Talion's island

The ocean lapped against the shore, licking the sand with the waves and pulling the granules into the water. Each tongue of liquid took a swirling mass of sand with it, the miniature particles dissolving into the mouth of the ocean. Driftwood floated gaily, swelling and dipping with crests, moving with the will of the oceanic puppeteer. Under the sun, the beach took on the disposition of a broken Etch-and-Sketch, reflecting back the occasional lines that would fade immediately. Amongst the flotsam were recognizable parts of a sailboat: the sail itself, curved pieces that belonged to the hull, part of a rudder.

Talion hacked up a lung full of water onto the beach, a bit dribbling down his chin and soaking into his already drenched shirt. A crab, who had the unfortunate fate to be under this sudden fall, expressed its displeasure by clicking its pincers before scuttling away. Talion missed this, as his ears were still filled with water and his eyes were burning from the salt in them. Rubbing them only seemed to make his vision worse. With a tentative placement of his paws on the sand, the cougar attempted to stand up, lightly testing his weight on each leg to see if anything was broken or out of place, his tail twitching to keep him better balanced.

With his pale brown fur, he almost blended into the beach. Talion would be lucky to hit 6 feet if he jumped. As it was, at his 5’5, he tended to get passed over as inconsequential. Considering his line of work, menial engineering work in a long standing tech company, he didn’t really have that much problem with being unnoticed. He was content to do his thing, let everybody else leave him alone, and just enjoy what life had to offer. That was why he had bought a sailboat in the first place. He thought that after a summer of lessons, he would be able to keep himself from wrecking the damn thing.

Once he was sure he’d be able to walk, he stumbled around with his arms outstretched, groping for anything to give him a sense of placement. He recognized the faded sound of the beach well enough, but he was hoping something solid would finish off the picture for him. There were a lot of beaches were he lived: some for the wealthy, some for the public, some for boaters, and some for those who wished they were wealthy. If he could find a sign, he rationed, then he could maybe find some sort of indicator, like a bathroom sign with a super imposed image of a girl in a short dress sitting down. He realized shortly after that mildly inappropriate thought that just calling for help might be a better idea.

“Hey, can somebody give me a hand?” he shouted before he dissolved into another fit of coughing. Some more water came out. When nobody replied, he tried being louder, only to get the same results. Confused, and somewhat alarmed, he tried opening his eyes again, but the burning sensation was so bad that he nearly fell over from pain. His ears popped.

In his wandering, he failed to notice a rock, which he proceeded to trip over. Talion fell muzzle first into the sand, getting a good crop of the stuff into his mouth. The grittiness of it brought to his attention just how parched he was, probably a result of the sea salt. When his eyes swelled up with searing heat, he forget about his thirst under a canopy of overwhelming pain, his now stubbed toe providing a dull ache to the overall discomfort.

Another attempt to call for help ended with more sand his mouth. Disheartened, frightened, and in pain, the cougar chose to continue lying face first in the sand—he just didn’t feel like he had the energy to roll over anymore. The decrease in oxygen that resulted from his position, coupled with his injuries and disorientation, caused him to pass out for the second time that day.

Talion groaned to wakefulness ten minutes later. Something large and firm was poking him in his side, like a child poking a carcass with a stick to see if the dead animal will move. The cougar rolled over slowly. He tried to open his eyes, but the grit and salt were stinging worse than before. His toe throbbed with a dull pain.

“Go away,” he mumbled through a mouthful of sand. “I’m trying to sleep.” Whatever was poking him stopped, but now that Talion was alerted to a presence, he could tell that it hadn’t left yet. “Help,” he said once he realized that this could in fact be somebody who had heard him. Cool water splashed in the cougars face, and a gentle touch lightly rubbed at his eyes. A few blinks later, and Talion could see again without extraordinary pain.

What greeted his sights was a lion, standing 6’7 and packed with muscles. Talion’s eyes went wide with shock. The lion was wearing only a loincloth, which wasn’t helping all that much at the moment considering the cougar was lying down. Hanging half way down the big cat’s thigh was a piece of meat unlike any Talion had seen before. Even weakened, he had the decency to be embarrassed and look away, concentrating on the empty coconut husk beside his helper’s feet. But the vision of an over 300 pound figure of muscle sporting a sausage wasn’t quick in removing itself from his brain.

“Thanks,” said Talion with a shamed face. “It’s good somebody heard me.” The lion looked quizzical, a rather odd expression for someone so large. Talion attempted to smile. “Do you think I can have some more water?” He waited, but got no response. “Hello? You deaf or something?” Still no response from the hulk. Talion was getting worried that his savior might be a bit lacking in the brain department to compensate for the impressive amount of brawn.

The cougar tried to stand on his own. When he failed, rather than wait for assistance, he tried again. Talion had no desire to look like a weakling in front of the man before him. An attempt to sit up resulted in Talion gasping for air. Using his arms for leverage made his chest hurt. Nothing he did was getting him anywhere, and the lion wasn’t offering any further help. Finally, after six separate attempts, Talion gave up. He lay with his legs and arms extended upon the beach sand, fully expecting the worst. His eyes closed.

Talion experienced weightlessness as the lion finally took action. The beast of a man easily lifted the tiny engineer up with one arm, proceeding to drape the cougar over his shoulders. Too exhausted from trying to stand up on his own, Talion didn’t even have the strength to offer his thanks, let alone protest and flail like he actually wanted to do. Even if he’d been at full strength, he was half the lion’s weight and size. With no recourse, Talion decided that he’d best just enjoy the ride through the hazy outlook of a failing consciousness.

