Interactive Story – Arctos Dating (Part 1)

Guess who finally cleared their commission queue! This fella, it was me. Sorry the content over here has been a little sporadic for the last while, but while I get back to work on The Pigtown Chronicles, I thought it would be a good time to do another interactive story! I considered picking up where I’d left off with Frat Daddy, but decided to start a new one instead. This time around, we have a rather mysterious Arctos branded dating app. One slight change this time around is that I won’t be running a private and a public poll for these anymore–voting on what happens next will be patron only. However, all patrons, at every reward level, will be able to access it this time around. If you want to support me, and get a say in what happens next, check out my patreon page!


It had been the longest year and a half of his life, he supposed. Ken had gotten out of a relationship in the summer of 2019, found himself his own place and settled in on his own in the fall, as the first news of the new virus was spreading through China. He hadn’t thought much of it–he’d been more focused on enjoying his new found solitude after that rather crushing relationship. He didn’t want to be alone forever, of course, but after taking a few months to himself, just as he was about to start putting himself back out there, well, the whole world had shut down in a matter of weeks, leaving him trapped in his apartment, utterly alone.

His work had gone fully remote, he could order in enough food, but as the months wore on, his one bedroom apartment went from feeling cramped, to claustrophobic, to outright punishing. He reorganized the furniture over and over again, obsessed over whatever stupid hobby people were discussing on social media. He baked bread, he curated his zoom background for work and presentations, he streamed more movies and television than he’d ever wanted to watch in his whole life, but now, at last, the world was beginning to blossom again.

Early on, he’d retreated onto the various hookup apps like a lot of guys had, only to find the whole experience dissatisfying. He didn’t want more people to chat with, or another screen to stare at, he wanted someone he could touch, and smell, and, well, fuck of course. So he’d uninstalled them all after a while, resolving he wouldn’t download any of them again until he was confident he’d be able to see people in person, and that time seemed to be now. The first few gay bars were opening up around town again, and while distance and masking was more or less adhered to, now that cases were down and Pride season was swinging, it felt as close to the old world as he’d managed to get, since he’d gotten his vaccination in late Spring.

And so, he started downloading. He picked up the usuals of course–grindr, scruff, and growlr–he had a soft spot for bears. When they were downloading, he saw another app recommended for him. Something called Arctos Dating. He opened it up, and saw it was another bearish sort of dating app, and downloaded it on a whim. It probably didn’t have much of a user base, but why not give it a shot and see what happened.

He opened it up, and quickly realized what the gimmick was. It was a bear dating app, sure, but it was also blind. No profiles, no pictures. The app just asked you these fairly boring multiple choice questions–favorite colors, hobbies, that sort of stuff that you’d put in a profile anyway, and then it whisked it away. He poked around the app a bit more, but found that he had limited functionality, because he was only a trial member. Wondering how much the thing cost per month, he couldn’t even find a place to purchase a membership. The only information he could find was a rather cryptic section of a deep FAQ that said membership levels were determined by participation on the app. But how was he supposed to participate, if the app didn’t let him do anything? Frustrated, he closed it out and mostly forgot about it, sticking to his profiles on the other sites, reconnecting with guys on there–but that evening, he got a little push notification from the Arctos app.

“Hey! A silver level member wants to meet with you tonight! Tap here to connect!”

Curious again, Ken clicked the notification, expecting a profile to pop up and maybe a chat window, only for there to be nothing of the sort. There was just a time and a location, telling him the date was set for seven that evening at The Roadhouse, one of the more bearish bars in town. It really was going to be a blind date–he knew absolutely nothing about this person. Still, he’d struck out on tinder, hinge, grinder, scruff and every other app that evening, so what was the risk, really? If the guy was ugly, he could just leave after all. Or who knows, maybe he could pick his brain a little about how this app actually works, and how he managed to become a silver level member, and what that even meant.

So he got dressed in some casual clothes, and checked himself in the mirror. He’d fuck himself, he supposed. He was twenty-five, still pretty much in the twink category–or chaser, as he’d been called a few times before, given his interest in older bears. He had thick hair that fell almost to his shoulder, and when he was more committed to working out, could still manage to get that six pack to pop out on occasion, though he’d been pretty sedentary through the pandemic, and wasn’t quite as muscular as he had been before. Still, he felt good about it, and headed for the bar, wondering how, exactly, he was supposed to know who he was even meeting.

It was a weeknight, and so the bar wasn’t particularly crowded. Ken went to the bar, got himself a drink, and scanned the room, only to spot a fellow waving him down from a table in the corner of the room. He wandered over, and the man stuck out his hand. “You must be Ken, right? From Arctos?”

“Uh, yeah. How did you know?”

The fellow showed him his phone, and sure enough, there was a photo of Ken on it, though he was certain that the app hadn’t asked him for one. “Sure looks like you.”

“That is me, but how do you have a photo? The app doesn’t show me anything like that.”

“Oh fuck, are you just a trial member? I remember those days. I didn’t check, I just don’t see many chasers on the app, thought it would be a little treat,” he said, and said, “The name’s Jack, nice to meet you.”

“What’s up with the membership thing? I couldn’t find a screen to explain the subscription to me.”

“Oh, you don’t subscribe, it’s based on activity. The more you use the app, the more access it gives you to other features.”

“How am I supposed to use it if it doesn’t let me do anything?” Ken asked.

Jack just laughed, and pulled a cigar from the pocket of the flannel shirt he had on. “Let’s head for the patio, you don’t mind if I smoke, do you?”

Ken did, actually. He’d quit smoking about three months before the pandemic had hit, and managing to keep from going back to it was one of the few victories he’d managed to chalk over the wasted year and a half. But before he could say that, he found himself following Jack out onto the patio, where the bear lit up his cigar, and exhaled a thick plume into the evening air. They continued to chat, though Jack seemed to be the one steering the conversation. It started off fairly innocuous–work, hobbies, things like that, though the two of them had almost nothing in common. Something about Jack was rather infectious though, and despite the fact that Ken wanted to despise him for any number of petty reasons, he was instead hanging on every word, and growing more and more turned on with each plume of smoke pushed in his direction.

“Want to taste it?” Jack asked, turning the cigar to him, “You haven’t taken your eyes off it.”

“I quit smoking about two years ago, I’m not looking to start again.”

“Come on, just one little puff is all,” Jack said, pushed the cigar into his mouth, and Ken took a little into his mouth, resisting the urge to inhale it, only for Jack to lock lips with him and pull the smoke out of him, then feed it back. Ken had never done anything like that before in his life, and when Jack took a deeper draw on the cigar, leaned in and kissed him again, he rolled with it, the two of them sharing a smoky kisses for the next few minutes, until Ken couldn’t bear it anymore, and got up, excusing himself to the bathroom for a moment.

He didn’t know what had gotten into him, honestly. None of this was the sort of thing he was even into, usually. In the bathroom, he splashed some water on his face, looked at himself, and was taken aback. His usual five o’clock stubble was closer to a full beard, and he seemed thicker than he should be–but maybe that was just the light, and the slightly warped bar mirror. In any case, this date was too weird, and as turned on as he was, he resolved to ditch–only for the door to the bathroom to open and Jack to step inside. “Thought you could hide from me in here, eh?”

“Look, I…I think I’m gonna head home, alright? It’s been nice meeting you, but this isn’t really what I’m into.”

Jack moved in, one hand going right to Ken’s crotch and groping his mostly hard cock. “Feels like you’re pretty into it, if you ask me.” He pushed Ken back against the wall, one arm on either side of his head, and Ken could smell him, his woodsy, smoky musk coming through the shirt, and he let out a little moan again. Jack went for his neck, kissing and licking where his sudden beard stopped while he undid the buttons of Ken’s shirt, rubbing his hands over his chest and belly. Ken shuddered, and when he looked down, he saw that, like his beard, he was much more hairy than he should be. And a little more muscular, just thicker all over, really. “Please, something…I need to get home.”

“I have a better idea,” Jack said, “Why don’t we go home to my place, and we can plow each other’s holes all fucking night long? That big cock of yours would feel so damn good in my hole, I can already tell.” Jack gave Ken a hard grope, and he could almost feel his cock swell larger as he did, and even though he tried to protest, a few more kisses, a grope of his ass, and he found himself holding onto Jack’s hand and letting the bear drag him the two blocks away to his apartment.

He spent the rest of the night in the bedroom, a cigar shoved in his mouth, giving Jack a good long fuck–though Ken was usually much more of a bottom. He’d never felt this horny in his life, and while he didn’t measure it, he was sure, somehow, that his cock had grown at least a couple of inches. The rest of him too, it seemed that the more contact he had with Jack, the more he was becoming some big, hairy cigar smoking muscle bear. The night finished with him on all fours on the bed, Jack eating out his sweaty asshole and blowing cigar smoke up his hole before returning the favor, shooting a load deep in his ass and milking a second load out of Ken all over the sheets below him, before the two of them collapsed on the ashy sheets.

“Fucking hell, what the fuck was that?” Ken muttered, mostly to himself, but Jack chuckled and pulled him into his damp, hairy chest.

“I asked myself that too, the first time. It’s a great app, trust me.”

Whatever hold Jack had over him seemed to be ebbing, and when Ken excused himself to leave, Jack didn’t stop him. He walked his way back to his car, horrified and elated in turn, and got home in one piece at around five in the morning. He was almost afraid to look at himself in the mirror, but the strange changes he’d noticed over the course of the night seemed to have disappeared–mostly. He still had a slightly heavier stubble than normal, and the nicotine craving was much, much stronger than he wanted to admit, but after a few glasses of water and a shower, he was more exhausted than anything else. He climbed into bed, and figured he’d sort the rest of it out in the morning.

It was hard to parse what he was feeling the next day. Hungover, humiliated, ecstatic, mortified, horny, desperate, used, satisfied. He popped some tylenol for the physical misery he was suffering, after a long night of physical exertion, and checked his phone, only to find another notification from the Arctos Dating app waiting for him.

“Congratulations, you got your cherry popped! You’ve gone from trial member to bronze member.”

He clicked the notification, expecting the app to have opened up for him now, but found that the functionality was frustratingly limited still. No profiles, no pictures. The one thing he could find that was definitely new was a button that said, “Update Profile”. Maybe that would open the app up for him, then. He wasn’t quite sure he wanted another experience like that though, so he closed the app down and focused on getting through the rest of his weekend chores…but by that evening, his curiosity, and his horniness, had the app back open again.

