Here is the fifth chapter and, just so we are clear, this story features authority figures trying to groom the MC is obvious and not-so-obvious ways.
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Michael grunted as he fought with his underwear.
"Stupid drug," he muttered under his breath as he covered one testicle but not the other.
"Stupid changes," he growled as he managed to cover both but then made his cock hang out.
"Seriously, what the fuck," he hissed as he did what any warm-blooded male would do and tried to force his underwear to cover it all.
For a single second, he succeeded. For a single second, he stretched the cloth enough that it encompassed his whole junk. Never mind that his package was so compressed that he'd be feeling sore the whole day, he succeeded!
And then, with a long rip, his underwear came undone.
"Fuuuck," he muttered with frustration as he pulled the ruined garment off his legs and threw it in his room trash bin.
Most days, it would be filled with used napkins.
Today it was filled with destroyed underwear.
Michael fished into his closet and pulled a new one out. This was the sixth he had tried on.
"Honey?" the sound his mother sounded through the door just as Michael was grunting with effort, "Are you ok?"
Having the sweet sound of his mother come through the door was the last thing he needed, as his dick swelled up just that bit more and made his sixth attempt at putting underwear on explode.
Literally; the tattered piece of his undergarment went flying out.
"Fuck," Michael sighed as he let go of yet another ruined underwear.
"Honey?" his mother tried again and Michael raised his voice, "I am alright Mom!"
"Oh good," she replied and then went briefly quiet.
"...You know that you are growing boy and that changes are normal, right?" she asked and Michael groaned.
"Not the time Mom!" he said as he looked at his closet.
He still had 3 more underwear to go but, honestly, he didn't think he'd have better luck with those than he had with any of the other ones.
"Right, right," his mother soothingly replied, "Well, if you want to talk about it, I am always here."
"Thanks, Mom." Michael reached out for his pants and, with brief dread, pulled them up.
"Anytime, honey," Yasmine replied, "Also, breakfast is on the table and I am leaving now. Make sure you aren't late for school!"
"Sure thing," Michael called back as his pants managed to bring it over his transformed genitalia, requiring only some strategic shifting to not get it caught on its hems.
He managed to buckle them up, the waistband having no problem locking over his waist, but now came the tricky part.
Using his hand to push his dick and testicles away, Michael slowly zipped his pants up. His breath caught on his throat as he almost caught a bit of the skin off his shaft but, in the end, he managed to close it up without too much trouble.
He sighed with relief as his junk settled in his pants.
The reason why his mother came up to check on him was probably because all of that took entirely too much time. Michael probably needed to call his aunt and inform her of this development, as well as the olfactory one, but he'd at least wait until he was back from school to do so. No need to stress himself out this early in the morning.
He knew that some guys like to go commando, as the term was called. He'd always thought all the movement going on downstairs would chaff after a while but he found himself struck with a greater problem as he walked down his house.
Chaffing? Yeah, maybe that could happen. But more than that, he wasn't able to move a leg without also moving one of his balls.
"Seriously, how do some people do this?" he grumbled as he headed for the dining room.
On the one hand, the thick leather skin in his bad boys cushioned well against the movement. On the other hand, the movement was constant. At least his dick had a sheath to retreat into, fuck!
The spread on his dining table was enough to briefly make him forget about his changed testes, and sitting down proved to not be as horrible as he thought, but another of his transformed biological features chose that moment to make his life...interesting.
He could smell his mother on the food.
Skin oil didn't usually have a smell. Or rather, human beings usually couldn't smell it. Sweat was more obvious to just about every single being alive, but fur also had its own sort of scent. Good hygiene meant keeping all these odors to a minimum, but it was impossible to completely get rid of them. It was why perfume, which he misliked, was so prevalent among many species.
And he liked how his mom smelled. It wasn't something he usually thought of, but not that he was he could confirm that, yes, she smelt quite nicely.
And that smell? It was all over the kitchen. If he were to describe through some other sense, It was like a finger brushing against his skin. Soft and subtle but very much there.
And the food? She had been breathing around it, she had been touching the raw ingredients with her hands, and she had...also been apparently brushing her hair while she cooked. Huh.
And if it smelled like this, how would it taste?
He brought a spoonful of the eggs and meat into his mouth. No sooner had it touched his tongue that his pants all of a sudden felt uncomfortable as his cock sprung.
It tastes fine, He thought as he fought to shift his pole into a viable position while he chewed. Unlike the smell, he really couldn't taste his mom much, if at all.
