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Announcements!

Hey everyone! I have some new stuff to announce that folks might be interested in.

First things first, I’m working on a new long project, something a bit different that my usual stuff, which is a tabletop RPG engine based around Pigtown as a setting. Roleplaying games are something I’ve always enjoyed, and for years, I’ve designed little games as idea engines to help come up with stories and things like that. Folks over on discord have also played some of my other, smaller RP games. I’ve had various ideas for a larger game engine for a few years now, but building your own system from scratch is a nightmare, and I’d never run into an existing engine that felt like something I could hack into what I had in mind. Then, last month, I ran into the BOLT engine, and knew right away it could work for what I have in mind. If you’d like to know more about the game, you can find out more here. I’m going to be posting development blogs over on Patreon each week, diving into the various systems with more detail. You can read the first of those over here. If that’s something you’d like to follow along with, all patrons will have access to those. If you’d like to play early versions of the game and playtest some stuff, then everyone at the $5 level or higher, on discord, will be able to help me out as the various systems get fleshed out. My goal is to have a workable system, basically a player’s handbook, drafted by the end of March, so we’ll see! If people enjoy it, I might put out supplemental materials and story packs on occasion, but that’s a ways down the road. A secondary reason I’m interested in this sort of thing, is that if the system works well, I can build it into twine, and open up some new avenues there too.

In the meantime, I’ll still be putting out stories as best I can, but I’m hoping to make the game my focus for the time being. That said, I’ve decided to give myself a little challenge for this month, which is a caption a day! I haven’t posted much in the way of captions in a long while, and I know people enjoy them a lot. Some of these will be new, some will be captions I already posted on discord, and a few, if I get desperate for ideas, might be some old favorites from the archives, spruced up and extended. I’ll have the first one posted here soon! If you’re a patron and have a photo or two you might like to see me use, don’t forget to head over to discord, and slide it into the appropriate channel.

Thanks, as always, for your support and for reading my stuff. If you’re disappointed that you might not see much in the way of long form stories for a bit, don’t worry too much. I still have a few things up my sleeve…

State of the Author, January 2021

Hey all,

Alright, it’s been a few months since my last update, and I just wanted to say again, thank you all for your patience and your support as I worked through a few various side projects and miscellaneous ideas, as I tried to figure out what in the hell I wanted to do next. First, some good news: I have a new story up over on Patreon, which I’ll post over here next week once. It’s a sign that things are finally rolling for me, and I’m confident that I have a good idea of where I’m looking to go next, so here’s a little on where my head is at, what I’m going to be working on for the next while, and some other little things.

2020 was rough. Looking back on what I managed to get done, I don’t really know when or how it happened. Ruts are difficult, and when you’re in one, especially when you’ve been writing this stuff for as long as I have, it becomes very difficult to try and figure out how to force yourself out of it. I don’t know if I would characterize what I was pushing through for the last few months as a rut, but it’s similar. 

Part of the issue for me, is that I’ve been really wanting to devote myself to something longer and more robust than the short fiction and captions I’ve been putting out lately, but at the same time, I know that short content is popular. That said, each time I tried to sit down and conceptualize a “novel” it never seemed to pop out like that. It would come out as an RPG, or as a twine story, but as I pushed down those avenues, those didn’t really fit right either and were leaving me frustrated as well. 

There were a few things that lit a couple of lightbulbs for me this year. One of those was the story “Precinct 17”, which did a lot to expand some of the Pigtown lore, and felt like it was part of something much larger than just a little story. I starting poking at it, thinking on ways to expand it, but none of the stories really felt like they were coming together. At the same time, I’ve been kicking around a lot of ideas for some more City of Bears content, but in all honesty, CoB requires a level of optimism and joy that I’m finding in short supply right now. This is a time for Pigtown. Another light bulb that went off was the “Frat Daddy,” interactive I did over the summer, which succeeded in feeling more like an actual interactive story, than a TF simulator. I liked how open ended it felt, that it wasn’t necessarily interested in driving towards an obvious conclusion, but merely opening up possibilities. If one storyline closed, another couple seemed to pop up behind it to be developed. I liked the serial nature of it, and it reminded me of years ago, when I used to put out smaller entries of stories on a regular basis. There were always problems with that model, of course, but I also miss it. 