He’d never had an encounter like that in his life. Sure, it had been…a bit scary, but nothing bad had happened to him, right? So he clicked the button, only to find himself assaulted with a slew of new meaningless questions–or at least, the first couple were. Then, it asked…very specific questions about his little encounter with Jack that night, and he got a little concerned. How did they know any of this stuff? He tried to exit out, but the app wouldn’t let him leave until he finished the survey, so he completed it, and shut it down, thought about deleting it, but didn’t. Jack probably put the info in or something. Nothing nefarious. He opened it up again, but still no profiles–apparently, he’d just have to wait again for someone to want to meet him for another blind date, and in the meantime, he’d just have to let things be.


As I said above, patrons get early access to these chapters, and get to vote on what happens next in the story! Patrons at all levels, even just $1, get access to the surveys. If you’d like to know more, check out my patreon page here.

The Pigtown Chronicles – The House of Brand

I had intended to get back to posting regular chapters of The Pigtown Chronicles last month, but due to some financial constraints, I took on a few extra commissions instead, which I am just now wrapping up. However, one of those was this one, which the commissioner requested take place in The Pigtown Chronicles setting, and he was gracious enough to let me explore a part of that setting which I was worried I wouldn’t be able to get to for a little while in the main story arc.

As a little gay history lesson, just as there were houses for drag queens and for vogue, there were also leather houses and leather clubs that served a similar purpose–mentoring young men interested in leather and BDSM, providing family for those who didn’t have any of their own, and support network for elders in the community. Pigtown has its houses as well, sometimes feuding, sometimes cooperating, all of them with their own quirks and talents that their members learn to harness and control. Here’s an introduction to one such house–The House of Brand.

Like my earlier post, “Miles’s New Boss“, this episode also stands alone, and so can be read without having to know the full back ground of the earlier arcs. Enjoy!


Alex checked the address again, and looked up at the rather sizable house he was standing in front of, wondering if this was really the place. Alex had been dipping in and out of Pigtown for the last few months, ever since hearing a few rumors about the new clubs, bathhouses and sex shops that had been popping up in what had been a fairly boring industrial district of the city not too long before. Alex was in his early thirties, and trying to make up for lost time. He’d been living with his rather conservative family up until a few years ago, when he finally moved away and came out of the closet, hoping to live the life he’d been denying himself, but in all honesty, he felt like he’d missed his chance.

Going into these clubs, looking at all of these hot daddies and the young cubs they were with, Alex felt like he didn’t belong in either camp. He certainly looked more like a daddy, with his slight paunch, furry chest, receding hairline and beard, but mostly, he felt envious of the young cubs. How excited they were, trying new things, eager and anxious and full of vitality. He wondered if he’d wasted his relative youth on a family that wouldn’t even speak to him again, if they knew where he was now. Most of his encounters with men in Pigtown had felt like misfires. If he paired up with a cub, he often felt like they were both fumbling, the younger man wanting him to take the lead, but Alex lacking the experience to know how. If he went home with a bear, the result was usually a bit more exciting, but he couldn’t help but feel like he was missing something with them that he couldn’t quite explain. Despite the missteps, something kept drawing him back, first on the weekends, then most nights a week, then almost every night. Something was there, something he needed to find, but it kept eluding him. Then, he met Chris.

It had been at The Hideaway, which was quickly becoming a staple of Alex’s regular nights in Pigtown. He would have a few drinks at the bar and then wander the maze–sometimes watching, sometimes participating, always yearning, until he woke up back home, without any memory of getting there. Chris had arrived with a small contingent of leather men and boys, ended up breaking off at some point, and sitting next to Alex at the bar, where he’d struck up conversation with him. Alex had told him his story, and to his surprise, the man had listened, and at the end, offered him a suggestion.

“The house I belong to is opening up for prospects. I think it might be what you’re looking for,” Chris said.

“A house?”

Chris nodded. “Think of it…as a club, or a family. Chosen family. A group of men who are stronger together than we were separate. Helping each other grow here.”

“Sounds like a cult, or a frat.”

Chris laughed at that, but didn’t deny either accusation. He just slipped Alex a business card, gave him a kiss on the cheek, and slipped off into the maze, where the rest of his group had already gone. Alex hesitated, wondering if he should follow him. He finished his drink, worked up the nerve, and followed into the dark, but for the rest of the night, he didn’t find any of them, anywhere, and woke up panting in his bed, as if from a nightmare.

There in his pocket, though, was the card. House of Brand, with an address, and on the back, a date and time. It wasn’t much of an invitation, but there on the street, he flipped it over in his hand, figuring it would have to do, marched up to the door, where a leather clad bear was waiting. He gave Alex a glance up and down as he approached, and from the slight frown on his face, he seemed a little suspicious of him. However, when Alex showed him the card and told him he’d received it from Chris, the man welcomed him to the house, tied a strip of dark green cloth around his right arm, and welcomed him as a potential prospect of the house. 

Inside, the large house seemed a bit rundown, just like the outside. Well worn, he supposed. The scents on the air were musk, almost like a locker room, and tobacco smoke, both fresh and stale. He could hear the sounds of men talking and laughing nearby, followed them, and entered a sizable ballroom, full of leather clad men. The doorway he’d entered through was up a short flight of stairs, giving him a good position to survey the room, and already, he was intimidated. He nearly turned around to leave before getting too deep into something he neither understood, nor was certain he wanted any part of, but when he turned, Chris was there, smoking a cigar, waiting with a few other men who had green cloth tied around their arms, but on the left side.

“I was wondering if you were going to stand me up,” Chris said, came up, and gave him a little kiss.

“I don’t…what is this, exactly?” Alex asked.

“This is the House of Brand. A group of like minded men who have come together to be larger than something they can be alone. A family, I like to think. Come on, let me introduce you around.”

Chris wrapped one arm around his waist, walked him down the steps and into the crowd. Many of the men gave Chris the same, somewhat skeptical look as the man at the door when he’d approached, but they all were welcoming and generally congenial. As Alex encountered a few more men with the green cloth on their right arm, like him, he began to understand why. All of the other prospects, also escorted by an older bear with a cloth tied on the left, were generally young cubs eagerly pawing at any man they came across, obviously eager to ingratiate themselves with the men of the house by any means possible. The display made Alex a little embarrassed on their behalf, and he found himself wondering whether he ought to be doing something more. When he had a moment alone with Chris, he tried to ask him more about what this event was all about, but just as he felt he was going to get an answer, the lights dimmed. Everyone looked to the entrance doors, where a dignified old leatherman was climbing the steps. Chris leaned over and whispered, “The Housefather, Darren.”

“Welcome Prospects!” Darren said, “Tonight, the House of Brand will select the most worthy of you to join our ranks. Nominators bring your prospects to the center of the room, so we may begin our evaluations.”

The men in the crowd hooted and hollered, and Chris tugged Alex to the middle of the crowd, where a large stage had been erected in the center, and on it, what looked to be a complete dungeon. Other prospects were climbing up onto the stage, and Alex reluctantly climbed up as well, clearly feeling out of place as the oldest of them all, the misfit. Some of the others paired off, kissing and fondling one another while the men of the house catcalled them. Others stepped forward alone, dancing for the crowd, basking in the attention of the men, and Alex shrank back, not sure what, exactly, he was even performing for. He slipped back behind some of the dungeon equipment, only to find Chris standing there, grinning. 

“Chris, I don’t understand. I’m not…a cub. I don’t look anything like them. I don’t even know what all of this place is!”

“Boy, you need to relax. I know what’s there, in your heart,” Chris said, moving closer  to him, taking a long drag off his cigar, wrapping one hand around the back of his head and feeding Alex his smoke, feeling him melt against him. He pulled his lips away, wrapped both arms around Alex and buried him in his furry chest. “Just let Daddy show you who you can be here, what kind of family we are.”

The world was spinning. Alex looked down at himself, and was a bit confused. Something seemed a bit…off. His chest was slightly less hairy, his gut a little thicker and softer, his cock a bit shorter, but most of all what caught him off guard was the sudden fire in his chest. It was like the smoke had condensed inside him into a little cinder burning there, spreading warmth all through him, and when Chris turned him around and pushed him back into the collection of cubs there, he slammed into one, pressed his lips to him, and kissed him–and it felt…right.

He felt right. He felt young, and horny, and anxious, and terrified, and eager, a whole flurry of emotions spinning through him, and he pulled the cub close, groping him, kneading his gut, the other doing the same to him while the men around them shouted and cheered for them to continue. 

Chris came up behind him, ran a hand up and down Alex’s crack, fingering his hole with one leather gloved finger, and pushed inside. Alex gasped, feeling how tight his hole was around it, how he could squeeze it, and then, he looked up and saw another Nominator on stage with the cub before him, running his own hands over the boy he’d chosen. “Giving yours a makeover? It takes more than a glamour to satisfy the housefather you know,” he said to Chris.

“Oh, just some encouragement. Trust me, I know this one is worthy.”

Looking around, Alex saw that the other nominators had joined them on stage. Some were working with the boys they’d chosen, some were inspecting the others, toying with them, using them. A pair had strapped one boy to a cross and were flogging his back while the boy cried out, another had two boys worshipping his cock, fighting over it, eager to earn the privilege of taking his load. Together, Chris and the other nominator bent the cubs over, pushing them onto their hands and knees, still kissing, and got down on their knees, cocks out and hard, eager for the boy’s holes.

“Why don’t we switch?” the other nominator said.

“And give you first fuck at the hole I chose? Why should I?” Chris shot back.

“The goal is to be impartial. If it’s as good as you say, wouldn’t you want a brother to partake?”

Chris grinned, and gave a mock bow. The two swapped places, and the other got on his knees behind Alex and pushed the head of his cock against his hole. “Let’s see how the boy takes it, eh?”

He slid in, and Alex groaned in excitement. The pain was there–he wasn’t exactly an experienced bottom, by any means, but he could feel this eagerness inside him, something that had always been there, but tamped down by years of regret and fear burst forth. He opened up and felt the man behind him moan in surprise. “Fuck, he does have a good hole, how the fuck do you always know, Chris?”

“Years of experience,” Chris said, and slid his cock into the other cub’s hole. It was more of a struggle, but Alex did his best to distract the young man, encourage him, keep him more horny than nervous, and it wasn’t long before the two daddies were pounding the boys in tandem, shoving their faces together while the cubs kissed, and after a few minutes, they both pulled out, and swapped. Alex, though, had an idea–he rolled over onto his belly and slid under the other cub, taking his cock in his mouth, and sucking, the other cub getting the hint and sucking his as well. The other men all cheered at the cub’s ingenuity, and Chris smiled–right again. He grabbed hold of Alex’s ankles and hauled them into the air, on either side of the other cub’s head, and pushed his cock into his hole. No wonder the other cub had struggled a bit–Chris was quite a bit thicker than the other daddy had been, but Alex knew he could take it. Wanted to take it. It wasn’t long before they all blew their loads in quick succession–first the other cub, then the other Nominator, Chris, and finally Alex, who flooded the cub’s mouth with a massive load. The other cub rolled off and they swapped their loads while the rest of the room looked on, the show slowly coming to a conclusion, and when all the prospects had been freed from the predicaments around them, they were lined up, sweating, heaving, and most of all, thrilled.

