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The Cabin in the Woods

By Cimmaron Spirit

Commission for Dcrest13

WARNING: Contains hyper, muscle, cock growth, muscle growth, masturabtion, excessive cum, immobilization and werewolf transformation. If you don't like it or don't meet the age of legal requirement in your area, then don't go on. If you do like these words, then enjoy!

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Thump.

THUMP.

BANG!

The wooden door finally swung open, the seized, rusty hinges finally giving way to allow Chris into the small wooden cabin.

The young man sniffled, before sneezing, and using his strength to push the door closed again. When the wood latch clicked into place, Chris slid down the front of the door, exhausted. He'd been hiking all day through the forest, but this sudden rainstorm had caught him unprepared. Chris didn't think it had been forecasted, which made him grumble.

"Stupid weathermen," he grumbled, before slipping his heavy backpack off his weary shoulders, and he stood up.

The cabin was another surprise. He didn't remember ever seeing this cabin in these woods before, and he'd been wandering through it for half his life now. Most of the cabins were run down and falling apart, but this one was still standing, with a solid roof and everything.

Chris reached into his backpack and pulled out a small flashlight. He shone it around, to see what was inside. He didn't except any electricity or anything, but everything inside looked old. Really old. But also new, like it had been abandoned decades ago, but remained in perfect shape through all that time, a strange time capsule.

The floorboards creaked as he walked around. Old handmade furniture, like a chair, a table and a bed, with a large pot-bellied iron stove in the middle of the cabin were the main points of interest, but there was also lots of tin cans, boxes, and even some books lying here and there. He picked up one of the cans on the table, which didn't even have dust on it, and looked on it.

"Reinsworth's Canned Beans," Chris read. "Copyright... 1899?"

Chris looked at the can, looking over the nearly 120 year old can of beans. He carefully set it down again, afraid of being poisoned by whatever was inside it.

The cabin seemed homey enough, but it was still freezing cold. Chris shivered in his wet clothes.

"Okay... fire," he muttered, before going to the stove and opening it. There was a pail of coal right next to it, as well as some scraps of wood and tinder, so he filled the black iron stove, lit a match from a nearby matchbox, and soon had a roaring fire.

The heat began to spread through the room, but Chris was still frigid in his clothes. He looked around, and saw a rather large fur blanket on the edge of the bed.

"Well, better than nothing," he thought, as he started to strip out of his clothes. He pulled the table and the chair closer, and slung his sweater, t-shirt and jeans over the furniture, kicking off his shoes and socks and laying them near the heater. He was only in his underwear, which fortunately was not wet, and he quickly grabbed the fur and wrapped it around him.

The grey and white fur blanket was huge, easily wrapping his body from his narrow shoulders, his flat belly and his skinny legs in warmth and comfort. Chris sighed, feeling at home.

He looked down, to see a note that was left under the blanket. He picked it up, and looked over the words.

To whomever finds this cabin;

This wolf pelt that you see here is enchanted by a magic that should seem impossible, except that I saw it happen with mine own eyes.

Those that wear it will be cursed with a horrible transformation, and one that will turn even the kindest, gentlest soul into a monster. So leave it be.

Reginald Heartford, 1902

Chris looked at the note, then scoffed. "Really? Is that the best of a joke that old timey people could come up with?" He tossed the note onto the table, and walked back to the bed, flopping onto its comfortable straw filled mattress.

The young man lay on the bed, which was just close enough to the pot-bellied stove to feel comfortably warm, and he began to doze off.

As he began to relax, the steady pitter-patter of raindrops on the roof forming a soothing, calm white noise that let Chris began to daydream. Strange images began to run through his head: wolves, twice as big than normal ones, running on their hind legs, prowling through forests, howling at the moon, with bright red cocks the size of small trees jutting proudly from their groins...

Chris snapped awake. "What the hell?"

He glanced down, opening the fur blanket enough to see his briefs being stretched upwards, larger than any erection he ever had before. He reached down and hooked his thumbs into the waistband and tugged it down.

His dick, no longer constrained, sprung upwards, at least a couple inches longer than the perfectly average five inches it was before. Chris stared at the thick, pulsing cock, the head pointed upwards to his face.

"What... that's... what?" he stammered, just staring at his cock as it continued to throb, as if saying "Touch me, you know you want to!"

Chris' hand shakily grabbed his demanding manhood, through his mind was telling him to stop, to leave it alone. His fingers are barely able to encircle the thickness, sending shocks of pleasure racing through his body. Chris gave a soft moan, arching his back as his body tensed up. Soon he was stroking his sensitive organ, groaning as his skin tingled and his cock began to throb even harder...

"Uggghhh!" Chris groaned as he came, cum splattering over his chest and stomach. His mind went blank as he felt with cock pulse, his body shaking and spasming as he came.

After a long five minutes, Chris' body suddenly relaxed, and he lay panting on the warm, comfy wolf rug around him.

"That... wow," Chris panted, blinking as he looked up at the roof. He had never had that intense of an orgasm in his life before!

He reached for the edge of the fur blanket to pull it over himself to keep cool, but he grabbed his arm instead, and was pulling it. Chris let go, and reached again for what he was sure was the edge of the blanket, but once again, his arm was lifted up.

"What?" the bleary Chris asked, lifting his head up to see what was going on. He reached for the edge of the blanket again, but when his hands grabbed around the fur, he lifted it up, only to see that his arm had become part of the blanket.

"What the hell?" Chris cried out, looking at the fur pelt that had begun to meld into his skin. He looked at his other arm, to see that it too was being covered in the grey white fur. Most of this legs and his sides were fur as well, leaving him half skin, half furry.

