Frat Daddy: Interlude #5 (Jimmy/Bear)

Jimmy didn’t understand how they could all do it. Just…go along with it. Ever since Daddy had appeared and taken over the house, Jimmy had been hoping that someone would say something, or stop it, and while there were so boys would put up resistance (like Jake, who was going out every night to fuck girls in various sorority houses around campus, no one was…fighting this. Jimmy wasn’t fighting it either, mind you, but he wanted someone to, mostly because he was, well, falling behind. But then, Jimmy usually found himself behind, if he was being honest. He was a freshman, and he’d rushed the fraternity with a couple of his friends that he’d met at school, who assured him that it was going to be the best way for Jimmy to meet, and ideally fuck chicks. Jimmy hadn’t fucked anyone before–he’d had a few near misses back in high school, but he’d never gotten further than touching a boob. Jimmy wasn’t the most handsome, or the most athletic. He kept hoping that he would find a time to really shine–that’s what his mom always told him would happen at least, that he’d find his place at school, but now that so much had changed, he only felt like he was flailing more. 

Jimmy tried to keep up with the rest of the house as best he could, but he knew he was falling behind–although falling behind of what, he didn’t know anymore. What did he want out of any of this? He’d already hated being in the frat. His friends didn’t really talk to him anymore once they’d gotten in, and most of the other guys in the house just ignored him, and he’d already been looking for a way to get out as soon as he could. Now though, the rest of the boys were all, well, thriving, he supposed. Some of them especially, like Mike and Carter, were taking really well to Daddy’s new direction. Most of the rest of the guys were guzzling shakes, working out as hard as they could, and packing on mass. Jimmy struggled. He would drink as much as he could, but he’d struggle to even hit the goal Daddy had set for them, and if he did hit it, he’d feel so gross he wouldn’t be able to join the rest of the guys for the evening workout. He’d just smoke a cigar, horny as hell but with no outlet, and go to bed early. The other guys would come up, fucking each other into the evening and night while Jimmy laid in bed and hoped no one would accost him. No one did, which somehow made him feel worse. He was just getting fat, and the fatter he got, the more he hated himself, and the more he hated everything about all of this.

Each Friday night, he would stand at attention with the rest of the boys, utterly terrified that Daddy would pick him to come over for the weekend, but also desperate for some sort of recognition. Just…to know that he was noticed, and not simply disappearing. Daddy didn’t say anything to him usually, but he did see him, see through him, into him, and that was somehow worse. Eventually, it happened. Daddy had been taking a couple boys at a time, but this weekend, he only selected Jimmy. The others looked confused–why would Daddy want that loser, they would wonder. Jimmy didn’t know either, but he followed Daddy downstairs, through the tunnel, and into his dungeon. He was terrified that they would stop there, but instead Daddy led him upstairs, where dinner had been prepared, and Jimmy devoured the first real meal he’d had in ages. Daddy ate too, but he mostly watched. They were both silent, Jimmy looking up at the older man on occasion, wondering if he should say something, or if saying something was a trap.

“Is this how you got your way through life so far?” Daddy asked as they finished their plates, “Staying quiet and hoping no one would notice you?”

Jimmy didn’t know how to respond to that, so he just kept mum, hands in his lap, eyes on his hands.

Daddy got up from the table, and motioned for Jimmy to stand as well. Daddy circled him, making a few little hmms and haas as he did, and Jimmy hated it, feeling like he was under a microscope all of a sudden. Of course Daddy had brought him here because he was a failure. He was probably going to kick him out. Would that be a bad thing? Isn’t that what he wanted anyway? A way out?

“Why did you join the frat, Jimmy? What were you looking for?” Daddy asked as he finished his circle.

“I wanted to…have sex with girls,” Jimmy said, a little horrified at how his mouth had just poured that out so easily. “My friends said it would be easy.”

“Have you been having sex with your brothers now?” Daddy asked, giving Jimmy’s cock a squeeze through his jock.

“Not…really. A few have fucked me, but I’ve never pulled out their plugs.”

“You must be a little pent up then.”

Jimmy nodded, and blushed, embarrassed that he’d admitted it all so easily.

“Do you want to fuck them?”

“I…I don’t know.”

“Are you sure you don’t know?”

“I do, Daddy.”

Daddy nodded. “Alright then. Come on, let’s have a smoke, boy–Daddy’s cock needs some attention. Tomorrow, I have something I’d like to try with you.”

They retired to the lounge, where Daddy and Jimmy smoked a pair of cigars, and Jimmy spent the rest of the evening between Daddy’s legs, blowing smoke over his cock and sucking on it until Daddy fed him a sizable load–then it was time for bed, and Jimmy found sleep difficult, wondering what Daddy could have in mind for their day tomorrow.