The last few months I’ve just been kicking all of this around, seeing what it felt like, and what it didn’t feel like. What I felt like making, most of all. What felt like something I could put out into this current world that might make a little bit of sense to me. I managed some other projects along the while, a good chunk of captions over November, a series of Christmas tales in December. Around New Year’s I started sketching something out, it felt right, I’ve been enjoying writing it, and I’m happy to announce that for the next while, I’m going to be working on something I’ll be calling “The Pigtown Chronicles” for now. It’s a long form serial in the Pigtown setting, and I’ll be posting entries three days a week for now, with more or less depending on how my buffer is looking.

As always, patrons are going to get early access to entries. I’ll probably run early access at least a week ahead, but might push it to two weeks. In the future, once I get the serial up and running and readers get a feel for it, I’ll be soliciting ideas and requests from the upper tiers, and using that input to shape characters and storylines as the serial progresses, and possibly offering commissions for specific content, if people are interested in that, but all of these plans are mostly tentative. More important to me, is delivering something regularly that I feel like I can commit to, and that you all will find enjoyable. 

A serial presents some additional challenges, making it a bit harder for folks to pick up in the middle of the series, especially as the story develops. As someone who reads a lot of webcomics, I am well aware of how confusing it can be to drop into the middle of a substantial story arc with no idea of what’s going on, having to go back in the archive and start from the beginning. So, I’ll be collecting and organizing the individual entries for patrons as downloadable files as I finish sets of them, so people who join late have an easy way of downloading and catching up. 

For now, starting on Monday, Wednesday and Friday, I’ll be posting the first entries over on Patreon, and I’ll follow up by posting them here a week later. I have a feeling you all will probably enjoy it. For the first few weeks, I’m going to give patrons at all tier levels early access to the series, but once we’re through the introduction, I’ll go back to giving early access to folks at the $5 level and up. If you’ve been waiting for a good time to join my Patreon, this might be it! You can find out more here.

And of course, thanks as always for reading, and for your patience.

Patreon Teaser – The Cursed Elf

Hey all, I’ve been doing some short flash fiction Christmas tales for folks over on Patreon! I’m gonna post a couple of them here for the next few days, but if you want to read them all, you’ll have to head over here! Supporters at the $5 level or higher get access to those, and a bunch of other stuff in the archive. Here’s part one of a little tale about a cursed Elf on a Shelf, enjoy!


Dec 1st.

Mitch blinked awake and checked the clock–not too long after midnight. He wasn’t quite sure what had awoken him, but he did need to take a piss, so he got up out of bed without disturbing his wife, and walked to the bathroom attached to their room. It was too early to even try and aim, so he turned around and sat down, took a long piss, and as his vision adapted to the light, he noticed something odd. There, on the counter with its legs dangling off, was one of those…elf things. The elf on a shelf, right? 

Linda had bought one when they’d first come out for Jeremy, their son who was in college now. She’d changed locations every day, Jeremy had needed to hunt for it, and it helped encourage good behavior, since it was allegedly reporting back to Santa each night. But they hadn’t used it since he was ten or so–almost a decade ago? Why on Earth had she gotten it out now?

Looking at it again, he noticed something else odd about it. It didn’t seem particularly…jolly. The elf had been thin, with a big grin. This one though seemed fat, its clothes dirty looking, with a mischievous sneer across its face. 

“Ya just gonna stare at me, Mitch, or are ya gonna say hello?”

He nearly popped up off the toilet when he heard the voice come from the elf. Then the thing…moved. It got up on the counter, a hairy belly poking out from under the ratty shirt it had on…and was that…a bulge? “What…what the fuck are you?”

“I’m an elf. A bad elf, I suppose Santa would say. Had a pretty good gig for a while, you know? Report on the kids, have a little fun with their dads, harmless! Got fired, stuck me in one of those damn dolls! Well, good news is, I still have my Christmas magic left, and look at you, sexy fella. I’ll be happy to keep an eye on you for the next twenty five days.”

Mitch tried to say something else, but a strange beam shot out of the elves eyes and into Mitch’s own, and his hands flopped down at his side, eyes gleaming, smile wide. 

“That’s it, Mitch. You just relax and let me take care of everything. Aren’t you horny, Daddy? Don’t those big balls of yours just need release?”

The elf hoped over onto Mitch’s thigh, as his cock was beginning to stand upright, his balls sagging lower into the bowl of the toilet. The elf wrapped both arms around his cock and started pumping it, making Mitch groan. 

“That’s it, just stokin’ off, like guys do. You love masturbatin’, don’t you Mitch? Bet you love it more than fucking, you pervert. Looking at porn every chance you get, whacking off in the bathrooms at home, at work. You don’t care if anyone hears you, do you Mitch? Wouldn’t getting caught be kind of…exciting?”

