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When Jake regained consciousness, he found that he had been left to sprawl on a pile of pillows and blankets thrown across the floor of a cell: it didn't have bars, but it certainly had a big metal door with a tiny viewing slot and another larger slot lower down. There were no handle to be seen, and the hinges were on the other side.

His eyes quickly darted around the room: the only other thing inside the cell was a large opaque plastic container right next to him. Above him, the roof had a plastic shield around some kind of security camera, a similar set-up around a speaker and the fluorescent bulb illuminating the room high up in the centre. Right above him was the slight drone of a ventilation system. An empty door frame led off to the side, he could see a large, reinforced toilet almost staring back at him through there.

The next thing Jake checked was his body. He'd been stripped: no shoes, no jacket, nothing. It wasn't cold in the chamber, but he didn't like that he'd been sprawled here with nothing. A pit opened up in his stomach.

His body inspection showed him some other things. Jake noted that he'd definitely gotten hairier for one thing: his arms, legs and chest were a forest of dark hair. It didn't cover him completely, but it gave him reason to pause and think, "What exactly is happening to me?" His fingernails hadn't become dirty, as he had believed before; instead, they were distinctly darkening, with stubborn black spots all over them that didn't disappear under the harshest scratching. Further inspection of his hands showed something else, too: callouses had formed on his hands, like he'd been left hanging on to something. His muscles looked bigger too, or at least he'd bulked up: he could feel them when he rubbed his torso.

He must have ejaculated over himself at some point, or someone else had done, because the hair on his torso was sticky. Jake groped around, feeling himself further down. Things seemed bigger and thicker down there as well, but given the rest of him seemed bigger it was sort of hard for him to judge.

Jake rolled up onto his feet; they too were meatier, slapping onto the concrete floor. He noticed that the camera was following him. Something felt a little bit off about his body, but like a lot of more normal times after waking up, he needed to pee.

In the small bathroom was a large shower; the walls were lined with metal, so Jake got to see a distorted reflection of himself as a hot stream of piss waterfalled out of his cock. His proportions looked a little off, but he couldn't really tell if that was him or the bending of the metal. It was hard to get a proper understanding of what was normal for his body throughout this whole ordeal that Jake decided to just not worry about it for a while.

There wasn't a sink in the bathroom, so he ran his hands under the shower's wide head. There didn't seem to be any soap either, not even an empty dispenser. "What the fuck?" grumbled Jake. "What if I'd needed to shit?" He took a quick look at the toilet; they had at least supplied him with toilet paper. He debated taking a shower - he was kind of a gross mess after all - but he decided that he didn't really care. He was a prisoner, after all: he'd done nothing wrong, so he wasn't going to cooperate with whoever had done this to him.

Returning to the main part of his cell, he first checked the door: as he'd expected, the door failed to budge under his pushing and pulling. Even pounding on it with his fists did nothing but make a big noise. Both slots were closed on the outside, keeping most of the noise of his yelling inside. After a while, his hands were getting tired and his voice hoarse, and eventually Jake returned to his "bed".

Removing the lid from the plastic box, Jake discovered it was filled with sex toys. Most of them were dildos, butt plugs and fleshlights of various sizes and shapes, some of them distinctly inhuman. There were several bottles of lubricant, a box described as containing a cock ring, a ball gag and a collar. "Nothing," Jake thought in annoyance, slumping onto the lumpy pile of pillows and sheets. In desperation, he sifted through his "bed", shaking the sheets and covered pillows for anything useful, but they were just as they appeared.

He slumped back onto the pile of stuff, frustrated. Jake laid back and tried to think. Whatever was going to happen was going to happen despite anything that he did. All he'd been left with was somewhere to sleep, go to the toilet and bathe, and apparently use to masturbate. Jake chuckled: if they were expecting him to jerk off for their security camera, they'd be sorely disappointed. To fill in the time, he laid back, trying to get himself as comfortable as possible. "Who knows how long I'm going to be here?" Jake thought.

Time passed really slowly: there wasn't much in the way of mental stimulation for him. He got up, inspected the shower, trying to get a good look at his reflection, but the metal was too warped; perhaps deliberately so. A thorough look-through of the bathroom revealed nothing new. He paced around in his main cell: it was a lot bigger than it needed to be for its contents, which was at least one bonus. Jake didn't find inspection of the concrete walls all that particularly interesting, but there wasn't much else to look at.

As he wandered about, Jake's overactive libido recovered from having been tasered and the shock at being imprisoned. He could feel his cock slowly lengthening, the tip dropping out from his thick, vein-lined foreskin; it looked slick, bloated and needy. It sank down a bit at first, slowly raising as he paced around, trying to get his mind off of it. That didn't seem to help; there was almost nothing for his mind to grab on to, and the need to touch himself grew.

