Deal of a Lifetime (Part 4)

The hotel was large enough that it served as an anchor for a couple of restaurants–the first was a much more highbrow affair, and while Carmichael simply knew he would have to sample it’s fair at some point this weekend, he decided on the other restaurant for his first meal–a more casual restaurant with a bar inside. His piggy was growing a bit restless, and he always had a better chance of finding someone for his piggy if he stuck out a bit. It was slightly early for dinner, but a number of other bears were there, scattered around the restaurant, most of them eating as well, but Carmichael neither joined them, nor found any of them particularly intriguing. He asked the hostess to seat him at a small table with a clear view of the concourse of the hotel, giving him a good view of men walking past–as well as giving them all a clear view of him. He ordered a bevy of appetizers for himself–including a couple plates of wings so he could make a mess of himself, and when they arrived, he ripped into the food–after tucking his napkin into his shirt like a bib. He’d never really been able to contain himself around food; the messiest side of himself always seemed to come out, no matter what he did.

The people around him kept glancing at him, a bit aghast at the massive man stuffing himself at the table there, and knowing how disgusted they found him made his cock harden and leak a bit in his slacks. He would occasionally look around and meet their stare, daring them to come over and say something, encouraging them to come play with him, but none of the men at the tables answered his desire. If anything, they seemed embarrassed, and by the time he moved onto his entrees he was becoming a bit discouraged–but then he walked by.

One of three young muscle cubs who were obviously acquaintances. They were all wearing some variation on shorts and tanks, displaying their wares, giving the men a peek at what they might find underneath if they were worthy. A great snort escaped from him, as he chowed down, loud enough to draw their attention, and while all three gaped at him in utter disgust, one of them in particular stood out to him. Finally, someone interesting. He locked eyes with him a moment, and unlike the others around him, he didn’t flinch away–he stared right back, the utter disgust apparent in his eyes, and he only turned away when one of the other young men got his attention, and they continued on their way–but Carmichael knew he’d made an excellent first impression–he’d be back soon enough.

He finished his three entrees and ordered a trio of desserts. With these, he took his time. He no longer needed to perform as grotesquely as before, now that someone had taken the bait. His cock was hard and quivering with excitement, but it wasn’t until the young man walked back past the restaurant–no longer in the company of his two friends–saw Carmichael still stuffing himself, sneered, and walked over.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you one of those fucking gainers? Is that what you’re fucking doing? Because it’s fucking disgusting, and you should be fucking ashamed of yourself,” he said, standing across from Carmichael.

The insult brought a sharp, erotic heat to his groin, and Carmichael moaned, mouth full of cake as he did.

“You fucking piece of shit, did that fucking turn you on?” he asked.

Carmichael nodded, slowly, watching the fury build in the young man’s eyes. Yes, he was going to be a good one.

“So that’s you’re fucking fetish? You like making a pig of yourself in public?”

“Oh, I can make a pig of myself in private too.”

“In your fucking dreams.”

“No–I know you want to. That’s why you walked over here, sir,” Carmichael said, “You get as much of a thrill from insulting me as I get from your cruelty. You want to punish me, don’t you? You want to abuse me, and humiliate me, and you’d love every moment of–”

The young man, rattled, picked up the rest of the cake and shoved it into Carmichael’s mouth, and he moaned, taking as much as he could, feeling the rest spread around his face, while the young man tried to figure out why his cock was so hard all of a sudden. He pulled his hand away, wiping it off with a dirty napkin, while Carmichael chewed the massive bite, and swallowed it. “Goodness sir, this pig wants to play with you real bad.”

“Fuck you. I wouldn’t touch you with a ten foot pole.”

“No sir,” Carmichael said, a strange sternness slipping into his voice, “We’re going to go up to your room, and you’re going to play with this little piggy, because that’s what you want. You want to abuse me, to use me, to rape me. Well here is your chance. What do you say, sir?”