Through his fluttering eyelids, he got a rather disjointed image of his surroundings. Palm trees stood beside spruces where the shoreline turned to grassland. The sun ducked behind a gathering of deep purple clouds, yet everything still glistened as it would in normal sunlight. Something squeaked. Ocean noises disappeared, replaced by the howling wind blowing between the leave. Everything was on the same level plane.

Despite the unchanging altitude, Talion felt like he was jumping off mountains to land in a sea of trampolines. Each one of the lion’s steps bobbed Talion up and down, the ungentle shifting upsetting his stomach. He nearly lost his lunch over his carrier’s expansive back. The motion sickness reached its zenith, but with nothing to heave up, the cougar dissolved into weak coughing. To rebel against his illness, he closed his eyes tightly. His body responded with sleep.

When he came to again, he found himself surrounded in a greenish-black darkness. The sleep had done his body some good: he had strength enough to move a little bit, but the gnawing sense of hunger plagued him. Worse still was the craving for water. A quick look to his sides showed him that there was nothing of use. It did reveal to him two things, however. First, that he was not wearing the majority of his clothing anymore. Apparently wherever he was they had stripped him down to only his boxers. The second, surprisingly more disturbing realization was that somebody was staring at him.

More than staring, Talion felt, it was like the stranger was appraising him, but from a distance that he couldn’t tell if it was the study of a doctor or the ogle of an admirer. He couldn’t quite make out the stranger’s species without proper lighting. The lack of light convinced Talion that he was being neither treated nor admired—he was being regarded as an oddity.

Before he could start deducing why, pain assaulted his arms. When he tried to bend them, they cramped up tighter. This was accompanied by a similar constriction in his legs. The pain brought tears to his eyes, and soon he tasted salt water again. It could not have been more than a minute that he was locked in pain, yet Talion was convinced that it had lasted longer. His body ached, taking him close to unconsciousness.

Sunshine pierced the darkness, in tandem with the sound of flapping fabric. A gruff voice spoke in a language Talion could not recognize. A smaller voice replied, followed by the shuffling of feet and a noise similar to horses galloping. The cougar felt something hard and fuzzy pressing against his lips, its contents sloshing against his nose. He gulped at the liquid, ignoring the fact that it was warmer than he’d have liked. It wasn’t water, since it was far too thick, but it was much sweeter than any candy he’d ever consumed. The coconut cup was removed from his mouth. Something soft was forced into his hands. When he demonstrated that he couldn’t move his arm, it was removed. There was some shuffling about, another moment of light, and then darkness.

Talion guessed that his tender was the lion from before. For one thing, the cougar could recognize the lion’s scent, but it also helped that he’d seen the lion in the light. The muscular cat was currently hovering over him with torn pieces of cloth. Closer inspection revealed that those pieces were remnants of Talion’s clothing. They were torn into strips, which the lion tenderly tied to seemingly random locations on Talion’s body: his right foot, his left bicep, around his stomach, and his waist.

“Could you tell me what’s going on?” asked Talion, hoping this time he might get a response from the lion. Just like the previous time, though, the lion didn’t seem to understand. Talion was convinced he wasn’t a brute, as he’d heard the lion say something—what he’d said was another question entirely. Talion didn’t bother trying to make contact again. There was a language barrier that he couldn’t break, since all he knew how to speak was English.

With the return of light came the return of the sweet liquid. Talion could make out individual tastes in it this time, some combination of cloves and nutmeg. Almost as soon as the cup was empty, he could feel his wakefulness slipping away again. Before he passed out, he wondered if all shipwreck survivors went through similar experiences. The constant need to sleep was wearing on him.

The darkness returned, stronger than before. He imagined in his half-awake state that there was a female cougar standing over him, naked down to the waist. She was waving to him, and even that gentle movement made her large breasts bounce. Talion’s eyes were glued to that endowment, bigger than any he’d seen before by a factor of three to one. They couldn’t possibly be real, he thought. Slowly, the image blurred, and the female was replaced with a male also waving. His chest was the exact same size as the previous illusion’s, but Talion could tell that, unlike the female version’s soft and squishy breasts, this was all chest muscle, swollen grotesquely out of proportion to the rest of the vision’s body.

His ears twitched to pick up a faint noise, the sight before him fading back to nothingness. It was a scratching noise, like claws through coarse fur. He turned to the left, where the sound was emanating from, fully expecting to see nothing in the thick fog of black surrounding him. Talion found, sitting only a foot away from him, a lithe male wolf, his fur color indiscernible in the blackness, but his form clearly outlined. The young wolf had one hand on his chest and the other….

Talion turned away with haste, fur rubbing against the fabric floor. He’d never seen another male masturbate before, nor had he ever imagined that somebody might be looking at him while doing it. The wolf coughed, and the scratching noise died. Talion turned back to face the wolf, making sure to keep his sights well above waist level. The wolf was rubbing the back of his head in a manner that Talion could only interpret as abashed.

“Sorry to wake,” said the wolf, “Didn’t think you’d ‘ear me. Couldn’t stop myself. ‘e did tell me it would ‘appen.”

“Ya, well… as long as you weren’t thinking about me,” replied Talion. He was testing his movement, pleased to find that his body was responding without pain. The cougar sat up to face the wolf. “So… who are you?”

“I’m Gilad. Gilad Silver. Pleasure to make your acquaintance… though maybe that’s not what you want.” The wolf’s natural laugh filled the air. The longer Talion was awake, the more he could make out in the darkness. Gilad had dark grey fur, was probably about 5’10, maybe even 6 feet even, but no taller. His frame gave him a lanky sort of appearance, though he had just enough musculature to keep him from looking twig like. A scan below revealed a stiff member that must have been 8 inches. Talion had never seen one so big, not counting the lion from earlier, but then again, he’d never really studied another male’s genitalia before. When he realized that was what he was doing, he quickly adjusted his head so he was looking straight into Gilad’s amber eyes. The wolf wore a licentious grin.

