking?

They got out of the car and wended their way through some amazing metal sculptures in the courtyard into a small office.

OK. The guy behind the counter might have persuaded him that werewolves were real. Six-foot infinity, shirtless upper torso muscles stretched tightly over skin covered in hair. He spotted Dan when they walked in.

"Ah," he said in a deep voice three octaves below music, "So you're the cub."

"The cub?"

He grinned. "Yeah." Dan might have noticed that his teeth looked like fangs.

"We got your costume right here, dude," he said.

Dan looked at Lannie. "What the fuck have you gotten me into?"

She grinned. "You're going to have So Much Fun!" She actually squealed.

The werewolf guy (as Dan thought of him) disappeared in the back room, then came back with an oil-cloth bag. "Try this on for size," he said, grinning at him and showing fangs that were almost obscured by his beard. Almost, but not quite.

Dan took the bag from him. It was quite heavy.

"Make sure you're naked when you put it on." There were those teeth again.

He pointed him to a closet where he could change.

Oh, God. What the fuck was he facing here?

Dan opened the bag and pulled out two pieces. A top and a bottom. Both were covered with coarse hair. The top would be easy to put on.

The bottom, now, that was an entirely different thing.

He started with it. Two leg openings that stretched over the feet, then contracted tightly over the calves and really stretched over his football-player thighs. They were so tight, in fact, that Dan wondered if they would split or tear, but whatever elastic the base was made of, it stretched. When he pulled them to the top of his thighs, they were so tight that they looked like his own skin--only a hell of a lot more hairy.

The crotch, now, that was a problem. "Oh, hell no," Dan muttered when he pulled the skin up far enough that his balls easily dropped into the ball sack of the costume.

His dick, however. Well, that was a problem. Above the ball sack was a tube intended for his penis attached to te wall of abdomen of the fursuit..

There was no way he would be able to stuff his soft cock into that tube. However, his cock had other ideas and began to stiffen enough that he was able to slide it into the tube.

It was easy, then, to pull the costume up to above his waist, where it hugged his body like a second skin.

His cock, however, was still giving him problems and continued to harden until it completely filled the tube, which extended up to his navel, then a detached inch or so protruded from his abdomen where his swollen cockhead came to rest, completely encased in the furry sheath.

While Danny had a healthy ego when it came to his tackle, with which, unbeknownst to his sister--who was even more of a nerd than he was--he had delighted so, so, so very many cheerleaders and had actually experimented with a freshman, a really hairy guy, who drew the short straw to be the Mascot. However, Danny knew his johnson shouldn't be stretched the entire length of his lower abdomen. His alarm grew as his erection went down, leaving him with his elongated member still quite snug in the sheath.

Tentatively, he touched it and, sure enough, felt a bone that had somehow grown inside the length of his shaft. He pulled the sheath back slightly and looked in horror at his glans, which while maintaining a human shape, had turned a blood red color.

He might have whimpered.

The "werewolf" clerk had to have been standing right outside the curtained cubby. "You okay in there, boy?" he asked as he pulled the curtain aside. Admiring the boy, he muttered, "Damn, son, you look mighty fine. Time to put on the top."

Dan shook his head. "I've decided against this costume," he stammered. "I'd like to take it off!"

The clerk grinned, showing even more of the fangs that scissored in the corners of his mouth. "Too late for that, boy. You're stuck with the pelt for 72 hours."

"Then it'll be gone?" Dan asked hopefully.

Another toothsome grin. "Sumpin' lak 'at."

Gingerly, Dan picked up the top. Like the bottom, it was hair-covered. It was also much too small for his muscular torso and arms, he discovered as he attempted to pull it over his head.

"Let me help you with that," the clerk growled as he helped the boy pull it on, smoothing it over his back and pulling down the sleeves, which were surprisingly long enough to stretch down over the tops of his hands.

The top was every bit as tight as the leggings had been, stretching over his flesh so tightly that it might have been his own skin. His very hairy skin.

Dan walked out of the dressing room, followed by the clerk. He surveyed himself nervously in the floor-to-ceiling mirrors, trying to avoid looking at his genitals, which the suit/pelt had turned into a generous canine sheathe reaching to his navel, while fur-covered testicles depended heavily from between his legs. "I feel more naked than I did before I put this on." He peered at his image more closely. "I can't even see where the top meets the bottom," he murmured.

The clerk smiled and put his hands on the youth's shoulders. "For the next few days, this is what naked will feel like," he said, ignoring the comment about the fact that the two halves of the pelt had somehow grown together.

He walked over to a rack of clothes and pulled out a leather kilt. "Here, try this on."

"A kilt? Why would I wear a kilt?"

"Because your tackle is now wolf-like. Jeans would have to ride above your navel to fit. Even dress slacks don't ride that high on the waist any more."

"That makes sense." He wrapped the garment around his waist, just above his navel, and marveled at what he looked like. The kilt complimented the werewolf costume. The clerk then came back with a baggy long-sleeved shirt that easily fit over the pelt.

