The glow returned moments later, and Grant had to stop his rows for the moment, because his skin started to itch. It was all of this body hair and these too tight of clothes. They always made him itch, but he never seemed to remember to go get some better fitting garments. He took advantage of his momentary break to take a sniff of his pits, and then a longer one, his hand rubbing his hard cock in his shorts, as he let off another belch, and feeling braver, he lifted his arm up over his head, rubbing his nose right in the pit, loving the feel of his hairy pits grating against his wild, tangled beard.
“Hey, Grant, if ya ain’t too busy over there,” Jack said with a smile, “Would ya mind spottin’ me on the bench press?”
Grant looked over his shoulder sheepishly, a bit embarrassed to have been caught getting off on his pit stink by someone as hot as Jack. “Sure man, I’d be happy to,” he said, got off his machine and hurried over to where Jack was positioning himself under the barbell. Even just standing over him, Grant could take in the musk which surrounded Jack. How could he have not noticed how amazing that smells before? He’d always thought that he’d hated it, but already he couldn’t get enough to satisfy himself suddenly. Again, he was struck by how he looked in the mirror across the room, and yet, it was his reflection–why did it bother him so much? Everything just seemed so…different, all of a sudden.
“You ready Grant?”
“Oh…yeah, whenever you are.”
Jack started pressing the bar, Grant counting off his reps, but mostly unable to take his eyes off himself. There was something wrong here, something that should be obvious, but it was like something hiding impossibly well right in plain sight. He shouldn’t look like this. That’s what was wrong. He didn’t know what he was supposed to look like, sure, but it wasn’t this–this massively fat man with a dingy beard and greasy hair, with clothes too tight, his skin bursting with hair. He grabbed the barbell as Jack was in the middle of one of his last reps, and shoved it down, pinning it against Jack’s chest, catching the big bear off guard. “What the fuck have you done to me, Jack?” Grant said.
“What the–what are ya even talkin’ about!” Jack cried, trying to push the bar off his chest, “Let me up, will ya?”
Grant felt a tremor of doubt in his chest. No, it couldn’t be Jack. Jack wouldn’t do something like that to Grant…right? No…no, of course not. But then that meant that they were both in danger, that Marcus or Clark or Doug were somewhere around here, maybe even manipulating them both. “Look, I don’t…I don’t think it’s safe here, I think one of the other masters…I think they did something to me.”
“Just let me up!” Jack shouted, and Grant helped lift the bar back into place, letting Jack sit up and take a few deep breaths. “Alright, what it the world are you talking about?”
“Someone did it to Len man, they changed him, they kicked him out of the program, and now I think they’re doing it to us. Do you…do you feel different at all?”
“No, do you?”
“I don’t…My head is telling me that this is all wrong, that…but I don’t know, it just isn’t right. It isn’t right at all. And there’s this glow I keep seeing, this weird glow, and then…”
“A glow eh?” Jack said, it didn’t happen to look like this, did it?” Grant turned around to see that Jack had a small handheld raygun in his hand pointed at Grant, and a second later, the tip of the gun engulfed Grant in that same glow, and he felt sucker punch to the gut. It was Jack–Jack, his hero, had been doing this to him–whatever this was. Shouldn’t…shouldn’t he be happy about that? The glow faded, and he was left trying to sort out the sudden crush of contrary feelings. Honor, fear, confusion, lust–he didn’t know what to feel, or why he should be feeling any of it. “It’s just a little something I picked up from Bear Boutique a little while ago–somethin’ called a Slobifier. Great little thing, ain’t it? Not only can it make someone slobby, it can change how they think, ‘n even change how they treat other slobs.”
“That’s amazing,” Grant said. He loved it when Jack spoke–he loved listening to Jack’s voice so much. He’d do anything for Jack.
“Yeah, sure is. Now Grant, how about ya do a few reps yerself? I’ll spot ya.”
“Oh..sure! Yeah, we can do that, but why are you…I mean, why me? Why use it on me?”
“Well, because you were such a tight ass before, I figured you could stand to loosen up a bit.”
“So I was different before–who was I? Tell me what you did.”
“Why? Ain’t you enjoyin’ who ya are now?” Jack said. Come on, lie down on the bench, and lets keep going with your workout.”
Grant was torn. He wanted answers, but he also really needed to do what Jack said. He couldn’t resist obeying anyone as dirty as he was, so he figured they could always talk about it later. He lied back down on the bench, and Jack went around to the head, and when Grant looked up, he saw that Jack had stripped off the denim shorts he’d been wearing and had nothing on other than his signature suspenders strapped onto one of the filthiest jockstraps Grant had ever seen. He wanted it. He wanted it on his face, in his mouth, all over his body. “Oh fuck Jack, why have you been hiding that from me?” he said, and went to lick the pouch, but Jack backed off.
