Trio of TFs: Tyler and Tony

[Inspired by the picture you can see here.]

Tyler scratched the nagging itch behind his ear before taking another puff on the finest cigar he’d ever had. He gulped the bourbon in his glass and let the warmth spread down his throat, into his chest, before leaning back in the plush chair and kicking his feet up on the table.

This was exactly the kind of offseason he needed.

The waitress, a stunning blonde wearing the skimpy lingerie that seemed to be the club’s official waitstaff uniform, winked at Tyler. “Would you like another drink?” she asked, leaning over to give him a perfect view of her huge tits. “How’s the cigar?” she asked. “How about… a foot rub?” She dropped to her knees and slid one of Tyler’s size 18 shoes off his huge feet.

“Foot rub sounds great,” he said, taking another puff off his cigar. He was absolutely going to become a member of this club.

He had never heard of the place, called simply Pleasure, before getting the invite for him and one guest (he took his brother Tony, who was more than happy to come along) but the rumors he had heard were that it was a full-service club, dedicated to satisfy every whim of the rich and famous.

Tyler wasn’t the only NFL player to get an invite that day. Across the rooftop deck he watched Richie Incognito sawing off another chunk of T-bone and shoveling it greedily into his mouth. By Tyler’s count Richie had put down three massive steaks already, and the thickly built lineman wasn’t showing signs of slowing down. Next to him, his teammate, the hulking Eric Wood, attacked a huge crystal dish of piled-high ice cream.

About twenty feet to Richie and Eric’s left, Rob Gronkowski, who had been watching one of the buxom dancers sensuously gyrating on lit-up daises interspersed around rooftop, hopped up next to the dancer to shake his ass alongside her. The dancers were so hot they made the exquisite waitresses look plain by comparison. Tyler had been wondering all day if they truly meant their promise of, “satisfying every whim.” On the ground next to them, staring up at the dancer with laser intensity, was 6’8” tall Nate Solder, Gronk’s former teammate and his guest for the day. Big Nate rubbed the bulge in his khakis and looked around the club, clearly seeking out a target for his spiked desire.

Big J.J. Watt strutted over to Tyler and handed him a dark liquid in a shotglass. “Footrub, hunh?” J.J. asked as he watched the woman expertly manipulating Tyler’s massive foot (eliciting deep moans and eye-rolls from the huge man). “Think I could get in on that action?” J.J. asked.

A passing waitress turned immediately and dropped to her knees as well. “Get comfortable,” she cooed. “I’m strictly here for your pleasure.” J.J. winked at Tyler and had a seat next to him. Before she started his massage she offered him a cigar, clipping it and lighting it for him.

“Your feet are so big,” the waitress admired to Tyler. “I don’t ever think I’ve seen a foot this size.” She eyed the big foot seductively, her gaze rising up Tyler’s pants leg to his crotch, which he patted with a wink.

“I know what you’re going to ask, and it is true what they say,” Tyler bragged. The two waitresses giggled while Tyler and J.J. pounded fists.

“Who’d you bring?” asked J.J. after a puff on his cigar.

“My brother, Tony,” Tyler said, momentarily scanning the deck for his “big” brother. Since all the other attendees were NFL players, Tyler’s brother Tony (who was easily half Tyler’s mass) looked pretty small in comparison, but he was enjoying the clubs “services” with just as much intensity as the massive athletes. He was over by the bar drinking something blended with an umbrella in it, talking to a redhead who was way out of his league.

“I brought my brother too,” J.J. said. “T.J. went off with one of them waitresses and hasn’t been back since.”

Tyler’s left ear itched again. He scratched it furiously, irritated as his interrupted euphoria. Two more waitresses had approached their table. One tipped a bottle of brandy into Tyler’s mouth without asking. The other fed J.J. champagne straight from the bottle.

“Fuck yeah!” Gronk roared. His grinding with the dancer had devolved to public dry-humping, but she didn’t seem to mind. Big Gronk rolled his hips as he slowly rubbed up against her, his upper lip curled in a sneer as his eyes rolled back in his head.

“Just fuck ‘er!” Nate yelled as he watched with great interest--his tone, aggressive body-language and the tent in his pants all suggesting that he was hoping to be able to watch.

