Month: July 2017

Use It or Lose It (Part 1 & 2)

Sorry for the missed post yesterday! Today’s will be a double to make up for it.

“You told my son that masturbation will make his penis shrink, and you’re accusing me of being immature?” she said, resisting the urge to shriek, but losing to her anger at Mr. Randal Gray, the health teacher and wrestling coach sitting across from her. “I thought your job is to educate our children, not flat out lie to them!”

“Ms. Eleway,” he said, emphasizing the fact that the mother had no weding ring, and without a man, no real standing in his eyes, “The bible is clear that masturbation, and lust, are sins. Sex and ejaculation are for procreation, not recreation! A little fib here and there is worth the preservation of innocence, in my eyes. Besides, it’s motivation! The only men who need to masturbate are worthless lazy slob who are too ugly to get any action–is that who you want your son to be?”

“This is a public school–it’s facts that matter, not your fucking beliefs!” she seethed, “I’ll fucking report you to the school board.”

Mr. Gray scoffed, and leaned back, flexing slightly against the polo he wore. “Well before you do, maybe sit on a nice thick cock, you fucking cunt,” he said, groping himself, “because that’s obviously what you need to sort your issues out.”

She glared at him, and stalked off. She was bluffing–they almost always were bluffing. And if they did call the school board? Well, half of them attended the same massive chruch he did–things would get swept under the rug as usual. God always wins in the end. It was improper of him to use such coarse language at a woman, but she had cursed at him first, and more importantly, she fucking deserved it.

Thankfully, the rest of the teachers’ communal office space was empty, aside from a few stragglers, so there had been no witnesses. Randal packed up his gear and headed towards the gym–the bitch had made him late for practice on top of everything else, and he believed in setting a good example for the youth. After all, masturbation didn’t actually shrink your cock, but abstinance was still best–goodness, he jacked off one a year at most–and that was plenty. Of course, his wife put out every night like a good christian slut should, so it wasn’t like he was lacking in action. He ran the young men a bit harder than usual, to make up for his tardiness, and then went home. He felt an odd shiver up his spine after dinner, while playing with one of his daughter’s, but forgot about it by the time he and his wife went to bed. He fucked her slower than usual, making her moan properly around his ten inch cock–thinking about that bitch from earlier while he did. He came in deep, and then pulled out. She rolled away, not expecting Randal to do anymore for her, and he fell asleep quickly–only to wake up again a few hours later with a raging hardon.

Still, that was no problem–he had a cunt to fuck after all. He tried to rouse her, but she was deep asleep, and the way she was curled up didn’t allow for…easy use. He rolled back over, determined to just ignore it, but the desire only grew. He reached down, and found himself fondling it, wondering how long it had been since he’d last jacked off. Months, at least, if not a year. What was the harm, really, in a little self pleasure? Still, heaven forbid his wife should hear him–he slipped out of bed and headed for the bathroom, locking the door behind him, and on the toilet he stoked himself. It took longer than he’d expected it to, but it felt wonderful–better than the sex he’d been having lately. She’d taken to being a dead fish, uninterested in him, just…letting him do his business. But his hand…knew him, somehow. Stifling a groan, he exploded. He wasn’t prepared for the size of it, as it shot across the small room and splattered on the wall opposite the toilet. He felt…good. Sleepy as well, and a bit exhausted, sure, and a little…wore out? It was hard to describe, exactly.

He got off the toilet and cleaned up his mess with some wads of toilet paper, and flushed away the evidence, before going to the sink to wash his hands. In the mirror…something seemed off about his reflection. As a gym teacher, he’d always kept his body in solid form, even as he’d gotten older. He’d crossed fifty a few years back, and had only resolved to work harder…but it seemed like some of his gains had disappeared. His gut was bigger, and looked to be more of a potbelly. His arms lacked definition as well, and his chest was flabby. His smooth face looked unshaven, and his hairline had receded more than he recalled. He dried his hands and stared at himself, certain he’d looked better earlier. Still, he’d get himself back into shape–he’d done it before. That, or maybe age was just finally catching up to him. He went back to bed, and the worries didn’t stop him from sleeping–he awoke the next day, and while his appearance hadn’t improved in the night, it at least seemed more…normal to him. What wasn’t normal, was that he was horny again.