“How long have I been here?” said Talion, hoping to change the conversation topic. The smell of Gilad’s musk was fogging up his brain.

“’ard to say. Sun never goes down ‘ere, and nobody really ‘as any reason to measure time.” Gilad scratched himself idly. “But you’re lucky Simeon found you quick as ‘e did. You’ll be in top shape real soon thanks to ‘im.”

“Was Simeon that lion who was here before?”

“Yup, that’s ‘im. Real nice guy, letting me ‘elp with your care. You’ll be staying in my tent, by the way. It isn’t much, but it keeps the light out.” Gilad bounded to his feet, putting his semi-hard member at eye level with Talion. The cougar immediately stood up as well.

Talion had a few nagging doubts. Without any way to seize upon most of them, he attempted to get more information on the lion. “What language does Simeon speak? When I was trying to talk to him, he wouldn’t respond.”

“’e speaks Russian. Course, that doesn’t make a difference ‘ere.”

“Well you’re speaking English now, so I assume that means most people here do. Wouldn’t speaking only Russian limit your communication?”

Gilad laughed. “I’m speaking ‘ebrew, and to me, that’s what you’re speaking. Language fades once you taste the fruit. Though you’ve got an American accent about you.”

“The fruit—?” Talion was almost afraid to ask.

“Maybe it’d be best to show you around. It’d ‘elp you get used to your new ‘ome.” Completely naked, Gilad strode out of the tent, the brightness filling the tent. Talion got a great view of Gilad’s butt, his tail curved slightly up in the fashion of most wolves. Talion caught himself starting: he had to shake his head clear to get the image out. Scolding himself for strange indulgences, he quickly hurried after Gilad.

Before anything else, Talion noticed the men, about 10 of them, wondering around in various states of dress. Some wore shorts, some loin clothes, and two weren’t wearing anything at all. None of them had anything covering their upper torsos. And all of them had the same general shape: body builder extreme. Talion could have described the lot of them as overly muscled to the point of obscene. It took him a second, but he quickly noticed that it was the same build that Simeon had. The only variation was the sizes of their bulges, and even those were way too big for normal men. A fully naked bear had his member hanging almost down to his knee. Talion’s own cock twitched in his boxers.

Numerous tents were scattered about on a grassy field, under a clear sky radiating a perfect 20 degree temperature. Elms and maples reached the level of three story buildings, though Talion couldn’t find a concrete structure anywhere. The air smelled of searing meat and male musk, with an undertone of boiled vegetables. Before him he could see the ocean blue, and behind him stood a thick forest. A light breeze brushed through his fur, wrapping around the contours of his body. He purred to himself: everything felt and looked perfect.

“Would you like to ‘ear a story?” Talion jumped at the sound of the deep voice. He spun around to find himself muzzle first with the chest of a massive grey wolf. A gentle touch tapped his gaze upward to face the smiling visage of the speaker. Beside him stood Gilad, eyes shining with self importance. “My son ‘ere thinks you look like a lost lamb, the scamp.”

“Your Gilad’s father?” Talion didn’t have trouble seeing the resemblance. Only the size different made Talion doubt the familial relationship.

“I am Dror Silver, leader of this island.”

“Island? What happened to the Maine coast? Where is this?” Talion had to control himself to keep his gaze from dropping down to Dror’s chest. He had a strong desire to feel how hard they were.

Dror did not attempt to correct Talion’s line of sight. “This is the island for those lucky few who wash away from their ‘omes. It ‘arbors those of us who lost their way at sea, who ‘ave few or no relations left on land that care to find them. Or they do ‘ave, but the family does not even realize they are gone. When I arrived ‘ere with my son, it was only three months after my wife passed away. I took him boating, to console the both of us. My wife was very dear to me, ‘er passing at such a young age broke our hearts. Unfortunately, neither of us ‘ad much experience with boats, and we tipped over.

“I’d grabbed my son the minute I could, but I was very overweight then, without any endurance or strength. We quickly sank, I assuming I would join my wife soon. I woke up on the shores of this island, my son face down in the sand beside me. When ‘e came to, we went about exploring to see if we could find something to eat. Before we even reached the area that would become this ring of tents, a large lion approached us, bearing a large purple fruit in ‘is ‘ands. ‘e gave it to me, and when I tried to offer some to Gilad, the lion took the fruit from me with a glare. This ‘appened twice before I finally asked ‘im why ‘e would not let me share it with my son. ‘is response was in a language I did not recognize. ‘e then took off a very small piece of the fruit, and gave it to my son. Then another piece ‘e took for me.

“The fruit was sweeter than any I’d ‘ad before. Its taste is indescribable. Most remarkable, though, was that that small piece abated my ‘unger completely. When I thanked the lion, ‘e told me in my own language, ‘ebrew, that my son was too young to consume anymore. Only I was allowed to ‘ave any of the fruit—my son would get more when ‘e was older. I admit, my greed got the best of me, and I devoured that fruit without ‘esitation. Never ‘ave I eaten so quickly before that moment. Yet to this day, I do not find myself questioning that action. Everything since ‘as been continuous bliss. I’ve long since forgotten the need for my wife, or any female at that.”

Talion’s attention snapped backed to reality for a moment after that comment. He had to peel his eyes away from admiring the large wolf’s body just so he could ask his question: “Are there no females currently on this island, then?” Thinking about it, he hadn’t seen any, but that wasn’t too strange, considering the circumstances.

