FSE

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It starts deep within my groin, like some kind of twitch or tingle. A deep buzz resonates outward from there and that tingle travels up my spine with a slow twitch of every muscle along the way. I've imagined it was some gland buried deep within me that comes alive and begins to flood me with some strange hormone. It's the only thing that really explains the rest of it.

From there it begins to pulse outward into my shaft. I don't think I've been as quick to an erection since I was a teenager, but that's when this all began so it may be more of a chicken and the egg thing. It doesn't take long before my heart rate begins to climb and I feel a sort of dull, steady throb between my thighs. My first time, freshly dealing with the awkwardness of puberty, I climaxed more times than I could count. Now, it's more of a welcoming feeling. I challenge myself to keep a cap on it while the rest begins to overwhelm me.

Below the base of my cock, I can feel my balls begin to swell. A steady surge pulses through them and forces me to shift to accommodate the change. It's an intensely erotic experience, as obvious as that might seem, but it's not just like a frantic midnight stroke or even a long, passionate night with a girlfriend. There's something about it that just take me over and thrums through me like my entire body has become a vibrator. I can feel the tingles in my fingertips even before the changes have reached much further than my crotch.

The thin folds of my cut foreskin begin to thicken. It was particularly strange to feel that softer flesh wrap around the base of my shaft, rolling down to rest against my sensitive and still swelling sack like a loose sweater sleeve. Now it splits my lips into a smile and I have a hard time keeping my hands from shifting down there and running my fingers along the edge of my newly growing sheath.

As my cock begins to shift to a much redder color, the flesh pulled taut my the blood being forced into it's growing girth with each heartbeat, the curly and scraggly hairs dotting the area grow smoother and straighter as they shift into a dirty ivory in color. It's a bit of a problem when it's all over, every strand of my body hair falls out and I need to dye my hair for a few days afterward, but in the cusp of the moment the silken sensation against my hand is blissful.

I still haven't been able to keep my touch away once it's gotten this far. Usually my hand has drawn up from my newly fuzzy sack and wrapped slowly around the thick, turgid length of my shaft. The next burst is a wave I love riding while I pleasure myself and no amount of desire to edge myself to get the most out of it has been successful.

Now the heat begins to roll over me. Usually, I've got a layer of pudge that naturally accumulates over time. Before the first change, it was embarrassing to me to see how easily my body held on to everything I ate. All my desperate attempts at weight loss and working out just meant I was more ravenous when I did eat. I didn't understand that there was a reason my body did that and fighting it was doing more harm than good.

Every inch of fat I wear now, I know if just fuel for the whole event. Doesn't mean I subsist solely on cupcakes and cola, it didn't take long to realize well-rounded meals made the process more pleasurable and less exhausting, but it does mean I can be quite a bit more cavalier about my diet. It's another kind of freedom I enjoy thanks to this quirk of heritage.

The heat is intense. Like the warmth of a sauna radiating through every cell of my body. Even at room temperature, my breath pours out in billows of misty air. One time, I took my temperature and clocked in at 107 degrees Fahrenheit. I know, it's unhealthy, but I'm doubtful most doctors would completely understand my "condition". There've been no ill effects, just the sensation of having sweat soaked body and the need for a nice cool shower afterward.

It just radiates out through me as each layer of fat is burned away in turn. Weeks of caloric abuse get stripped away between each one of my panting breaths. As my stomach rumbles and churns, my other hand is usually trailing up along my belly and lingering on the swelling muscle beneath the ever thinning layer of chub.

As indulgent as it is, I love every moment of it. Feeling that sleek, powerful, taut muscle straining against my skin. Sometimes, if I have the foresight, I watch in the mirror as if it were a before and after picture of a diet. I haven't been able to hold onto my weight for more than a month before the change rips it off me like a desperate housewife tearing the pants off a male stripper.

It's not just losing the weight though. Everything becomes bigger and more defined. My body arcs into the underwear model territory as the change rips every possible scrap of nutrition from my flabby stores. My hips are taut as slats of muscle fill out and curve around to tighten and lift my backside. My abs jut out in fist sized ridges, evenly spaced as they travel upward. Though it was awkward at first, the dark moles that spot along my abdomen shift and swell into small, vestigial nipples. Running my fingers along the sensitive nubs of flesh that trail down towards my belly button, I've considered getting them pierced to increase the sensitivity. Wouldn't do me much good the next day though.

Once the burst of heat pushes upward and I feel it rising in my chest, I usually can't hold back. My cock twitches and I'm firing a high arc of seed across the bed or chair I'm resting in. My sac has doubled in size by now and the weight of my new testicles pulls just enough to send a thrill through my spasming length for a solid minute while the changes continue to roll through me.