"Not so nekked now," he observed. With the exception of his hairy lower legs.

"So what about fangs and a tail?" Dan surprised himself as he was becoming comfortable with his bizarre costume.

The clerk grinned, giving Dan a flash of his own fangs. "That comes later," he said mysteriously.

Somehow that didn't sound very encouraging, and Dan again began second-guessing what he'd let his sister talk him into.

"Let's go show the ladies," the clerk said.

"Oh my God!" Lanie shrieked. "You are so hot!" The girls crowded around, remarking on how amazing he looked. "Take your shirt off!" one of them said.

"Swoonworthy!"

"Get the fuck off me! No! You're not getting to see what's under the kilt!" Dan struggled to fend them off.

He turned to the clerk. "How much do I owe you?"

"Oh, I'll collect later," he said with a toothy grin.

Dan pulled his shirt back on and headed for the door, followed by the females. Outside on the sidewalk, all their boyfriends and half his football teammates were waiting to check out the costume. There was general catcalling, hooting, and laughter as the guys spotted the kilt.

Dan flipped them off to increased laughter. One of the guys made a loud arrroooooo! sound and Dan actually snarled at him. He got in Lannie's car and started the engine. Lannie had gotten in the passenger seat and was just buckling her seat belt when the embarrassed boy shot out of the parking space, leaving his friends laughing and howling in the rearview mirror.

"I swear to God, Lannie," he snarled again, "this is one of your most fucked-up ideas ever. I though you were going to put me in some damn fursuit like a school mascot, not this shitty thing!"

She grinned at her brother. "That was the original plan before Sally told me about the place."

"Sally told you about it?"

"Yeah. She said one of her uncles owns the place."

Dan didn't know what to make of that, except that Sally had taken an interest. For the first time since the fursuit ordeal had begun, he was beginning to get interested in this hallowe'en party Lanie was dragging him to.

"Interesting," he said.

She grinned at me again. "You're gonna be awesome, bru!" she said.

Finally he grinned back. "Maybe so."

Mom met them in the driveway as Dan pulled the car in. When he got out, she actually squealed in excitement. Everyone was in on getting the boy costumed, it seemed. She noted the kilt and raised an eyebrow. Dan set a new personal best for blushing.

"Well," she said, "this isn't exactly what I was expecting."

"Me, neither," he grumbled.

She reached out and ran her hand over the fur below the cuff of his shirt. "This looks so real!" she exclaimed.

Dan felt a frisson of alarm when he felt her hand caress the hair. He shouldn't have such sensitive sensations through the fursuit, should he?

"I need to do some studying," he said.

Mom rolled her eyes. "It's Friday afternoon," she said. "You could relax for one evening, you know."

"Well, I have a party to go to tomorrow night," he said. "I don't want to have to be studying on Sunday."

She sighed. "Of course not." While Dan's mom and dad were proud of his academic as well as his athletic accomplishments, they both worried that he would burn out before he finished High School. Dan had no plans to burn out, but he did have plans to get good grades. He desperately needed to get some academic scholarships. He was self-aware enough to know there would be no sports scholarships forthcoming. He was a strong, fast, aggressive, and accurate wide receiver, but he didn't think he had the kind of skillz to become a player attractive to college scouts.

He loped up the stairs two at a time, intending to take a long, hot shower, then hit the books until dinnertime. Taking a look at himself in the mirror, he cursed and decided to nix the shower and go straight to the books until dinnertime.

A couple of hours later, he heard his mom call. The kilt had stretched out a bit, so he decided to change into sweats and a long-sleeved t-shirt. It was warm enough that he could have worn a short-sleeved t-shirt, but he did not want to draw more attention to his new hairiness.

Rummaging around in the back of his closet, he found his biggest pair of sweats. He pulled off the shirt and folded it neatly and put it in his shirt drawer. Then he unfastened the kilt, folded the waist into thirds, and found an empty trouser hanger that worked nicely. The leather was surprisingly heavy so he had to make sure the hanger gripped it well.

Then, tentatively, he walked into the bathroom and surveyed himself in the mirror with growing alarm. Since noon, when he'd first put the fursuit on, he had developed an impressive set of low-hangers a third of the way down his muscular thighs. He'd felt them grazing his legs while walking that afternoon, and it had been a surprisingly pleasant sensation. Almost sensuous.

But the visual was frightening.

Then there was the cock.

Dan had been a big guy in the junk department since he hit puberty early at twelve years old. It had gotten him laid numerous times long before he reached his majority. But this was ridiculous. And terrifying. He remembered being disgusted while stuffing his semi-erect dick into the tube in the costume and being grossed out at the artificial baculum that almost felt as if it were inside his dick instead of being the perverted idea of an over-precise costume maker.

At the time, Dan had figured that after his stiffy went down, his smaller (though still impressive!) dick would have shrunk about halfway down the tube he'd stuffed it into.