The young man tried to speak, he tried to deny it, but…but it was true. He’d never once imagined having sex with someone who looked like this, this fat, old ugly fuck, but looking at him, standing right here, suddenly…it was all he could think about. “Get up then.”

“No sir–help me finish dessert first, and then we can go.”

“What?”

“Stuff my face like you’re going to stuff my holes. I know you want to. Show the rest of these people what a pig I am. Think of it as a warm up.”

So he did, standing there. He shoved the rest of the food on the table right into Carmichael’s mouth, listening to his grunt and snort, wondering what it the world he was doing–and when every plate was licked clean, Carmichael paid his sizable bill, left ample gratuity for the embarrassed staff, and the young man led him up to his room to play.

Deal of a Lifetime (Part 3)

“Oh my dear heavens, this can’t possibly be real…”

Carmichael was in the hotel room’s bathroom, staring at himself in the mirror. Staring at a reflection he’d never seen before in his life, but which he somehow knew was…him. But this couldn’t be him. This couldn’t be him…He didn’t want to be this!

The pain had eased up after a few minutes, leaving him gasping and panting on the floor, clutching himself. He’d managed to use the side of the bed to help heave himself back up–but it had been a struggle. For one thing, every joint in his body suddenly ached–not from the pain that he’d just been through, but from age–and from the fact that he was no longer 220 pounds with a potbelly–he was easily closer to 400, or more. He got himself righted and just stared down at himself, at the sheer mass spilling over him, and stifled a scream, managing to waddle into the bathroom instead, where he’d been staring at himself for the last few minutes, unable to believe what, or rather who, he was looking at.

He was looking at himself. He was looking at Carmichael Emmett Fields, a sixty-seven year old retired insurance salesman who was now living off his sizable retirement account. He enjoyed his groceries, and was resting at around 460 pounds or so, after his last visit to his physician, but surprisingly enough he was still healthy as a horse, much to the doctor’s disbelief. His size was only exacerbated by his short height of five foot four inches. Still, the image before him was…blurry for some reason, and he couldn’t quite make out the details of himself–one hand fished around on the counter in front of him, searching for something, and after a moment found his glasses, and he put them on–the world coming back into true focus, and then he did scream.

“No–No, no no…” he said quietly, shaking his head, watching his three chins sway slightly with the movement. The short beard he’d had was gone–replaced with just a walrus like mustache covering his upper lip, and leaving nothing below to the imagination. He looked bloated and puffy, with full jowls and deep crow’s feet around his eyes. His hair had receded badly and was completely white on the fringe that remained. “No, this will not stand–I am not going to be some old, fucking pig!” he said to the mirror, but as he did, he felt a sudden heat in his groin, his old cock hardening deep in his gunt.

He was old. He was disgusting. Fuck, he was repulsive! One hand grabbed a meaty, flabby teat of his, tugging on the full nipple, while the other reached under his fat, digging around for his short, stubby cock which he could barely reach any longer, but fuck, looking at how ugly he was always had turned him on helplessly, he was such a pig. He tried to resist, to stop himself, but instead he humiliated himself in front of the mirror, jacking off, watching his fat heave to and fro, his smooth, hairless body shining with sweat until he came with a pant and a groan into his hand, pulled it out and licked up the cum. Now…what had he been doing again? Carmichael’s gut rumbled. Dinner! Of course–but he couldn’t go down looking like this mess. Instead, he hoped into the shower, hosing himself down carefully, enjoying the feel of his body hanging off him, and how much space he took up in the sizable tub. Once finished, he dried off well, combed down his mustache and what remained of his hair, and went to get dressed.