Their number had dwindled. A few had decided they’d bitten off more than they could chew, and had fled the stage. Another couple were dismissed–their performance had been deemed unsatisfactory for one reason or another, but Alex remained. The last thing he recalled clearly was the housefather, Darren, tapping a chunk of ash off his cigar and into his hand, before swatting it against Alex’s ass, where it burned. He screamed, but Chris was there, holding him in shock, telling him how proud he was of him, that he was home now, and kissed him, fed him smoke, and everything faded to nothing after that.


Alex awoke slowly, the heat of the night before now turned cold in his body, leaving him with any number of aches and pains that he didn’t quite regret, but which he also did not appreciate. He opened his eyes, and found himself looking at an unfamiliar wall–and sat up to get his bearings. It was the first time he hadn’t gone to his own home after a night in Pigtown. He’d begun to assume that he’d always end up back there, and so the fact that he was somewhere else was more unsettling than he’d expected. There was a window near the bed, and he looked out, and saw the same street from the night before–he was still in the House of Brand then, perhaps in Chris’s quarters.

It smelled like Chris, at least. He could smell the cigar, and his musk, and there were the leathers he’d been in the night before tossed over the back of a chair–though there was no sign of his own clothing anywhere. He’d lost it in the course of the night’s event, most of it after Chris had changed him because none of it had quite fit right. He was no longer quite sure he’d even changed at all, really, but then, the whole evening had been such a rush he wasn’t sure what had happened at all. There was full length mirror hanging on the wall, and he went over to look at himself, and scowled at his reflection.

Some of it was right, and some of it was not. His hairline was receding, but not quite as much as before. He looked a bit shorter, but without something familiar to judge against, it was difficult to know for sure. He seemed to have gained a little paunch, and his body hair wasn’t quite as thick. He turned around to look at his back, and let out a little gasp when he saw his ass. There on the right cheek, where the housefather had slapped his ass with that hot cinder was a mark–but not a burn. It was more like a brand, a scar, really, in the shape of a little ball of fire. He reached his hand back to feel it, and it was tender, but didn’t feel fresh.

He was interrupted by the sound of a door opening elsewhere in the suite, and a moment after that, Chris entered the bedroom, towel slung over his shoulder, clearly fresh out of the shower. “You’re awake!” he said, “How are you feeling? You must have some questions. I wanted to be here when you woke, but risked taking a shower first.”

“What…what the fuck is this?” Alex said, indicating the mark on his ass. “Where the hell did it come from?”

“That’s the mark of an initiate,” Chris said, “The housefather felt that you had demonstrated potential, and inducted you into the house. We all have one, myself included.” He turned around, and sure enough, there was a brand on his own ass as well, though his was much more detailed and spread across both cheeks. There on the right side, just as on Alex’s, was the same little fireball, though it was surrounded by scars resembling a crossed cigar and flogger, among other things. “I am currently at the rank of Master, which gives me the honor of nominating prospects and training initiates, if they are accepted. You will be living in my quarters until you become an acolyte.”

“I–I can’t live here! I have an apartment, a job–”

“You had an apartment and a job. Now you have a house, brothers, and a purpose that no job can give you. I know, I…well, I assume I had one at some point, but that feels so long ago now. I suppose you could still leave, if you want,” Chris said, stepping away from the door and holding up his hands, “I understand that this is…more than you may have expected, but there is a reason I invited you. There’s a reason you were selected. There were twenty nominees last night, and the housefather only accepted four, including you. I want you to know what you’d be giving up, if you decided to leave.”

Alex looked at the doorway, then at his reflection, and then went and sat down on the bed. “Alright. What did you do to me last night? Why do I look different?”

Chris chuckled. “Do you mind if I smoke?” he said, but lit a cigar before Alex could signal he was fine with it. “It would be easier to just show you, I think,” he said, taking a breath of smoke, coming over to where Alex was sitting. He wrapped a hand around the back of his neck, making Alex throb, and fed him a lungful of smoke like he had the night before. Again, Alex could feel the heat of it, the rush, but slower this time, more considered. It wasn’t the smoke that was suffusing him, but a warmth through his entire body, and when Chris pulled away, he could see in the mirror the reflection of the cub he’d become the night before. “That’s…how I did it. If you stay, you’ll learn that trick yourself, in time.”

“Is…it a drug or something?”

“No, you’re seeing a version of yourself that I see,” Chris said, pulling him up from the bed, pulling him in front of the mirror, and hugging him from behind, rubbing his hands all over Alex’s chubby torso, nuzzling the back of his neck with his beard. “When you see it yourself, when you believe it, I won’t have to feed you smoke to make it happen. You’ll…do it yourself, in a sense, when you find your own heat.”

“That…doesn’t make sense,” Alex said, resisting the urge to moan and push himself back against Chris’s cock.

“This is Pigtown, boy, it makes perfect sense,” He bit down on Alex’s neck, a little harder than usual, and Alex pulled away, a bit surprised. “Sorry, you’re so hot you get me excited. If you don’t cool off a bit, I’ll have you down in the dungeon before breakfast.”

“I’m not into the whole…BDSM thing, really,” Alex said, “I mean, I like the leather and everything, but–”

“Have you done anything like that before? With anyone?”

Alex shook his head.

“There’s a reason I invited you, you know. You aren’t the first initiate I’ve trained, and while I don’t think you’ll be the last, as soon as I got to know you, got a taste of you, I knew you were meant for this, meant for me. That you understand it, even if you don’t know you do. Let me show you.”

Chris came closer, tweaking Alex’s nipples in his fingers, twisting them, tugging them, then he took an inhale of smoke, leaned down, sucked one of Alex’s meaty nipples into his mouth, and bit down. Alex hollered in surprise, felt a searing heat through his chest, and when he tugged his chest away, he saw something new. A ring had appeared in his nipple, already healed, and he looked down in disbelief as Chris smiled, toying with it. “Looks good on you, doesn’t it? But wouldn’t it look better if it was symmetrical?”

He pushed Alex against the wall, toying with both, and Alex was aware, suddenly, of how hard he was, how hot he was, sweating in the room though he’d woken up and it had felt a bit chilly. He gave a little nod, surprising even himself, and Chris bent down, bit the other nipple, and this time, expecting the pain, he could anticipate it, the heat that rushed through him, that spread through them both, and when Chris pulled away, he kissed him, hungry and hot and fevered. The next thing he knew Chris was lying down on the bed and he’d climbed up on top of him, Chris’s cock sliding into his hole like a red hot poker spearing him, his own cock throbbing and aching as Chris toyed with his new rings. Chris came after a couple of minutes, filling Alex’s hole with a load of cum, and Alex came as well, spraying his cum across Chris’s chest where it steamed slightly on his skin.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking hot,” Chris said, “I’ve never seen someone push so much heat out so soon, you’re a little fucking heater, boy.”

Alex collapsed back on the bed, sweating and shaking, and Chris pulled him close. He was so hot, and yet the heat comforted him, and with a little breathing, Chris helped him cool down, ease back into himself, and after a few more minutes, he felt the heat soften, and he pulled away from Chris, embarrassed and unsure of what had just come over him, only for Chris to reach out and pull him close again.

“You felt it, didn’t you? The heat?” Chris said.

“I…I don’t know what I felt.”

Chris held up a finger from where they were laying down on the bed, snapped his fingers, and Alex let out a little jump when he saw sparks. There, dancing at the tip of his finger, was a little flame. With his free hand, he grabbed Alex’s wrist, lifted his hand, and touched the flame to his finger. He felt it, the slight burn, but it was no more than the sensation of the sun, the flame growing brighter between their two fingers. “I knew you’d be a natural.”

Alex pulled his finger away, and for a moment, he saw the flame split, feeding off his own heat, but he stamped it out. He stamped it out like he’d stamped out so much in his life, all of those years spent with his family, beating out any light, horrified any of them would see a spark, terrified in the dark and the cold and now he was warm, and he could barely express the relief that threatened to overwhelm him.

“I know that you’ve been hurt. We all have. That’s what draws us here, to the flame. Family, lovers, strangers, the world. We know what it means to ache, and sting, and scar over. But we heal ourselves and each other here. We’re a family, and you’re a part of us. You’ve been looking for us for so long, and I know it doesn’t feel that way now, but when you’re a master yourself, you’ll look back, and recognize the little flame you’d been tending all your life, waiting to bring it here, to join it to ours.”

Alex didn’t know when he’d started crying. The tears were hot, they felt like they were boiling from him, and Chris pulled him tight to his chest and just held him, kept him warm, and Alex knew that he couldn’t leave. Chris was right. He belonged here, and Alex didn’t know how he knew that, but he did. After a few minutes, when they’d finally cooled off to room temperature, they got up from the bed, and Chris retrieved a collar from the desk in the room. 

“This is your collar. While you are an initiate, this is all you will wear in the house, unless ordered otherwise.” He took a leash and attached it as well to the ring. “Initiates should not roam the house on their own–it will earn you a rather severe lashing if you’re caught. Usually you will be in my company at all times, unless you’re lent to another Master for a lesson or service.”

“How…long will I be an initiate?”

“As long as you need to be,” Chris said, “Some don’t make it beyond this point. You might say that they end up being unable to take the heat. You though, I think you’ll be an acolyte faster than most.”

“But how long–”

Chris put a finger to his lips, and smiled. “Time isn’t important. The path is. The heat is. Now, you’ve burnt up so much I know you must be as starving as I am. Let’s go get breakfast, and then we’ll introduce you to your new brothers.”

Alex nodded, and followed his new Master out into the hall of the house, naked and shaking, but he was home. Truly home, and he felt his chest bloom with pride and excitement, eager for his new journey to begin.

(Flash Commission) Monster Cock

Jeff saw the package sitting on the porch when he got home, got out of his car, hurried up, got it, and took it inside. He’d been waiting weeks for it to arrive, and finally, it was here. He put it on his table, opened it up, and hauled it out, turning it over in his hands, already wondering if his eyes had been bigger than his stomach, or his ass, rather. It was a custom dildo from a fellow who called his creations “monster cocks”–each one was one of a kind, and while he didn’t charge for them, getting your hands on one of them was hard as hell. The creator took applications for his work, but who received them always seemed a bit random. He said that his toys chose who they wanted to own them, but after trying for most of a year, Jeff had finally been chosen, and now, it was in his hands.