Mitch’s groans got louder and louder, until the bathroom door opened, his wife standing in the doorway as Mitch stroked himself off, shooting a huge load all over the floor in front of him, while Linda just stared, horrified. He looked around for the elf, but the little fucker was nowhere to be found. He tried to sputter an explanation, but she just said that if he wanted to be gross, he could sleep on the couch for the rest of the night, and went back to bed.

Confused and a little scared, Mitch went downstairs and made a little bed on the couch. He didn’t even get settled in before he saw a pair of eyes gleaming at him from a high shelf. Before he could stop himself, he was drifting off into some of the filthiest dreams of his life–at least, until the next night, and the night after that, the elf assuring Mitch this would be a Christmas season he’d never forget.

A Winter Update

Hey everyone. I just wanted to give everyone an update on what’s been going on, since it’s been pretty quiet around here for the last month, after the flurry of captions I posted for October. This is an update I’ve been needing to write for a while now, but haven’t quite found the right words to use, and it also contains some admissions that I’ve been struggling to accept, but which need to be said in the interest of transparency.

First things first, the obvious: this has been a terrible year. Between the pandemic, and the election, and work, and so much other personal stuff going on, I’ve struggled with maintaining the kind of energy and connection the erotic I need in order to put out stories on a regular basis. Honestly, the fact I’ve managed to put out anything at all this year is surprising to me, and especially over the last month, I’ve been teetering on the edge of a pretty severe burnout. The kind of burnout that makes me consider setting aside the writing for a substantial amount of time. As of now, I’m not planning on doing that, but that would be Difficult Admission #1: I’m really fucking tired.

For my writing to work, for me to feel inspired, and engaged, there needs to be some sort of future. The erotic relies on anticipation, and this year has been one long series of the future closing in on itself. As cases spike, as it looks like the incoming administration is preparing to do fuck all about the mess we’re in, as I read article after article detailing the human misery and destruction going on all over the place, its been increasingly difficult to maintain the sort of fantasy that makes the writing possible in the first place. The despair is real, and constant, and not something I can just shut off. Writing from a position of anger isn’t strange to me, but the anger has been dwindling, and what remains is a big pile of hopelessness that I don’t quite know how to work through as of now.

It hasn’t helped that the income I pull in from Patreon has gone from hobby money to money I have to count on to make sure my bills get paid. Over the last year, it’s become clear that Patreon is slowly going to be weeding out adult accounts from its service, and it’s probably only a matter of time before mine comes under scrutiny as well. This could be paranoia, but after seeing what happened with gay spiral stories, I consider the paranoia to be well founded. Turning your hobby into a revenue stream sounds like a dream come true, but honestly, it can also suck the life out of it, as you find yourself worrying more about what is going to be popular/worth spending money on, and less about what sort of writing and projects interest you personally. I appreciate every patron, don’t get me wrong. The fact that I’ve found this much support is amazing. But the pressure to provide immediate, monthly rewards for patrons, in order to reward/entice people to support me runs up hard against a lot of the substantial projects I want to work on, leaving me tugged between short stuff like suggestions and captions that are popular but eat up a lot of time, and longform stories, twine projects, and other things that I’m desperate to work on but don’t produce any sort of immediate, tangible reward for people who support me. I’m hardly the first creative person to struggle with this push and pull, but there’s no real easy way to navigate it, especially with my depleted energy. But this would be difficult admission #2: As much as I appreciate the support I get from folks on Patreon, the pressure of maintaining that income tends to discourage my creativity, rather than enhance it.

There’s no easy way forward through any of this, of course. I have no intention of shutting down my Patreon or anything drastic like that, though I will probably be revamping it somewhat early next year. Rather than committing to a set of rewards each month, things like the suggestion box, interactive stories, captions on discord and the like are going to be more sporadic. I won’t be able to promise patrons some sort of exclusive content each month, but I will do my best to make sure they receive at least something extra as often as I can. But I really want to believe that if you’re supporting me on there, you’re doing so because you appreciate all of the work I do, whether its short stuff or the more complex twine projects, novellas and the like. If that means that some people lose interest in backing me…well, they probably would have already dropped me sometime over the last year, given my lackluster output, compared to prior years.

Mostly though, I want to thank you all for reading, for your support, for everything, really. Stay safe, hopefully things will begin to look up soon, though I have a feeling we’re all going to be struggling with this for a long while yet. I have no intention of stopping this anytime soon, so don’t worry about that, but I feel that it’s important to let you all know where I’m at.