My pectorals broaden and spread outward, pulling the skin taut as they form a sharp canyon between the two rounded hills of muscle. At the same time, my back begins to arch and pop as new vertebrae slide into place from somewhere inside. I had a curiosity about the change after the first few, about how it worked and how it could happen. The questions I had never got answered to my satisfaction but I no longer concern myself with the why. The sensations are so intense and the hedonistic thrills are so heady, it's just more satisfying to enjoy the outcome than consider the underlying mechanics. That itself might be another side-effect of all this.

Now the hair across my body will begin to catch up. Dustings of whites bordered by deep sienna and red begin to spread across my arched form. I always wind up with my chest thrust outward and back pulled in, when my spine is realigning it makes the process much smoother. By now my hands have dropped to either side and clutch at whatever is near me. The sensations are even more intense now as everything starts to pulse and throb to some unheard rhythm. It doesn't stop the pleasure pulsing through my groin, though. I've lost count of how many times I've climaxed without touching myself at that point. A stiff breeze can be enough to do it. That's why when I'm feeling particularly lewd, I'll leave a window open.

By now, my arms have begun to join in the change. My shoulders crackle and pop as they shift to accommodate the new thick ropes of muscle winding down around my shoulder blades. Then comes the bicep and forearm, bulging and shifting beneath my skin as they are followed by a dusting of ruddy fur. That feels less like a tingle and more like I'm stretching out before a workout. Like there is some deep knot buried in them that I'm just now working out.

That's not to say that my legs are any different but the effects are far more pronounced. Perhaps it's because of what I become, that some part of the change views my arms as more... decorative, or something. The power and the strength, though, surge in my legs. My thighs tighten and stretch like I'm being inflated and pulled on a rack at the same time. They thicken to an almost absurd degree as they wrap and anchor themselves to my hips and femur. Even with my broadening hand, fingertips disappearing beneath the curve of a dark, black claw and the ruddy fur that has covered nearly everywhere else, my thighs still outpace the rest of the growth.

One night, I'd been staying in a bed and breakfast deep in the woods. After the change, I stepped out from my room and just ran. There was no panic or worry, everyone else had long since fallen asleep, just another tingle of curiosity about what I could do. I don't think I ever moved that fast before and nothing seemed to tire me. I bolted down a five mile trail and made it back to the house just panting lightly with my legs tingling for more. Of course, they're good for other things that just running too.

Soon after, my calves tighten and pull shorter as my ankle shifts and clicks into a new configuration. It's like standing on your tiptoes but with quite a bit more surface area to work with. I started off fairly unsteady on those new feet, but after a few changes I got used to the change in my balance. That and the sensation of wiggling those thick, clawed and furred toes is delightfully ticklish.

With the change almost over, it usually becomes more of a blur. Every inch of me is tingling in some otherworldly pleasure and it's difficult to remain removed from the now and consider the effects as they come. Though I do admit, long before my head catched up with the rest of me, I usually have my lips eagerly wrapped around my length. At least as far as I can lacking a muzzle and the last few vertebrae snapping into place.

Though the tail does bare some mention. The feeling is singular and, much like the toes, pleasureable in it's own strange way. It feels a bit like someone is straightening your back but by grabbing your spine like a rope and tugging firmly and slowly. As it snakes out from above my now almost spherical hindquarters, my hips usually sway and twitch back and forth with each pop of the smaller bones into place. Some long forgotten instinct of how to wag a tail, I suppose, that asserts itself whenever the promise of its old purpose becomes relevant again. Regardless, it usually winds up feeling equally sensual and sends even more of a charge through the rest of my body.

Last, I suppose, is my dirtiest desire. The sensation of growing a muzzle is, though I'm overusing the word I'm sure, unique. I enjoy it most when it happens while my new length is already sliding past my lips. Feeling that warmth slide down over my already sensitive flesh, the twining of my lengthening tongue trailing over the tip and down towards the base. Even the delicate prick of teeth, grazing delicately over that already throbbing knot of desire, just throws me into a blissful haze.

As my ears slip upwards, twitching and flicking about just up and back from my eyes, and my nose shifts to catch the waves of scents as they roll over me, my barriers are shattered and that some steady throb that started the whole thing leaps back to the fore. My body tenses as I curl in on myself and fires a stream of thick cum down my throat like a firehose. There is no other word for it but, amazing. Like a rollercoaster of orgasms with highs in lows coming in quick succession before the last peak slams you down and you're left gasping for breath with eyes plastered open wide.