It was in his hands, and the thing was massive. Far larger than anything he’d ever taken before in his life. He had a modest collection of dildos for when he didn’t have anyone around to fuck him, and he’d always enjoyed it. Some guys he knew had suggested he start training to take a fist, and he was close to that at this point. This dildo though was thicker than most guys fists, and easily a foot long. The dildo’s skin was a dark brown mottled with tan up the shaft to the head, which had a sheath, or a foreskin, bunched up around the glans of the cock. He toyed with it, and saw that it was actually rather elastic, and could stretch over the head, even, giving it more of a sheathed look. The base of the dildo included a set of substantial balls, the sack the size of a small melon. The sack and the bottom third of the cock was actually covered with hair–running his hand over it, he couldn’t quite tell if it was real or not. It had to be synthetic, but it felt a bit like soft boar bristle–he wondered what it would feel like on the inside of his hole–if he could get it that far in, even.

Jeff tried at least. Got himself cleaned out and lubed up, warmed up with the largest dildo he had, and then gave it a go. He was just too tight–he couldn’t even get the thing in past the head. He felt demoralized, got cleaned up and onto his computer, where he saw a chat message from the dildo maker.

“I saw that the package got delivered, just wanted to make sure everything got there alright.”

“It did,” Jeff replied, “It’s bigger than I thought it would be. Don’t know when I’ll be able to take it.”

“Don’t worry too much about that. It’ll get in you faster than you think, just keep trying. I know this is the right one for you, it won’t be too long at all.”

Jeff wasn’t sure of what to make of that, but he poked around online, looking for a dildo to train with larger than the ones he had, but smaller than the monster cock, but all he could think about was the beast waiting for him upstairs, and how much he wanted it inside him. It was getting late, and he had work in the morning, so he went to bed. His dreams that night were intense, and when he woke up he couldn’t recall much of them at all, aside from a strange sensation of being stalked. That, and he woke up with the monstrous dildo in his arms, when he was certain he’d left it in the drawer with the rest of them before bed. Confused and a bit bewildered, he went to work, but found it more and more difficult to focus. At first, it was just because he was tired after his restless night, but as the day progressed, he found himself thinking more and more about the dildo waiting for him at home, and he rushed home so he could be near it again, feel it again, lube it up, and once again try and fit it inside him.

That day, after an hour, he finally managed to get the head inside his hole, and that alone was a revelation. It was a sign of progress, and Jeff kept working at it, sweating and grunting, until he was too starving and shaking to continue. He went downstairs, found a couple of steaks he’d been saving in the freezer, and cooked them both, not caring they were rarer than usual, he was just starved. He considered a shower, but felt too tired to bother, and simply went upstairs to bed, curling up around the dildo without even thinking about it. The dreams that night were no clearer, but he woke with a groan, rutting his own cock against the dildo, the sheets under him soaked with sweat and cum from what must have been a very active night. He pulled himself together as quickly as he could, not even bothering to shower, but when he headed for the door, he struggled. He couldn’t…leave it here. He bundled the dildo up and took it with him not quite sure what he was doing, but it felt instinctual. He managed to leave it in the car for most of the day, but found himself terrified someone might see it, or worse, steal it. On his lunch break, he went down, retrieved it, and struggled to resist the urge to take it out and start riding it right there in the office. He settled for taking it into the bathroom with him, licking and sucking on the head while he jacked off, horrified by his loss of control, but still unable to stop.

It was when he got home, that he noticed something was off. He hadn’t really bothered looking at himself in the mirror that morning, but in the bathroom, ready to clean himself out and try again, he saw his reflection, and just stared. He hadn’t been that hairy before, or that muscular. It wasn’t…much, really, but it was there. His clothes didn’t quite fit right, which explained some of his discomfort the day before. His beard was thicker, and when he lifted an arm up in the shower, he caught a whiff of his musk, and that was more pungent too. He didn’t have time to shower though–he hosed out his hole, skipped the soap, and was back in his bedroom, riding the dildo again, working it deeper, inch by inch, now sliding halfway down the shelf. 

He could almost feel it…throbbing inside him, trying to wriggle deeper. He couldn’t tell if it was real, or if he was just imagining it. The idea of it was so hot, though, that he kept shooting load after load of cum all over his bed and his sheets until he collapsed again, too exhausted to move. It was nearly midnight, he’d been at it for hours. He had to piss, but was too weak to get up from the bed. He released it onto the bed under him, horrified at first, but the scent of it satisfied some deep, primal need inside him, and sleep took him soon after.

The next day, he got up from the bed, sniffed his hairy pit, and before he even really realized it, he was pissing all over the carpet and the wall next to the bed. Part of him was concerned, but it was much quieter than it might have been usually. Instead, he hauled out his cock and jacked off as well–it was the only thing on his body that wasn’t larger, all of a sudden. He squeezed his way into some office attire as best he could, no longer certain why he was wearing this, why he was bothering with it. He had more important things to concern himself with, after all, but some part of him clung to that normalcy, tried to deny the drives and desires that were well on their way to overwhelming him.

He didn’t last long at the office that day. He kept sneaking away to the bathroom to masturbate, to worship the dildo, his cock, his monster cock, as he kept thinking about it. Each load that he shot did nothing to calm him down, it only seemed to drive him to more intense heights of desire. When he stepped out of the stall shortly after lunch, and saw the one of his burlier coworkers at the urinal pissing, maybe it was the smell, maybe it was the sight of his ass filling out the back of his slacks, but he went over, shoved the man up against the urinal, and rutted against his ass, grunting and snorting like some animal. The man managed to get away, and before security could get a hold of him, Jeff fled the office with the dildo, abandoning everything else, and sped home.

He wouldn’t go back there. It wasn’t safe. He was safe in his home, in his den. He had to finish, he had to fuck himself with his cock, with his monster cock. He threw himself into the task, he was so close. The dildo was warm now, he could feel blood pulsing through it, the hair no longer synthetic, but so close to the hair that beginning to sprout all up and down his own body. He only had a couple more inches to go, and He worked at it, pushing everything else out. Every time he shot a load of cum, he realized, the dildo would slide in a little deeper. His body was getting larger, yes, but he noticed at last that his balls were shrivelling, his cock dwindling. At long last he took the dildo to the hilt with a roar, and felt the monstrosity come alive, the entire thing digging deeper, screwing into his guts, his wrecked hole closing up behind him.

He felt it push out, forcing its way from his body, his human cock stretching and ripping apart as his new, monstrous cock erupted from his crotch, his massive balls coming through last and dropping, slapping against his hairy thighs. He could feel it, his new cock pumping…something through him, changing him. His teeth, already sharper than they had been, grew longer, into proper fangs, is mouth and nose distending into a furry muzzle. The hair that had been growing thicker on his body became a thick pelt of black fur, hands becoming paws with thick claws on the end, his whole body filling out with layers of muscle and fat, until he was nearly eight feet tall and close to seven hundred pounds of pure mass. He looked at his monstrous bear body in the mirror, cock throbbing and leaking, and that was the last thing he recalled clearly, as he wrapped his paws around his cock and kept stroking, kept pleasing his cock, a slave to his new sexual desires, no longer interested in anything else.

When he awoke, his body had reverted–somewhat. His room was wrecked, as were several of his doorways, but he hadn’t managed to make it outside at least. That didn’t matter now. All that mattered was what his new cock desired–and it wanted a hole to fuck. There was a knock on his front door, and much to his surprise, there on the doorstep was his old coworker from the bathroom, the one he’d rutted up against. He was shaking and sweating, muttered some excuse about needing to see him again, but Jeff knew what the man needed. He grabbed him by the collar with his clawed hand and dragged him inside, shoved him down to his knees, and pissed all over him, marking the man as his new property, or rather, the property of his cock. It would take a while to open this one up and fuck him properly, but he had no doubt that in time, he would be a perfect slave–and when he took him to the hilt, and filled him with a load of his corruptive cum, he too, would turn. He shook off the last bit of piss from his cock, and dragged the addled and horny man into the bedroom now reeking of his scent, threw him on the bed, and went to work.

Commission: Arctos – Air Freshener

“We here at Arctos Outfitters are dedicated to ensuring that every one of your senses is delighted in your home! That’s why, Brendon, we’ve decided to send you a sample from our new line of plug in air fresheners. Each comes with three unique scents that, once you get a whiff of them, you won’t be able to get enough! Enjoy!”

Brendon put the note down and picked up the little plug-in air freshener that had been in the small box as well. He didn’t know how the company had gotten his address, but they weren’t necessarily wrong about his interests. Brendon did like having his apartment smelling nice, and kept a regular supply of candles and air fresheners around to keep it that way. It was a bit odd that the company hadn’t bothered to tell him what the scents were, and when he sniffed at the plug in, he didn’t smell anything at all, really, which was odd. You could usually get a good idea of what it was going to smell like beforehand, which meant this was either going to be some weak scent, or they had just sealed it in really well. He figured he’d try plugging it in overnight in his bedroom, let it do its thing, and see what he thought of the result in the morning. That evening, he popped it into the outlet by his bed, and while he heard it whirr to life, he still couldn’t smell anything. With a shrug, he laid down, and it wasn’t long before he was fast asleep, and with a little click, the plug in started to release a smoky haze into the room around him. Brendon tossed and turned for a moment in his bed, and began to dream…

Brendon wasn’t sure where he was at first. It was a narrow room with a number of booths running down either side, and the air was full of smoke. Men were crowded into the booths, and all of them were smoking cigars of various sizes. Brendon wasn’t a smoker, and had always found cigars unappealing. He passed the booths, the men all staring at him as he passed them by, trying to find his way out, but when he reached the end of the smoky room, all he found was a waiter standing by a sizable humidor. He turned around to leave, only to find the way blocked by a thick wall of smoke coming closer and closer to him. Before he could react, it had swallowed him up.