(Caption) Halloween Nightmares VII

October Caption Challenge (31/31)

Success! This caption uses a photo from @bowserpig over on twitter, and seemed a good one for Halloween proper.

It didn’t seem fair. Bowser had been working on this costume since last year, ordering the bits and pieces from various folks in the community, and now that his orc costume was all set and ready to go…there was nowhere to go, thanks to the pandemic. He sighed, looking at himself in the mirror. He did look good, and at least he could always show off some photos on the internet. Besides, there was always next year, right?

Well, the dream imp thought it was a shame too. It was a nice attempt, really, but the orcs he was familiar with, from some of the deeper regions of the hellscape, were rather rougher. He wondered what they might think of the costume, in fact. The imps time on the surface was coming to an end, it only had energy left for one last dream–and so, when Bowser went to sleep on Halloween night, the imp pulled him into a dream, and down deep into its own realm, where he found himself standing in a rather alien environment.

There was no sun, but there was light. Nothing was growing that he could seen, just dessert and stone as far as he could make out. Looking down at himself, he was somewhat surprised to find himself in the same costume he’d had on earlier. The ground shook, just slightly, and some massive, green skinned figures came around a pile of boulders, led by a little imp floating in the air. 

“Look at this human I found, fellas–he thinks he’s an orc!” the imp said, and cackled.

Bowser took a couple of steps back, but came up against a sizable rock. The orcs he was staring at were…well, they weren’t unlike the images he’d seen in fairytales and stories, but they were decidedly more…intense. If they’d been standing upright, they’d have been close to nine feet tall, but they were hunched over, more like gorillas. Their skin was green, but a bit paler than he might have expected, and the teeth…massive tusks growing out and curling around. They came a bit closer, scowling at him and his mimicry, and he smelled them on the stale, quiet air. It was enough to make him gag, and go a bit weak at the knees.

“A human, dressed like an orc?” one of the beasts said, giving a snort.

“If he wants to be an orc so badly, we can help with that.”

“He’s all yours, if you want. All you have to do is take the deal I offered,” the imp said.

One of the orcs gave a derisive snort, but nodded. The imp gave a little aerial bow, and disappeared into the aether, leaving Bowser alone with the two orcs beneath the Earth. 

“Mmm…I haven’t tasted human in ages,” one of them said, came close, and licked the side of Bowser’s face, “Are you sure we can’t just eat him?”

“The slightly larger one gave a grunt. “What do you think, little human? Do you want us to eat you, or would you like us to make you a proper orc?”

Bowser swallowed hard. “Orc…please…”

“Then you’d best eat up,” the orc said, grabbed hold of Bowser’s head in one passive palm, and shoved him under his hairy green gut. The cock waiting for him was studded up and down with bone–Bowser didn’t know if it was decorative or not, but all of it went down his throat, scraping the sides of his mouth and tongue, and the beast started fucking him, barely giving him space to breathe. With a little repositioning, the other orc hauled up Bowser’s legs and drove his own cock into his ass–pumping load after load of orc cum into Bowser’s belly.

He lost himself in the pain, which soon became pleasure, and rapture. With each load, he felt his belly begin to swell, his muscles growing stronger and brawnier, new teeth and tusks pushing out the fake ones he’d gotten for his costume. Already his human life was beginning to fade away, his memories of the surface. Once he’d grown large enough, he shoved the orcs off of him, climbed on top of one of them, and drove his own cock into the hole, while the other kissed him, their tusks grating against each other as they did. He gave a roar, and spilled what little remained of his humanity deep in his orc brother’s guts, and the three of them collapsed into a sweaty heap among the rocks. 

Some nightmares, it seems, can become the wildest of dreams–depending on who dreams them.

(Caption) Mind the Return Policy

October Caption Challenge (30/31)

You couldn’t get into the best Halloween parties on campus without a costume, which was a challenge for Jeff, since he didn’t have much in the way of cash to spend on anything extravagant. Some guys he knew could pull together a decent costume with just some trash and duct tape, but he’d never been that creative. Looking on the internet for ideas, he saw a good one–go buy some clothes from a workwear store and go as a construction worker. The next day, you can just return them, and you aren’t out a dime–so long as they stay clean of course.

It seemed like an easy solution. There was a little workwear shop near campus, owned by a gruff looking older fellow, who, when Jeff checked out with the gear, just gave him a scowl, like he knew exactly what he was up to. “You need a copy of the return policy?” he asked. Jeff just shook his head, bundled everything up and left the store.