That's the last moments of the change. A heady euphoria of endorphins and pleasure buzzing about my extremities and a steady, comforting warmth still radiating out from my belly. Despite the intensity, it only takes me a few moments to settle back into my new form and as new eyes look keenly through the darkness, I feel the need to move and seek and... fuck.

I've found, through the years, that the changes effects haven't been completely temporary. When I was younger, my sexual focus was something I had just defaulted to. Women were presented to my horny teenage self as the epitome of sex and sexualty. Posters of breasts were plastered across the walls of my bedroom and thin, panty covered models encompassed my every teenage desire. With each time I shifted, however, my interests did as well. Sometimes they delved into the fetishistic. Some bondage or clothing play as I explored my new form. Other times, they became more focused. I tried my first dildo after a change. The feeling of that thick, rubber toy as it first slipped inside me drove me mad with pleasure. It's been strange, moving from a default vanilla way of seeking pleasure to something decidedly more patchwork. Even more so now that I look back on those changes.

Most telling was this morning. Normally when I wake up from my nights out, I'm alone. The change is commonly only appealing to a very select number of people and those same individuals are unlikely to care for me when I am just another guy again. Today, I rolled over and felt my arm come to rest on another person. The surprise startled me though not nearly as much as when they rolled over. I'd played with the toys and the accessories of a polysexual but now I saw another man laying across from me. Someone who had come back to my hotel room and stayed the whole night.

I usually grab a room before the change. It's selfish, I don't want to clean up after my own messes if I can avoid it, but it's also another part of the ritual. Another way that I keep it all seperate from my normal life. If I even have a normal life anymore...

I don't mean to come off like this. It was hardly unusual that while changed, I'd have fun with almost anything that was agreeable. However it always just ended there. A quickly in some darkened corner or hidden bathroom. It was an experimental thrill that remained, just like the rest of my life between changes, as a nebulous anonymous experience. It wasn't that I only sought that out. More so just like most people's life, due to my situation that became the default. Now I was facing the idea that it was more than just a hazy night of fun that would linger in the back of my mind for a few days. A story of sowing wild oats that I could really only tell myself.

...and it was a guy. Despite all this I'd remained just drifting in my comfortable default. I was going to have a wife, kids... even talking about it now just makes me realize how absurd that would be with me changing every few weeks into what I become. The fun had been the only focus and then I just let everything settle back down afterwards.

As I saw him wake up, the look in his eyes and the pencil thin smile that we all give when we find ourselves in an unexpected situation, I froze. In that moment I simply didn't have the time to finally consider all the consequences of my actions or what this could all mean. He smile spread a little further, softening as he drew back the covers and pulled himself to his feet.

I could see it on his body as well, the strange sort of partial emaciation I'd woken up to every day after the physical manifestation of the change had faded. He was like me. Somehow it just made it all the more complicated. At least until he turned to me after a long stretch and cocked his head to the side.

"You wanna grab some food? I'm starving."

We had brunch. I ate far too many eggs and bacon as he devoured a stack of pancakes the numbered into the double digits. We talked in a makeshift coded language, sharing snippets of our experiences and how we spent our own time during our changes. It became a connection, almost immediately. In the span of an hour filled with breakfast foods, I learned that I wasn't the only one out there who changed and wasn't the only one who took advantage of that to live another life.

When the bill came, I felt that same weight when I woke up that morning. The cloud that hung around me after we got dressed, walked down to the ground floor and out into the sunlight. I felt like there was some greater meaning that had just been dumped into my lap and I was paralyzed to deal with it.

"Don't worry about it," he said as he placed a few bills on the table. "After last night I feel like I owe you too."

I asked what he remembered. My own recollections were still a bit spotty when riding the hormone high. He told me we'd hooked up almost immediately, we'd gone back to the hotel room and just went crazy. He joked about how he could still feel the soreness in a few choice places.

"It doesn't have to be more than this," he said as his gaze dropped. "It's always been that way for me anyway and..."

Something clicked and my hand slid forward to squeeze his softly, "but it can be."

We're meeting for drinks later tonight. I still don't know what to make of it. I don't know if it makes me gay now or if I'm bi or... or if it really matters either way. I found someone I can tell my embarrassing stories to. Someone who won't look at me funny when I eat a 32oz porterhouse the day before the change and not put on a pound. It's a connection. It's a hole I didn't know I had, that I haven't already found a way to fill. Anyway, that's what got me to come here in the first place. I want more people to talk to about this part of me. Maybe there's more out there than just the two of us.

I want those people to find a connection as well. I hope this helps with that.