The smoke was everywhere, all around him. He could smell it, the deep, pungent cigar smoke pushing at him, probing him, trying to get inside him. He held his breath as long as he could, but when he had to inhale, the smoke forced its way inside him, driving down into his lungs. He could feel it solidifying, and a massive 80 gauge cigar manifested from the smoke, crammed in his jaw, fully lit and spouting smoke. He couldn’t help but inhale now, sucking down more and more smoke, feeling it permeate his entire body, his cock rock hard and aching. He needed it now, the smoke. Men came out of the booths around him, now naked, still smoking, feeling him up, urging him on, stroking his cock, and–

Brendon woke as the orgasm hit him in his bed, surging through him, his cock erupting all over the sheets around him as he spasmed in his room. He sat up on the edge of his bed, rubbing his eyes. He’d never had a dream that intense before, and he hadn’t shot a load in his sleep since he was a teenager. He ran his tongue around his mouth, already missing the cigar he’d been smoking, but then, it was about time for his midnight smoke, after all. He opened up the humidor on his bedside table, took out one of his shorter sticks he preferred for his breaks in the night, and lit it up.

Fuck, he was so fucking addicted to these things. He smoked them almost constantly during the day, and had to wake up a couple times each night just to keep himself hopped up on the nicotine. The air was hazy with smoke, and he could smell it–stale and fresh mixing together, and heaved a contented sigh. He reeked of cigars too, of course, but he didn’t care. Why wouldn’t he want to smell like a cigar?

He finished the cigar in half an hour, snuffed it out, and climbed back into bed. He’d already forgotten about the plug in the wall, which had exhausted its first scent, and now was moving onto the second, as Brendon began to dream again…

This time, he found himself standing in a locker room, naked. From the sounds coming from nearby, it was connected to a gym. He looked around, smoking his dream cigar, a bit embarrassed–he needed to find some clothes before anyone saw him. He saw something lying on a bench near him, went over, and found a set of gym clothes scattered about on the floor, all of which looked to have been worn recently–but no one else was there. Without thinking too much about it, he pulled on the sweaty, musky shorts and tanktop, socks and shoes, and when they were all on, much like the last dream, be felt the scent begin to soak into his skin, making him feel a bit woozy.

He sat down on the bench for a moment, taking deep inhales of the musk rolling off the gym clothes, aware that…something seemed to be happening to him, but it was difficult to describe what. When he felt he could stand again, he did, turned, saw himself in the mirror, and gasped. He…he was massive. The clothes, which had been too large on him before, were now too small, the spandex stretched tight across his thick frame, hair popping out everywhere, each inch of his soaked in sweat. He flexed, watched the outline of his thick cock in the shorts throb in excitement, reached down to take care of that, and

He woke with his hand shoved into the filthy jock he’d worn to bed, one muscular arm thrown up over his head, nose shoved as close to his pit as he could, masturbating to his own stink, unable to control himself, not that he even really wanted to. He finished, shooting the second load of the night all over himself, rubbing the cum into his sweaty body, and sat up to have his second cigar of the night. He flipped on the light, and had a small moment of confusion when he looked around at the piles of dirty clothes scattered throughout his room, but…of course he didn’t want them. No, he loved how they all smelled, he loved making them all even muskier even, of course he did. He took a deep inhale of his cigar, laid back on his unwashed sheets, and sighed smoke, not really noticing that the ash was falling on the bed. He didn’t care–after all, he smelled like an ashtray most days, why would it matter? He finished his cigar and turned the light back off, rolling over as the third scent filled the room, and another dream began…

He was in the gym locker room, naked aside from a towel, going into the sauna. It was empty, for the moment, but as soon as he sat down, a series of muscular bears all filed in as well, taking up the various seats, crowding in around Brendon. They all started to sweat, but then the bear beside him lifted one leg in Brendon’s direction, and let loose a long, loud fart. The smell caught him a moment later, pungent and ripe, and he couldn’t seem to escape it, there was nowhere to go. He leaned away, only for the bear on the other side to lift his leg and let loose one of his own, and soon, every bear in the room was farting up a storm, the small sanua filled with the scent of gas, making Brendon gag. He got up, trying to get free, only for a leg to trip him. He ended up on the floor, on his back, and one of the bears got up and sat his naked ass right on Brendon’s face, letting loose a fart directly on him.

He tried to resist, tried to hold his breath, but like before, he could feel it probing down into him, sinking into his pores, multiplying there, and soon, it didn’t smell so bad at all. He started licking at the sweaty, hairy crack, and after a few moments, it was replaced by another, and then another, all of them farting, and Brendon could feel a pressure building in his guts. He let loose a massive fart that reverberated off the walls around him, and–

–and he woke up to the sound of his own fart in his room, just as loud, and just as noxious. So noxious in fact, that Brendon snorted up as much of the fumes as he could and jacked off again, wishing the hot asses from the dream were real, smothering him now, but he’d just have to make do with his own scent for now, he supposed. After he shot his third load of the night all over himself, he rolled off the bed, checked his phone, and saw it was just a few minutes before his alarm. He got up, gave a little flex, and started sniffing around for something that smelled good for the gym this morning. He ended up in a cum crusted tanktop, the jock he’d been wearing to bed, a set of gym shorts with a few burnt out holes from some cigars, and a couple of stinking socks and trainers. Feeling good, he went into the kitchen, got one of his protein shakes together–a blend that he’d found gave him the rankest farts possible–and guzzled that down. Feeling good, he stepped outside of his filthy apartment, and bumped into a young man in a suit coming down from an apartment upstairs. 

“Sorry bud,” Brendon said, “wasn’t lookin’.”

The man wrinkled his nose in disgust, and took in the sight of the massive, musky muscle bear who was his downstairs neighbor apparently–had the other guy moved out without him even noticing? “Whatever freak, take a fucking shower,” he said, and tried to push past him, only for Brendon to grab his wrist, pull him close, and shove his face right into his pit. He…didn’t know why he did that exactly, but it felt right. The man struggled for a few moments, and then relaxed a bit, and when Brendon pulled his face away, he could see it was a bit…different. A little more stubble on his cheeks, drooling a little. 

Maybe the gym could wait for a bit. He took a drag off his cigar, wrapped a big hand loosely around the man’s neck, and fed him the smoke, pleased with how receptive the man had become with just a little taste of his pitmusk. “Why don’t you come in for a bit, bud? Take a load off, have a cigar with me,” Brendon said, wrapping one muscular arm around his shoulders, and leading him in, “What’s your name, man?”

“Uh…Cliff,” he said, “But I…gotta get to work.”

“Come on man, just a little cigar, that’s all.”

Brenden sat the man down on the couch, stained with cum in several spots. Cliff looked around, visibly grossed out by the state of the apartment, but Brendon could tell from the erection in the front of his slacks he was already giving in. ‘Hey Cliff, can you smell something for me? I wanna see what you think of this.” He then dropped his shorts, turned around and ripped a long nasty fart right into his neighbor’s face.

His eyes glazed over, part of him still thinking that it was disgusting, but when his mind told him to get away, his body leaned in and started snorting up the fumes from Brendon’s ass, and he groaned out, “Oh fuck,” as his cock unloaded right into the front of his slacks. “Oh fuck, that’s fuckin’ rank, bro…” he said.

Brenden flashed a huge smile. “Glad you like it. Now, how about that cigar man? You can finish this one,” He placed his cigar in the man’s mouth, who started puffing contentedly. Cliff’s stubble had grown into a full beard now, his office attire stretched by his expanding body, packing on muscle. Brendon climbed into his lap and tore off his shirt, tossing the rags over the back of the couch, pushed Cliff’s arms into the air and ate out his pits, which were growing more and more intense by the moment, Cliff sucking down the cigar, feeling the smoke warping his mind, dumbing him down, making everything seem so simple. It wasn’t long before he was on his knees on the couch, bent over the back, Brendon’s bearded face shoved into his crack, tasting the first of Cliff’s own rank farts, his own cock hard as steel and ready to fuck after a few minutes of rimming his bro’s hole.

He pulled his face away, wiping the sweat and drool into his beard, and then pressed the head of his cock against Cliff’s hole. “Ready bro? Wanna feel my big, rank cock slam into that gassy ass of yours?”

“Fuck bro, what the fuck are ya waitin’ for!” Cliff said, looking over, just a butt of a cigar remaining. 

The fucked for half an hour, and by the time Brendon finished, Cliff had shot his own load all over the couch below him, adding his own cumstains to the fabric there. His mind had faded, his old life lost, and with his roommate, and boyfriend’s cum planted in his musky hole, he pulled on a pair of filthy gym shorts off the ground and a tank top, and the two of them left to get to the gym, a bit later than planned.

They went down the stairs, and as they did, Cliff let off a little fart of each step, filling the back of his shorts with Brendon’s load of cum, making them both giggle like idiots as they stood in the cloud of their own stink, getting hard again, but they resisted the urge. They could fuck later, after all. The gym was just a quick walk down the street, long enough to work up a sweat for sure. And when they got there, they were sure that once the local bodybuilders all got a whiff of them, they’d have them all following them back to their place after their workout. Their smell had a way with guys, after all–that was the Arctos promise.

Caption: Truer Words #4 – Cuck

“The new neighbor? Lucas? No I wasn’t gonna invite him, I know a cuck when I meet one. Told me not to use the word bitch when I talk about my wife, I’ll fucking call my wife whatever I want! These young millennials don’t have the fuckin’ balls anymore, just letting women walk all over them. Well I know what my wife likes, right?” Ryan laughed, and the rest of the guys from the neighborhood around the poker table laughed too. Only Ryan thought he heard someone say something in response, which was:

“Truer words were never spoken.”

*

Ryan got home from work the next day, tired and horny. He wasn’t quite sure if he wanted a fuck before dinner or after, but when he walked into the kitchen where his wife, Martha, was usually cooking his dinner, there was nothing. Not a pot on the stove, nothing at all. Confused, he went through the house, then upstairs, where he found her in the bathroom in a dress and putting makeup on, like she was planning on going out somewhere. 

Before he could yell about there not being any dinner for him, he felt like something had kneaded him in the nuts, and he bent over in pain for a few moments. When it had passed, he opened up his slacks, looked down, and saw, to his horror, that a chastity cage had appeared around his cock and balls.

“I’m going out tonight,” Martha said to him, “Been needing a real dick lately, and I’m just tired of looking at your ugly mug everytime I’m home.”

“Yes dear,” Ryan heard himself say, and the words sounded so…weak. His voice a bit higher, with a little lisp he’d never had before.

“I’ll use the credit card on the hotel too. There’s dinner in the freezer, and I already went ahead and called the boys for you. I know how you like company when I go out for the night.”

Martha made him zip up her dress, hand her the keys to his mustang (he had been the only one who could drive it, but now it felt natural that she should have the keys, of course) and watched her go into town. He, meanwhile, went and found a frozen dinner to eat, and when he’d finished, he heard the doorbell. He opened it up, and there was Lucas, his new neighbor, with a leer plastered on his face. “There’s the cuck–come on, I wanted to be early, while you’re still a little tight. What the fuck are you doing still in your fucking clothes, you fucking loser?”