Richie and Eric had abandoned their utensils, now just feeding themselves with their hands. Richie shoved a handful of mashed potatoes into his mouth, much of which ended up smearing over his face. He didn’t seem to mind. Eric was now standing up, leaning over the table with his face right in the ice cream, hungrily slurping and swallowing.

Tyler barely registered the rising chaos in the club. He had never been so relaxed or satisfied, and he wasn’t sure if his lightheadedness was due to the booze in his belly or his escalating horniness. He was moments away from unzipping his pants and jerking off right there--hell, one of the ladies would probably offer to help him with it.

J.J. groaned and Tyler glanced over at the defensive end. He was staring at his right hand, wiggling the fingers slowly. “My hand,” he said, his voice sounded scratchy, like he’d suddenly developed a cold. “Feels weird. Kinda stiff.”

“That’s not the only thing that’s stiff,” said the waitress with the champagne bottle, straddling the hunky blonde and grabbing a fistful of his hard cock through his pants. J.J. let out a groan so low it almost sounded like an animal.

Tyler was about to ask for the same treatment when the persistent itching in his ears ceased, replaced by a bizarre tingling sensation. He reached up and felt something velvety soft, extending many inches above where his ear should have ended. He struggled to comprehend what his fingers were touching. He pulled the new growth down in front of his face and saw something fuzzy and grey. When he let it go, it snapped back up.

“The fuck?” J.J. said. “Ty, what the fuck is that on your head?” The waitress on J.J.’s lap grabbed his head and turned his attention back to her.

Before Tyler could start to process what he had felt, he heard Gronk loudly roar. The big tight end arched his back and thrust his pelvis into the dancer, clearly dumping his load into his pants. “Fuck… YEAH!” Gronk yelled. He panted loudly before opening his mouth wide. His back went rigid as he let out a loud, “Heeeeeee-HAW!” He stared around, shocked at the sound that had come from his mouth, clearly trying to resist making it again. His efforts were in vain: “HEE-haw! HEE-haw!” He couldn’t stop, and he clapped his hands over his mouth in a panic.

Richie suddenly growled and shoved himself away from the table. Waitresses had been piling food in front of him and he had been feeding himself without a break for some time, but he leapt to his feet and grabbed at his own ass. “Fuck… what the… FUCK!” He winced in pain and whirled around. It looked like he had taken a dump in his own pants at first, but whatever it was in there was moving. Hands shaking, Richie fumbled with his belt and yanked his pants down, moaning in relief when he’d finally freed himself. A long brown tail jutted out of the back of his boxer briefs, wagging lazily back and forth. Richie felt behind him, his fingers grabbing at the root of his new appendage as his face contorted in horror. 

Next to him, Eric hadn’t stopped eating. A waitress had brought over two small troughs and Eric had buried his face at one. Richie shoved his buddy’s shoulder, trying to shake him, but when Eric looked up his face had pushed forward into a furry grey snout. The fur was spreading over his face, down his neck, and he didn’t seem to notice, preferring to eat the slop the waitresses had brought him. Still clearly panicking, Richie eyed the second trough, approaching it slowly before leaning in for a lick, then a mouthful, finally shoving his face in as well while his new tail wagged behind him.

“My fucking hands!” J.J. shouted, holding up a hard black--there was no other word for it: hoof. The watiress massaging his foot had stopped, now clicking her black nails against another hoof attached to an increasingly hair brown leg. The woman straddling him hopped off as he started flailing awkwardly, his own breathing becoming hoarse and ragged as he too let out a loud, animalistic bray, his eyes going wide at the sound.

Tyler tried to muster a reaction but a thick haze had settled over him. Was it the bourbon? The cigars? He blinked, his thoughts as slow as mud. The itching had spread; now it was all over his body. He reached up and tore at his shirt to reveal his thick chest covered in coarse grey fur.

The waitresses had all stepped back, now watching him with sinister grins on their faces. Tyler leapt to his feet as he felt his ass plump up suddenly. His hands went to the swelling glutes as they busted through his dress pants. He was a professional lineman well over 300 pounds; he’d always had an ample backside, but now it just looked absurd as it blew up with thick muscle. He yelped as he felt his hips suddenly rotated, wobbling unsteadily for a moment before he fell forward. To his surprise, he landed on two hooves where his hands used to be. He looked back over his increasingly hairy body, trying to comprehend the knowledge that his arms and legs were now the same size. He was standing on all fours, and what was worse, it felt comfortable.