“There are female survivors, but they have their own island. That’s what Simeon tells me, and ‘e’d know better than any of us.” The large wolf chuckled, his chest flexing with that light action. “Gilad almost tried to find it once, ‘e was so worked up for a female. Course, now ‘e won’t have that problem anymore.” The father ruffled his son’s hair, Gilad standing there with his eyes closed and a contented smile on his face. “It’s ‘ard to tell ‘ow long it’s been since we got ‘ere, but ‘e’s been waiting for ‘is fruit along time now.”

“What makes this fruit so special, anyway?”

“I’m finally a man, is what makes it so special.” Gilad said, pounding his chest triumphantly. The smaller wolf seemed different, but Talion couldn’t put his finger on it.

“Ignore ‘im, ‘e’s just excited, and oo’s to blame ‘im?” Dror patted his son on the back. “It’s something else, the fruit that grows ‘ere. Somehow, the island knows when new people land on it, almost like it’s the one pulling them ‘ere. There’s this one tree that bears a fully ripened fruit every time somebody washes ashore. Simeon won’t let anybody touch the fruit—‘e says it’s ‘is job to make sure the island gets taken care of properly. Anyway, Simeon takes the fruit, and then goes off to find where the new comer washed up. You were a particularly bad case, beaten and bruised.

“The fruit ‘elps us understand each other. We don’t ‘ave to worry about language, as you’ve noticed. It also keeps ‘unger down, to the point where it feels like you’ll never need to eat again if you didn’t want to. The best part is what it does for your body though.” To illustrate, he flexed his biceps, the rounded lumps reaching just above his chin. Talion started to drool. “If I’d looked like this before, I’d have been able to swim with Gilad across three oceans. Now that I ‘ave the body, there’s nothing I’d rather do then spend my time enjoying myself ‘ere.” Dror licked his engorged muscles before relaxing his arms. “Course, there’s one side effect, though considering, it’s more like a blessing.”

“Side effect?” Talion asked. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear this, so he turned away. In the distance, he could see two burly males making out with each other. A tent began to form in his boxers.

“There are no females on this particular island. But once you ‘ave eaten your own fruit, you don’t want a female anymore anyways.” Dror grabbed Talion by the shoulders and spun him around. The cougar’s eyes were wide with fear and shock.

“It makes you gay?” he shouted. Talion had never managed to get into a long term relationship. That was the problem with being short and nerdy—if you didn’t have money, you didn’t have girls. He knew what it was like to have sex with one, though, and he knew he enjoyed it. The thought of sleeping with another male, running his hands over another guy’s firm body, playing with somebody else’s…. It was already happening. “You gave me the fruit already, didn’t you? It was that drink I had.”

“That’s right. And looks like you’ve already started growing into it.” Dror’s charming smile would not have thrown off Talion if it were not coupled with the wolf’s hardening meat. Talion’s focus became fixed on the pole, slowly displacing the flimsy loin cloth. His own cock felt painfully tight in his boxers, like it was fighting for every bit of space it could find. The words finally clicked: he had started growing already.

The first change he noticed was his height. Where before he had been eye level with Dror’s chest, now he was eye level with Dror’s neck. A quick check with his hands revealed to Talion that he was now the proud owner of a pair of mildly developed pectorals, not quite rounded, but firm and defined. His arms were still thin, but they too had definition: he could actually point to the places where his muscles went from biceps to triceps to shoulder. Even his legs looked beefier—he now had a nice set of quads, backed up by solid hamstrings. The shape of his calves was almost tear drop. He didn’t need to check to know that his glutes were fuller, he could tell by the way his boxers were riding up his crack. Or maybe that was because his cock was taking up more space? The reality of a bigger endowment made him harder than he’d ever been before.

There were other minor changes that he barely even gave thought to as important. He peeled off the tourniquets Simeon had applied earlier: the various cuts and wounds were missing, completely healed over. Even the scar from his kidney donation was gone, not a trace of missing fur or darker skin where it used to be. And the fatigue that had plagued him since his arrival to the island was no more, replaced with an over abundance of youthful energy.

The whole situation was becoming a bit too much for the cougar. He wanted to faint, but his body wouldn’t let him, it was too jazzed up on the fruit. In fear of himself, Dror, and the massive log the wolf was wielding, Talion fled back to the tent he had come from. It was a panic response—he just wanted to be away from everything and everyone. But even the darkness of the tent seemed lighter, like his eyes had improved to see everything clearly in any light. And he couldn’t get away from his rising horniness, as his straining boxers were reminding him.

Gilad entered shortly after, and Talion could see just how the wolf was coming along. Where before Gilad looked almost gangly, now he was built like a tall swimmer, well proportioned and toned. His eyes were half glazed, like his thoughts were somewhere else. Looking down his body, Talion didn’t have much difficultly figuring out where Gilad’s focus was. The wolf’s dick was leaking a slow trickle of precum, its strong musk crowding out everything else from Talion’s nostrils.

“’ey”, said Gilad “mind if I join you?”

Talion wanted to say yes, yes he did mind. He wanted to shout that he didn’t want to be gay, scream about how he preferred the company of women. But he could feel his thoughts turning, his desires shifting: he wanted Gilad there. “Sure,” he found himself saying. “Just don’t try to get it on with me.”

Gilad grinned, his hands already around his larger cock. “Then get comfortable. I want to see what you’ve got under there.” The cougar couldn’t comply quickly enough. He shucked his boxer into the corner, freeing his member from the fabric. Gilad whistled. “Damn, that’s big already.” Talion had the decency to be abashed by Gilad’s praise. While the cougar wasn’t anything special before, a perfectly average 6 inches, now he was sporting a solid 9 inches of flesh.