Alas, it was not to be. With a diameter somewhere between two and three inches, Dan surveyed a penis sheath that began just above where his frighteningly enlarged testicles were depending and stretched its way up his abdomen to his navel. The teenager squeezed the obscene thing just below where it detached from his belly and formed a mushroom-shaped bulb that perkily obscured his belly button.

It felt like "him."

Daniel moaned then. That squeeze had felt very nice, indeed. His mother's bellow up the stairs for him to come to dinner, dammit, diminished his enthusiasm for more exploration.

He grabbed the biggest set of sweats out of the back of his closet, pulled them up to his surprisingly thin waist (he'd have to explore that later), and pulled a heavy many-extra-large long-sleeved t-shirt over his torso, where it stretched over his upper body, but draped over his slender waist. At least it hid the bulge from his canine tackle.

"Coming, Mom!" he shouted down the stairs.

Dan found dinner very uncomfortable. His mom wanted to know more about the costume and the upcoming party. Was Sally a nice girl? Etc.

Dad, however, immediately noticed his son's developing body. "Those extra weight sets Coach Adams set for you are really beginning to show," he said. "You're turning into quite the beast."

Another fucking prophecy that would come all too true, Dan would remember later.

"What extra weight sets? Coach hasn't given me any special assignments," his son replied. "Besides, I don't have time for any additional weight training."

His dad blinked. "I just assumed that, with all the muscle mass you're putting on that he was giving you extra exercises."

"You're eating like you just got released from a concentration camp," his mother added as he filled his plate for the third time with the delightful roast salmon that was a Friday night staple in their house. Because, High-Church Episcopalians. And Friday.

"Just really hungry," he said.

"I'll say." Lanie always had to add her two cents' worth.

He just scowled at his sister when she gave him one of her patented fucking-annoying grins.

He looked at his mother. "May I be excused?"

"Of course, dear."

Dan made his way up to his room. He wanted a shower so badly he could taste it but was reluctant because of what it might do to the damn fursuit that, to his dismay, had become inexorably melded to his human body. He could not tell where his own skin left off and the fursuit began. Initially, he was reluctant to get it wet because it might dissolve before the costume party and disappoint Sally.

But, fuckit. He needed a shower. Like most athletes, he was super-conscious of not smelling like a locker room, and he imagined that the pelt (as he was coming to think of it) had to be nasty, even though he couldn't smell a thing on him.

"Fuck it," he muttered again as he turned the shower on to boiling and stepped under the scalding spray, hoping against hope that the water would melt the fur off his body.

It didn't.

Instead, the bathroom was soon flooded with the humid scent of wet dog.

"Oh, fuck me," he said as the scrambled to find some kind of body wash in the shower in the bathroom he shared with his sister to cut the stench.

Years ago, she had given him a bottle of "pheromone body wash" that was "guaranteed to up his sexual attractiveness." It had been something of a Christmas joke as she was perpetually urging him to date more and study less (and for God's sake, get laid!). She would make a great Las Vegas Madam, and he'd told her so. On Christmas morning when they were opening presents. It hadn't ended well.

Dan remembered that the stuff didn't smell particularly bad, just musky with only a hint of perfume. And there it was, in the corner of the shower. Coated with that pink fungus slime that grew when you didn't clean the shower frequently enough.

He reached down into the corner of the shower, picked up the bottle, and proceeded to squirt a quarter of the bottle onto the forest of chest hair before rubbing it into to his chest and arms, down his legs, and even managed to soap up his monstrously transformed genitalia with aromatic suds.

And they were aromatic.

They cut the dog-smell almost immediately, but the fumes from the body wash, while not particularly pleasant, had an extraordinary effect on Dan. Something changed in his lower gut, and looking down after turning off the shower, he watched an enormous swelling starting at the base of cock which grew so large that the sheath covering his balls began to slick back around the swelling, revealing a fully-transformed canine penis with a knot the size of a baseball at the base of his dick.

His response to it shocked him even as he thought it. "I gotta find somebody to fuck with this." He moaned.

Then, like the good boy he was, ignoring his arousal, he got out of the shower, flossed his teeth, then brushed them.

Not bothering to put on boxers or sleep pants afterward, he went into his bedroom and collapsed face-first onto his pillow and was instantly unconscious.

Unlike all the werewolf narratives, he didn't dream of running through the forest in shifted form. In fact, he didn't dream at all--that he remembered--and only became aware of his ongoing transformation when he rolled over the next morning and something sharp poked him in the cheek.

"Ow! Fuck!"

Dan lifted his head and stupidly looked at all his teeth nestled on his pillow while feeling the one stuck to his cheek, all of which had dropped out of his mouth during the night. He didn't recognize what had happened at first. I mean, even young boys don't pay that much attention to their mom when she and the dentist are yelling at them about better oral hygiene and keeping their teeth into adulthood and, even, Old Age.