After breakfast, Daddy left Jimmy to clean up while he disappeared for a little while, and then reappeared from downstairs. He told Jimmy to follow him down, but they stopped before they reached the dungeon. Daddy showed him three masks that were laid out on a side table. Jimmy hadn’t ever seen these sorts of masks in real life, but he’d seen pictures of things like them in porn before. There was a fairly standard looking pup hood, made of leather and neoprene. Next to it, was a rubber pig hood. Lastly was one he hadn’t seen before. It was similar to the pup hood, but clearly it was modelled after a bear, and made with much thicker leather pieces, with some metal studs to signify fangs on the snout.

“I think that each of these would appeal to you, in one way or another,” Daddy said, “A mask isn’t a solution, but it can…let us escape from ourselves from a little while, imagine something different. If you want my honest opinion, Jimmy, your problem isn’t that this place is a bad fit for you–it’s that you don’t know what you want to get from it, so you feel listless. This might help give you something to hold on to. Go on and pick one, and then we’ll go play.”

Jimmy picked up each of the masks, but wasn’t brave enough to put any of them on himself. He felt silly, like it was Halloween or something. There was one he preferred though–he handed the bear mask to Daddy, but Daddy just motioned for Jimmy to put it on. He did, not expecting anything miraculous from the experience. Daddy helped get it centered on his head so he could see easily, and then put him in front of a mirror, and the reflection…it did feel different. It was his body, but it wasn’t his face. The mask made him look tough. Like no one would want to mess with him. He tweaked his face a bit, and managed to bare the metal fangs of the mask, and a little thrill went through him, much to his embarrassment. He almost pulled it off then and there, but Daddy secured the mask to his collar and locked it, and then pushed the masked Jimmy into the dungeon, where he found himself looking at a boy on the fuckbench, hooded so he couldn’t see who it was, exactly, and there weren’t any other identifying features that he could see.

“Well, you told me you want to fuck a hole, Bear,” Daddy said, “So fuck it.”

Jimmy balked, at first, but something else pushed him forward, something…instinctual. He gripped the boy’s hips in his hands, hard enough for the young man to moan through the gag in his mouth, and Jimmy’s cock was already hard. Fuck, he couldn’t do this, could he?

He looked over at the mirror, and a new thought came to him. Maybe Jimmy couldn’t. Maybe Jimmy was too scared, too timid, too worried, too anxious. But was Bear any of those things? Bear didn’t look like any of that–Bear looked like a fat, furry, beast who was ready to fuck. He pulled the plug out without taking the time to second guess himself, and pushed his cock into the boy’s already lubed hole, and he moaned–no, no moans from him. Bear growls. Bear grunts. Bear fucks hard and mercilessly. Bear doesn’t take shit from anyone. Bear knows what he wants, and Bear takes it. Jimmy fucked hard, came once, and just kept going. Bear doesn’t stop until he’s satisfied, after all, and Bear has not had enough sex in a very long time. 

Finally, after three loads, Jimmy stepped back, exhausted and sweating, and looked at himself in the mirror again–but he wasn’t looking at Jimmy, not at the Jimmy he recognized. He was muscular, covered in hair, a thick beard pushing out from the bottom of Bear’s mask, tattoos on his chest and arms, a thick cock with a PA in the head, two massive balls swinging below it. He gaped at himself, until Daddy stepped up, unlocked the mask from his collar, and pulled it off–and the illusion was gone. It was just him standing there, and a very well fucked boy moaning on the fuck bench, obviously quite satisfied.

Daddy pulled him out of the room and took him into a bathroom where Jimmy had a shower, and when he stepped back out, the boy was gone, and the masks were as well. It was just Daddy waiting for him, and JImmy understood what he’d meant, sort of. But that hadn’t really been him, had it? No–that had been the mask, it had changed him, he’d felt it. Daddy told him that he didn’t need the mask–that if he really wanted to become Bear himself, the only thing standing in his way, was himself.

It made sense, in a way. Daddy spent the rest of the day with him in the gym, giving him some pointers on exercising, encouraging him to convert some of that bulk to brawn, but when Jimmy asked if he could wear the mask again, Daddy shook his head. “You can’t just rely on the mask–things like that can have a mind of their own as well, if you aren’t careful,” Daddy said with a slight smile, “Never put it on without me there to supervise, alright?”

That sounded like bullshit to Jimmy, but he nodded in agreement. Maybe he had a point after all. But part of him couldn’t get past the idea that Bear was…different than him, that putting on that mask had given him some extra power that he didn’t have on his own. When he returned to the house that Sunday, feeling and looking a bit better, he did his best, and to some extent, he managed. He kept up with the meals and the workouts, and the other boys that had always ignored him, that he’d always assumed had despised him, didn’t seem so bad after all. But it wasn’t easy. It was work. After a week of it, he found himself falling back into his old habits, isolating himself, but now he couldn’t blame it on everyone else. Now he knew that he was making a choice, and that hurt.