Talion could feel Gilad’s eyes on his body, probing every crevice and curve. Too embarrassed by this ogling, the cougar stood stock still, just feeling the sensation of his growth. A mild tingle spread through his body, mingling with his general horniness, taking the blood from his face to the rest of his system. He could feel a particularly strong flow to his member, which was jerking on its own accord, leaking transparent seed. Gilad grunted with pleasure, and the sound galvanized Talion to finally start his own masturbation.

Neither lasted very long. Both were so jazzed up, flying on the sensation of their stronger, thicker bodies, on the sight of their companion’s slowly swelling form, that it took barely three minutes for both of them to orgasm. Their moans, a full octave lower than what either normal spoke in, came in different intensities. Gilad’s moan was the deeper one, his the more extreme in terms of pleasure, whereas Talion’s lasted longer, his orgasm going on a good three seconds longer than the wolf’s. They collapsed on the floor, close enough to feel the other’s heat but not be touching. Each was careful to avoid having their legs lie in the globs of semen on the tent floor.

As they lay there, basking in the glow of release, each could feel the other’s body heating up, which in turn made their own form that much warmer. They turned their heads to look at one another: Talion watched as Gilad’s chest expanded outward at an alarming rate. The wolf’s arms flexed and unflexed spasmodically, the muscles thicker with each contraction, matched by the same movement in his legs, his swimmer’s build swallowed into that of a bodybuilder. A massive bodybuilder at that. Talion didn’t need to look at himself to know he was experiencing the same sort of transformation—he could see it in Gilad’s astonished eyes. Their arms were fighting each other for more space to grow. The cougar’s hungry eyes found Gilad’s cock, which, while soft, had lengthened down halfway to the wolf’s knee, though it hastily hardened. Talion’s member responded in kind.

Whatever hesitation Talion had felt before was gone, replaced with an intense desire to touch Gilad’s muscular body, to run his hands through the wolf’s fur and over his thick pecs, his defined 8-pack, his bubble butt. A hunger was brewing within Talion, a hunger he wanted satisfied in one way. “If I suck you, would you suck me?”

Gilad’s eyes lit up with lust. He didn’t bother with a response, he immediately went down on the cougar’s pole, slurping and sucking with all the inexperience of an amateur. Talion gripped the back of the wolf’s head as he moaned, fighting every urge to buck deeper into Gilad’s muzzle. Though the pleasure was great, Talion wasn’t satisfied—his hunger wouldn’t be satiated without something in his mouth. Careful not upset Gilad’s steady bobbing, Talion rotated himself, his cock the centre of his pivot, so that he would be face to face with the wolf’s goodie bag. He took it into his mouth with alacrity, groaning around the thickness.

Maybe it was just the sex, but Talion felt a strong connection with the man blowing him, stronger than he’d felt with any women he’d slept with before. He didn’t want to call it love, as it wasn’t an emotional attachment. There was something physically perfect about Gilad that was setting Talion’s libido on high. His own orgasm became less import as he explored the wolf’s penis with his tongue—he wanted to get his partner off, through any means possible. Gripping Gilad’s firm ass with his hands, Talion clamped his muzzle shut over the cock in front of him, sucking with greediness beyond anything he’d had before. The two musclemen made quite the scene, lying on the floor in a sixty-nine position.

Gilad hit his climax first. While Talion drank deeply of the wolf’s salty potency, Gilad worked vigourously to bring his partner to the acme. It didn’t take much: Talion was firing off his load within a minute of finishing off Gilad. He released the wolf’s member to groan freely, his deep baritone shaking the air, filling him with new confidence. He was godily: he guessed he weighed about 340 pounds, and all of that extra weight was pure muscles. Anybody smaller than him would tremble with awe upon looking at him. And he had just conquered a man his exact size and shape.

“I want more,” he said.

Gilad released the cougar’s flesh. “You don’t ‘ave to ask me twice.” He played with Talion’s walnut sized balls, coaxing the cougar to hardness.

“Not that,” he moaned. “We can do that anytime, whenever. But I meant I want to be bigger. Buffer. More hung.”

“’ow do you suppose to go about that, exactly? It’s not like we could get any more of that fruit, and there’s no gym on this island.”

Talion frowned as he put a hand under his chin. “Where is this tree anyway?”

“It’s on the edge of the forest. Simeon showed me it once, shortly after dad and I ‘ad settled in. It was completely bare, trust me. Nothing for pickings on it.”

“Maybe there’s a way we could trick the island into producing more. Like, if we swim a good distance away, then back, maybe it’ll think we’re new comers.”

Gilad shook his head. “Seen it done before, by the bull. It didn’t work, though ‘e did say ‘e’d enjoy sharing the water with somebody else next time.” The wolf’s devilish grin left no doubt in Talion’s mind what he was thinking.

“What about deeper in the forest? Has anybody looked there?” Talion had to close his eyes to concentrate—Gilad was hard again, playing with himself. Talion’s lust was telling him to join in on the fun.

“Don’t know. Don’t think anybody’s gone in. Everybody’s too busy enjoying themselves, and dad never let me go in. Said it was probably too dangerous for somebody so small.”

“Well you’re certainly not small anymore, and you’ve got somebody big to take care of you if something goes wrong.” Talion flexed: he was enjoying his new form, it let him be as cocky as he wanted. He had to shake himself to get his mind off of sex every so often, but once his head was clear, he found his focus sharper than it had been before. Whatever the fruit was, he decided, it amplified everything, physical and mental. He strode out of the tent, completely naked, with Gilad following behind, his manhood drooping sadly at half-hard.