"Was... was that note telling the truth?"

Chris started to climb out of the bed to look for that old parchment, but as he sat up, his cock slapped against his still hairless stomach, streaked with cum, and fur starting to grow from where it had landed. Only now the hard, throbbing and leaking cock was almost to his chest. His balls had also began to inflate, easily the size of baseballs now.

"What's happening to me?" Chris cried out, his voice dropping an octave lower as he panicked. But even as he was trying to understand what was happening to him, his hands, seemly of their own volition, wrapped around his turgid length, and began to jack off again.

"N-no, no, nooo..." Chris gasped as his legs began to twitch, his arms pumping his cock faster and faster. He watched in shock and horror as every movement of his arms made his fur covered biceps bulge a bit bigger, his fingers grew a bit longer. Each breath made his chest push out, his abs start growing in, his legs begin to thicken. It felt like someone had a tire pump that was inflating him bigger and bigger

With a last pump over his engorged cock, he began to cum again. The first shots splattered over Chris' face, the hot, thick, musky cum nearly drowning him. He pushed his cock down as he coughed the spunk from his mouth and lungs, sending buckets of seed onto the wooden floors of the cabin. Chris panted, reaching up to wipe the cum from his face. But it felt weird... his nose and mouth didn't feel to be in the right place. He used his larger hand to feel his face, and he began to realize that he was growing a canine muzzle.

"Am I... turning into a werewolf?" Chris asked, but no one was around to answer him. Except for his cock, which, even though it came twice in just a few minutes was already rock hard, drooling more seed from his tip. And it was a tip, his cock starting to turn more canine as fur and muscle grew over his body. A thick knot, larger than his two fists together, began to form at the bottom, while a fuzzy sheathe began to grow up below that. Not to mention that his cock was now almost three feet long, and his fuzzy sack below them was holding two basketball, churning more cum for him.

"Oh god, not again!" Chris groaned as he felt his demanding cock demand attention again. By now Chris couldn't ignore it even if he wanted to. His body demanded that he release his pent up energy, his pent up sexual urges. So he began to rub his cock again.

The bed underneath him snapped, unable to hold the mass of werewolf growing on it. Chris fell to his knees, beating his meat as hard and as fast as he could. His muscles began to throb even bigger, veins pushing out past his skin and even visible through the thick fur. The grey and white was spreading like wildfire over his expanding body, covering his abs, which went from a six pack to eight to ten as Chris' body shook and vibrated, flexing and clenching as the push, the drive to release the pressure of pleasure over his body.

Chris snarled as felt his fingernails grew longer, sharper, taking a dark black hue, as did his toenails as his feet grew larger to support the growing lycanthrope. His legs were growing thicker, his calves fighting with his balls for space, forcing him to stretch his legs wider and wider to give his ballooning balls the space they needed.

"GAHHHHH!" Chris roared out as his balls heaved, and he began to cum again. The thick shots of cum smashed against the far wall, sending old cans and boxes and tins flying around as his cannon continued to fire. Chris couldn't even hold his cock anymore, and soon it was spraying his virile semen everywhere. The cum began to pool on the floor, the seed that hit the red-hot pot bellied stove turned to steam and the cabin began to turn into a cum dump sauna.

By now Chris was covered head to foot in grey and white fur, expect of the long, thick red cock between his legs. A thick bushy tail was wagging over his bubble butt that seemed almost too small for the rest of his body. His arms, thighs, hips and chest were beyond even professional bodybuilders and heading to an Olympic god sized stature. He was closing in on nearly seven feet tall, and even that didn't seem big enough for the muscle on muscle that was growing over his body.

Most notably the huge, five foot pole of a red rocket on his crotch, with beachball sized testicles that dragged the fuzzy sack below his knees.

And his cock was hard again.

Chris grunted and groaned, straining his body to wrap his arms around his cock. But the bulging biceps, the wide and imposing shoulders, the pecs that made it impossible for the werewolf to look down made it nearly impossible to reach his cock. He was sweating, partially from the exertion, partially from the humidity that was building up in the wooden cabin.

But he forced one hand onto his ultra sensitive manhood, and that alone was enough to make Chris howl as he came again.

This time nothing was spared. The white tidal wave began to drown the cabin in musky, muggy, pearly white werewolf juice. It quickly began to rise, covering Chris' feet, then his knees, then past his balls and up to his groin. The fire which was hissing and steaming, was put out as cum raced through the open slats on the side. Chris' much too small clothes were now utterly destroyed from the cum, as was everything else in the cabin.

Chris managed to stay standing even as he came, though more because the muscle that packed his body had turned him immobile. He couldn't even bend an arm or a leg. He had been turned into an over-muscled, living statue of a werewolf, unable to move, to think, to do anything but cum, and cum, and cum again. And his massive cock, as long now as Chris was tall, and fueled by the boulders that was now growing behind Chris, was in no mood to slow down.

The windows began to shatter, white gushing out. The door burst open, but even that wasn't enough. Soon the timbers of the cabin itself began to creak and groan, before it finally tore apart, leaving a ten foot tall, grotesquely muscular lycan sitting on a fifteen foot long cock with balls that were the size of a car in the middle of a growing white lake of cum where the cabin once stood.

The table, surprisingly, had not been destroyed, and instead had floated away on the ocean of virile werewolf cum, until it set down half a mile away near a tree. The cum stained note that had warned of the dangers began to shift, the black ink rearranging it's words.

I told you. Enjoy being a werewolf for all your living days.