The party was great. Even more amazing, the clothes were good as new the next day, aside from their missing tags, of course. But that wouldn’t be an issue he was sure. He went back to the store with the clothes in hand, and told the older fellow he wanted to return them. He even had the receipt and everything. 

The older fellow scoffed, and his sneer turned into a bit of a smile. “Sorry fella, I can’t take back gear that you’ve worked in,” he said. 

Jeff started to object, but felt the world shift around him a bit, in a way he couldn’t quite explain. “What are you talking about?” he managed to say, “They’re good as new.”

“Buddy, look in the mirror, that shit is filthy.”

Jeff walked over and looked in the mirror hanging on the outside of the dressing room, and just stared at his reflection in confusion. For one thing, why was he wearing the clothes he’d bought? He’d…he’d had something else on, hadn’t he? From…school? Everything was fuzzy all of a sudden. It had been a costume, hadn’t it? But he hadn’t…done anything for Halloween, he was too tired from working all day at the site. 

“No, what the hell, I…what the fuck did ya do to me?”

“Look, best I can offer is an exchange. It’s no surprise ya wanna return them, I mean…I’m surprised ya even managed to squeeze into those to get here.”

The same sensation as before, but this time, it was centered on him, inside him. Looking down, Jeff watched as his body swelled larger and larger, packing on fat, the suspenders pushed to the side, his t-shirt riding up as a massive, hairy gut spilled out, the button at the top of his pants popping open.

“I…I mean…I don’t understand…” he stammered, gripping his gut in disbelief, but already the memory was fading, of being any other way.

“No worries Jeff,” the owner said, “You’re familiar with our return policy. Seems like ya come in here every month, after outgrowing the last set of clothes I sell you. It’s like you enjoy being a fat, hairy, stinking pig or something.”

Jeff grunted, as the hefty owner pushed up against him. “I…I uh…look, I’ll just…just take the clothes…”

“No, you’re gonna get in the dressing room, bend over like the horny asspig you are, and I’m gonna fuck that loose hole of yours. Then, we’ll get you dressed in something closer to your size eh? Don’t you want me to breed that hole of yours, you fat hog?”

Fuck, he did, didn’t he? That afternoon, Jeff was back at the site, in his new clothes. They were better, with a little room to grow at least, but that was just a challenge as far as he was concerned. In a few weeks, he’d be bursting out of these as well, and head on back to Wade’s shop to make a new exchange. He was so happy he’d found that shop–really, his return policy was the best in town.

(Caption) What is Lost, Can be Freely Claimed

October Caption Challenge (29/31)


“Come on Simon, magic? Really?”

“Sure Marty! Just fuckin’ trust me, alright? The plan’ll work. You wanna live in this shithole the rest a yer life?”

“Ya know I don’t.”

“Well then work with me here. So we lure a couple a rich guys from the city, one a those gay couples, and have them stay here for a week.”

“Here? Why the fuck would they wanna stay at a run down shithole like our place?”

“Easy–it’s called AirBnB.”


“Come on babe, doesn’t it look quaint?”

“It looks dirty.”

“I want to get out of the city though.”

“I know, I know, look, just book it, alright? But I reserve the right to demand a refund.”


“Alright, so they stay here–how’s that help us, Marty?”

“Well, they first they lose their luggage, you see…”


“It’s not the end of the world, the airline said they’ll have it to us by the end of the week.”

“We’ll be leaving by the end of the week, Gregory! What in the world am I supposed the wear? My plane clothes all week?”

“Well, you are the one who said that you wanted to get out of the city and into the country, maybe living a little simpler could help. I mean, did you really need two suitcases for a week here?”

“Yes! Of course I did!”


“Alright…”

“Only thing is, when you lose something, according to magic, that creates…an opening. Something else can slip in and replace it. If you don’t claim it, well, that means it’s up for grabs.”

“So…we just gotta give them something else? Like what?”

“We got all kinds a stuff, Simon! And with a little spell here and there, they won’t even miss their garbage luggage.”


“I can’t wear it anymore, Gregory–oh look! Someone didn’t clean out the closet. Oh, but it’s not the most…well…chiq, is it?”

“What, coveralls and rubber boots aren’t your style? Fuck, this place is a dump, I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.”

“Let me just…hmm…it fits pretty well, actually.”

“Oh my god, I have to get a picture of this. Chadwick, in coveralls–the guys back home are going to fucking freak out.”

“Oh haha, fine, you can get a picture, but only if you put on something too.”

“No fucking way.”

“Come on! It’s pretty comfy…”

“Oh fine, but I’m just trying it on, ok? Nothing more.”