The world outside of the tent took on a whole new meaning for the cougar. The strange, foreign element of the island was replaced with a sense of belonging. No longer did the other handful of men look disturbingly over muscular, threatening to his smaller personage: now he was just as big as any of them, and he had no reason not to show it off. Talion had to drag Gilad with him; the wolf’s eyes were darting around, trying to find anybody who wasn’t already occupied in some form of copulation.

They stood at the edge of the forest, neither willing to go onward. When they looked at each other for support, they met the other with a broad grin. Gilad reached for Talion’s muzzle as he slowly leaned forward, meeting the cougar in a soft kiss, which gradually deepened. The making out dissolved into full blown groping within seconds. Consumed in this fashion, Talion’s resolve to enter the forest faltered—why go anywhere when there was plenty of sex right here, right now? But the answer, the urge to be something even more, even bigger, spurned him onward. He parted from Gilad, the wolf’s eyes sad and confused, until Talion grabbed him by the lower horn. The wolf howled in pleasure as Talion led him forward into the woods.

Sunlight pervaded what should have been the darkness of trees, extending into the shadows of branches. Everything was as alive as the inhabitants of the island: tall, stiff trees grew healthy green leaves, upon which fat birds chirped in their nests. Fruit lay scattered about on the fallen pine needles, in various states of decay, the overall scent pungently sweet in their nostrils. Twigs snapped under their weight, the grit of the bark rubbing off their bare feet the further they continued along. If there were any animals other than birds, they never saw them, though Gilad had his eyes closed for the most part anyway, the constant feeling of Talion’s firm grip around his shaft driving the wolf wild. Talion, with some of his wits about him still, studied every piece of fruit he came across, sniffing or sampling them for the right texture and taste. Nothing matched.

About the same time Gilad was ready to pop, Talion found the tree he was looking for. How long they traveled the cougar could not say—already his sense of time was completely shot. Talion walked toward the tree, leaving Gilad to finish pleasuring himself. Fruit hung off the branches, purple skin shimmering from the internal juices that had leaked out from the inside. Its entire structure was far thicker than the other surrounding trees, a good fifteen feet wider in diameter, making it look rather stumpy compared to its height, the same 40 feet as the rest. As Talion stared at it, one of the fruit fell off, bouncing off an exposed root and rolling towards his feet.

“It’s all ours,” he said to the floored Gilad, who was recovering from his release. Talion picked up the fruit before him, turning it around in his hands. It was bigger than his palm, firm in his grasp, but so soft that he accidently poked through the skin with a claw, causing the inner juices to flow all over his hand. He licked his lips in anticipation, mouth split into a greedy grin.

Gilad finally got back on his feet as Talion took his first bite, slurping at the liquid oozing around his muzzle. Not to be outdone, Gilad picked his own fruit, a slightly larger specimen than the one Talion was devouring. The wolf took as big a bite as his mouth would allow. Immediately he recognized the flavor and the texture—it was like a bite of heaven. Both were careful to lap up any of the juice that ended up on their hands, trying to keep as much as they could off of the forest floor. Talion finished his fruit first, pleased to find that it was devoid of seeds or a pit. He grabbed another one off of the tree.

Three pieces turned to seven, then to ten. Their hunger for the fruit became insatiable, to the point where while they were already in the middle of one fruit they would already be plucking another. So involved in their feasting where they that they failed to notice the beginning signs of their continued growth, and as they consumed more, they grew faster, making it easier to eat more, perpetuating a cycle.

After fifteen fruit, Talion’s chest was getting in the way of his chin. The mounds of hard flesh were so overripe that they stuck out several inches past his nose, completely obscuring his view of what was below him, if he would have bothered to look down. So developed was his musculature that his nipples were rolled down by the mass of his pecs, the thick nubs pointing almost straight toward the ground.

At twenty fruit, their arms were close to passing the forty five degree angle at rest. Biceps pushed against forearms, forcing their arms to straighter positions with each passing bite. Shoulders contended for their own space, giving them a much broader appearance then they actually possessed. Their triceps took on a horseshoe look, though comparing the two wasn’t even fair: nobody would have made horseshoes at four times their normal size.

Twenty five fruit came and passed, and so did the top of the tree. They were staring eye level with the top branches, able to find with ease any fruit hiding in the leaves. Forty five feet didn’t register in their heads—the fact that they were the height of a tree did, however. The fruit had a cumulative effect, so they kept on eating, and would keep on eating, even if they had to bend over to get it. Considering they were almost twice as wide at the shoulders as the tree itself, nothing was likely to get in their way.

That width came and went, and soon their legs were thicker than the tree. That was at thirty. So clearly defined were their quadriceps that somebody clambering over them would be able to use the crevices between the muscles as handholds to scale the mountains of flesh. To get that high up, though, the climber would need to go over the perfected shape of the giants’ calves, and swing around back to grip hamstrings tougher than stone.

At this point, the two were having enough trouble reaching down to get more fruit that they stopped to marvel at their own changes. The tallest tree in the area was waist high with them, or at least those that were still standing. Most couldn’t hold up to the pressure of the bulging forms pressing against their trunk and succumbed. Pushed over and uprooted, the trees came crashing down upon their toes, with an effect similar to a man dropping a pencil on his feet—he really doesn’t notice. They were careful to guard the tree with the fruit, however, lest they lose any of its produce.

Not contented with just the experience of growth, Talion wanted to feel what was happening to his body. With a bit of effort getting his arms to move around his expanse of chest, the cougar got to check on how his abdominals were doing. Those muscles were resilient to his pushes, etched in marble over his stomach in eight distinct bumps. He couldn’t see his own set, but if they were anything like Gilad’s, his abs were so clearly delineated that it put sculptors to shame.