He was surprised to see the clothes he’d arrived in just lying there on the floor, and he quickly hung them back up before picking out another one of his suits for the evening, excited to get amongst the bears, excited to see who would be disgusted by him the most, and–

Carmichael shook his head, wondering where that thought had come from, oddly disturbed by that train of thought, but for reasons he couldn’t quite explain. Still, dinner came first, regardless, or perhaps he’d find someone interesting in the restaurant downstairs and kill two birds with one stone. He dressed himself in his massive briefs and undershirt, then his dress shirt–the starched collar cutting into his flabby neck in the most delightfully uncomfortable manner, and then his pants pulled up over his belly and held in place with his suspenders–and lastly his suit coat, socks and shoes–always the hardest part for a man of his size, but looking in the mirror, he felt like…himself, but something was still…amiss. Something gnawing at him, trying to remind him…

He looked around the room and spied his pipe box. Of course! How could he have been so thoughtless as to forget that. Still, while he’d chosen a smoking room for himself, he couldn’t very well smoke elsewhere in the hotel–instead, he slipped the smaller of the two pipes–his piggy pipe as he referred to it–into his breast pocket as well as a small pouch of tobacco and his necessary tools, in case he should meet someone of interest while he ate. He always seemed to find interesting men while he ate to be honest, but then again, his appetite was one of his most appaling qualities. His cock shivered again at the thought, thought of the pipe in his pocket, but he contained himself. “Calm yourself, little piggy,” Carmichael said to himself in the mirror, “We’ll find someone for you to play with soon enough.”

You might live in suburbia, but it didn’t always feel like it, from where you lived. You could see your neighbors, sure, but your property backed up onto a nice wooded area and undeveloped wetland which still gave it a nice sense of nature. Unfortunately, soon after you moved in, you heard from your neighbors that part of the natural fauna of periurban space were the homeless. Still, they never seemed to bother anyone, and people in the neighborhood seemed reluctant to go into the wetlands all the same. It wasn’t really considered…safe, for reasons none of them could really describe, but you figured they were just scared for no real reason. After all, even if they were homeless they were people too, and so you would take your short walks through the woods, often with a backpack ready to hand out water or a snack if you should happen across anyone who needed it.

In fact, you never really saw a soul out there, but that didn’t stop you from getting the eeriest sensation that someone was watching your every move while you were within the treeline. You assumed it was just your imagination getting the better of you, the stories your neighbors told about some of the strange folk they’d seen here getting the better of you. But over time, the sensation became…more curious, and it wasn’t too much longer before, as you were walking through the woods, you came upon an older man leaning against a tree in raggedy clothes–a long coat and jumpsuit, but under the jumpsuit he had on some leather straps, and the jumpsuit was unzipped down, revealing no underwear and an erect cock.

You backtracked as quick as you could, but now you were seeing others surrounding you on all sides, all of them filthy, and all of them leering at you lustfully, most stroking their cocks as they approached. You tried to talk to them, but they ambushed you, stole your pack, ripped your clothes off of you, and they all started…grabbing at your flesh, at your cock, tugging at your hair, licking your face, feeling your ass–

You scrambled up and ran for your house as fast as you could, breaking through the treeline with the men pursuing you, running to the sliding glass door and trying to pry it open, but it wouldn’t bugde. You know you’d left it unlocked–hell, you’d left it open aside from the screen, hadn’t you? You look around, but is this even your house? Then–in the glass window you see your reflection, and nearly scream. Who is that? That can’t be you, can it? The reflection looks to be an old man in his late fifties, short with a underdeveloped chest and bulging, taut gut coated with white hair. A huge, bushy beard and matted hair–you miss the rest as someone else comes down to the door, sees you, and screams.

You flee back into the woods, but they’re waiting for you. They pin you down and fully initiate you, seeding you with their cum, your memories fading. You can no longer even remember the house you lived in, you can’t remember anything at all about that life you knew you had, only this new one lying before you, as they dress you in filthy, cast off clothing and drag you deeper into the wetlands.

Green Energy (Early Version) | Wesley Bracken on Patreon

wesleybracken:

All right, so it’s October, and usually that means something Halloween themed. I wanted to have the next chunk of Halloween at Pigtown finished up for this month, but that wasn’t in the cards, so we’ll have to go with Orctober instead!