Of course, being horny wasn’t an issue itself–Randal was horny often. But what he wanted…was to jack off again. In the shower, he tried to resist, but couldn’t stop himself. The load wasn’t as powerful as the one before, in the night, but it also didn’t leave him feeling tired like that one had either. He was a bit worried, when he got out, that he’d…be different again, but nothing had changed–though he did notice one more thing. Stroking himself in the shower, his cock had seemed…off, and sure enough, when he measured it, it was shorter than before–nine inches, instead of ten. Still, he could worry about that later–he was running late. He got his clothes on, surprised how well they fit despite his body being so off his usual form, and headed to school for another day.

He got to his desk and set down his things, but found an odd note on the desk, written in careful script on a blank piece of parchment:

One inch down. Keep up your new habit, or what you teach will keep coming true.

Randal looked around, but none of the other teachers were looking at him. He asked a few, if they’d seen someone leave anything on his desk, but the early arrivers hadn’t seen anyone come or go since they’d gotten in. What could the note mean? It was probably just some weird prank by some of the kids at school. He threw the note in the trash, and got ready for the day. Still, he found himself…getting hornier throughout the day, and once at lunch, and again after school, before practice, he slipped into the bathroom and jacked off again. He was starting to become a bit…worried, actually. This wasn’t healthy–he didn’t need to jack off, he had a wife to fuck, right? Still, he couldn’t resist the urge, once more in the evening, and when he and his wife climbed into bed–it was the first time in months that they didn’t have sex. He just…didn’t feel like it, and from the way she’d been looking at him, so disinterested, it was clear that she had no interest either.

It kept him up at night, all the same. It was his Christian duty, wasn’t it? Best to nip this habit right in the bud–no more jacking off. It had been a mistake to give into temptation the night before, but he was strong. His cock wasn’t going to control him! He did manage to fall asleep again, and slept soundly through the night, but when he woke up, his cock was erect…and plenty eager. He tried to suggest a morning round of sex with his wife, but she insisted that she had to be at work early. He chastized her for refusing him, but she just blew him off–the reaction stunned him. No one treated him like that, especially not his own wife! They fought that morning, and he insisted she was going to fuck him that evening, or else. She left, he moped–thought about jacking off, but resisted the urge. He was going to save it for the bitch later, he told himself.

It was Friday, and Randal was as distracted as his students–though for different reasons. He’d managed fairly well through the morning, but by lunchtime, his horniness had grown…insistant. He’d tried to find ways to stand in front of the class to disguise his tent, but he’d heard a couple of snickers–after an uncomfortable lunch, he taught the afternoon classes from his desk, to avoid further embarrassment. There was no practice that afternoon, at least, but after packing his things at his desk, he’d decided he couldn’t stand it any longer. One quick shot wasn’t going to do any harm, certainly. In the bathroom, he wrapped his hand around his cock, and once again…the experience was different than usual. It was like that first time, the day before last in the middle of the night. His cock wasn’t simply eager–it was almost aflame with desire. As quiet as he was trying to be, he couldn’t help but release a few moans into the air, but as quick as he tried to make the session, it dragged on. His cock seemed to rest on the edge forever, but finally he managed to push himself over the edge, a load even larger than that first one spilling out of him, onto the stall door, onto the tile floor. He was left sitting, shaking, feeling like an earthquake had passed through him.

Still–he’d needed that, apparently more than he’d realized. Cleaning up as best he could with the single ply the school provided, he left the stall…afraid to look at himself in the mirror when he washed his hands, but nothing seemed to have changed. His stubble was a bit thicker, perhaps, but beyond that, everything looked…normal to him. Happy, he gathered up his things, got in his car and drove off, but as he did, he found himself growing more and more confused. His hands, and his memories–they weren’t taking him where he was supposed to be going, or at least not to the home he could recall with his wife and three daughters. Instead they drove him to a rundown apartment complex in a much cheaper part of town, and parked in a covered spot, like he belonged here.