Gronk had disengaged from the dancer and had started humping the air and braying loudly, totally out of control. One of the waitresses wheeled out a wooden caricature of a female mule, complete with big eyelashes and puckery pink lips. Without hesitating Gronk leapt forward and started humping the mule-dummy with his thickening and newly mottled donkey-cock.  Behind him, Nate, who was now more and less a full donkey standing in the tattered remains of his human clothes, lumbered forward and mounted Gronk, who just brayed miserably as his chiseled face stretched forward into a bestial muzzle.

Tyler no longer recognized his body. He twisted his wide neck to see but couldn’t get a look at it. He felt his own big tail flapping around against his wide new backside and tried to move his unwieldy new shape. His athletic prowess had devolved to clumsiness now that he was wide, thick and quadrupedal. Next to him, J.J. had become a full donkey. A group of men with cattle prods had arrived. As J.J. backed away, one of them jabbed him in the backside. J.J. let out a loud bray as he was shocked several times, then hung his head in defeat.

Where Richie and Eric had been gorging themselves now stood two pathetic looking donkeys. Their troughs were empty and they brayed sadly, to each other. Men with branding irons approached each of them. The beasts brayed loudly as their big rumps sizzled under the hot irons. The one that must have been Richie now bore a 64, the number from his jersey. Eric had a 70. The men threw blankets over each of them with Buffalo Bills logos and colors. Then they were cattle prodded away.

Tyler looked to make a break for it, wanting to be anywhere but this nightmarish place, but he was now surrounded with men, jabbing the air around him with sparking cattle prods. He watched, horrified, as J.J., Nate and Gronk, all newly branded and covered with blankets of their respective teams, were lead away as well.

“What’s wrong with this one?” one of the men asked with his eyebrow raised.

Tyler wasn’t sure why, but despite the rest of his body having fully transformed, he still had a human head (albeit with big drooping donkey ears).

“Don’t you know you’re a friggin’ animal now?” another of the men asked.

Tyler could feel a bray rising in his throat but he fought the urge with all of his might. “Fuck you!” he shouted. “I’m a fucking man! I’m a fucking NFL player!”

“Not anymore you’re not!” said one of the waitresses. “You’re off to a life of hard work on a farm! But don’t worry, big guy. I’m sure there will be a nice sexy jenny for you to hump. Maybe they’ll let you breed? If they don’t geld you that is.”

Tyler winced at the thought. Over by the bar he saw what must have been his brother, now a sad donkey being led away by a group of men. “Who’s this guy?” one of them asked.

“Just some nobody,” another responded. “He’ll auction for next to nothing.”

Tyler leapt at the shock of cattle prods hitting his backside. His huge ears flopped down over his face as he sadly realized there was nothing he could do but cling to the last shreds of his humanity.

The waitress who had been massaging his feet now approached him with a tablet in her hands. “Come on big guy, don’t you want some of this?” On the screen appeared a big shiny apple. Tyler felt his mouth watering. He wanted that apple desperately. “Or this?” She tapped the screen and the image changed to a female donkey. Tyler’s desire overwhelmed him. He felt the big monstrous donkey dick beneath him suddenly swell to its full size. He let out the loud, “Hee-haw!” he had been fighting.

“That’s it,” the woman said, massaging Tyler behind the ears as the itching now spread over his face. He moaned--no, brayed--as his face pushed forward, the waitress still cooing as the final changes fell over him. Then it was done: there was no more of Tyler Catalina left, just an oversized, smelly donkey.

The searing pain from the branding iron jabbing into him caught him by surprise. He couldn’t turn enough to see, but he knew he now bore a 68, forever marked with his jersey number. The men threw a Redskins blanket over him. Knowing he would face painful cattle prods otherwise, Tyler walked sadly along with the men as they led him away.

“I’m a man,” he thought to himself. “I’m a man… a man… I’m a man…” But it was getting harder to believe as he sauntered along on 4 legs. Just before he left the rooftop club, the last place he had gotten to enjoy himself as a human, he saw T.J. Watt handing a wad of cash over to a bouncer. He looked up at T.J., envying his hands, his arms, his human face and his nice muscles. “I used to have those,” Tyler sadly thought, although his brain was too foggy to figure out exactly what had happened. Minutes later Tyler couldn’t even remember his name. An hour later, all he could think about was food and finding a Jenny to mate with, and keeping the humans around him happy.