“So they put on our stuff, and…then what?”

“Then we wait.”


“Fuck Greg, you…fuckin stink today.”

“Well yeah–why the fuck wouldn’t I?”

“No, I mean, you don’t…usually stink, do you?”

“Come on Chad, of course we fuckin’ stink.”

“No, I mean…fuck, what was I thinkin’ about?”

“Go get me another beer man, I just wanna relax before we gotta go back tah work on Monday.”

“But we’re supposed tah leave in two days, right Greg?”

“Leave where?”

“I…I thought…”

“Dumbass, what are you fuckin’ thinkin’ for?”

“I dunno.”

“Get me that beer, then get yer ass over here, I’m fuckin’ horny as hell this mornin’.”


“We wait?”

“Yeah, we wait.”

“For what?”

“For the magic to work, stupid!”

“Don’t yell at me Simon.”

“Look, they forget who they are, they take our place, and then they renounce their old lives, which means we can have them! We take their stuff, and bang–brand new lives.”

“Why the fuck would they give up their good lives for our shitty one?”

“Look. I promise it’ll work, just trust me.”


“What the fuck ya want?”

“Just some lost luggage from the airport…for a Gregory Morse and a Chadwick Anderson?”

“Ain’t no one here by those names. Ya must have the wrong address.”

“Oh–so you’re renouncing your right to these worldly goods?”

“What the fuck ya sayin’? Yeah, sure, whatever. Get the fuck off mah property.”

“Yes sir, have a good day Sir.”

…….

“Who was that Greg?”

“No one important. Come here, Daddy’s fuckin’ horny boy…”

“Oh fuck Daddy, you fuckin’ reek tahday.”

“Yeah I do you fucker–come on, one more day a vacation, then it’s back tah fuckin’ work. I wanna spend it fuckin’–outside.”

“What?”

“Yeah, gonna throw ya around a mud puddle, get ya real fuckin nasty, then plow that hole a yers.”

“Oh fuck Daddy, that sounds fuckin’ hot.”

Well go on then boy, let’s get started.”

(Caption) Five Lost to Pigtown

October Caption Challenge (28/31)

Something had changed in the city lately, Matt thought. It was seedier, he kept seeing these sorry, dirty looking guys roaming around the junkyard where he worked. He thought they were derelicts at first, but that didn’t seem quite accurate. They only seemed to come out in the dark, for one thing, and more than once, he saw a manhole cover slide back into place as he passed by an alley. Were they living in the sewers? He didn’t really want to know, but it creeped him out all the same. 

All day long now, he felt like someone was watching him as he kept the bits and pieces of cars and trucks organized, and helped folks find the bits they were looking for. One evening, he lost track of time while he was out in the tire storage area, and didn’t notice the sun setting until he shuddered from the chill. He closed up and went to leave, when he heard a rustling inside–had someone gotten in behind him? 

He opened back up, poked around, and towards the back, sheltered by a stack of old tires, he found one of the grungy fellows there, sitting in some filthy work gear, cock hanging out, smoking a cigar. Matt yelled at him, and the guy startled and jumped behind the stack, almost like an animal, like he was terrified. Confused, Matt came closer, to where the cigar was still smoking on the ground, trying to figure out what was going on. He caught a whiff of the smoke, and coughed–it was…strong, to say the least. It made his eyes water, his head swim. He sat down where the man had been, trying to clear his head, but before he could, the fellow had slipped back out, picked up the cigar, and pushed it into Matt’s mouth.

That first inhale was a punch to the gut. Coupled with the stink rolling off the man in front of him, all he could do was gag–but the cigar refused to fall from his mouth, for some reason. He…he needed it, didn’t he? He took another inhale–that one wasn’t so bad. The greasy fellow got down in front of him, pulled out Matt’s cock, and started sucking on it. Matt looked down at himself, at his clothes, at his…filthy, nasty clothes. They hadn’t been that dirty, had they? A moment ago? He took another draw on the cigar, looked at the cinder on the end. Almost reading his mind, the man opened his mouth, and Matt knocked the ash off into the man’s mouth. He went back to sucking, and Matt moaned from the sensation of ashy grit on his member, and took another suck on the cigar.

They looked for Matt for a few days, but he never turned up for work. He hadn’t even clocked out, the day he disappeared. However, the owner did see someone that looked…a bit like him, in a mass of filthy bodies down an alley. Those damn derelicts–where the hell are they all coming from? It seems like they’re breeding around here, or something.