“Nuh uh, ya gotta finish your reps first.”
“Please Jack? Please just a taste?”
“Are ya tellin’ me that you’d rather taste my nasty, pissy jock instead a workin’ out?”
That was a stupid question, Grant thought, why would he ever choose differently? He nodded, “Fuck yeah, man, give it to me.”
Fine, ya can taste it,” Jack said, “but only if you piss yourself. Right here, right now.”
“What?” Grant asked, taken aback.
“I wanna see ya piss those army shorts of yours. I want to see them soaked. I want to see you fucking piss your pants like a real nasty son-of-a-bitch. Then you can taste my sweaty jockstrap.”
Grant really wanted to taste it. What harm could there be in pissing his shorts? Something about it felt…just wrong, but thinking back, he’d woken up more than once after a night of drinking to find he’d pissed himself. Who really cares? Still, between his hard on, his inability to look away from Jack’s jock, and his nerves, he found pissing to be next to impossible. “I…I don’t think I can.”
“Do ya want some help?”
“I…I guess so. I do really want to taste your jock.”
“Well, the slobifier here, I can use it to make you incontinent. I can make it so ya have to piss yourself. How does that sound? I mean, ya can’t taste my jock until ya piss those shorts, so what have ya got tah lose?”
That was a horrible argument, or, it should have been a horrible argument, but everything that came out of Jack’s mouth just seemed to make so much more sense than it really should. And hadn’t that gun, that slobifier been the source of the rest of his problems? Were they really problems at all? And he did want to taste his jock, so what choice did he really have? “A–Alright, I guess you can do that to me.”
“That’s a good pig,” Jack said, aimed the gun at him and let loose once more. Grant didn’t feel any different once the glow faded, but a second later, he felt a strange warmth spread in his shorts, and sitting up, he could see the front of them darken, the piss flowing beyond his control, before flowing onto the bench and off the sides, where it dribbled onto the carpet.
“Fuck, oh fuck Jack that feels so good, and it reeks man–it fucking reeks…”
“You like that, don’t you, the smell of piss?”
“Oh yeah…oh, I don’t…I don’t feel too good…” Grant said, feeling a cramp in his gut. A moment later, he let loose with what he was expecting to be a fart, but was much more than that, shit suddenly packing itself into the back of his tight shorts. “Oh…oh god, I just…just shit myself.”
“Feels even better, doesn’t it?”
“God, it does…no, no this is so fucking messed up.”
“But you do get to taste it now, isn’t that what you wanted?” Jack said, pushing Grant down onto the bench and leaning over his, smashing the filthy jock right into his face. A second later, Jack started pissing himself, the stream flowing out of the jock and down over Grant’s face, into his open mouth, Grant couldn’t seem to close it for some reason, he needed that piss in his mouth, and the jock pressed against his nose stank of stale cum and piss and he was in heaven. He could smell his own shit now, mixing with the piss in the air, driving him to new heights of pleasure, and suddenly he was shooting his wad right into his shorts, letting it sink in with his piss. He’d never cum spontaneously like that before, but he had just as little control over that as the rest of his fluids, suddenly.
“Ha, alright, I think yer ready fer the truth,” Jack said.
“What do you mean?” Grant said, but the glow surrounded him again, and suddenly, as though a different light was shining on the events of the past hour, he remembered. He remembered all of it, how he’d been, how Jack had been changing him slowly, slowly reducing him to this…this nasty fucking slob! He scrambled up off the bench and backed away from Jack, “What the fuck!” he sputtered, “You fat fucking pig, what the fuck did you do?”
“Now, now, be nice, I ain’t the only ‘fat fucking pig’ here anymore.”
“Change me back.”
“Hah, no way”
“If you don’t change me back,” Grant said, starting to advance on Jack, but the redneck leveled the gun at him, and he stopped.
“You probably don’t want to find out what this thing will change next. All I did just now was make you aware of the changes. As much as I like having you as a lovestruck little pig, I’d rather finish off with the real Grant.”
“Why me?”
“Everyone’s picking off somebody. Don’t tell me you weren’t thinking the same thing.”
“But why me?”
