(I felt like doing some short captions today. There will be two of them. Hope you enjoy them!)

Caption Day (1 of 2)

The note on the unlocked front door said he was waiting for you in the basement. You’d never been to his house before, but he’d left a trail of discarded clothes down the hall leading to a door down the hall, but when you opened it, you couldn’t see anything. Not because it was dark—but because the entire room had been filled with fog…no, now that you could smell it, it was smoke. Sweet smoke, like a pipe, but how in the world had he made so much of it?

Now you were at your most terrified. Who knew what this guy had planned? But you had to go down there…right? You took the first step.

It actually smells…pretty good. In fact, it’s making your cock hard in your pants. You can smell, something else, too. Like…musk. Find the next step.

Fuck, it’s hot in here too, it’s making you sweat, and itch. You run one hand through your hair, not noticing it come away in clumps, leaving behind a perfectly smooth scalp. Find the next step.

Sweating like a pig. One hand runs over your hairy gut. Is it swelling? It…it is swelling. But when did it get so…small? Shouldn’t you be even fatter? And when did you take off your clothes anyway? It felt good to be naked though, it was cooler. You find the next step with your bare foot.

Panting now. Taking a moment to feel yourself. Soft, flabby gut. Hair everywhere. That feels more right. You look back over your shoulder, one hand pulling at your beard. You can’t even see the door up there anymore. You consider going back, but take another step down.

Why would you want to go back up, anyway? He—He’s down here. Somewhere. Waiting for you in all this sexy smoke. Waiting for…for his pig. Yeah, pig fucker, fuck. Such a fucking pig. You pause, reach around behind and finger your hole while you grope your short, pig cock, snorting and grunting. But you can cum later, you need to get down to him now. Take another step.

You can’t feel the wood on your feet anymore…but of course you can’t, you’re in your gear. Rubber stretched tight across your body, making you sweat even more, making you pant, making you stroke your piggy cock faster, hurry down another step.

Can’t wait to see him, can’t wait to see your master, can’t wait to taste his cock, feel his piss in your beard, can’t wait to serve him, the last step, now, feel the concrete, but fall to your knees because there he is, waiting with his pipe for his pig to arrive, but you’re here now, you’re here and you’ll never leave. He comes closer to you, and some small part of you is scared. Something just happened to you, something wrong, but what? You’re mind is too slow, too focused on the collar glinting in the smoke. He puts the leather around your neck, and you can feel the terror in you reaching a fever pitch. Why can’t you move? Why aren’t you doing anything, why—

The collar cinches tight. Your mind is empty. Master’s cock is there, and you salivate, drool running down into your beard.

“May I sir?”

“Of course, slave.”