But he didn’t belong here, right? He got out with his things, still not completely in control of himself, but unable to explain how he knew that, and walked up to one of the buildings, to the second floor, and there, on one of the doors, was a parchment note, similar to the one he’d received the day before:

“Two inches gone–and quite a bit more this time. If you keep resisting, things will only get worse. Don’t worry, your wife and daughters will have a much happier life without you, and you only need your hand now, right?”

He fumbled with his keys–the house key he’d had was gone, replaced by another, which opened the door in front of him. Inside, he found…his apartment. An apartment he could suddenly recall perfectly, as those other memories of a house and a family began to dissolve like a dream. The air was stale, and there was another smell too, that he knew he should be able to recall, but couldn’t. Still, it couldn’t be real–what was happening to him? He looked for the note on the door, but it had disappeared, and his terror was relaxing as well. He was home, right? Shouldn’t he feel…comfortable?

He shut the door, and stripped off his clothes–down to his underwear. That was better–he liked being alone after all–no one to worry about impressing. Plus he could jack off whenever he wanted! That had to be a plus, right? In fact, he was pretty horny right now. He sat down in his recliner and pulled out his cock, to stroke it. This was wrong–he knew this was wrong. The shame was there, but it wasn’t enough to stop him from shooting a load all over his gut. He wiped it off…and noticed something else, as his cock started to soften. It was shorter–again. Eight inches now, when he measured it later. Still, it seemed normal enough that perhaps he was mistaken. He jacked off another couple of times, and then fell asleep in his bed, alone.

I Dream of Bacchus (Part 8)

Raury stared at the man, feeling all of his desires welling up, both earnest and twisted, and he nodded. He didn’t care–he needed him. If he could have Jared, then everything else would be fine, he was certain. The beasts raised a great cry of joy and excitement, and the music picked up again, a new tune, and Jared kept dancing, faster now–wild and crazed–in the clearing, surrounded by beasts. The song was similar to the one before, when Aarin and Jared had fucked in front of him–it had far more power and force behind it than their usual music, and even Raury found himself jiggling and swaying to the beat where he was lying on his throne, guzzling wine. He would catch a glimpse of Jared’s eyes every few cycles, and they were wide with terror and confusion, though it wasn’t long before his concerns faded away, the beasts coming closer, nearly blocking him from Raury’s view. It was just a mass of flesh and fur, hand and hoof, until with a great clamour the beasts stopped and retreated back, leaving…something else in the midst of them, something not even Raury had seen before, in the thicket.

His first thought was that it had to be a centaur of some kind, but that wasn’t quite right. The beastly thing was bent over on all fours, with the rump and ass of a donkey, including a tail still swishing along to the beat that had been playing moments before. The torso was still human however, and the face, while twisted somewhat, was recognizably Jared’s. Still, it was clear that not much of Jared’s mind remained–the beast’s eyes were crazed and hungry, and when it caught sight of Raury, of its Bacchus, his low hanging donkey balls began to churn, and his massive cock slid free of his sheath. “My Bacchus, my great, beautiful Bacchus. Please, I was wrong, let me serve you, let be one of your beasts!” it cried and stumbled forward, not quite certain how to make his new body work right, but Raury was all too happy to oblige his lover. He rolled over and presented his ass for the donkeyman, and after a bit of work, Jared managed to throw his hooved hands up on to Raury’s back, shove his cock deep into the Bacchus’ hole, and begin rutting.

Raury knew he should feel guilty, that he’d witnessed some strange, otherworldly horror, but just knowing it was Jared fucking him, rutting with him…it was worth it. After a few minutes, the donkey came, and it felt like fire burning into his guts. His body…it felt more real, the fat hanging off his body carried real heft, and the stench surrounding him was more pungent than it had ever been. He felt renewed, or perhaps ruined–it was difficult to tell. Something had changed, and while it worried him at some level, he was too thrilled to have Jared inside him again to really care.

“A new compact!”

“A new beast!”