This is a story I’ve had sitting around for a while now, which I keep wanting to revise and rework fairly substantially, but I just haven’t quite found the time to do it yet–though I plan on getting to work on it soon. It’s going to look pretty substantially different from this version here when all’s said and done. It’s also a long one, to make up for the fact that last month’s bonus piece was a bit on the short side.

A quick summary: a young man discovers that a energy drink mix sent by a friend of his has some rather strange side effects. His friend thinks he’s prepared for everything that’s going to happen, but it turns out the mysterious company selling the powder has plans for them both. Contains orcs, muscle growth, weight gain, musk, watersports, rape, and dumbing.

The story is available for anyone contributing $5 or more per month to my Patreon account! If you aren’t contributing and would like to do so, the link above will help you out. You also get access to a sizable archive of unreleased and unfinished stories in my archive as a nice bonus!

For those of you who might have missed this yesterday, I have a new story up on Patreon for my supporters! If you haven’t thought about supporting me yet, keep in mind that a new $5 pledge will get you access to this story, as well as every previous bonus story I’ve posted to Patreon over the last year, as well as my archive of unreleased and unfinished work!

Green Energy (Early Version) | Wesley Bracken on Patreon

Deal of a Lifetime (Part 2)

“So wait–you take that part of me,” Carl pointed at the cage, “And I get…something else instead? But what do I get?”

The man laughed, “Ah, well, I’m afraid that’s dealer’s choice. I don’t take money, I’m afraid–I provide this service because I enjoy it. Because I like helping men like yourself live more interesting and exciting lives, but you shouldn’t focus on what you will be if you take the deal–think about what you’ll be if you don’t.” He gave the cage a kick, and the thing in there yelped. “Do you really want to let this thing control your life anymore? Look at where it’s gotten you–fucking nowhere, and you were going nowhere fast. Let’s be fucking honest, Carl–you were never going to go down to that pool. You might get drunk and have an awkward, terrible hookup with some rando, but then it’s back to the wife, back to straight acting, back to being a coward.”

“It wasn’t…that bad.”

“Oh please, you don’t have to defend the thing. We both know you were miserable. You know that anything would be better than that–admit it.”

“Please, ya can’t!” it said, gripping the bars, “We got a whole life tahgether! Ya can’t just throw it all away, don’t that terrify ya?”

Surprisingly, it didn’t terrify him at all, actually. The very idea of just being free thrilled him. He could finally be free of everything that he’d always believed to be holding him back…but that didn’t make him any less leery of trusting the man. “If I don’t like it, can I get my old life back?”

“Sorry, but I don’t offer refunds or exchanges. If you take the deal–that’s what you get. I can promise you, that if you accept it, you’ll love it before too long–you won’t even be able to imagine things being different. This old life of yours will just seem like a distant, terrible dream.”

“But what do you get out of this?” Carl asked, “I mean, why do it?”

The man scowled a bit, “If you don’t want to take me up on the offer, I’ll just let him back out, and be on my way.” A key appeared in his hand and he went to unlock the cage, the other him inside, that terrible bundle of everything he hated, started clawing at the door, desperate to be free again, and the terror that welled up in him at the thought of living with that thing still, especially knowing he had a chance to be rid of it–he hurried over and stopped him from unlocking the padlock. “No! No…I’ll take the deal.”

“Ya fuck! How could ya do this tah me, ya fucker!” the thing in the cage screamed, but the man smiled.

“That’s a good man,” the stranger said, and shook Carl’s hand, “Looks like we have ourselves a deal. Now let me introduce you to your new companion.”

Carl heard something between a grunt and a squeal as some massive thing barrelled into him from behind, pinning him down, and then he was flailing in the covers, awake again, sitting up on the bed, panting, wondering what in the world he’d just dreamt. Had that been real, or just some fucked up fantasy his mind had created? He certainly didn’t feel any different–or look any different…but maybe there was one way he could test it.

