jared-received-the-suit-a-week-ago-and-put-it-on For the slutitis one maybe someone else could contract the disease. Maybe the doctor accidentally passed it onto one of his sons And for the suit one Id just like to see where it would go next Maybe some nipple and cock piercings?

Yeah, I have a feeling that Slutitus could be “very” contagious, lol.

Id love to see more of this caption /post/28786579840/growing-older-sucked-now-forty-roy-was-fighting

Suggestion noted 🙂

I love the cigar captions the most piggish ones are the best December 13, 2013 , November 1, 2013 , October 1, 2013 , November 15, 2013 I think it would be interesting to see how their former surroundings reacted to such extreme transformations.

I’ll definitely keep them in mind for the future.

Y’know, I’ve wondered. Do you start off with an idea of what you want to write for a caption and then go look for a pic to fit it, or start with the pic and build a story around it?

Usually it’s pictures first, and I combine them together randomly until an idea I like pops into my head, but it’s a bit more complex of a process that that, to be honest. The pictures might start it, but more often than not as I’m writing, the pictures no longer fit my idea, and so I have to go hunting for something that fits better. I’ve actually replaced every picture that I started out with as I’m writing before. Sometimes, I’ll have a specific idea in mind for a picture, and I have to hunt around for others that fit in with it. It’s really just one biog creative mess at the end of the day.

It would be great if you could extend the recent one with a guy turned into a redneck after walking in on his boss jacking off, him changing somebody on the way or finding the entire office changed would be so hot, the caption with a redneck turning trailer was hot too, I would love to see what happened to him inside it.

I have an extension of the redneck office coming up here soon–it’s already written and will get posted in a week or so.

Hey bud, glad to see that you’re writing again. It brightens my day (and hardens my cock) seeing a new post of yours. The Huck and Justin story is great. Getting addicted to pleasure leading to the person’s downfall is so fucking hot to me. That was the hottest thing about Jock and a lot of your other stories. Keep up the good work!!

It feels good to be writing again, lol.

As for the Huck and Justin story, I actually am planning on expanding it into something larger down the road, hopefully by the end of the year, so keep an eye out for it.

Gonna dump my backlog today, so if you have any burning questions, now’s the time to ask.

The NCMC’s Greatest Stories Tournament

So this is happening, apparently. Taking a look at the brackets, it looks like (at least) eleven of my stories ended up in the running. The brackets are huge by the way, so it’s going to take a while to get through it all. That said, for all of you who’ve asked me where to find good stories, this is going to be a solid resource for you. I wouldn’t worry about the actual rankings and competition, but this is some of the best stuff the genre has to offer. There’s something to learn and enjoy from every story, so take a look.

The NCMC’s Greatest Stories Tournament

The Smoker Tapes (Part 3)

[Pictured: Max, in the process of being changed by the Smoker, and his final form.]

Eric: When is your friend supposed to come back?

The Smoker: Don’t know. Kind of depends.

Eric: And you were drawn to him already? But he hasn’t given you consent yet?

The Smoker: No. We’ve talked a bit about it, but he doesn’t quite know what I could offer him yet.

Eric: Do you, well, do you have any problems with the ethics of your work? After all, smoking kills many people every year, and here you are, turning men into heavy smokers. Does that ever bother you?

The Smoker: No, it doesn’t. In fact, I don’t see it as unethical at all.

Eric: Really?

The Smoker: People do dangerous things with and to their bodies every day. Smoking is just a risk, and it isn’t like the men I change don’t choose to partake.

Eric: True, but you’re vastly shortening their lifespan.

The Smoker: <Chuckling.> You’ve smoked before, I assume? Most everyone has at some point.

Eric: A few times.

The Smoker: And you knew the risks.

Eric: Of course, but smoking a cigar or some cigarettes is different from completely changing someone body and mind.

The Smoker: So, your concern isn’t really about the smoking, is it? It’s about the change itself.

Eric: I’m concerned about all of it. I don’t think this is a concern that can just be waved away with an appeal to ‘consent’.