"Besides," he found himself thinking, "I was cheated out of some action before." While he probably had ejaculated earlier, he hadn't been conscious enough to get the pleasurable feedback from engaging in actual sex. He'd either just jizzed in surprise when he'd been electrocuted, or someone had forcibly jerked him off while he'd been unconscious. The last idea felt strangely arousing, which didn't help Jake's desire to calm himself down.

The need kept growing, his bobbing cock dripping occasionally as he paced back and forth. "They probably want this," Jake thought, glancing at the box of sex toys as evidence. It made him angry: masturbating would at least give him something to do, and he certainly wouldn't mind doing it, but there was no way was he intended to do it in front of that camera. He was sure it was following him around, and they were probably just waiting for him to get too pent up to put it off any further.

"The bathroom!" the idea bolted into Jake's head. He felt like an idiot; there hadn't been a camera in there, at least not one he'd noticed, but it at least offered some hope. Jake's footsteps took him over there.

Jake was about half-way to the bathroom when he heard the shink of metal grinding against metal, and a thud. He turned his head; a package had been dropped into his room through the slot. He wondered if he should go and get it: they had waited for him to head into the bathroom with a pretty obvious erection before bringing it, so they had clearly meant its contents as a distraction from doing that, or just something to keep him in here. It was, at least, something different, but it wasn't just his dick that wanted to be stroked: Jake wanted to stroke it too.

Grinning, and throwing up one thickened middle finger in sight of the camera, Jake headed into the bathroom. His captors and their package could wait; his own package could not. Some of the toys had seen interesting, but he wasn't going to trust them either.

Turning on the shower, Jake let the initially-chilly water fall over his hairy body. The black hairs matted down; it looked a little like the otters he'd seen at the zoo. His mind wandered tangentially: having a slender, hairy guy to go down on him would be something he could use right now. Jake flared his nostrils, spraying water out at a tangent to the rest of the shower.

He wrapped his hand around his cock; it felt thick and meaty, and Jake enjoyed not only touching a penis that was that big and fat, but that it was his. He pumped slowly, his mind going on to extend the inkling of an idea into a full-blown fantasy. He'd picked up some hairy guy at the beach; Jake had wandered down there to go swimming and had run into a guy sliding back on to shore on a surfboard. Even though he was wearing board shorts, the surfer had a fairly nice bulge, but what Jake was more interested in was his firm, round ass.

Jake's breath was getting heavier; his eyes were closed, immersing him in his fantasy so much he could barely feel the water running over his body. They talked for a bit; the imaginary beach was deserted other than the two of them and Jake found himself feeling braver. He imagined his own board shorts away, his own hairy body and his huge erection pointing in the surfer's general direction. The blond-haired guy grinned, their bodies brushing up against each other's.

Quickening his pace, Jake fantasized that the hand stroking his cock was the inside of the surfer's body, two sets of balls swaying as his heavier body pressed down against his imaginary fuckbuddy's. Jake could almost smell the salty air and hear the waves pounding on the shore, and the moans from the guy underneath his bulk as the base of his shaft slapped up against those nice, round butt cheeks.

In his head, his own hands were giving the other guy a reach-around. It felt good to make the other guy squirm and moan, in total control of his body as he dominated him. Jake switched hands; the stroking was starting to cramp up the grown muscles on that arm. He leaned back a bit, toying with his nipples, his hand running up against the massive amounts of body hair that he'd grown in the space of a few days.

"Fuck yeah," Jake moaned repeatedly. The non-fantasy-generating part of his mind got a kick out of this: if they could hear him in the other room, then he'd be happy knowing that he hadn't given them what they'd wanted. Inside the fantasy, his heavy arms were wrapped around the slender body beneath him, pushing impossibly deeper and deeper as he moaned both there and in reality.

Semen rushed out of his cock; his stroking hand caught a bit, the warm fluid quickly used as extra lubricant as it moved back and forth rapidly. Jake finally opened his eyes, watching as the creamy fluid his body had created squirted out in a long arc, shooting out of the shower. He watched the second jolt fly out of his body shooting upwards slightly until gravity caught up with it and it hastily descended, smacking into the concrete floor.

The orgasm hit him a fraction of a second later; his eyes nearly rolled back into his head as an immensely good feeling poured out of his brain and throughout the rest of his body. His eyelids dropped closed for a second; he quickly shut off the water, as the last thing he wanted to do was fall asleep with it on, something he felt was likely to happen.

Jake milked his cock dry, squeezing it until it nearly hurt, but wanting to get it all out of him. He didn't even want that camera out there to catch a trickle of his seed dripping off of him. He turned the shower on for a couple of seconds, washing the evidence off of his body, giving his cock head and foreskin a quick clean. "That's something I'll have to get used to," Jake thought to himself.

