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nobleking13 · 23 days ago

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Free Flag

Despite himself, Chris is filled with more bear pride than he can handle after getting a free pride flag with his coffee.

Hope you all enjoy this shorter bear Tf! Now I’m back to playing Cyberpunk, kinda making me obsessed with personality overwriting so expect some of that down the line haha ! Until then! -Occam

Chris didn’t really like coffee all that much, he was just grabbing a latte to support local queer business. It seemed the right thing to do, now more than ever and all that. And when he heard they’re giving away flags as a promotion for their opening, well he wasn’t in the business of turning away free things, it’s just? He assumed he’d get to choose or it’d just be the blanket progress flag or something.

Holding up the seven striped, neutral toned flag with some animal paw in the corner he was starting to reconsider his policy on gift horses. “Uhm, sorry is this like, a furry thing?” The barista sleepily shakes his head, “Oh- no that’s bears, y’know?”

Immediately recognizing it now, Chris apologizes and begins to move to give it back before the barista starts to mime out what a gay bear is, “yeah not an animal, obvi? Surely you know-“ moving an arm to show a large gut and using the other to make a beard, leaving coffee grounds on his face.

After a few seconds of debating whether the barista is mocking him or not, Chris decides it’s not worth it. He’ll just take his coffee and the flag he really doesn’t quite want and leave. Crumpling the flag up in his free hand to obscure exactly what it is, latte in tow, he exits into the mall proper. Unbeknownst to the unhappy customer, the cafe is not done with him yet though. If he’s unsatisfied with his flag, he’ll just have to grow some bear pride.

It does not take long for Chris to notice a strange itch on his wrist. He rubs it on his pants assuming that’ll do the trick as it usually does, and for a few moments the irritation fades. But then it gets worse. The young man grimaces as it even begins to spread further up his arm, trying again Chris forcefully scratches almost his full forearm into his side, and then he yelps as an arm hair catches on his pants and pulls free.

He’s halfway through rolling his eyes when he realizes how bizarre that is, he doesn’t have hair enough to even see on his arms, let alone long enough for something ro catch. Looking at his arm holding the coffee, he confirms this before his eyes fall to the other, the one clutching a flag he should have left in that cafe. Clear as day he sees it suddenly spotted with long dark curls still growing along the whole of its length. Darkest on his wrist, seemingly creeping up from that hand wrapped in the flag, he gasps and drops his coffee to the floor as unmistakably he sees an arm with hair thicker than his pubes hanging from his side.

Trying to drop the flag he grunts in pain as his hand cramps from effort. As he stares he realizes that hair growth is not the only change occurring, Chris’ arm begins to surge larger. With each pump of his racing heart the limb begins to expand. Worried his hand is just tangled in fabric he foolhardily reaches into the fabric and yanks with his other hand. As soon as it makes contact there’s a static shock as the hand he can, could, recognize as his own begins its own transformation.

His mouth falls open as this transformation is plain to see. Like an old werewolf movie he sees each individual digit expand, lengthen. He swears he can hear his palm crack as it widens and almost looks fatter as, despite their added length his fingers similarly begin to look a little chubby. Turning it over he sees the same dark coverage that must coat his trapped hand. He sees a river of curls race up his forearm, creating a pelt before he’s reminded that the growth is not from follicles alone.

Both sleeves begin to strain as biceps he has never exercised begin to grow. He can clearly hear the sound of his shirt start to fray, haphazard strings slowly popping before bare skin is exposed and a few scattered but long hairs begin to lance out through the gaps.

Still terrified by whatever nightmarish transformation is occurring, when he makes the slightest movement of an arm and feels the still increasing strength they wield, a quiet new impulse begins to prickle in his mind. Would it be so bad to be bigger? To be hairier? Testing the waters to see just how impressive this new bicep is he half-flexes and bursts the sleeve straight of his arm.

Raising it into a right angle he moans quietly to himself as the torn fabric falls to the mall floor. Exposed to the open air, he blushes as he sees hair growth has continued under his shirt. He’s always shaved his pits, but as he looks at the slowly growing curls inching out of armpit he can’t imagine why he would ever think to do so. The paltry stubble that was starting to regrow rapidly becomes an average man’s garden of pit hair. Then in between the strands regrowing, new thicker curls sprout forth. Soon enough both pits have sprouted patches dark enough that deodorant would have an impossible time reaching the bare skin beneath.

Staring at his exposed pit, feeling himself be consumed by the allure of his thickening hair, Chris can barely feel as his other arm burst from its sleeve without even flexing. Blearily turning to see the skin splotchy as it regains color from straining against its wretched containment. His lips twitch as he suddenly needs it to grow more. To this end he flexes, his stomach turning over as he sees muscle bulge and expand in real time, staring hungrily as it quickly grows to match its partner. Chris begins to feel a warmth in his crotch as his transformation is quickly becoming far too enticing for him to observe in public.

Before his eyes are completely with lust, Chris turns his gaze towards a clothes store down the way and begins to make the struggled journey to relative privacy. Stumbling past kiosks whose attendants give him a wide berth, new clothes become more a priority with each step as it becomes clear that bursting sleeves are only the first of many wardrobe dilemmas to come in short order.

Chris’ stomach rumbles as he begins to feel some discomfort on his waistline. The shirt that once hung limply off his thin torso rapidly begins to tighten around his midsection. Fighting back a burp he tastes the coffee from that strange cafe on his tongue as he feels more bloated than he’s felt in his life.