Ryan apologized, stripped as fast as he could, and followed Lucas upstairs into the guest bedroom–only Martha could have a guest in her bed, after all. Ryan was humiliated, showing off his caged cock to his new neighbor, who bent him over and fucked him right there on the bed–and he heard the sound of the front door opening regularly, as all of his neighborhood friends arrived for a turn at one of the cuck’s holes while his mistress was away, getting satisfied by a strange man in a hotel room on her cuck husband’s dime. 

Caption: Truer Words #3 – Cocksucker

“Promote him? Sure he looks like a nice guy, but I heard he’s a cocksucker. We can’t have someone like that representing our company as a Vice President! Men like that only care about sex, fucking degenerate freaks is all they are,” the other executives at the club laughed along with Jerry as they smoked cigars, and the discussion moved on to other, straighter candidates for the position. Only Jerry heard the words on the air:

“Truer words were never spoken.”

Over the next while, Jerry found himself getting hungrier. There were the usual hors d’oeuvres available at the club, but none of them were particularly satisfying to this need growing in his gut. He ended up in a chair in the corner of the room, looking a bit sullen, sucking on his cigar, licking the end thoughtlessly, until it was nothing but a nub. Then he excused himself, got his coat from the check, and left.

He needed something to satisfy this, he was getting desperate. He didn’t go to his car, instead he found himself walking down the city streets, his feet guiding him somewhere. Perhaps he’d find a little restaurant still open at this time of night, that could give him what he needed. Instead, he found himself standing outside of a building that advertised itself as a bathhouse–he knew about these, and what those faggots did in there. He tried to walk away, but his stomach cramped, almost sending him to the sidewalk on his knees. Distressed, he followed his feet, went inside, purchased a year long membership without thinking about it, and got undressed in the locker room.

The first cock he saw, he knew what he needed. He tried to get down on his knees and suck the twink off, only for him to push him away and walk off, obviously not interested in him. Flustered, he wandered around, looking for someone willing to feed him, and finally passed by the gloryholes. His feet turned, he got on his knees in the booth, and it wasn’t long before the first cock slid through the hole, and Jerry swallowed it to the hilt, ravenous. After a few minutes, he was rewarded with a load of cum that he swallowed down eagerly, horrified at his shamelessness, unable to comprehend why he was doing this. He tried to get up, tried to run, get dressed and go home to his wife, but his legs refused to unbend. Another cock slid through the hole, and he sucked that one dry too, and the one after that, and the one after that.

When he finally felt full, he stood up, stepped out and got dressed in his suit. It no longer fit correctly. Jerry had always been large, but his gut had swollen even more with all of this cum, arms and legs shrunken, now several inches shorter than he had been. He looked like a freak, like a degenerate, like a cumhungry pig. He left the building, horrified to realize it was already morning, and he only had a little time before he was due at the office. Still in the same suit he’d worn the night before, he rushed over, only to find himself in a meeting with the new VP of Operations–which had been his position, hadn’t it?

No, of course not. The new VP was more than happy to remind him of the fact that cum hungry pig faggots like him weren’t fit for this sort of work. Thankfully, there was a position open in the maintenance department, which would be more fitting for a cocksucker like him. He had to agree, and the new VP was even nice enough to feed him a load of cum, before he went down to the basement, exchanged his suit for a set of coveralls, and spent the day dunging out the bathrooms of the offices. That night, he found himself back at the bathhouse, back on the other side of the hole, no longer questioning his hunger. His hunger that never slept, so neither would he, from now on. By day, a janitor, and by night, a hungry mouth. There was nothing else that could matter for a cocksucker like him.

Caption: Truer Words #2 – Whale

Hey all! For the month of April, I’m taking a break from The Pigtown Chronicles, and will be posting some caption stories instead. We’ll have captions Monday through Thursday, and I’ll be posting some longer stories on Fridays. This week, we have a mysterious force punishing men for their cruel language. Whatever you might feel about others, be careful, they might just come true for yourself.


“I can’t believe they let whales like that even stay here, it’s so fucking disgusting. He could at least have the common decency and shame to put on a fucking shirt, so the rest of us don’t have to look at all of that fat. Probably gets off on it, flaunting it, knowing how much he’s grossing everyone else out. Goes back to his room and jacks off thinking about how much of a hairy slob he is.” Kevin groused a bit, looking at the chub who was sitting by the pool in one of the deck chairs, and then laid back on the chaise, ready to work on his tan. He wouldn’t let something like that ruin his vacation, at least. The last thing he heard before he drifted off to sleep was someone whispering, almost in his ear:

“Truer words were never spoken.”


Kevin woke up a little while later, and felt…a little strange, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on why, immediately. He hefted himself up a little, listening to the chaise underneath him creak slightly, but didn’t give it much thought. Thankfully he hadn’t slept too long, and wasn’t burnt to a crisp. He looked around, thankful that the fat pig from before was gone, and as he surveyed the crowd, he saw, well, one of the most handsome men he’d ever seen in his life.

Golden brown, heavily muscled, beautiful smile, tight ass bulging in those swim trunks. Kevin knew he had to say hello–he’d never been one to not shoot his shot, after all. He had…a little trouble getting up from where he’d been lying down, but couldn’t quite figure out why. He made his way over to his target, and only kind of noticed other people stepping out of his way, the looks he was getting from them, some disgust, some pity. He got to the object of his attraction, opened his mouth to say hello, only for the man to shoot him such a scowl that the words died on his lips, and the man passed him right by.

Not one to be deterred, he turned around, grabbed the guy’s wrist to pull him back, and saw the massive, hairy arm in disbelief, as the man whirled on him, and shook him off. 

“Who the fuck said you could touch me, pig?” the man said.

“I…I just, I wanted to say–”

“Please, I know what you want. You fat fucks are all the fucking same, think that we’re all fucking chasers, that we want to be anywhere near your disgusting body,” he said, and jabbed a finger into Kevin’s gut–a gut he swore hadn’t been there before. “Well the only guys who want to fuck you pity you, and I doubt you even get laid that much anyway. Now get the fuck out of my sight.”

Kevin, horrified at what had happened to his body, retreated to his room at the resort, and stared at himself in the mirror, his fat, hairy physique, and he was horrified. The words from the man kept reverberating through him, and he…he started to feel horny, thinking about how he’d been demeaned and humiliated, right there in front of everyone. He was a pig, a horny, dirty piggy, and…

He started snorting, shoving his hand down the front of his trunks and rubbed out a load from his puny cock in a matter of moments, and with it went all sense of shame and decency. Yeah, he was a pig. A whale. He loved food, he loved showing off his gluttony. He went right back down to the pool, trunks still wet with cum, and ordered some food while he relaxed, excited to gorge himself in front of everyone, and show them just how big of a whale he could become.

Caption: Truer Words #1: Hick

Hey all! For the month of April, I’m taking a break from The Pigtown Chronicles, and will be posting some caption stories instead. We’ll have captions Monday through Thursday, and I’ll be posting some longer stories on Fridays. This week, we have a mysterious force punishing men for their cruel language. Whatever you might feel about others, be careful, they might just come true for yourself.


“Fuck, I hate it here, I don’t know why we always have to come visit my uncle’s stupid fucking farm. Whole towns just full of a fat, stupid hicks, probably a bunch of incestuous fuckers too, judging by how ugly they all are,” Nick muttered to himself in the guest room of his uncle’s house, just wanting to be back home with his friends.

“Truer words were never spoken…”

Wait, what was that?” Nick said, and felt an odd shiver run down his spine. He could have sworn that something had spoken, but he was alone, wasn’t he? Whatever, he might as well take a selfie and post it to Instagram, do something to show everyone how lame it was out here. He went into the bathroom and gave a bored pose in the mirror, and only when he looked at the pictures after, did he realize he wasn’t wearing his usual clothes. He was wearing a set of overalls!

“What the fuck? I didn’t put this shit on,” he said, trying to get the clasps to unhook, but they wouldn’t budge. He didn’t even notice that he was beginning to grow cubbier, a beard filling in across his face, hairline receding as it turned from brown to grey. The room started to spin around him. He dropped his phone and tried to steady himself, and when the room finally stopped spinning, he looked around and he…wasn’t in the same bathroom as before. 

This one was…grungier, and smaller. He hauled himself up with the lip of the counter, and found himself staring at a new face–a bulbous ugly nose, scrunched eyes, balding hair nearly white and pulled back into a ponytail. He got his feet underneath him and stood up, now six inches shorter than before.

“Where in fuckin’ hell, this ain’t Unc’s place!” he said, his voice deeper and raspier, with an obvious rural twang, “What the hell happened tah me? I ain’t…some old redneck fuck!”

“Nick, where the fuck are ya?” Came a voice from outside the room, one he didn’t recognize. A moment later, another chubby fellow poked his head into the bathroom, “Come on Nick, we’re gonna be late bro,” he said.

“Nick’s head started spinning again, but this time, it was also growing thicker, and slower. This…this was Billy, his little brother, right? He tried to tell himself that he didn’t have a little brother, but…but that wasn’t right, of course he did. “Sorry Billy, just got distracted I guess.”

“No worries bro, I know ya ain’t the smartest fucker, but yer one of the cutest pigs in town,” he said with a wink, and pulled Nick into a kiss–a full kiss, with tongue, that left him panting a bit, his stubby cock hard in the front of his overalls. Unable to stop himself, he dropped to his knees, hauled out Billy’s cock and blew him. It didn’t take long, Billy could cum ten times a day, but never lasted longer than a minute. Nick guzzled down his brother’s cum, licked his mustache clean, and got up.

By afternoon, all memories of his prior life were forgotten for good–aside from a little corner of his dim mind, where the old Nick was trapped, well aware that he was caught in his own worst nightmare, but no one would hear him ever again.

Commission – Piggy Pizza

Hey all! For the month of April, I’m taking a break from The Pigtown Chronicles, and will be posting some caption stories instead. We’ll have captions Monday through Thursday, and I’ll be posting some longer stories on Fridays. This week, we have a mysterious force punishing men for their cruel language. Whatever you might feel about others, be careful, they might just come true for yourself.


Part 1 – Staffing Solutions

It was the sudden rumble that woke Max up. It sounded like a stomach grumbling, but something about it was off. He realized that he hadn’t just heard the rumble, but he’d felt it through his hand, but his hand wasn’t…on his own stomach. He opened his eyes, and found himself looking at the back of someone’s neck, and not a womanly neck, either. He recoiled away, nearly fell off the bed in the process, and stood up, looking down at Jeremy, his roommate–or at least, someone who looked mostly like Jeremy, there on his bed, naked.