“My name is Carl Fields, and holy hell, I sound like a normal fucking person!” he exclaimed. His accent was gone, just like in the dream–could it have actually been real then? But what about the end of it? If the trade really had happened, then what had he gotten in exchange? Whatever it was, it didn’t seem to have done anything to him or changed him thus far–but what he really felt like doing was hitting that pool, and hitting on a few guys. The shame and terror which had kept him glued to his room thus far had evaporated, and he wanted to get out there. He got off the bed, but doubled over, his stomach cramping with a sudden cramp of hunger–and all he could think of was food. Hunger, starvation–he needed to eat before anything else! Still, he couldn’t very well go downstairs naked. The clothes he’d had on earlier–jeans and a grubby Carhartt t-shirt with a leather Harley jacket–were lying there on the floor. He bent down to pick them up, but as soon as he grabbed them, he saw the fabric…shudder and shift in his hands, changing into something else entirely. The jeans softened, becoming a flimsier pinstripe fabric even as they grew–tripling in size, suspenders appearing where his belt had been moments before. His shirt cleaned up, sleeves growing to full length as the front split, becoming a button down with a stiff collar, and his jacket turned into a suit coat matching the pattern of his pants. “What in all goodness is this? I don’t remember wearing anything like this before…and this certainly isn’t my size–they’re all much too large for me…” he said, but his voice had shifted, becoming stiff–almost snobby and a bit nasal. Something was definitely happening to him–but what?

The pain in his stomach struck him again, even more violently, crumpling him to the floor, but it was the pain in his mind which was even worse. There was someone–or something–inside of him. Something new. It had spent the last couple of minutes realizing that it was free, that it was back in a real body, and now it felt like it was storming through him, rearranging the furniture of his body and mind to it’s personal fancy, and all Carl could do was find every scrap of himself he could and hold on tight, hoping and praying he might still recognize himself when this was finished–hoping that he’d still want to be himself when this was finished, hoping that he hadn’t just made the worst deal of his entire life.

Deal of a Lifetime (Part 1)

All the planning, all the lying, all the panic and stress and upset, and he was here, and he was so fucking nervous, all he could do was stand on the balcony looking down at the hotel pool where every bear had converged the moment the convention started. All of them aside from Carl, or at least that’s how it seemed. He got another buzz from his pocket, and checked his phone–another couple of notifications from growlr, another couple of guys down there who wanted to know where he was, if he was down to fuck, if he had that camo hunting gear from his profile photo with him, and if he’d dress up for them. He’d dreamed of this for so long, he’d dreamed of finally taking a chance, slipping away, and being here where he could be…himself, but all he felt was paralyzed. He was only 50 miles from home, people knew he was here (not here, of course, at the convention, but here visiting a “cousin” he hadn’t seen in some years). What if someone saw him? What if someone else from town was here too? He looked up from the pool, and his gut bottomed out, when he saw someone on a balcony opposite his staring at him.

He…wasn’t quite Carl’s type–he liked a guy with a bit more chub and padding than the muscular fucker there looking at him, but the sheer…masculine confidence the guy was exuding made Carl feel both insecure and incredibly turned on. He met his eyes for a few moments, but couldn’t for longer than that, and no longer felt comfortable standing there, just being…ogled. He retreated back into his room, stared at the swimsuit he’d laid out on the bed, thought about it again, and then just sat down on the edge, wondering why he was doing any of this. He was too desperate to be out that he couldn’t handle pretending to be that straight redneck one more day, but he’s too terrified of being found out and losing what little he had to do anything with the opportunity he’d taken. He felt…trapped. Still, he should at least…give it a try…

He yawned, his eyes fluttering a bit. Maybe he should take a nap. It had been a long drive, and he’d feel better after some rest, he was sure. He stripped down naked, finding it harder and harder to keep his eyes open, the room was spinning around him, and he fell back onto the bed askew, his entire body feeling impossibly heavy. Dimmy, he thought he heard the sound of his hotel room door opening and closing again, along with the sound of footsteps. He tried to call out, but he was just so sleepy all of a sudden, and the last thing he saw, before his eyes flickered shut, was the face of the man from the other balcony looming over his, a bright twinkle in his steel grey eyes as Carl fell into a deep sleep.