Finally arriving in the quiet men’s clothing store, he clutches at his stomach with his trapped hand and feels it bulge outward, pushing his shirt to its limits. Graced directly by the flag, his midriff is exposed as the shirt is tugged up. Exposed to the cool air of the almost empty store, his thin treasure trail expands quickly. From an inch of curls launched upwards from his pubes to his bellybutton, the trail becomes a highway of hair, rapidly engulfing the whole of his lower stomach as it pushes out over his crotch.

His slowly ballooning torso is joined by another wrapped package gaining weight and girth as the hanging flag flits against the boner he hopes no one has noticed. In doing so his cock becomes an even greater problem. Chris’ yelps as his cock pushes out further, his balls tugging up as they pulse with need, growing heavier with each beat of his heart and throb of his dick.

No time to be discerning, he grabs the first shirt and pants he can reach and sprints across the store to find a changing room. Clerks and the few other patrons watch as the growing man sprints past them, foreshadowed by the sound of fabric tearing as his shirt can no longer hold back his form, and trailed by the brown flag slowly unfurling as his hand is released.

Across a clenched jaw which clean shaven would be too generous a term as hair has simply never grown, a fair few prickles of facial hair begin to push out in patches. Pitiful strands create a small goatee while something a little more advanced than a teen’s first mustache launches out of his upper lip. What is initially a few strands of peach fuzz poking across his cheeks rapidly spreads to connect sideburns launching down his cheeks and a neckbeard rising up.

By the time he stumbles into the dressing room and sees his disheveled reflection, his face is shadowed with a level of stubble he finds irresistible. Mouth watering as he rotates his head to see how his new mature face looks from every angle, he almost misses the tear launching down his shirt as his stomach becomes a beer belly that puts any frat bro’s freshman fifteen to shame. His thin chest bursts into something teetering on the edge of pecs as they rip open his neckline.

While a central tear and its many offshoots race down the front of his shirt, curls continue to ascend his torso. Rushing past a belly button almost buried in hair, his new weighty chest is promptly covered in a jungle of curls, spiraling around his suddenly wide nipples and careening above collarbones that are ever more to be buried.

Staring at his reflection his hands cup his new stomach, finding their new resting place as curls push between his thick, fatter fingers. His smile is partially obscured by the beard rapidly covering more of his face as a few curls from his chest connect seamlessly with the itchy stubble inching down from his chin.

He barely noticed as the bear flag fell from his hand and onto his feet, obscuring his shoes as his feet burst free from them, hiding as his toes lance out from their front before they’re coated with a few thick, dark curls. His legs hungrily race to catch up to the rest of his form, growing bulky and strong from carrying his heavy upper body with ease. From his ankles to his hips lies a consistent layer of thick body hair. One that would incite awe. Grimacing, he struggles to remove his pants before his legs burst free, just in time letting them fall as his meaty thighs explode.

Under thickening brows his eyes take in his new self, watching greedily at the one remaining piece of clothing still clinging to his body. Boxer-briefs that had more than enough room this morning hug his thighs tight as their elastic waist band begins to fray and tear. More important though is the heavy bulge at their front. Tight enough to see a throbbing vein on his cock and the clear outline of two balls larger than seems possible, the briefs perfectly frame his package. The new bear almost drools at the dark grey stain at the head of the dick, delighted at how much pre his new self produces.

An eye twitches as he truly acknowledges the thought, becomes aware of his new reality, of his new self. Scratching his beard and moaning at the sound of his fingers travelling through the tangled curls, he picks up the bear flag and smirks. Guess they knew what they were doing all along when they gave him the flag. As soon as he lifts it up his hips thrust uncontrollably and he looses the heaviest load of his life.

Splattering against the mirror of the dressing room, staining the flag clutched in his hairy hand. There’s simply no way people in the store don’t hear the man losing control as his voice finally deepens to a mature, dulcet bass. Every remaining inch of his form that has been untouched by his new fur coat is just as thoroughly covered. His ass hangs heavier, perfect to be manhandled as its cheeks and crack are coated with thick dark curls before they raise in a peak up his lower back.

His upper arms and shoulders bulge heavier with muscle as he leans against the wall, his hips continuing to rut. His hairline rapidly shooting down the back of his neck to connect with the garden ushering forth across his upper back, shoulders painted with a layer of hair that few could rival. With gasping breaths and heaving grunts his ecstasy slowly wanes and his hands go to grasp his heavy cock, to play with his cum-splattered pubes. His eyes twinkle with delight as he once and for all enjoys his reflection.

And then he blinks.

Chris buttons up the shirt he just picked out from his favorite store at the mall. Not everyone carries these things in his size after all. Turning he smirks as he sees how perfectly the pants contour to his massive ass. He undoes one more button from the neck to let a few more curls breath free. He nods to himself more than happy with how he looks in the new fit.

Leaning in close to the mirror stained in memory alone, he straightens his beard and checks his slightly thinner hairline before shrugging. Doing so he pushes down his cock as it starts to harden from seeing his beer gut bounce, no time for that- He’s in public after all. Looking at the watch on his hair wrist he nods and heads out from the dressing room, grabbing his phone from a pile of clothes that aren’t his- they couldn't be his of course, far too small. He doesn’t bat an eye at the bear pride phone case it now sits in.

Wandering free from a dressing room left only slightly messier than when he entered, Chris pays for the clothes he has on and heads out into the mall proper. Eying the less-than-bustling walkways he sees a cafe down the way. There’s a glimmer of something in his eyes as he smiles, he could do with a coffee.

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