(Caption) Halloween Nightmares VI

October Caption Challenge (27/31)

Nicholas liked order. He’d been a wild kid, ended up enlisting in the army, and getting shipped out to the Middle East. The experience had sucked, but it had given him the sense of discipline and consequence that he’d been missing, and when his tour of duty ended, he proceeded to get his life on the right track. Now, he was doing good. Engaged with a wedding planned for the next year, just bought a house, a solid job and good savings. He even made time to go visit the gym on a regular basis, and was in better shape now than he’d been, even in his army days.

The dream imp, however, looked at this and found itself a bit disgusted. It followed Nicholas home from the gym that evening, poking and prodding around in his head, looking for all of his quirks and weaknesses, crafting just the sort of nightmare that would break him properly, and send him back to his dirty, wild ways from before.

Nicholas fell asleep that night, and found himself in a room he didn’t recognize. A basement, probably, since there was no light or windows that he could see. He was…naked as well, which was rather embarrassing, but all of the clothes littered around the room were a bit…well, he didn’t know what half the shit was, in all honesty. There was a lot of leather, and rubber, and…fuck, what kind of faggot shit was this, anyway?

“Don’t worry about that stuff, Nick–come here, we can help.”

“Yeah Nick, let us help, come on.”

The voices didn’t sound quite human. They almost seemed to be coming from his own mind. He followed them anyway, and found himself looking at some of the filthiest clothes he’d ever seen, dropped in the corner of the room. 

“Hi Nick, don’t you want to wear us?”

“Come on Nick, it’ll feel so good…”

“No one has worn us in so long.”

Nick took a few steps back, “What the fuck is this?” he said, looking around the room, wondering what the hell kind of dream this was, when he felt something slither around his ankle, and grip him tight. Looking down, it was a leg of some coveralls that had slithered out of the pile–and the other filthy laundry was coming closer as well. 

He tried to pull his ankle away, but the coveralls tugged back harder, and pulling him to the floor–and everything swarmed over him. Some filthy briefs crawled up his legs, a nasty t-shirt squirmed over his head and down onto his body, and the coveralls swallowed everything up. He stood up, feeling almost light headed, and the words, the voices, they were so loud, they were drowning out his own mind.

“That’s it Nick, isn’t it good to be dirty again?”

“Such a loser Nick, you were always a loser. You never stood a chance.”

“You stupid fucking faggot, nothing but a dirty, filthy, faggot pig, that’s all you are.”

He felt his cock release a stream of piss into the coveralls, and the clothes squirmed like they were orgasming–they were orgasming, actually, and it felt like he was as well. After that, he just relaxed, and let the clothes drink him dry, sucking down his muscles, sucking down his mind, sucking down his cum and piss and sweat, and when he finally woke up, it wasn’t in his bed.

He was on a toilet.

He didn’t know where this toilet was. He didn’t know how he’d gotten the dirty workwear he was wearing. He didn’t know…anything, really. The dream had drained so much of him, that all that was left was a nasty minded pig. A pig with a name at least. Nick. He was called Nick–no last name. He didn’t need one. He…had a job too, didn’t he? He thought hard, tried to focus, and pissed his pants by accident, feeling it pool around the seat of his pants and dribble off onto the floor.

He would have gotten down to lick it up like a good pig, when the door to the bathroom opened. Later, then. He had work to do, after all. A greasy looking roughneck rounded the corner, ready to use the toilet, and found the pig there, with a surprised look on his face. But one whiff of him, and he knew what he needed to do. A full service toilet pig, just waiting for him. It was his lucky day, apparently.

Nick kept trying to leave, when he remembered there was a door outside the stall where he’d woken up. But whenever he tried, he woke up right back on the toilet. After all, he still had work to do, didn’t he? So much work to do.

(Caption) Hide and Seek

October Caption Challenge (26/31)

“Found you Jimmy!”

“God dang it, how’d ya guys do it again?” Jimmy said, stepping out of the doorway, a little drool running out of his mouth, as the other frat brothers laughed at him.

“Your big fucking belly was sticking right out into the hallway, dumbass!”

“Wha?”

“You know that we can see you even if you can’t see us, right?”

“I…I don’ know…my head hurts.”

It wasn’t surprising, really. Jimmy had been everyone’s least favorite frat brother, and when Gregory had found the spell book, and realized it worked, the other guys were more than happy to make Jimmy the butt of the evening. They’d decided to play a game–hide and seek. But if you got found within a time limit, then you had to get changed by one of the spells.