Turning the shower off again, Jake's breathing had returned to normal. It had only been a quickie, but did make him feel better, especially getting to stick one to his captors. He hadn't been given a towel, but the cell was sufficiently warm that he'd dry off naturally relatively quickly, once he got outside of the foggy bathroom. Humming to himself, Jake trotted out into the main cell room, flipping off the camera again.

Even though opening the package was what his captors - whoever they were - wanted him to do, he still went and picked it up. After all, it was the only other thing he hadn't inspected, and he'd need at least a few minutes before he'd feel up to masturbating again. It'd give him something to do for five minutes at least. Tearing open the package, Jake peeked inside: it was a tablet. Grabbing one of the sheets from his bed, he dried off his hands before pulling it out. When he touched it, a video started to play.

It was a noiseless security feed, featuring a raggedy looking guy in a cell like the one Jake had been put into. He looked homeless: tanned, lined face, bad teeth, scraggy beard. He scratched his head as he talked to a guy who had come in with him. The other guy had had his face blurred out, but seemed to be acting kindly to the other guy. This cell had a table, set out with a bunch of food; Blurred-Out Guy took Homeless Guy over to the table, let him sit down, and Homeless Guy started eating.

The video jumped forward again. Homeless Guy was still there, looking slightly less dishevelled. He looked like he'd had a much-needed bath. In fact, he seemed pretty good, busy jacking off on his bed: a proper bed, having replaced the table in the corner of the room. The camera had zoomed in, recording the display. Jake was kind of pleased that he'd masturbated earlier.

After another jump, and a Blurred-Out Guy - Jake couldn't tell if it was the same one or a different one - was talking to another guy, this one in a hazmat suit, who had Homeless Guy behind a small screen and seemed to be giving him a really slow sponge bath. This clip didn't last long; the next one showing the after-effects: Homeless Guy had been freshly shaved, and was busy stroking his erection again.

If Jake hadn't had his own body's changes to relate to, he would have guessed that the next shot wasn't of Homeless Guy at all, especially if the timestamp in the lower corner of the video was accurate. Here he looked actually healthy: no longer skin and bones, he'd packed on some muscles; he'd grown some of the hair back that had been cut off. Some new things had been added to his room: he had a television, which he was watching. Homeless Guy's cock seemed to be stuck to his hand now, or at least seemed to gravitate to it whenever the camera was on him.

The next part was just really bad voyeuristic porn. Homeless Guy, after some more bulking up and definite growth in his nether regions, was sprawled on all fours. He wasn't alone here: his co-star didn't have his face blurred, but Jake didn't recognise him. Co-Star had brown, hairless skin covering a large, thick body; Jake thought he kind of looked Polynesian. Co-Star's aptly giant cock was being worked slowly into Homeless Guy's ass; Jake noted a few toys scattered about on the floor that he thought might have been used to loosen him up first. Jake bit his lip; if he had to be here, he wouldn't mind meeting up with Co-Star. Homeless Guy didn't look too bad to him, either.

Then Jake's blood ran cold.

The screen had changed again.

Jake wanted it to be CGI: really good CGI, but CGI nevertheless. But something in his gut told him this video wasn't edited in this fashion. Homeless Guy looked panic, and with good reason: he was loping about, sometimes on his feet, but occasionally falling on all fours. His musculature, still impressive, seemed to have altered to something inhuman, making his occasional falling inevitable. Jake was only able to see it because his substantial body hair was sufficiently glossy to distort the light. His face had pushed out, an extra-long tongue lolling out. He had a short nubby tail. Occasionally, he'd drop, curling onto his back, trying to get a grip on his aching cock, a big fat red rocket that pushed out of a thick, hairy foreskin. This was hampered by his long hands having short, claw-tipped fingers and very small thumbs.

Homeless Guy - or, really, Homeless Dog, Jake corrected disbelievingly - had his last appearance in a short section in a different cell; this one seemed much more furnished, and looked larger. There'd been enough of both his first and last forms in the previous clip for Jake to recognise him. Co-Star and a few other guys, were in a room with him; each of them looked vaguely inhuman in some aspect now. Homeless Dog was the farthest gone: he basically looked like a dog at this point. A few things were off, like the roundness of his skull, or that he would sometimes hobble around on two legs a lot longer than a dog could, but the transformation had been dramatic. The others were using him like a living fucktoy; he ran obediently from one to the other, taking their own changed cocks into their mouths, letting them lift up his tail and slide into his ass, his own canine penis dribbling and aching for attention, but not getting any. The look in his eyes said everything: there wasn't any intelligence going on inside Homeless Dog's head.

The last shot of the video was black, with white text that read: "THE CONSEQUENCES OF DISOBEDIENCE"