Figurines 2 - Wolf x Skunk

Samuel got home to his apartment, his suit still damp even though the nightmare was almost half an hour behind him. He’d been on his lunch break from work downtown, heading home, when the need to take a piss had become a bit more urgent than he would have liked. Samuel had always had a bit of a weak bladder, so he knew where all the urinals were in a ten block radius from his office. He’d hustled over to the park where there was a small bathroom--just a stall, a urinal, and a sink--gone in, positioned himself, and started pissing just as another fellow came into the small space.

Samuel hadn’t thought much of it, until the guy came up right behind him at the urinal, and with a bit of a growl in his voice, had said, “Yer in my fuckin’ way--I gotta piss.”

“I’ll be done in a second, or use the damn stall,” Samuel had said, a bit annoyed.

The stranger had growled again, Samuel heard the sound of a zipper, and then felt something hot and wet splatter against the seat of his suit pants. “If you won’t get out of my way, I guess I’ll make you into my urinal then,” the man said with a gruff laugh.

There was nothing Samuel could do as the man pushed him up against the urinal in front of him, still pissing against the porcelain, as the man hosed down the back of his pants. Samuel turned around to cuss the fellow out, and got a good look at him for the first time. Samuel was a rather small fellow--five foot eight, around a hundred and sixty pounds. The man in front of him was much taller with broad shoulders and a muscular chest--and a leer that seemed almost...wolfish, to him. “You fucking...you’re going to pay to replace these clothes, you fucker,” Samuel said, trying to sound as tough as he could.

“Heh, well, if they're my clothes, I might as well soak them down properly,” the stranger said, grabbed Samuel by the tie and collar, and shoved him over against the wall. Samuel lost his balance and ended up on his wet ass next to the sink, and the stranger stood over him, and emptied the rest of his bladder all over Samuel’s head and face. The smell of the man’s piss was incredibly strong, overwhelming his senses, and the next thing he knew, the man was pushing his cock into Samuel’s mouth, and fucking his throat, right there in the public bathroom. Worse still, Samuel couldn’t seem to do anything to stop him--he just stayed there on his ass while the man used his mouth, came all over his face, and then walked out, laughing, leaving Samuel there stinking of his piss, the taste of his cum on his tongue.

Needless to say, he’d called the office and excused himself for the afternoon, then made his way home to his apartment. It had been a humiliating walk, many people stepping out of his way and holding their noses as he passed them by. Now though, at least he was safe. He stripped out of his filthy clothes and climbed in the shower, determined to get himself cleaned up before figuring out what he was going to say to the police when he reported this.

In the end though, he was too ashamed to call and report it. He washed the clothes, put them through the dryer, but even then, he swore the scent of the man’s piss lingered on them, and he threw them out instead. Samuel had always prided himself on his cleanliness and his organization. His life wasn’t impressive, but it was streamlined and efficient. There was never anything out of the ordinary, never much in the way of surprise, but this had thrown him for a loop, and he spiraled, calling in sick to work the next day as well, and sulking around his flat, disgusted with himself.

It was late in the evening, as he was getting ready for bed, that there came a heavy knock on the door to his apartment. He went to the door, looked through the peephole, and stumbled back. There, in the hallway, was the fucker from the bathroom! “Come on, let me in, little fella, didn’t we have fun last time?” the man said, his words a bit slurred, probably from alcohol. “I gotta piss real bad again...”

“I’m calling the cops you fucking freak,” Samuel said, started to dial the number on his phone, and then caught a familiar scent on the air. Looking down, he saw a yellow puddle flowing under the door--the fucker was pissing outside in the hallway! Before he could do anything though--he was on his hands and knees, licking the strong, beer flavored piss from the floor, unable to help himself.

“Come on, open the door, and let me in. Let’s have some fun,” the man said.

In a daze like before, unable to fully control himself, Samuel let the man in. He seemed different than the day before. His teeth were sharper, nails too. There was too much hair on his arms, and it looked almost silvery. The man dragged him into the bedroom and this time, fucked Samuel’s ass, right there on his bed, for close to an hour. After a howling orgasm, the man pulled out, pissed all over Samuel and his bed, and then left without another word. The scent of piss all around him made Samuel so horny, he found himself masturbating himself right there on the soaked sheets, rolling around in it, coating himself in the man’s stench, until he came, a massive load all over himself--and he passed out, exhausted from the encounter.