But just the thought that he was was enough to make him hard.
I want to know what mom tastes like.
That particular hiccup out of the way, the walk to school was slightly way too uncomfortable.
"Hey, so, you dropped a turd or something?" his pig friend asked as Michael shifted his pants for probably the fifth time.
"No, it's just," Michael decided whether or not he could confide with his friend about this, "I am walking without any underwear here."
"Ah, wanted to try it out, heh?" Justine said with a knowing smile, "Well, let me congratulate you on joining a great group of free men. A legionnaire of freedom if you would."
"...you do this too." Michael stopped struggling with his crotch for a second.
"Freedom isn't for everyone," Justine sniffed, "So I figured you'd never go for something so brave."
"It's not..." Michael struggled to reply, but ended up sighing, "Ok, whatever, how do you make this not be uncomfortable?"
"Well, you don't," Justine shrugged.
Michael stared at his friend.
"Look, you just get used to it after a while, ok?" he defended himself, "And don't worry about the chaffing, you'll get used to that too."
"Why does anyone go without underwear?!" Michael demanded.
"Because it's liberating to do so!" Justine argued, "Look, give it some time, like a few days, and if it's really that bad, just go back to wearing underwear, simple!"
Michael wondered if that option was even open to him. It's not like companies didn't make undergarments of all sizes, but they usually scaled to waist size, not dick and testicle size.
Maybe he'd be able to order custom underwear?
Michael shook his head.
"Yeah, ok, fine," he replied because he didn't really have much option at the moment.
"If it's any consolation, you are making the right choice," Justine sagely nodded.
Despite his issues with his reproductive danglers, Michael and his friend got to school early.
Unlike schools in worse-off areas, there were no security guards waiting at the gates of Mintcone High. The people in the area of Michael's home tended towards the affluent, and the school reflected that.
The series of steps leading to the entrance were all carefully maintained, rail guards and potted plants everywhere as he and his friend climbed to the top of the hill that Mintcone was situated on.
Various buildings of different kinds strutted the street as they walked, most of them being different school facilities that held something or other. Scholastic knicks and knacks. There were barracks for school equipment, sports equipment, musical equipment, and much more. The school itself was a brick-and-mortar building composed of two floors. The bottom for administrative rooms and students in younger years.
The top being for the older ones.
Michael and Justine had to head for the top.
"Pink boy and furless monkey," a student said as they climbed the steps.
"Hey Constance," Justine awkwardly said as they went up. Michael's eyes slimmed as he looked around.
Waiting on top of the stairs was one of the "wrong" packs, a collection of students who didn't do much in school except try and have fun. Now, being a bad student wasn't a problem. Well, not to Michael anyway.
The problem was what they considered "fun".
"You guys in a hurry?" Constance, another pig boy who had brown fur covering his body, casually asked.
"Well, you know how class is about to begin?" Justine laughed, trying to brush him off. And no wonder: Constance outweighed him by at least twice as much.
He was that fat.
"Are you saying I am stupid?" the fat bastard asked. His pack, composed of 3 other boys of different species, snickered behind him, "That I don't know when class starts?"
"Not at all," Justine was quick to excuse himself, "We are just pressed for time, see?"
As much as seeing Justine squirm apparently filled the void of the fatter hog's empty heart, his eyes weren't really on him.
They were on Michael.
Because of course, they would be.
"Are you calling me blind?" he asked, walking over to his friend and attempting to loom over him. They were the same height, but Justine shied away anyway, "Or are you trying to look fat and strong in front of your boyfriend?"
Well, that was enough for Michael.
"No, he is just saying you are in the way, you diabetic motherfucker," Michael replied and Justine looked at him with shock.
For most of his life, he'd ignored people like this. Given that he was a human, being called weak and good for nothing except fucking had never offended him because, well, it was true. And he wasn't ashamed of being human as being inferior to other species was just what it was.
He could not claim he didn't hate their disdain or the fact that they were trying to hurt him on some level, but he could hide behind the truth and just act as if they weren't affecting him at all. It didn't stop people from trying to bully him, but it kept things from ever escalating past a certain level.
He'd made people not getting satisfaction from rallying him up an art form.
And here he was fucking all of that up.
"What'd you say to me?" Constance quietly asked.
"I said," Michael replied as he stepped into Constance's personal space, putting his face mere inches away from him, "That you are in the way you massive ball of shit."