“Our Bacchus forever, a true Bacchus!”

“What did you do to me,” Jared groaned, his cock still spewing, “What the fuck is happening to me–AWWW,” he brayed, and two satyrs pulled him free so they, too, could have a turn at Raury’s hole. He looked about for the rest of the night, when he could, trying to find Jared’s face again, but he had been swallowed into the morass of beasts servicing him. Still, he could feel them. There was a connection between them, Raury…owned him, in some strange way. He felt that, should he need him, he’d be able to bring him forward again at a moment’s notice. Once again, Jared was his, and that, at the moment, is all that mattered.

Waking came slowly–much more slowly than it ever had before, in part because it took him a while to realize he actually was awake. Before, the differences between his real body and the body of his dream had been so wide that he’d always been able to tell he was awake because he was smaller. It was no longer surprising that the massive body he’d had while asleep had suddenly felt so real to him–it was because it was real. Something had been keeping the beasts’ magic from fully affecting him, he realized–it must have been Aarin! Was this part of his plan too?

“No Bacchus, this is better now.” A satyr said, bleating on the couch beside him. He wasn’t certain if the thing was actually there with him, or just another figment of his imagination. “The gypsy, we had a deal, a temporary deal. A Bacchus for a year, to balance the burdens of his life, a punishment for you, but a small one. But a new deal! A deal for all of us! A true Bacchus–we haven’t had one in so long. But now, with you here, we can exist in your realm again! Your true servants, your lovers, your worshipers. You are our god, Bacchus, and we will find many more men, and beasts, to serve you now than we ever could before.”

Raury tried to force himself up from the couch, but his new weight was too much. In the more flexible reality of his dreams, he’d been able to move with difficulty, but the weight of reality had made him entirely immobile now.

“Don’t worry our Bacchus, just relax!” another satyr said who’d appeared, looking around the apartment, “You can hear the drums, can’t you? The others dancing, waiting to follow you? Relax and listen, dear god, and let them through–we will please you here now–you’ll never need to sleep again.”

“Please–Aarin…the gypsy…” He huffed, but speaking was difficult. He could hear the drums, and it was soothing. He allowed his head to fall back, and he could…feel how thin the world had become here. If he could just…bring the woods here, he’d be able to move, and think, and dance…right?

“Yes, our dear Bacchus–we hate him too, for trying to deny us what we truly need. We will find him, and bring him to you. He will be a beast like us, and serve you. After all, that would be true balance, would it not? Can’t you see it, Bacchus? Him as a beast like us, worshipping you, as he should have always done?”

He could see it. He could see so many things. The drums were louder now, the barrier thinner. He could lift his arms, and breathe a bit easier. Soon, they would all come through. They would all come through and together they would dance and revel in these streets, and all men would dance to him tunes, forever.

I Dream of Bacchus (Part 7)

He hid the truth from his roommate for as long as he could. He had some savings at least–if he managed it well, he’d be able to scrape by for a couple of months at least. He pretended to go to work each morning, and then would usually head for the liquor store, buy some fortified wine, and then sit in a park for most of the day, sleeping on a park bench. He felt most at home there–close to the trees, playing with the beasts, demanding they fuck his holes, and the beasts were all too happy to oblige. In the afternoon or evening, he’d return home and watch Jared get fucked by a guy or two, and then sleep–it was as close as he could get to an ideal life, he supposed, but it came to a crashing end, when Jared found a notice that they were behind on rent–Raury had skipped a payment in order to pay Jared–watching him get fucked was more important, right?

He’d had to tell him the truth, Jared was furious–Raury tried to console him. He could find another job, right? He’d be able to keep paying him, if he was just patient–but Jared stormed into his room, packed a bag of things, and said he was moving out.

“I don’t even know why I live with a disgusting fuck like you–I get offers from guys every day of the week to live with them, and at least they wouldn’t disgust me on a daily basis. If I ever fucking see you again, you’re going to fucking regret it.”

Raury pleaded with him, got on his knees and begged. “Please! I..I need you Jared, you’re all I have left. If I didn’t have you, I…I think I’d go insane, please, you can’t leave me!”