Samuel tried to keep up appearances over the next few weeks, but the man kept coming back. Not every night, but several times a week, always late at night, and each time, Samuel would find himself unable to resist. He’d let the man in, he’d have his way with Samuel, and then leave--sometimes without a word spoken at all. Each time he saw him, the man had changed a bit more, looking less human, and more and more like a wolf. The first time they’d knotted after a long fuck, Samuel almost screamed from the pain as the base of the man’s cock swelled larger than should have been possible, locking them together on the bed, on the sheets he’d kept forgetting to wash. Now, it seemed, that conversation was unavoidable, so Samuel asked the question that had been on his mind for a while.

“What’s...happening to you? You need help, you need to see a doctor,” he said.

“I’m fine. Everything’s fine. I’m becoming everything I’m supposed to be,” the man growled in reply.

“No--this isn’t right. You have to stop this. You can’t keep doing this to me, it’s wrong.”

“You love it.”

“I fucking don’t!”

The man growled, tried to pull free, but Samuel’s hole refused to release it.

“If you had one, you’d understand,” the man said.

“If I had what?”

The man growled, then gave a little chuckle. “My name’s Tobias, but everyone calls me by my last name, Wolfe. What’s yours?”

“Fuck you, you rape me for two weeks, and now you want my name?”

“Come on, it’s not rape, you let me in each time. You love it.”

“Fuck you.”

Wolfe pulled on his cock, making Samuel moan in pain again, just to remind him who, exactly, was getting fucked here. “Come on, tell me.”

“Samuel.”

“Samuel...huh. Not Sam? Sammy?”

“Fuck no.”

Wolfe laughed. “Fine. Here, relax, I think...almost got it...”

He managed to dislodge himself at last, and got his clothes back on. “Do you really not want me to come here anymore? I...I admit, I kind of have a hard time with self-control. I thought you liked it.”

“No--no, fuck you, I don’t want you coming here anymore,” Samuel said.

It was hard to read the expression on Wolfe’s face, both because it was less and less human, and also because it seemed somewhere between hurt, and amused. “Fine. Sorry. I’ll...leave you alone. But if you change your mind, well, you’ll find me, probably.”

“Fat chance.”

Wolfe gave him a wink with one of his yellow eyes, and left without another word. Samuel breathed a sigh of relief--maybe...maybe it was really over, and he could put this whole sordid episode behind him.

***

Wolfe didn’t show his face again, much to Samuel’s surprise, but two days later, he came home from work to discover a small package in front of his door. He took it inside and read the note tucked on top.

This might help you understand, --W

He unwrapped the package, and inside, he found a hideous little statuette--or more like a diorama. It was a statue of some weird creature, half skunk and half human, on his knees between two urinals, mouth open, and drenched. The figure was quite fat, and looked to be wearing leather biker gear of all things, with a big, bushy skunk tail raised up behind him, and a puff of gas rendered in stone coming out. It was disgusting, and yet, as soon as he laid eyes on it, Samuel found himself rather taken with it. Somehow, it made sense, coming from Wolfe, in his own way. The guy was a freak, and an asshole, but he clearly realized he’d done wrong, and while it was messed up, he was at least trying to fix it.

Samuel ended up putting it in the bedroom and went about his evening business--but his dreams that night were vivid, and highly sexual. He woke the next morning to the dual realization that he’d had a wet dream, and he’d pissed the bed--something he’d avoided doing for years, despite his problematic bladder. He was also late for work. He threw on a wrinkled suit, grabbed some fast food on the way to work, scarfed it down and made it to the office only a few minutes late--though his quick meal made him remarkably gassy for the rest of the day.

