Fragments Fiction

Fragments.ws is devoted to adult-themed transformation stories.

Dave Fragments

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MUD MEN

May 5, 2008

"I can't keep coming back here. My family don't like me disappearing every weekend and then reappearing all changed," Terry undressed and put his jeans and t-shirt into a net hanging from the cave wall. He walked into pool and let the warm mud spread between his toes and cover his legs halfway up to his knees. His manhood thickened in anticipation. On the other side of the pool, Bill and Hank wrestled, their muscles straining against each other's naked bodies.

"Screw 'em. You don't want to give this up? Do ya dummy?" Jim asked. The slick mud covered most of his naked body, showing off his broad shoulders, wide hips and thick butt.

"No, but it's hard to explain my hair falling out and my eyes turning brown."

"So what? I have mud stains all over me. Who cares? Move in with me. I don't nag about nothing," Dean said. He heard noise above him.

"You're apartment's a pigsty. You're the only one I know who lives in such squalor," Hector said, rappelling down the rope a few feet away. Knowing what was to come, he wore only boots and shorts. He unfastened the rope to let Mike and George rappel into the cave.

"He can stay here in the cave," Jim said.

"Here? At least, I wouldn't daydream about this place. I can't get it out my mind," Terry said.

"Quit moaning children. It's spring break week. Spend it here. Live with the mud. Become one with mud. I, the great Fred have spoken." Fred floated under the surface. His nose and mouth barely stuck out of the mud.

"I agree. Let's stay in this cave forever," Mike joked. He tackled Terry and wrestled him into the pool. His lean body belied his strength. The nine mud men of Carlsbad, as they called themselves, sank into the mud and grappled with each other. The soft, warm mud invigorated their bodies. They felt stronger. Their muscles looked bigger.

Fred found the cave on one of his explorations. It was bat-free, meaning no guano to poison the water or foul the ground. He discovered the benefits of mud bathing on his second visit. When he began disappearing each weekend, his friends followed. The mud varied in depth from shallow at one end to deeper than any of them could determine at the far side. Possibly it flowed into caves beyond this one. The mud stayed warm and wet, fed by an underground hot spring. It wasn't gritty or abrasive. Exercising in the mud melted fat from their bodies. It toned their muscles. The allure of buff bodies, ripped and shredded muscles and easy sex, prove too strong to resist. In the five months since the discovery, the mud obsessed them.

"I gotta eat something." Terry picked four powerbars from his net and handed two to Hector. They sat in the waist deep mud not caring if they got mud on the food or not. He'd already eaten a couple pounds of the stuff. It wasn't slimy or dirty but rather rich tasting. Terry licked chocolate and mud off of Hector's fingers. Hector smiled and ccowed down on Terry's muddy manhood, slurping and licking at his dessert.

The boys rested in a ring, a ring of mud-covered men and talked about nothing in particular. Periodically, young man would stood up, he stand and would flex, showing off for the others. Fred brought up the most serious topic. "What if I told you there was a way to stay here as long as we want? What if we never leave? Just stay here and wrestle, screw and relax? We got a week to try it out."

"No way."

"You won the lottery?" Mike asked.

"No, we lay back and float. I'll bet it's night out. Tomorrow we can pair off. Our folks will think we gone on spring break for a week." Fred added.

"You mean sleep in the mud just like the legends of imaginary mud men? Why?" Terry still needed convinced.

"You just moaned about being nagged. Humor me. Indulge me. What have you got to lose?" Fred handed each a mouthpiece with a snorkel like tube. Hector, Mike and George took the mouthpieces and made their way to the deepest part of the mud pool. Their bodies sank slowly until only their throbbing erections and twitching snorkels showed above the surface.

"I got nothing to lose." Jim said. The other boys joined him. Reluctantly, Terry relaxed in the grip of the mud and sank below the surface. Mud embraced his body. He fell half-asleep as the mud seeped into every opening of his body. He dreamed of brown men touching him, careesing his manhood, fondling his body, fingering his ass. Their rippling muscles moving against him; Their erections swirling around his. Strong brown hands stroking his manhood. Stiff erections entering his rectum with gentle and fluid movement. The man, a colossus of muscle wrestled him, kissed him and pumped his colossal tool into Terry's throat. Terry's head rode up and down. A hot mud mouth swallowed his manhood. His hips moved in sexual harmony. The phallus filled his stomach and mind with dreams of countless orgasms yet to come.

Terry woke panicked -- his mouth full of mud, his lungs struggling for air. Strong hands brought him to the surface, wiped the mud from his mouth and let him breath. A half a dozen deep breaths and he wiped the mud from his eyes. The arms holding him belonged to the colossus of his dreams. Strange mud-colored men stood with his sleeping buddies. There were no snorkels.

"Who are you." Terry's voice squeaked from the mud. There was no flesh or bone to this Colossus, only mud. A face composed entirely of brown mud gazed down at him.

The colossus pointed to his own chest. "I am Horatio of New Orleans." Terry gripped Horatio's massive arm. The colossus pointed to the others. "That is Ulysses of Knoxville. He is Vitorio of Bilbao. He is Sandoval of Mexico. Those three are Stalking Wolf of the Pueblo, Dohaten of the Kiowa, Mogwa of the Huron. We've been watching you and your young friends."

"Watching us?"

"Some of us fell into these caves and stayed, unable to climb out. Others, like you, discovered the mud and chose to remain. A few have entered and left. Most, however, choose to stay here. It's been nearly 100 years since I became a mud man. One of our tribe, Sancho, speaks of serving Coronado in Spain." Terry felt the man's broad chest. It was warm like flesh, a mud heart bet inside it. Mud-bound muscles contracted so Terry could feel the power of Horatio's oversized musculature.

"You were human?" Terry asked.

"We were once as you, strong of body but of usual size and strength. The mud freed us from the chains of calcium and gravity. We grow big and strong in all aspects. We've waited for you and your friends to accept the mud and join us."

"Am I mud?"

"You are in-between, neither mud, nor flesh and bone. You may yet forswear the mud." Horatio waited for Terry to answer. Terry saw some of the well-muscled handlers pumping the chests and stomachs of his friends to facilitate the entry of mud into their mouths and bodies. Other plowed their human's buttocks while their heads stayed below the surface. Fred was face-to-crotch against his handler. His mouth impaled by a muddy erection. It was all so sexually hot that Terry felt his own hot sperm drooling out of his pulsing cock.

"I understand. I'm the one who woke up. The one who decides, ain't I? The rest will wake up unchanged or as new mud men. Only I get to feel my flesh mutate. That's why you're talking to me. I need to approve."

"Yes, if you remain as you are, all of you will forget this pool. Otherwise, we must transmogrify all of you together."

Terry answered without pause. "Then make us all Mud Men." He expelled most of the air from his lungs as Horatio hugged him tight and pulled him into the mud. The mud slid down his throat and into his stomach and lungs. It filled him, transformed his bones and changed his flesh. His arms and legs turned to mud. Then his inner organs changed and last his head and mind. He became a Mud Man -- a creature destined for days of wrestling and sexual gratification in the warm, damp dark of an underground cave.

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