The main difference was that this Jeremy looked to be fifty pounds heavier than the Jeremy from the night before, not that he could really remember what had happened the night before. They’d gotten home from football practice, completely starving. Jeremy had seen a new pizza place had opened up near campus, and suggested it for dinner. They’d ordered delivery, the food had arrived, and after that…well, he couldn’t recall much of anything. It was then that Max realized he’d been staring right at Jeremy’s uncovered, fat ass, and his cock was…hard. Real hard. Hard enough to climb back into bed, slide his cock right in there and–

He retreated from his room and into the bathroom, turned on the light, and it was the scream that woke up Jeremy. He rolled up out of bed, waddled his way to the bathroom, where he found Max gripping his own larger, hairier gut, horrified. “What the fuck happened to us? What the fuck did we do last night?”

“Did…did you get fatter?” Jeremy asked, then looked down, “Fuck, we’re…both fatter?”

“Do you remember anything from last night that was strange?”

“Just…that pizza bro, it was fucking good, but…I felt real weird afterward, and you were acting strange too, I…I don’t remember anything, though…” Jeremy said, blushing a bit, “Do…do you?”

“No, nothing.”

“Oh, ok, good.”

“It had to be the pizza. What was the name of that place again?”

“Piggy Pizza, it’s just a few blocks away from campus.”

“Come on, we need to go there, and figure out what the fuck was in that stuff, so we can go the hospital and fix it.”

Jeremy’s gut grumbled again, and he grabbed it with both hands. “Can…we have breakfast first?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you? How can you fucking think of eating at a time like this?”

Jeremy shrugged, and followed Max’s lead as they got dressed in whatever clothes they could find that mostly fit their changed bodies, got into Max’s car with a bit of a struggle, and drove the few blocks over to Piggy Pizza. They got out, the door said the place didn’t open until eleven, but there was clearly someone inside working away. They pounded on the door until the fellow came out from behind the counter and opened the door for them both. He was an older fellow, wearing a flour and sauce stained apron, easily six and a half feet tall and close to 400 pounds of beef, with a thick beard braided and tied off against his chest.  “Can I help you boys? I don’t open for lunch for another twenty minutes or so.”

“Yeah you can fucking help us, you can tell us what the fuck your pizza did to us last night!” Max said to him.

“Oh fuck, what smells so fucking good?” Jeremy said, his gut growling again, and he pushed past both of them and into the restaurant. The place was sizable with plenty of seating, and a lunch buffet off to one side, where a couple of pies were already resting, ready to be eaten. Jeremy stumbled over there, drooling, grabbed a slice and shoved it in his mouth with a moan of delight, while Max just stared at him, horrified.

“What the fuck are you doing man, don’t eat that shit!” Max said.

“Oh fuck it’s so fucking good though…”

Max went over and tried to pull Jeremy away, who just slapped at him until he backed off. He turned around, only to find the owner of the shop had locked the door behind them, and was grinning wide. “When I delivered those two pies to you two last night, I had a feeling you were just the couple of pigs I was looking for to help out in the shop.”

“What are you talking about?” Max said.

“Go on, I know you must be hungry. Those pizzas last night would have only scratched that appetite of yours, pig,” the man said, walked over, reached past Jeremy, and picked up a slice of pizza. It was so fresh, Max could still see the grease pooling on the surface, and he realized he was drooling. “Come on pig, let Boss help you out,” he said, pushed the pizza to his lips, and Max opened up and took a bite, moaning as his cock leaked a bit of precum into the front of the sweats he had squeezed into.

He felt his gut growl, and it heaved out as he swallowed, adding a few more pounds. He tried to pull away when he realized it, but Boss just pushed the slice into his mouth, more forceful this time, and Max couldn’t stop himself from taking bite after bite, begging through a full mouth for him to stop.

“I’ll stop pig, but only if you stop. All you have to do is not take another bite. Maybe I’ll even give you that body of yours back, would you like that? Wanna be muscular again? Smooth? All you have to do is stop.” Max tried, turned his head to the side, but he could feel his jaw struggling against him, twisting back, opening up, taking another massive bite, and the owner just laughed at him. “Guess that means you’re mine, pig.”

Slice after slice disappeared down his throat, and with each one, he only got worse. Fatter at first, and then he started getting even hairier. Boss started telling him about his life now, about who he was. Sure, he’d started college on a football scholarship, but that was a few years ago now. He was too lazy to keep up, and after a year, he’d added fifty pounds. He lost his scholarship, had to get a job delivering pizza, and only grew bigger. Now here he was, his late twenties, balding already, too hairy to work the kitchen for sanitary reasons, delivering pizzas for his boss. For his owner. The man shoved Max down onto his knees, hauled out his cock, and fed it to him. He took one taste of his owner’s precum, and knew, somehow, this was what was in the pizza, this is what had been changing him. He tried to resist, but he sucked his new Boss dry, and when he came, and Max swallowed it all down, everything Boss had told him, that whole story, it became…real. He stumbled up, now close to 400 pounds himself, hair all over his body, head balding, beard down to his chest, sweaty and greasy and stinking. He knew he should hate it, but he didn’t–he groped his fat, reached under and found his cock and started milking it, grunting while he kissed his Boss, and they turned their attention to Jeremy, who was still stuffing himself silly at the buffet.

He was even fatter than Max now, close to 500 pounds. His eyes were terrified at what he was doing, but there was no stopping, not any more. “What do you think of your boyfriend, Jeremy?” Boss asked him, dragging his face around and showing him the hairy, sweaty pig that Max had become. “Wait…Max? What…what the fuck happened to you?”

“What the fuck are you talkin’ about?” Max said, groping his fat frame, running his hands through his greasy fur, “Fuck, I’m so fuckin’ horny…”

“I bet you are, watching this fat pig stuff himself always gets that cock of yours hard, but not as hard as this fat ass, right?” Boss said, gave Jeremy’s ass a slap, and they watched it inflate, growing wider than the rest of him, Max drooling again, but for a different reason. 

“Fuck, he’s got such a hot fuckin’ ass.”

“Come on pig, I know you’re still hungry for dessert,” Boss said, tore open the already weakened sweats on Jeremy’s body. With a grunt, Max got down on his knees, crawled forward and shoved his bearded face into Jeremy’s crack, eating at the sweaty, rank crack, Jeremy moaning in confusion, not understanding anything of what was happening to him. 

“I…what did you do to him?” Jeremy moaned, “What’s going on?”

“Don’t think too hard now, we all know you’re the dumbest fuck here, Jeremy. Too stupid to be a driver, and too fat at this point. Lucky for me you can operate an oven, with supervision. Still, you have a few good qualities, right? Well, a few things that disgust everyone else, but Max there sure loves them, like your fucking musk, and those rank ass farts of yours.” The mere suggestion was enough for Jeremy’s new ass to rip off a ripe one right into Max’s face, who moaned, his own cock drooling even more pre onto the floor below him.

“No, no that’s not, I was…big! I was a big, like, football guy…”

“No you weren’t, you stupid fuck. You dropped out of high school, and have been working here for years now. You met Max when he started working here, and you pigs moved in together, with my permission of course. I own your fat asses after all, neither of you thinks a fucking thing without my damn permission. But that asshole of yours is as hungry as dick as this mouth is for my pizza, and Max is a horny hairy freak, so it works out, doesn’t it?”

Jeremy tried to think, tried to remember, but all that came out was a loud fart from his hole, right into Max’s face, who just grunted in pleasure and dug in even deeper. Boss grabbed his head, shoved him down, and Jeremy sucked on his cock, already hard again after feeding a load to Max–but then, Boss could always produce a load for his dough, and his sauce, and his toppings. That was how he had the best pizza in town, after all, and when he saw someone he liked, well, he usually got them to work for him, one way or another. “Max, get up, I wanna see you fuck this fat pig while he swallows my load.”

“Yes Boss!” Max said, hefted himself up, dropped his gut on the small of Jeremy’s back, and worked his cock into Jeremy’s loosened hole. He drove in rough, panting and heaving, the air thick with the combined musk rolling off the three of them in the lobby of the restaurant, until Max came with a squeal, and Boss came too, Jeremy swallowing down a load and feeling everything solidify around him, just as it had around Max. 

The restaurant opened an hour late that day, since the two new employees had demolished the lunch buffet. Boss got them into their new uniforms–shorts that were a bit too tight on them both, a polo shirt with Piggy Pizza across the front, neither long enough to disguise their guts hanging out below, and a ball cap with a smiling pig on the front. Then, Boss secured a leather collar around both of his new pigs, reminding him that they were his personal property. Max also got a cage around his cock, and for Jeremy, a vibrating plug in his hole to keep him excited and motivated. If Max got good tips, Boss would unlock him and let him fuck his boyfriend at home that night, but if he didn’t, well, he’d just suffer, hard in his cage from Jeremy’s gas and unable to do anything about it. Neither of them complained, though. Why would they? They loved working at Piggy Pizza–it was the perfect place for a couple pigs like them, after all.


Part 2 – Franchise Opportunities

A year had flown by since Piggy Pizza had opened, and for Max, it had been a bit of a blur. Boss didn’t let his worker slaves have much in the way of time off, after all, and so he delivered pizzas from the time the shop opened for lunch until the evening, snacking on pizza along the way, of course, until they closed at one in the morning. Then, he would drive Jeremy home in his truck, they’d usually have a fuck session if he’d earned one and fall asleep, before getting up, throwing on their still dirty uniforms, and doing it all again. 

Boss took a particular interest in Jeremy over that year, feeding him almost constantly in the shop. Six months after they’d been conscripted, Jeremy had packed on another hundred pounds, and was pushing the scales at nearly 600. One evening, after a long stuffing, he couldn’t manage to get into the truck for the ride home–but Boss had a solution all ready for him. He’d made him a little sleeping area in the storeroom of the restaurant–Jeremy would be living there from now on. It would be more convenient. 

Of course, Max was still horny as hell, and so he’d rush over when he woke up, get his fuck in before his shift started, and Jeremy only grew larger and larger, and muskier and muskier, since he didn’t have a shower in the restaurant. Jeremy eventually couldn’t even keep up with the baking, but Boss had a new role for him already planned–he hooked Jeremy’s cock up to a milker, and started pumping cum out of him, a new blend that Boss had been encouraging inside him, one that he had a feeling would help them grow their customer base even more. It worked–Boss’s own cum was more potent, but Jeremy’s kept folks coming back for more, and more, and more pizza every day. Business was booming, and they had to pull in a few other guys from campus as delivery slaves for the business, with Max as their general supervisor. One night, while they were tag-teaming Jeremy, the rest of the staff home for the night, Boss told Max how proud of him he was. He was thinking about opening up another franchise soon, and he thought Max might be an idea manager for a new location–under Boss’s strict control of course.