When he opened his eyes again, after what felt like a single blink, he wasn’t in the hotel room anymore. Hell, he wasn’t…anywhere. There was just a dark expanse all around him, with no discernible light source, but he could still…see something there, a few yards away, though it was difficult to make out what it was, exactly. He walked over towards it, and figured out that it was a cage–rather small, large enough for a big dog for a small human–and there was something inside of it–no, someone inside of it. It shuffled around as he approached, revealing itself to be a naked, middle aged man, but when their eyes met–no, how could that be possible.

“Please, jus’ let me out! This was a fuckin’ mistake, jus’ go home–ya can still pretend that this never happened, ya can still be a good husband tah Erin.”

It was himself. He was in the cage, but he was also standing here too. He didn’t quite know how to explain what he was witnessing, trying to process it, trying to figure out some way to reply, when a heavy hand rested down on his shoulder. He looked behind him, and found himself with the man from the balcony across the way. “Hello Carl–I see you’ve already been introduced to yourself.”

“Don’t listen tah him–don’t fuckin’ listen tah him, just fuckin’ git me outta here!”

“I don’t…understand…” Carl said, and noticed that his voice was missing its usual accent–the same one the thing in the cage had. He’d always hated it, thinking it made him sound like an idiot, and suddenly it was just gone?

“I’ll do my best to keep this rather simple, Carl–for both of you,” the stranger walked over to the cage, the version of himself in there trying to shrink away from him, cowering in fear, “Carl–I’m a…merchant of sorts, but I don’t deal in conventional goods. No, I deal in people’s lives, their souls, their desires. See Carl, from the moment I saw you earlier, I knew you’d be perfect for my service. Haven’t you always felt so…trapped by your life? Unable to really let go and be free? Held back by…well…everything that’s in here?” he said, laying a hand on the top of the cage. “My offer is simple–I take this part of you, and in exchange, I give you something to replace it. A new life.”

“You mean…I’ll be someone else?”

“Mostly. I mean, I’m not taking all of you, so everything here?” the man said, pointing to the version of Carl outside the cage, “You’ll still be there, but everything in here will be gone, and you’ll have one of my exquisitely crafted personas instead to help you and guide you to a brand new life.”

Green Energy (Early Version) | Wesley Bracken on Patreon

All right, so it’s October, and usually that means something Halloween themed. I wanted to have the next chunk of Halloween at Pigtown finished up for this month, but that wasn’t in the cards, so we’ll have to go with Orctober instead!

This is a story I’ve had sitting around for a while now, which I keep wanting to revise and rework fairly substantially, but I just haven’t quite found the time to do it yet–though I plan on getting to work on it soon. It’s going to look pretty substantially different from this version here when all’s said and done. It’s also a long one, to make up for the fact that last month’s bonus piece was a bit on the short side.

A quick summary: a young man discovers that a energy drink mix sent by a friend of his has some rather strange side effects. His friend thinks he’s prepared for everything that’s going to happen, but it turns out the mysterious company selling the powder has plans for them both. Contains orcs, muscle growth, weight gain, musk, watersports, rape, and dumbing.

The story is available for anyone contributing $5 or more per month to my Patreon account! If you aren’t contributing and would like to do so, the link above will help you out. You also get access to a sizable archive of unreleased and unfinished stories in my archive as a nice bonus!

Green Energy (Early Version) | Wesley Bracken on Patreon

Reflections on Vanity (2 of 2)

Fuck, when my phone notified me and I had all those fucking pictures of my sexy nephew right there–I just about came in my pants. I’d been saving this fucking mirror for him–I’ve had it in my collection for years, waiting for him to grow up into the cutest little cub, and now he was mine–not that he knew that yet. I waited in the apartment complex for him to get home and go inside, and gave him five minutes before slipping in after him for another session–and there he was, jaw dropped, eyes glazed over, just staring at himself in the mirror, and I got to work on his softening mind all over again, molding him day after day, watching him change little by little into exactly who I wanted him to be.