While he was observing Gilad, with more than a hint of desire, Talion got an idea of what his own back must have looked like—a mountain range, starting at his lats and tapering down in a wide “V” shape. From the bottom of that protruded a bubble butt, thick, firm, and unused. Gilad’s tail, blown up to adequately match his super-massive size, was wagging, creating a gust that whipped up the fallen debris behind him. Talion could feel his own tail, curling up in anticipation.

These two titans found themselves standing across from each other, the tree with its miraculous fruit between them, upon the top of which their balls rested—putting the tree know at knee height for them. All the distance between them had been gapped by their swollen forms, and they met at the package, their lengths side by side. While they were soft momentarily, the proximity to the other’s sexual organ quickly aroused both of them, members hardening skyward, cresting just below their pectorals.

At this height, about 200 feet tall each, the pair finally stopped growing. Both, however, knew they could have more, the remnants of the tree resting beneath their sacs. “It’s mine,” declared Talion, his voice rocking the small island. He could see now that if he was to lie down on his back, he would cover about three quarters of the landmass.

“No way, I want it!” Gilad shoved the cougar, or at least tried to, but he hadn’t accounted for Talion’s strength. Talion didn’t take kindly to this. He shoved the wolf, hard enough to make the latter stumble a little. They growled at each other, trying to get the upper hand on their opponent, circling the tree while searching for the advantage.

Well below them, far out of their sight, the dozen villagers watched the confrontation of giants. There wasn’t a soft cock among them. The only two who weren’t actively stroking themselves were Dror and Simeon. Dror was too busy gaping at what his son had become: the pure embodiment of male sexuality. Simeon, on the other hand, was standing far apart from the other males, on the shore where Talion had landed. A makeshift raft with an oar on it bobbed in the water. The lion was smiling as he muttered to himself: “Time to move on, then.” He wrapped his provisions, some apples, a roasted duck, and a branch from the tree the giants were fighting over in a piece of cloth before kicking off.

While Simeon escaped, Talion was wrestling Gilad to the ground, the cougar using every bit of his weight to overpower his rival. The difference could only have been minute at their height and weight, but Talion could tell, without being sure of how, that he outweighed the wolf. The pair rolled around for a bit, crushing the landscape beneath them. Though they fought with a purpose, neither could resist feeling up the other, grabbing hold of muscles before their eyes and squeezing those firm mounds. Their poles rubbed against one another, squashed between their abs, below that their balls smacked together with an uproarious gurgling. The wolf thrust into the fighting, trying to get his cock between the crevice in Talion’s chest, and succeeding. He flexed in response, making Gilad yowl with pleasure, and with a bit of maneuvering, Talion had the wolf’s shaft in his hands. The combination of stroking and thrusting had the wolf panting, close to spent: that was when Talion s! topped.

“What’s the ‘old up?” asked Gilad, his own hands going to his aching rod reflexively. He moaned as he stroked himself, his grip too small to completely surround the shaft. Copious amounts of pre dribbled down, coating his length in a sticky clear substance that glittered in the never ending sunlight. Talion thought it smelled like the fruit. But he wasn’t going to taste it just yet.

“On your back, bitch,” he said. Gilad just continued to pleasure himself. When he didn’t respond a second time, Talion forcefully flipped the wolf over, trapping his cock between sand, water, and abs. The cougar pounced at that opportunity to lie on top of the wolf’s back.

“”ey!” Gilad tried to turn over, but with his focus on his throbbing erection, he couldn’t bring himself to force the issue, so he settled with humping the ground, creating long deep grooves in the shallows. Talion had counted on this. The cougar’s chuckle shook the air, and the men watching them, so engrossed in the scene, finally lost it. They broke up into pairs, eagerly awaiting the climax to this show.

Talion positioned his cock, no easy feat considering its bulk and mass, but he managed to get the head pressed up firmly between Gilad’s butt cheeks. The wolf, in his bucking into the ground, pushed back into the cougar’s prick, his hole too tight for that alone to cause penetration. Enjoying the sensation, however, Talion let his partner do as he pleased for a little while. “I win,” he finally said. He wanted to say more, something clever about fruits, but the thought was lost when Gilad pushed a lot firmer back, and accidentally got himself impaled on Talion’s member.

The cougar’s howl sundered the atmosphere. Large waves arose at the sound, running away from the island to wherever the water could take them. The men had to cover their ears to keep the volume down, even as the sound drove them into a frenzy: it was a scream of animal bliss, the kind anybody wants to yell the first time they enter a virgin ass. They all knew it, they’d almost all yelled it themselves at some point. And they all went crazy with lust upon hearing it. Gilad himself froze as he realized what had happened, the translucent goop in the water around his cock head swirling around. Everybody stood still for the barest of a moment.

Only after that pause did Talion try to get himself deeper into Gilad. Gripping the wolf by the shoulders, Talion did his best to force his equipment into the tight space which had accepted him so willingly. As the wolf moaned from having his insides spread open, Talion’s lust rose to a breaking point. There was nothing else in the world to him then fitting his meat into the ass before him, splitting the wolf on his log. But the going was tough, even as it was blindingly pleasurable. Talion could feel every inch he got in enveloped in heat, squeezed from every angle. All he wanted was more, and Gilad was trying to give him that, pushing against the beach with his hands to force his rump further onto the monster.