Max was thrilled by the idea. He rode that high for the next few days, until it all came crashing down with a sudden drop, when he delivered a load of pizzas, laced with a bit of Jeremy’s special sauce, to a house he…almost recalled, but one he couldn’t place. He rang the doorbell, the door opened, and he quickly realized he was delivering pizzas to a frat house. A frat house he knew. It had been his frat, a lifetime ago now, before he’d met Boss and started working at PIggy Pizza. He prayed that no one would say anything, but after staring at him for a moment, the jock who had opened the door said, “Holy fuckin’ shit, you’re…Max Grainger! Oh my fucking god, what the fuck happened to you?”

Max’s face reddened. Boss’s magic sauce could twist reality, but there were always these little pockets left behind. “Look man, I don’t wanna talk about it. Have a good night.”

The jock called the rest of the guys to the door, and they laughed, watching the player who had been recruited as a possible star waddled back to his truck, ass crack exposed, now just a loser dropout pig. Max’s face was burning, and he grumbled all the way back to the shop, angry that he was even angry about it. He liked working for Boss! He was going to have his own franchise soon! And a new franchise, he supposed, would need some more labor, wouldn’t it? He grinned then, and when he went back into the shop, he told Boss what had happened, and his idea.

Boss was skeptical of Max’s plan, but decided to give him a chance. He fed Max a big load of his cum, and Max felt something happen to him, his balls swelling and tingling. Boss told him that he had the power to change men like he did now–not nearly as potent, but more than enough for what he had in mind, this evening. First though, he had a few more deliveries to make. It was mostly to regulars around town, those who had been especially susceptible to their special ingredients. As the men opened their doors and smelled Max, they all seemed especially interested in him somehow. Max had fucked around with most of them–after all, now that Jeremy was living at the shop, he had to get his fucks in somewhere, but tonight, he was saving his loads for something special. That didn’t make it any less difficult to turn down the men who would invite him in, try and sneak a sniff of his pits, tell him that he seemed real sexy tonight. In the end, they were all mostly satisfied to take their pizzas, leave him a substantial tip, and Max went on his way back to his truck, sniffing his own pits. Sure, they were rank, but no more than usual. Is this what it felt like being Boss all the time? If it was, he could get used to it.

It was close to one in the morning, the shop was closing up, and Max loaded up a hefty stack of eight pizzas Boss had waiting for him, for one final delivery. He pulled up back in front of the frat house, already leaking into his uniform shorts, and the more excited he got, the more musk he seemed to be putting out–and maybe it was a bit stronger than before. He hefted the stack of pizzas to the door, rang the doorbell, but no one answered. It took a few rings, and a hard pounding, before any of the frat boys inside actually took notice, and one of them came to answer the door. Max grinned. He was showing good progress, a solid gut, a good amount of hair on his chest, and he was half naked, with grease and cum smeared across his face. 

“Who the fuck are…oh fuck, you…smell real fucking good man,” the frat boy said, stumbled out onto the step, and shoved his face into Max’s pit, snorting in his stink.

“I got your second order of pizzas, why don’t you help me bring them inside, boy?” Max suggested.

He had to suggest it twice, and haul the young man’s chubby face out of his pit, but he finally got the hint, picked up half the boxes of pizza, and brought them inside, Max following him in and shutting the door behind him, looking at the party already in progress.

The pizzas were demolished, the room was demolished as well, and all of the frat brothers were scattered about the living room, on the furniture or the floor, in various states of fucking, sucking, licking and sniffing. None of them had gained less than thirty pounds, and some, like the one who’d opened the door, had gained more. But the one that Max was looking for wasn’t among them–the one who had laughed at him earlier, that was the one he had some special plans for. He took the pizzas one by one, opened up the boxes and laid them on the floor, calling for the little frat pigs. The smell of him, and the pizza, caught them and pulled them over, all of them grabbing for slices like greedy hogs and shoving them in their mouths, moaning and grunting in delight. That would keep them all busy, and growing, for a while longer. He saved one pie, and started looking through the house for the missing boy.

He found him after a few minutes, holed up in his room. Max could hear him on the phone with someone, trying to explain the situation–probably 911, but they kept dismissing it as a hoax. Why wouldn’t they, after all? He knocked on the door, the voice inside went quiet, and said, “Who’s there?”

“Oh, just me,” Max said, “Got your second delivery of pizzas here, but everyone downstairs was too busy to pay me. Why don’t you open up, boy, and we can settle your bill?”

“Fuck you! You fucking freak, what the fuck did you do to everyone?”

Max just chuckled, hauled off his shirt, took a piece of pizza out of the box, and rubbed it in his pits, soaking it in his stink. For good measure, he wiped some of his precum off on it too from the inside of his shorts, then shoved it under the door. 

“What the, fuck why the fuck does it fucking stink!” the voice said, “Oh fuck, it smells so fucking good, and I’m so fucking hungry…”

He didn’t say anything else for a minute, just the sound of someone scarfing on the other side, and then quiet, and a belch. “Now, why don’t you go ahead and open the door, boy?” Max said.

The lock clicked after a moment, and when it opened, he saw a rather zonked looking young man on the other side, grease smeared across his face, drooling slightly. Max pushed his way in, and fed him the rest of the pizza. His name, he found out, was Doug, but Max decided Dough would be a much better name for him. Dough pleaded with him through the first few slices, begged him to stop, but by the time half the extra large pie was gone, he was ravenous. It was only natural, then, for Max to haul out his cock, and give him something to wash all that pizza down with.

Max was so horny, that he came after just a few sucks, and the orgasm was long. He could feel it, all of the corruptive potential he was feeding down Dough’s throat, and when he’d finished, a very different sort of fellow was sitting on the floor. He hauled Dough up by the collar of the shirt that no longer fit on around his nearly 400 pound frame, shoved him in front of the mirror in the room, and he gaped at his new body.

Sure, the fat was a big change for him, but Max helped him notice everything else too. The male pattern baldness that had settled in when he was twenty-five, a few years after he’d dropped out of college, too fat and stupid to keep up. Of course, he was pushing forty now, and had lost most of the hair on his head, replaced by a thick, bushy beard starting to grey, and a forest of hair all over his body–not quite as much as Max, but still plenty.

“Fuck, look at you, you fucking loser,” Max whispered in his ear, “And you thought I was bad when I answered the door, now look at you, long past your prime, don’t even have a job, just spend your days and nights stuffing yourself silly with your friends downstairs, jacking off all the time, like a proper fucking pig.

Dough tried to deny it, but Max tore off his clothes and led him downstairs, where the rest of the boys of the house had finished the second round of pizzas, and were all in similar a similar shape–older, all of them out of college now, fatter, their lives as jocks quickly being forgotten in the haze of lust that followed. He shoved Dough into the middle of them, and they all fell on him, humiliating and insulting him, and Dough found himself more and more turned on by the humiliating, begging them for their loads. Max spent the rest of the night finding the ones with a bit more resistance, and feeding them from his tap, until they too were just happy pigs, eagerly settling into their new lives.

A couple months later, a new franchise of Piggy Pizza opened on the other side of town, with Max as the head manager. Dough took up residence in the back, this location’s sauce supply, just as Jeremy was at the home location. The rest of the boys in the house, after being interviewed by Boss, were all hired on as well–as drivers, and cooks, and cleaners, depending on their personal skill sets and kinks. Business was booming, and both Boss and Max couldn’t wait to see how big this town could get.

Caption: Rest Area Tales #4 – Busted

Hey all! For the month of April, I’m taking a break from The Pigtown Chronicles, and will be posting some caption stories instead. We’ll have captions Monday through Thursday, and I’ll be posting some longer stories on Fridays. This week, we have a mysterious force punishing men for their cruel language. Whatever you might feel about others, be careful, they might just come true for yourself.



No one wanted the job of checking in on the rest areas along the highway and busting the cruising that tended to happen there, so it got passed around from patrol to patrol. Today, it fell on Officers Miller and Peters. Neither of them were happy about it, were firmly straight, and just wanted to get it over with as quickly as they could.

Things were largely uneventful at the first few they stopped at. Miller would take the bathrooms and various shelters, while Peters would go into the woods and see what he could flush out. The most they found were a couple of truckers fucking in the woods who scattered when the cops showed up, and neither of them really wanted to spend their time booking anyone in, so they let them go. Then, they arrived at what they hoped would be their last one of the day. This one was a bit more off the beaten path, which meant it had a bit more of a reputation. They’d probably find someone here, and take them back to book them, at least to show they were doing the work.

Miller headed for the rest rooms, and Peters went around with a flashlight in the woods. Much to his surprise, he didn’t find anyone fucking in the forest. He headed back for the patrol car, but Miller wasn’t there. He usually finished first and so he headed for the bathrooms to see if he needed back up.

He went in, and froze–there sure as hell was some activity going on, and that activity was Miller on his knees in front of a burly bear of a man, smoking a cigar, one hand wrapped around Miller’s head while he happily sucked on the big man’s cock. “Miller, what the fuck are you doing!” he said, but before he could reach for his gun, the man blew a thick plume of cigar smoke in his face, which made Peters cough, his head spinning.

“There’s the other one, always travel in pairs,” the bear said, “Just means double the fun, right boy? Now, what to do with the two of you…I already got most of the cops coming through here addicted to cock, but you two look so cute together, I think I know what to do…”

He took a long drag off his cigar, and pushed a massive plume of smoke out, enough to fog up the room. When the air cleared a bit, Jamie Peters looked over and saw…saw his son on his knees blowing the hell of that sexy cigar bear’s cock. 

“Yeah, pull out your dick Daddy, watch this boy of yours blow my big cock,” the bear said, “I know you’ve been a regular here for decades, sneaking out behind your wife’s back until she found out. Never expected your boy here to start following you though, did ya? Turns out cock sucking runs in the family. Two muscular, straight acting guys like you spending all your free time on your knees, worshiping cock–and now, ya can do it together. Come on Daddy, I know what you really want…”

Jamie stepped forward, almost in a daze, and fell on his knees next to his son, and together they worshiped the bear’s massive cock, who rewarded the father son tag team with a load sprayed across them both. Pleased with the result, the bear left, and the father and son licked the cum from each other’s faces, their old lives already fading with the smoke around them. A couple more truckers came in, and they were happy to be of service, and when their bellies were full, they headed home, together, happy as could be.