It was the truth. Jared was the only person he felt a connection to anymore. He spent the rest of his time speaking to beasts that were only real to him–everyone in the park assumed he was a lunatic, and he’d nearly gotten arrested the week before, when he’d mistaken a policeman on horseback for an especially handsome centaur, and begged the beast to fuck him. But he knew Jared was real–he was the only thing holding him here. If he didn’t have that, then who even was he?

“You’re ours, our Bacchus!” he heard the beasts shout around him. They had appeared in the apartment around them, and Raury looked around in horror, “You only need us, Bacchus, we’ll keep you happy, we promise.”

Jared stepped around him, and Raury grabbed him around the knees. He kicked him off, leaving him with a bleeding nose, and then left–slamming the door shut behind him, abandoning Raury to the beasts around him, who began to close into a ring.

“You don’t need him.”

“We’re all you need, all you want.”

“We make you happy, only we know what you need, Bacchus.”

“No!” Raury shouted, sending them all scattering back, “Him! I need him! The rest of you all get away from me, get away!” by the time he’d finished shouting, the beasts had disappeared, and all he felt instead, was loneliness–he hefted himself up, got a bottle of wine and chugged it, and chased it with another–with a couple of hours he was passed out on the couch, and again, found himself in a dream.

It had been months since he’d last experienced one so vivid. The smell of the forest, of the loam–it was welcoming, and yet, he couldn’t suppress the terror welling up in him. He wouldn’t be able to resist them for long–he knew this, but somehow, the loss of Jared had brought back some of his old sense of self. This…wasn’t the way things were supposed to be–it was Aarin’s fault, he had done this to them both, he’d cursed them. If he could just find him, maybe there was a way for him to fix this, to make it right for them both. He hadn’t really wanted to hurt anyone, with his cheating; he’d just cared more about his own satisfaction than anything else–but he could change, couldn’t he?

His feet were dragging him closer to the center of the woods now, and he could see the flicker of the beasts’ bonfires, the sound of their warped, jittery tunes. Even at his current size in this strange realm–at least 500 pounds, if not larger, rolls upon rolls of fat falling off him, he felt lighter than air, and he began to dance and skip as he approached the circle, though he hardly felt like dancing at all. The beasts were waiting; he took his honored place in the midst of them, lounging upon his pillows and carpets, expecting to be taken immediately as usual–but this was different. It wasn’t that the beasts were angry with him–but they seemed…nervous. There were fewer of them than usual, as well–he’d learned their names and forms at this point, and several of the more powerful satyrs were missing from the circle.

“We want you to be happy, Bacchus.”

“Happy with us!”

“If we do this, you have to stay, you have to become ours, forever, beyond the contract.”

Contract? He didn’t know what that meant, but before he could ask, he heard the sound of pipes, and a moment later, the missing satyrs came skipping into the clearing, and following them dancing along with the tune, was Jared. His face seemed sleepy, eyes unfocused–what was he doing here? Raury looked around, expecting Aarin to appear as well, but no one else came.

“He can be yours Bacchus.”

“We can make him yours! He will desire only you, like all of us.”

“Like us! Like us!”

I Dream of Bacchus (Part 6)

Raury was, in many ways, a sugar daddy–although he knew that if he so much as touched his young roommate, there would be hell to pay. No, Raury paid the rent, the utilities, the bills, the food–and in exchange, Jared had sex with as many men as he wanted, and gave Raury the occasional privilege of watching them fuck. It wasn’t easy–in this new life, Raury was no longer a high level executive, but just some middle manager with a greatly reduced salary, but if Jared demanded, then he found himself helpless–he’d pay anything to make him happy, even though it wounded him to know that he should be the one making Jared scream–but that was a different life now, and he had a feeling he’d never have the opportunity to get back.