The Smoker: Maybe not. It’s true that not everyone I help has a full knowledge of what they’re losing. But often they don’t really want to know–they just want help. And if they’re happier people when I’m finished with them, if I can make them happier…isn’t ten years of being happy better than fifty years of mild misery, boredom and frustration?

Eric: I don’t think that’s fair.

The Smoker: Back in the eighties, when I was still fairly new at this–still figuring out techniques, still sorting out what these men wanted from me…well, I made some mistakes, I suppose. I misjudged what people wanted. That’s where some of the rumors started. I remember one in particular, let’s call him Max, he was another tough case, but what he wanted was pretty simple. A big man, cigar smoker, a tough guy. Masculine and a cowboy. The Marlboro men were still around then, still seen, especially in gay circles, as these…paragons of masculinity.
Max consented. I was still new at this, and it took me longer, back then, to get things right. I kept him down in my basement, bound up, gasmask on, and I fed him smoke for days on end. It was like I was inflating him, watching the fat and muscle bulk up on his frame–fuck, it was sexy as all get out. But something I didn’t know about was happening too–he was getting older. In fact, he started out in his mid-twenties, and when I was finished, he was a six foot three, three hundred pound, middle aged cowboy, deep raspy smoker’s voice. He wasn’t happy to have lost thirty years of his life, but he settled into it, eventually. He grew to like it, the maturity.

Eric: What?

The Smoker: You know, some people actually like the idea of being older. It isn’t something to be terrified of after all. It happens to everyone at some point, and they can be the best years of your life. Why begrudge someone if that’s what they want? Max ended up wanting it–he just didn’t know that he wanted it. I could sense that he wanted it, and I gave it to him without knowing that’s what I was really doing. It all works out for the best in the end.
That said, the reason I was laughing is that Max’s story is that the first one that turned you on, judging by the hardon in those khakis you’re trying to pretend isn’t there.

Eric: It didn’t turn me on!

The Smoker: It’s ok to admit it. I already know.

Eric: I’m not, I mean…fuck, it’s so fucking hazy in here, could you put out that cigar for a bit?

The Smoker: I’d rather not, and I don’t think you actually want me to, either. Come on, you seem like the kind of guy who’s willing to light one up, probably around the poker table with a bunch of other guys from work, all of you trying to look more manly than you really are.

Eric: I mean, yeah, but that’s different, that’s–

The Smoker: Not that different. You’ve always smoked to seem older. Out behind the convenience store, with your brother’s friends, just twelve but wanting to be so much older, looking at them, turned on my their smoke before you even knew what being turned on was.

Eric:…How…How do you know about that?

<Silence.>

Eric: How in the fuck do you know about that!

The Smoker: How do you think I know about that, Eric?

Eric: I don’t–I mean…

The Smoker: Do you mind if I ask you something though? Tell me, why have you never tried smoking a pipe? That’s what always catches your eyes and nose right? That sweet pipe smoke, you love it, but you’ve never tried it. Every time you pick up cigars for those poker nights–you always bring them, after all, as an excuse to smoke yourself–and you’ve looked at the pipes countless times. Why haven’t you ever bought one? Or even tried one?

Eric: I’m not going to talk to you about this.

The Smoker: Come on, I’m just curious.

Eric: How do you even know all of this about me?

Eric: Please, I just…I don’t understand…

The Smoker: I’ll tell you, but first answer my question. Why never a pipe?

Eric: ….Because….they just always seemed like something, someone older than me would smoke, but I don’t understand what that has to do with anything. But how do you know any of this? Did you investigate me or something?

The Smoker: Why were you looking for me, Eric?

Eric: That’s just another question, you said you’d answer.

The Smoker: Why my story though? Why this urban legend? Why are you looking for me?

Eric: I’m–I’m done with this, I’m getting out of here.