In the end, he couldn’t even get half of it inside. Whether this was because of Gilad’s tightness or his own girth, Talion didn’t really care. He had enough to be entering another state of consciousness, one where everything flashed sex. With Gilad lying on the floor, and Talion kneeling behind him, connected by a trunk of flesh bigger than a redwood, the onlookers had more than enough motivation to enjoy themselves to the fullest, mirroring what the titans were doing. Talion withdrew slowly, and the watchers mimicked. Talion thrust back in, and they copied. So it went, all of them working to the rhythm of Talion’s balls banging against the ground, an ever increasing pace.

Talion’s thoughts overridden with sex, he never knew what made him reach his peak: whether it was the cries of those from the village he barely heard, the sound of Gilad howling as the wolf exploded his own ejaculate into the water, or just the overall sensation of growth and sex. Maybe it was a combination of all three. The only thing Talion could tell was that he was having the most mind blowing orgasm he’d ever felt. His orbs churned with his seed, loud enough to be heard under his own groans of release. Within so tight a space, and with so much cum to fill it, the sticky white fluid didn’t have enough room. It poured out of Gilad’s ass, flowing down the wolf’s rump, dripping onto the beach, staining it yellowish-white. Both of the giant’s climaxes were both powerful and long enough that their combined semen completely covered a quarter of the island, all of it mixed together in one gloop that squished beneath them.

Even after such an extreme experience, Talion wanted more. He was still hard, still enveloped in the warmth of Gilad’s innards. And if the wolf’s bucking was any indication, he was also ready for more. Before he pursued that course of actions, though, Talion reached into the mess of jizz that had pooled in the forest, searching for the tree that bore the miraculous fruit: he had a prize to claim. His hands found it, upright despite their antics. It fit in his grip. That thought made his cock twitch within the wolf, who moaned his approval. No effort was needed to uproot the whole tree.

Reluctantly, Talion pulled out of Gilad, releasing a torrent of seed from the wolf’s ass. Gilad turned his head back to see why his dominater would retreat, and found the cougar grinning at him. “Tell you what,” said Talion. “I’m going to eat the last of this fruit, and you’re going to suck me off while I’m growing. You got that, bitch?” Gilad nodded vigorously, submitting himself completely to Talion. Turned on to a new degree, Talion’s manhood fired a spurt of pre, hitting Gilad right in the nose. The wolf licked it off immediately, then crawled toward Talion. By using both hands, Gilad managed to lower the cougar’s penis, making it bend toward the ground slightly.

It took some more lubrication, something Gilad was all too willing to apply with his mouth, but eventually he got the cougar’s cock into his mouth, even if it was only the head. A bit more work was needed to get some of the shaft in too—Gilad had to quell his gag reflex. Between his tongue and the heated flesh, there was no room in Gilad’s mouth for anything else. Talion stroked the wolf’s head during the blow job.

Having distracted the wolf in such a way—and getting a pretty decent blow job to boot—Talion took a bite out of the tree. He’d wanted to stuff the whole thing in his mouth, but even at his size, it was still too big for such a wanton act. The cougar was pleased to find that even the bark tasted like the fruit itself, that sublimely sweet taste unparalleled to anything else. Better yet was the rate of his growth after swallowing: he ballooned up faster than before.

Where his chest had blocked him from looking down, now it kept his head looking straight forward. His arms were stuck at 60 degree angles, unable to go any farther down because of the resistance of his back, an expanse that could have supported an entire city on it with ease. Even his abs thickened, molding themselves into the size his chest once used to be. His legs expanded, forcing his stance wide to make room for the muscles of his thighs, and despite that they were still fighting for more room to grow. It got to the point where he had to straddle the island to stand up. His sac, heavy with his potency, dropped lower down, making him readjust his stance again. The sac touched the ground, crushing to ruins the fallen trees beneath it.

He couldn’t tell how big his cock was getting. At least, he couldn’t tell accurately, as it was now stuck inside Gilad’s muzzle, though if he’d had to guess, he would have put at reaching a little over his head. The wolf hadn’t expected such an extreme growth, whereas Talion had counted on it. The force of the cougar’s growing penis forced its way into Gilad’s throat, and when it couldn’t go any farther, it pushed the wolf backwards. Watching Gilad moving away from him by the growth of his member was all Talion needed to erupt.

He gave no warning: it wasn’t necessary. His balls produced a sound loud enough to let anybody within a good two mile radius know that he was about to cum. Gilad watched as the semen traveled down the length of Talion’s tower, preparing himself for the load he was going to have to swallow. It wasn’t a choice—there was simply nowhere else for the seed to go except into his stomach. While Talion roared his euphoria, Gilad gulped down as much cum as he body would allow, and then more than his body would allow. Every time he swallowed, he took in more cum than the previous time. The sound of Talion’s balls churning never seemed to fade, a constant bubbling that pumped into the wolf’s ears much like the cum it pumped into his body. His stomach couldn’t retain its shape with the amount of fluid he was taking in. His abs slowly faded away into a roll of flab, which increased with girth at an alarming rate. Minutes passed, and Talion wasn’t done yet. Out poured the! cum, out pushed Gilad’s stomach, lifting him off the ground with its fat.

Talion couldn’t get over it. He was stuck in what felt like a permanent orgasm, the sensation of perpetually cumming was making his eyes roll back into his head. Eventually, while the sensation remained, he became habituated to it. Though he couldn’t see over his chest, he could feel Gilad still wrapped around his cock. Talion almost felt bad for the wolf, forced to bloat up on the bigger man’s seed. Almost. Talion’s laughed rocked the island.

“I’d recommend climbing on,” Talion said, his voice filling the air. “Your little island could fit in my mouth right now, and I’m feeling a little peckish. I’ll be fair even, I’ll give you until the count of three before I get ready to take a bite out of your home.” His grin filled the skyline. “One. Two….”