Still, he sought out Aarin, tried to apologize, but the gypsy lover had since moved on to some other city, and hadn’t bothered to leave a forwarding address. Still, it would have been…manageable, he supposed, if it weren’t for his other job, the one in his dreams. At first, the time with the beasts was a welcome respite from his new life, and he’d often look forward to his nights spent in the wood with them, finding some small measure of comfort in how much the animals adored him, how they’d use him as a vessel for their pleasure, but where before he had still felt somewhat removed from them, after that final ceremony with Aarin and Jared, the link between them had intensified somehow. At first it was small changes, barely noticeable, but in time, he found himself losing his grip on reality in ways he could barely explain.

The woods simple seemed so much more real to him, after that ceremony. Even in the dark, the colors were more vibrant in the bonfirelight, the sounds clearer in the silence of the trees, the sensation of the beasts’ flesh against him more pressing than anything he’d felt with a human–well, perhaps anyone other than Jared. Every dream he could recall in immaculate detail, but his time in the waking world began to fade. He struggled to recall conversations and events from a week prior, and soon he was struggling to even feel present in the moment. The real world felt like the dream–without reason or logic, without pleasure. The only moments where he felt the world push back was when he was watching Jared get fucked–but even then, it only felt real because of the great pain they caused him still.

In the dreams, his body continued to change–it wasn’t long before he was cresting six or seven hundred pounds, reeking of manure and livestock, hair coating his entire body, feeling more and more like a beast himself. His waking form continued to disgust him, but now it was because he wasn’t as extreme as he desired, but no matter how much he tried to change himself–no matter how much he binged and drank and refused to shower–he no longer seemed to change at all. No, it was only when he was sleeping that he ever felt like himself–that he felt like he belonged.

His work started to suffer, and he was written up several times for falling asleep at his desk. He knew it should worry him, but the world no longer bore any real consequence for him. He didn’t exist here, in this office, in this city–not truly. No, his life, his reality was elsewhere now. This was now just a shadow, or a ghost, or a placeholder left over from some other world. It didn’t help matters when he noticed that the beasts were beginning to force themselves into his waking life as well. At first it was just the occasional sound, or the strong scent of musk, but soon satyrs would appear beside him at work, urging him to sleep, to come play with them, to let them serve their Bacchus. No one else could see them, but for Raury, they were fully real–so real that even when he sampled their cocks, on his knees in his cubicle, it tasted like he was there, and he’d quickly nod off for a quick fuck in the clearing.

Still, like all dreams, it didn’t seem possible that it might ever end. The constant days spent in the office melded together into a timeless mash. The men streaming into Jared’s room were endless instances of some faceless horde. How had he allowed himself to become trapped in such a nightmare? Why couldn’t he figure out how to stay home in the forest, in his real body, with his real servants, in his real life? He’d become so convinced that nothing would ever change, that when his boss finally called him into his office to tell Raury that he was being let go, it took the man three repetitions before Raury finally grasped what he was saying.

“You mean…I can go? I don’t have to come here anymore?” He grinned, “Oh god, I thought I was going to have to keep coming here forever!”

His boss just stared at him. “If you were so unhappy, then why didn’t you just quit?”

“I…I guess it just didn’t occur to me that I could do that,” Raury said, a bit bewildered himself. There was some reason he needed to have a job, right? He was certain there was something to that, but he was so happy he wouldn’t have to come back here again, that he decided to worry about that later. Instead, he cleaned out his desk in an hour, and hurried home–eager for a nice long nap–but when he arrived early and saw Jared, he realized why the job had mattered–how was he going to pay for Jared, if he didn’t have a job?

July Patreon Requests Open, and Commission Reminder! | Wesley Bracken on Patreon

It’s the start of the month again, and that means the suggestion box is back open! For anyone pitching in at least a dollar to my Patreon, you can suggest ideas for short stories (around 1000 words or so) that you’d like to see me write. I’ll be open for requests for the next four or five days or so, and I’ll let everyone know the stories I’ll be writing this month after that.

Commissions are going to be opening up soon as well! You can find more details about this here. I’ve already started working out ideas with several of you all, and I’ll be getting started on those next week too. If you’d like a commission, or if you’d like to know more about the process, feel free to message me!

July Patreon Requests Open, and Commission Reminder! | Wesley Bracken on Patreon