The Smoker: They always do this, this mock outrage. Storm off, pretend this isn’t what they want, but like Eric here? He just left all of his stuff. See, when they do that, it means that they only want to seem scared. They only want to seem uninterested in what I can offer them. It’s a show and a performance. After all, no one is supposed to want what I offer. Not really. Maybe as a fantasy, maybe as something thought of in the dead of night, as nightmare.
Just between you and me though, whoever might be listening to this down the line, I don’t have any regrets about this, about any of this. I mean, sure, I made a deal with the devil, I know that. I’ve ruined people’s lives–I mean, they wanted me to ruin them, but that’s no excuse, not in the long run. I can’t excuse that, I suppose.
But what about you, in there, on the other side, all those years later? What do you want? Are you looking for me? I’m not planning on quitting any time soon, just so you know. All those stories you’re hearing? All those rumors, old and new? Chances are they’re all true. Come and find me, if that’s what you want. I’m right here. I’ll be here for years to come.
Think it over. I have to get some things ready for when Eric comes back up here in a few minutes, once he’s done pouting, and pretending he didn’t make up his mind an hour ago.

The Smoker: Welcome back, Eric.

The Smoker Tapes (Part 2)

Pictured: The Smoker’s victim (1) at Pride, (2)in his dungeon, and finally (3)living his new life.

***

The Smoker: Feeling better?

Eric: How do I even know that you are The Smoker, anyway? How do I know that you aren’t just jerking me around?

The Smoker: Like I said, when the owner of this apartment gets here, I’ll be happy to offer a demonstration, provided he’s interested.

Eric: Well, you have to admit that this is hard to believe.

The Smoker: Of course it is. But just because something is unbelievable doesn’t mean it can’t be true. Hunter existed. All of the men I’ve helped existed. I exist. Why the sudden bout of doubt? You seemed inclined to believe me when we spoke on the phone.

Eric: A journalist has to be skeptical of his sources.

The Smoker: Ah yes. The only way to maintain your integrity is to challenge mine.

Eric: You don’t have to get upset. If you can’t corroborate any of this, then you’re no better than the men spreading legend on the street. You just seem more interested in offering embellishment.

The Smoker: I would call them details. Embellishment implies that I’m lying.

Eric: As far as I’m concerned at the moment, you might as well be lying. I think you’re just trying to shock me into believing you.

The Smoker: If that’s really what you believe, then we might as well stop this interview now. If my testimony has no worth, why seek me out in the first place? You were, after all, the one looking for me. I only contacted you after I heard that someone wanted the truth of things. Like I said, I’m happy to offer you proof when my friend returns. Why not give me the benefit of the doubt until then? At worst, I’m just a fool telling tales. At best, I’m the best story you’ve ever found in your rather lackluster career as a lifestyle journalist.

Eric: It isn’t lackluster–

The Smoker: It is lackluster, and you know it. If I didn’t know better, I’d almost say that you aren’t particularly interested in your career as a journalist. But if that were true, why pursue a story as big as this one, right?

Eric: …Right.

The Smoker: So, while we wait for my friend, I assume you have a few more questions to ask.

Eric: How do you choose your…patrons? What do you look for in the men you change?

The Smoker: Well…that’s a bit complicated, actually.

Eric: Complicated how?

The Smoker: I don’t really choose my targets, exactly. I mean, that’s not precisely true. To say…maybe here’s a better way to put it. I can’t just walk down the street, smoking a cigar, changing men left and right. There’s only a small set of men who are even receptive to my assistance. And even then, not everyone in that set is interested in being helped. Not everyone in that set even has a problem that I can solve for them. So to say that I choose anyone isn’t the best way of putting it. It’s more like…there are some people who need help, and I’m the only person who can help them.

Eric: Alright then, so who can you help? What qualities do all of your patrons share?

The Smoker: Well, they’ve all smoked at some point in their life. I can’t do anything to someone who hasn’t tasted smoke before. While it isn’t a requirement that they be gay, I can’t do anything if the person isn’t at least open to the prospect of becoming gay.

Eric: So you make all of your patrons gay?

The Smoker: Considering the sexual nature of my work, it’s hard to imagine how they could turn out any other way.