“Because you’re a fuckin’ snob, dumbass. I just want tah show ya that yer nothin’ more than a pig, like me, everyone else is gonna be, and I’m gonna be king pig, whether you like it or not. However, judgin’ from the cum stainin’ yer shorts, I think ya like it more ‘n ya let on. Reagrdless, I’m done wit’ ya now. There ain’t no way yer gonna stick around in the masters program, since the only thing gettin’ you off in the near future is the smell a piss ‘n shit.”
“You can’t just leave me like this, remembering who it the fuck I was!”
“Sure I can. I wouldn’t want you tah have any regrets, would I?”
“You fucking asshole.”
“Don’t worry Grant, you’ll settle into it. Before long, you won’t be able to imagine bein’ anythin’ other than a filthy pig, ‘n ya’ll love it all. Now why don’ ya march on out a here, while I’m goin’ easy on ya. Drop out a the program, ‘n I won’t have tah pay ya another visit wit this guy.”
“Please, don’t leave me like this. Just do me that fuckin’ service. I’ll drop out, I’ll do whatever you want. Just change me back.”
“But I like you much more like this, and don’t worry, by the time I’m through with this campus, everyone is going to be as dirty as us. Won’t that be fucking hot?”
Grant did his best not to think about it, but it was making his cock hard again, and Jack was coming closer now. “Keep…keep back,” Grant said.
“Just think about it Grant, think about who you used to be, that tight ass marine, think of all the work you had to do. Now, all ya have to do is laze about, pissin’ and shittin’ yerself, cummin’ on occasion. Isn’t that a better life?” Jack said, rubbing Grant’s crotch.
“No…No, I don’t think it is.”
“Why?”
Grant didn’t have an answer to that–why didn’t he have an answer? It should be the simplest question in the world, but he was…enjoying this. Enjoying this a lot. He let out another belch, and that pleasant self-satisfaction filled him with pride. He tried to fight it back, but it was authentic. He did feel proud of himself. He was reveling in this in ways he couldn’t even begin to grasp.
“How about this. How about I trust you to help me out?” Jack said, and Grant felt Jack press the gun into his hand. “Everyone needs to feel like this, Grant. People fight it, they always do, but you can bring them down to our level. You can show them how wonderful it is to be a slob.”
“No…”
“You can’t fucking resist me, Grant,” Jack said, leaning in close, and Grant nearly fell forward, desperate to get Jack’s scent on him–in him, everywhere. Jack needed to be in charge, he realized. The world needed him to lead it, and if Grant…if Grant could help him do that, it would be an honor. He was down on his knees then, sucking on Jack’s cock through the wet pouch of his jock, and Grant realized that he’d been beaten. That he had accepted Jack’s world, that this was indeed best to him, and that he would do his best to help Jack succeed, because it was the right thing to do. It was right, to serve Jack, and he did need to show everyone else how true that was. Jack let his cock slip out of the punch, and Grant happily sucked it down, tasting the filth coating the shaft, thankful that Jack, his master, was allowing him the honor of service. It was an honor, a true honor, and when Jack’s cum filled his belly to the brim, he came again, without touching himself.
“Ya know what ya need tah do, don’t ya?”
“Yes sir,” Grant said.
“That’s a good marine. Now get to work,” Jack said, and left the gym, Grant following him out a few minutes later, wanting to get out before anyone caught him in there, and before he could meet any traffic on the way back to his dorm who might smell the shitload in his shorts. He got back before his cadet had returned from his run, and he sat there, in the dark, smelling himself, holding the gun and terrified of doing what was necessary. It couldn’t really be the best thing, could it? But Jack, his master, had told him to do it–so he…he had to, as sick as it might make him to do it.
When his cadet came into the room, panting a bit, the stench of musk in the room was overwhelming. “Holy crap…what is that,” he said, “Sarge? Sarge, are you there sir? What’s that smell?”
He could just barely make out a fat figure sitting on the bed, holding something, no, pointing something at his chest. “I’m…I’m sorry Cadet,” he heard his sarge said, and then he was surrounded by a strange glow, and then, nothing much mattered to him. He could smell it though, he could smell what he needed. Snorting a bit, he made his way to the bed and buried his face into the seat of his Sarge’s shorts, smelling and licking at the shit there, hungrier than he’d ever been in his life, and Grant felt a shiver run through him. Still, he did need someone to clean him up a bit, and who better than his cadet? It felt…surprisingly good, he realized, to make someone into a slob like him. Maybe Master Jack was right. Maybe they were all just pigs at heart. Well, Grant would do his part. If Jack wanted an army, he was going to get an army. He had a sergeant to lead it after all–now Grant just had to recruit all the soldiers he could find.
Bracken's Corner 