It was the strangest thing really--each time he farted, the smell was intense. While the odor would have usually offended him, he actually found himself enjoying it each time it happened, and was rather embarrassed to realize the smell was also making him rather horny. Dinner was similarly rushed, and he ate more than he usually would, and again, the gas it gave him was rather excessive. At home now, he couldn’t resist pulling out his cock and jacking off to the smell, as much as it made him feel disgusting, and when he went to bed, the sheets still smelling of Wolfe’s piss, he jacked off again, despite himself.

As the weeks passed, Samuel found his life beginning to fray along the edges. He was gaining weight. His hygiene and manners were slipping. His life, which had always been so well planned out and efficient, was beginning to feel more and more chaotic. He was wetting the bed every night now, and found that he didn’t mind it. The stink of his farts and piss each morning would have him in a sexual frenzy, and he’d jack off once or twice before getting up and heading to work.

With the weight gain, he started to notice he was growing hair as well, all over his body. Most of it was black--odd, since he’d always been a brunette--but he noticed one night a trail of silver forming down the center of his head--and down the middle of his back, to a small...tail growing out at the base of his spine, that he hadn’t noticed before.

He thought about Wolfe, and he thought about that figurine, and realized then, what was happening. Whatever had been happening to Wolfe was now happening to him, except he wasn’t becoming a wolfman--he was turning into a skunk, like that fucking statue! He told himself that he needed to get rid of it, get it out of the apartment at least, but he couldn’t bring himself to part with it, as irrational as he knew that was. Instead, he settled on denial, but things quickly passed the point where he could pretend nothing was happening.

The cloud of stink seemed to follow him everywhere, and grew more and more intense as he changed. His farts were part of it, but it was more than that--no matter how well he cleaned himself, he just always smelled terrible a few minutes later. Anyone who smelled him was disgusted by him. Women would flee, which was fine by him. Women had disgusted him more and more as the transformation had taken hold. Men though, men would use it as an excuse to humiliate and ridicule him--and worse, he found himself enjoying it more and more.

It came to a head one day at work. He was in the bathroom, taking a cautionary leak, since more and more often, he’d found himself pissing his pants if he wasn’t careful. He’d thought the room was empty, and so he’d released a long, nasty fart into the air, one that made his increasingly small cock rock hard under his gut, and so he’d started jacking off in front of the urinal, only for his boss to walk right into the cloud of his stink.

“Fuck, you nasty piece of shit--it’s time someone around here taught your filthy ass a fucking lesson,” he said, walked over, and slapped Samuel across his furry face. He kept hurling abuse and slaps until Samuel ended up on his knees against the wall of the bathroom, and his boss pulled out his cock and Samuel sucked him off, right there. His boss didn’t last long, and once he’d cum, he fed Samuel a load of piss as well--only for one of his coworkers to stumble out of the stall where he’d just finished taking a shit.

“We’re out of toilet paper, but that filthy mouth will do just fine, won’t it?” the man had said, and made Samuel lick his crack clean while his boss had continued berating him. He could feel another fart building up, and he tried to stifle it, but couldn’t. The gas drove the men into a frenzy, fucking his ass, first one, and then another, and more and more guys kept coming into the bathroom, only to become just as crazed from the smell. Samuel was used and abused for hours, and while at first he’d been desperate for it to end, by the time the last man had stumbled out to go home, he found himself wishing it would never end.

Of course, by the time he got home, he was too ashamed to show his face there again, and a profanity laden message on his phone from his boss informed him he’d been terminated immediately. He let loose another fart as he contempleted what to do, and the stink only made him horny, fantasizing about all those men who had used and abused him--and he was determined, then and there, to just...keep it in.

So Samuel stayed in his apartment. He did everything he could to keep his gas at bay, held it in as much as he could, opening up all the windows in the apartment, even if it was cold out. It worked, for a while. He couldn’t control it while he was sleeping though, and his dreams--they were vivid, sexual, and horrifying. Wolfe was a near constant feature, though in his dreams, he was always more wolf than man, vicious and unrelenting, pinning Samuel’s stinking ass down and raping him wherever they might be in his dreamscape. Men from work appeared too, as well as neighbors, and family members. Samuel would wake sweaty, the room full of his farts, and at first, he’d throw open a window and air the place out, but eventually, he lost the will to do even that. He’d hotbox himself, and the more he smelled the vile gas, it seemed like the more he would change as well. The fur spreading, growing fatter, his face pushing out into an odd snout, nose framed by a thick white biker mustache.