He started to enjoy my company more and more, and soon I’d come over every day. Something about me–he suddenly enjoying my presence, my eyes staring at him, my touch would make him shiver. He liked the attention, and soon, after a month, he was becoming a bit of a narcissist–obsessed with himself, but desperate for other people to stare at him too–especially me. He started working out–I didn’t want him to lose all that softness, but he needed to tone up a bit for what I had in mind. See, he was starting to do badly in his classes. He’d always been a good student, but now he just couldn’t focus. He scraped by the first semester with C’s, but by the spring, he knew what he was. Stupid. Just a pretty cub with an empty head, desperate for his sexy old uncle to stare at him, to watch him dance, to fuck those tight holes of his.

He flunked out and dropped out that spring, but he didn’t care about that anymore. No, he cared about things that really mattered–his sexy body, making sure his stupid head stayed empty, and obeying and pleasing his sexy uncle. Oh? He just sent me another selfie–looking good, right? It’s his first night at the club–he’s so excited. Come on–I promised all my pervy old friends would be there to cheer him on tonight, and then just wait for the after party at his place–we’re all going to give that cub a night he’ll never forget.

Source: myhuskymen.nibblebit.com

Reflections on Vanity (1 of 2)

It seemed like a really strange birthday present, to be honest. I mean, who in the world gives someone a mirror for their birthday? But my uncle has never really been the most normal of people–there’s a reason my parents never really went over to his house. It’s just crammed with junk. He says he’s a collector, but he never could explain what, exactly, he was collecting. When that show hoarders came out, we realized what might be happening and tried to have an intervention, but he fought tooth and nail, refusing to give up anything. Old, chubby, a bit of a miser, and honestly? A bit of a creep too. But he was family, and so I took the mirror with a smile, surprised he’d been willing to part with any of his junk at all.

I was just going to leave it in a closet or something, but he came over the next day and insisted he help me hang it on the wall in my room, and I couldn’t very well say no. I figured I’d just take it down when he left, but reconsidered. It was my first year living alone, and he’d generously offered to help with the rent at the apartment where I was living alone while going to college, so I couldn’t really afford to be ungrateful to the guy, even if that meant he had a habit of dropping in randomly, using the spare key to let himself in.

But one he was gone, and I was in my room alone, the thing was…captivating. Something about how the surface caught the light. I took a selfie with it, mostly for a laugh…but then things got weird. I didn’t remember much of the next few hours, but I do now I sat in my room, looking at myself in the mirror, and masturbated…just…staring at myself. I swear I could hear someone whispering in my ear, but I told myself it was nothing.

But a few days later, scrolling through my albums on my phone, I found pages and pages of nudes I’d taken that day, all of them in that mirror. I couldn’t remember taking any of them, and I’d always been more of a modest guy, so I deleted them and resolved to take that mirror down when I got home from class…but things only got worse from there.

Was that the end for stinkers? I was really hoping for one more chapter where we get to see the fully transformed Eric.

Yeah, that was the end of what I have written. I thought about another chapter like you mention, but it just felt a bit…gratuitous and self-indulgent? There also wasn’t exactly much plot left to run on either, so it would have just been some sloggy description and maybe some sex scenes that didn’t add much to anything, beyond confirming what everyone can tell is going to happen if I end it here.

Honestly, I’m a lot more interested in writing a story about how someone gets to a new body/life, than I am in describing that new body/life once they’ve reached it. Once the transformation or control is complete, the story loses erotic force for me and I become a bit disinterested in drawing anything out.

Now that I’ve said that, I should add that I really liked writing both this one and the last version of Stinkers, so this certainly isn’t the last you’ll see of this in particular. This whole story, for example, would fit excellently into the framework of City of Bears as a starting point for something much longer. So chances are this isn’t the last we’ve seen of Eric, and his story will get embellished and extended somewhere along the line.