Eric: Anything else?

The Smoker: Well, they all have a problem. Or rather, they all have a problem I can solve. A problem with themselves…..Again, it’s hard to explain. They have to be dissatisfied with their lives, or with their bodies, but it’s more complicated than that even. They have to be willing to sacrifice, they have to give up and not look back.

Eric: And how do you know when you’ve found someone who you can help?

The Smoker: Well, usually they find me. Or rather, I attract them. The legend attracts them, rather. But when I meet them, I…well, when I meet them, it’s not that I can read their minds exactly, but I can sense their problem and how to solve it. That’s a rather inelegant way to put it, unfortunately, but the details of the process aren’t really…it’s rather unconscious.

Eric: None of that made much sense, unfortunately.

The Smoker: Well, it isn’t something I try and articulate very often. You do something so many times, it becomes a part of you. You don’t think about it anymore. It can become rather dominating at times, and you forget that things could have been any other way. So trying to explain it, is difficult. Perhaps if I used an example.
Last year, during the summer–during pride weekend, actually–I wandered through the street fair in the afternoon. That’s usually how it starts, I end up wandering somewhere with no particular goal in mind, but I’ve come to recognize the sensation of being pulled towards someone who’s looking for me. And in the mob of people, in the street, I saw a young man, beer in hand but not comfortable with it at all. Not comfortable at all, with any of it, and looking at him, I could just tell everything about him. Just started college, but uncomfortable in his own skin. Gay, a virgin, no confidence, desperate for attention and control over his life and situation but he was too busy doubting his own ability and desire to actually attain anything. Overbearing mother, distant father, seeking approval from older men and hating himself for it. Unhappy with his body, but lacking the discipline and determination to change it. Caught at a crossroad, unable to decide where to go. He was lost, and he saw me standing there, smoking a cigar, and I saw this flourish of jealousy there. He wanted what I could give him–well, what he actually thought was, “I want what he has,” but he got the next best thing.
I don’t know if that actually clarifies anything or not. But that’s what it feels like, finding a patron.

Eric: And what happens then?

The Smoker: Well, then I offer them help. In that young man’s case, he was rather belligerent. He didn’t want to admit to anyone that he needed help. Actually, he was one of the harder cases I’ve had recently.

Eric: What was so hard about him? From the way you talk, it doesn’t seem like there’s much anyone can do to stop you.

The Smoker: Well, I do require consent, but even with consent, there has to be acceptance. There has to be a desire to leave the old behind and welcome in the new. But once consent is given, and once the process begins, there’s no going back. It just makes it all the more difficult for me. Hunter, and men like Hunter, the easy ones, they take a matter of minutes or hours. The hard cases, like that young man, they can take days. The longest I’ve ever had took close to three weeks to finish up. Anyway, when we talked in the street, he refused help, but I offered him my phone number and he took it. A few days later, when he was drunk, he called me and wanted to know more. He eventually consented at my home, but in the middle of the process, his doubts and fear stepped in and fought back. I had to go to some…extreme measures.

Eric: Like what?

The Smoker: Well, I have an extensive dungeon in my basement, something I’ve assembled for hard cases. I kept him locked in a cell–he’d already changed quite a bit at that point. His body had grown heavily muscled, but completely hairless. In fact, his body was almost there–it was his head that was fighting back. And so…I made him start masturbating his brains out. He was jacking off almost constantly, and as he came, over and over, the air saturated with smoke, he just got dumber and dumber, and eventually he just lost the will to doubt. He lost all reason to fear. I had to put something else in there of course–he grew into a very aggressive, domineering top. Skinhead, dresses all in leather, keeps a number of slaves now, chain smoking unfiltered cigarettes. He’s very happy, but it was a lot of work getting him there.

Eric: That doesn’t sound like consent, that sounds like kidnapping and torture.

The Smoker: Well, perhaps, but that’s all the consent I require.

Eric: There seem to be a lot of rules involved in your work.

Eric: What?

The Smoker: Nothing. Nothing at all. What’s your next question?