He started pulling his neighbors in. One whiff, and they were more than happy to use his skunky hole. His landlord used him too, though without an income, Samuel could only pay rent with his dirty ass for so long, before he was finally thrown to the sidewalk--homeless.

The Samuel who ended up on the streets though, was almost nothing like the short, thin, efficient businessman of a few months earlier. He’d traded all his suits in for just one outfit--some filthy denim jeans with the ass ripped out, so his thick, matted skunk tail could bush out properly, used leather chaps he’d bought online while drunk one night, a nasty, piss soaked t-shirt and a leather jacket, similarly used. When he left, he took almost nothing with him--just a duffel bag with some essentials, and of course, his figurine. He couldn’t possibly part with it--it was just...too important.

Life on the streets wasn’t as hard as he’d expected it to be. His thick, greasy fur kept him plenty warm, even on cold nights. His nose would lead him to plenty of greasy, thrown away food that he could scarf down, and of course, his cloud of musk made sure that any cop who tried to accost him, usually ended up dragging him into an alley to fuck his dirty skunk hole and douse him with a load of piss. Pretty much any other derelict would trade their booze for a blowjob or a tongue cleaning from the disgusting skunk man, as well. If anything, Samuel--or Sammy, as he was going by these days, actually found himself enjoying life, for the first time in a long while.

One thing he kept thinking about though, was Wolfe. Fuck, he’d really fucked up his chances there. He regretted everything he’d said, he’d been such a hot fuck, and he’d just thrown him out, tried to change him. And now--now that Sammy was desperate for any filthy fucker he could find, it seemed that Wolfe was nowhere to be found. At least, until one cold night, when Sammy caught a familiar scent on the air.

Wolfe’s piss. He’d know that smell anywhere. He gathered up his things and started tracking it down, sniffing along streets and alleys until he ended up in front of a grimy looking biker bar down by the docks. Sammy made his way inside, into the bathroom, and sure enough--there was Wolfe, fucking some fat biker fuck over the sink. “Fuck, I thought I knew that nasty fuckin’ stench from somewhere. Get on your knees skunk, clean out my hole,” Wolfe said, baring his teeth, and lifting up his rather majestic tail, exposing his ass.  Sammy moaned, got down, and gave Wolfe a proper tongue job while he fucked the biker’s hole, and as his stink wafted through the bar, the other patrons couldn’t resist joining in, the night dissolving into a filthy orgy, with Sammy and Wolfe right in the middle of it.

Wolfe and Sammy--or rather, Skummy, as he goes by now--have been together ever since. Skummy moved into Wolfe’s little, dingy apartment, As soon as he set his figurine next to Wolfe’s own, the bases joined together like they were made for each other. There, on one side, a fat, dirty biker skunk getting hosed down by a massive, muscular wolfman leering down at him. Once he’d gotten a bit cleaned up and back on his feet, Skummy even managed to find a job for the company he’d worked for before--though now he was in the maintenance and janitorial department. Mostly though, he’d wander the building in his filthy coveralls, occasionally cleaning or fixing something, but usually he’d be in some dirty corner of the basement or a bathroom getting fucked or pissed on by one of the employees who’d caught wind of his scent.

Eventually, he saved up enough to afford a bike like Wolfe’s and the two of them were a regular sight at biker bars, truck stops, and rest areas up and down the highways around the city. Most weekends, they could be found together in the bar where they had reunited. The bar had even taken out one of the urinals to give the piss-crazed skunk a little extra space, and he was regularly chained to the wall all weekend long, getting doused with piss by all the patrons, cleaning out their dirty cracks and holes, and of course, getting his skunk snout roughly face fucked by Wolfe’s canine cock. And at night, curled up with his head on his wolf’s chest, Skummy would heave a great sigh of contentment. He’d been worried that he’d lost his chance at this. Happiness. He’d look over at their figurines in the dark, smile, and drift off to sleep, letting off another load of piss into the mattress, right where he knew he belonged.