So far, Jimmy had gained 200 pounds of fat, he’d lost fifty points from his IQ, and now they were just forcing him to hide over and over again, just so they could keep changing him for fun. 

“Come on guys, can I change back now? I don’t like this anymore,” Jimmy said, pouting a bit, puffing out his fat cheeks.

“Sorry man, you gotta get changed again,” Gregory said, and said another spell. But little did the frat know, this one wasn’t targeted at just Jimmy, but at all of the brothers. After all, Gregory was tired of being in the closet, and Jimmy had been such a homophobe, he deserved to be the house cumdump from now on. “Tell you what, Jimmy. Why don’t we take a break, and you can suck us all off, eh? You love cum, don’t you Jimmy?”

Jimmy nodded vigorously, got down on his knees, and hauled Gregory’s cock out of his shorts for him, and started sucking with gusto. The rest of the guys all found their own cocks getting hard at the sight, and were more than willing to feed their loads to Jimmy as well. Of course, Jimmy got changed back come morning–or at least, he thought he did. Instead, Gregory just warped all of their memories to think that Jimmy had spent the night as a muscle bound top–but now he was just regular old Jimmy–fat, stupid, and always thirsty for cum–and as far as he was concerned, he never wanted to change again.

(Caption) Notes On Reality #2

October Caption Challenge (25/31)

For a while, Mitch was satisfied. After all, who wouldn’t be satisfied with a himbo daddy, aching for your cock every minute of the day? It…bothered him a little bit, maybe, that he’d come home to find another guy from college balls deep in his dad’s hungry hole, but he did want him to be happy, right? And his dad did seem to be a whole lot happier like this, that was for sure. Mitch couldn’t help but feel a little bad about it after all–it’s not like he’d asked. But, well, it’s not like his dad knew that anything was different. Telling him about it now just seemed kind of cruel.

So Mitch kept the book a secret, and while it kept popping up, obviously eager for him to write something else within its pages, he resisted the urge for a while. But the more he thought about it, the more thoughts kept creeping into his head. Rather…dirty thoughts. After all, Mitch wasn’t exactly a top. When he’d written that in the book, he hadn’t really intended for his dad to be such a bottom, it had just…felt right, in the moment. He’d gotten fucked by his sizable cock a few times now, but his dad’s heart just wasn’t in it, not really. He was also a pretty vanilla guy, but there were a few fetishes that Mitch had always wanted to try. Silly as it might sound, he missed his dad’s cigars more than pretty much anything else about his old life. 

But he was going to take his time. Be thoughtful. Not let his horniness get in the way of his good sense. After all, they had a nice life now, but it felt like luck more than anything else. Why not spice things up a bit more?

So he tried to write carefully this time, but once more, his thoughts and desires got away from him–though not quite as bad as the last time. It was pretty clear that the notebook was pulling this out of him, as much as he was putting it down, and the notebook didn’t quite care whether what he was thinking was extreme or not–it just wanted to make it the truth.

And so, after blacking out again, he woke to a photo from his father, who had gone out for the night to one of the local gay bars–it was a school night, so he hadn’t expected Mitch to go with him. The photo made his jaw drop, when he saw what he’d done this time.

It wasn’t…bad. He’d lost some muscle, which was a bit of a surprise, but the cigars had returned, and the leather gear was…hot as hell, in all honesty. As was the second bedroom of their apartment, which his Daddy showed him when he got home that night, a little drunk, and proceeded to tie him to the cross, spank him, and then fuck Mitch’s ass with his massive cock.

But what he hadn’t planned on, was the notebook doing one of its magical appearing acts, right at that moment, while he was still tied up on the cross. 

His dad found it, asked him about it, and Mitch told him it was nothing. However, when he read it, he discovered that his entire life was scrawled out in his son’s handwriting, and he demanded an explanation. Mitch refused, but the book provided one–and when Daddy realized what it could do, he didn’t see a reason why his son shouldn’t have a bit of an attitude adjustment.

Twenty pages, and a couple of black outs later, Mitch was a brand new boy. He wasn’t going to college–he hardly ever even left the apartment anymore. He was daddy’s little rubber pup slave, kept in a latex bodysuit nearly all the time, collared, locked and plugged, unless Daddy or one of his friends was using him. Mitch didn’t mind of course. This was the life he’d always wanted, after all. Pleased with the result, Daddy didn’t feel the need to use the notebook again–but to make sure his son didn’t get any bright ideas, he made sure to keep his hands locked up and his eyes blinded whenever he was out of the cage. In time, an opportunity came to pass the book along to someone else who needed it, but that’s a tale for another time.