If he could just wear that mask again, if he could just feel like that again, it would help, he knew it would. He found himself hoping on Friday that Daddy would take him again, though he’d never taken the same boy two weeks in a row. He didn’t, of course, and while Jimmy knew that his hope had been irrational, he still felt betrayed. Couldn’t Daddy see that he was still struggling? That he needed help? But it was all in his hands, he knew that. He could make the change, he could do the work, he could be that person he’d seen in the mirror. But if he was the one making the change, then why couldn’t he decide to use that mask to help him along?

He knew that was a bad idea, after what Daddy had said, but it stuck with him all the same. Saturday night, after a long rough day of struggling to make progress, he couldn’t resist it anymore. He went downstairs, crossed through the tunnel into the dungeon, going as quietly as he could, and found the three masks hanging on the wall. He pulled down Bear again, held it in his hands, and if he hadn’t been certain before, he was now. It wasn’t…alive, but it was aware. It had power. Whether it had power because he believed it did, or because Daddy had put it there, it didn’t matter. He pulled the mask on again, and felt that rush from before when he looked at himself in the mirror, watched himself growing thicker and hairier, a good amount of fat melting off his body and being replaced with muscle. He saw the tattoos on his body appear again, saw his thick cock grow hard and begin to leak, and he wanted to fuck so bad. Maybe…just go back to the frat, fuck one of the boys who was still awake. He could do that, right?

He went to leave the dungeon, only for a sudden sense of vertigo to send him to his hands and knees, the room spinning around him. Something was wrong. He was still…growing? No, he was still changing, but not getting bigger. Was he getting smaller? Growing more compact, maybe, his height contracting to around five and a half feet, even more mass piling on him as he grew hairier, coated in a full pelt of fur now. The voice from the mask was louder now, so loud! Not so much a voice, just…thoughts, desires, thirsts. He tried to pull the mask off, but couldn’t get a grip on it, like the leather had somehow fused with his neck. His skin…why did it feel so rough and leathery all of a sudden? His face ached, feeling like the mask was tugging on it, contorting it, teeth aching. He roared in pain and collapsed–the last thing he remembered was the sound of feet on the stairs, and Daddy was standing over him, when he fainted.

Jimmy didn’t remember much, when he woke. Daddy was there with him, still on the floor of the dungeon, stroking his side and back, making Jimmy moan. Daddy sighed. “I warned you about this, but I didn’t think it would go this far.”

Jimmy tried to ask him what was wrong, but his mouth didn’t seem to cooperate. He could get out a few words, but between his aching face under the mask, and his addled brain, nothing made sense, really.

Daddy hushed him, and kept him comfortable, gripped the amulet around his neck, and stroked his head. “Hush now, my bear. Go to sleep. Everything will make sense in the morning. It’s not what I wished for you, but it seems you may have made a place for yourself anyway. You’ll be more than happy, I promise.”

When Bear awoke, it was on the floor of the dormitory upstairs. He looked around, a bit discombobulated, but this was where he was supposed to sleep, right? He looked around at the little corner the boys had made for Bear, someone between a brother, a house mascot, and a pet. No one really knew where Bear had come from, if you asked them–especially not Bear. No one could recall Jimmy had ever existed, and his bed and belongings had seemingly evaporated. Bear crawled out of bed and gave a shake and a yawn, showing the rather…inhuman mouth he had inside that leather mask that never came off his head. No one knew for sure if it even could–Bear had been known to snap at anyone who tried to mess with it too much. Other than that, he was completely naked. Even when the boys took him on campus to go to their football games, Bear remained nude, but no one thought it odd. 

Bear was still hard from the rather pleasant dream he’d been having in his sleep, something he couldn’t remember, but which had certainly aroused him. He bent over, and gave the head of his thick cock a little lick, his stout body surprisingly flexible. He eyed the boys around him, just rousing from sleep, saw Eric had bent over next to their bed, and before the boy could do anything to avoid it, Bear had crawled over, hauled his plug out with his teeth, growled something that was understood to be the word “Fuck,” and mounted him right there on the side of the bed, his cock driving right into the boy’s hole.

“Goddamn it Bear!” Eric said, pinned under the stout fellow’s substantial mass as Bear humped his hole. Still, there was no saying no to Bear. In fact, getting fucked by the brute was a pleasure, since his cum always seemed to have a rather…invigorating effect on the boy who got seeded. Bear responded to the boy’s annoyance by putting his mouth around his shoulder, not hard enough to pierce the skin by any measure, and letting loose a low growl as he thrust deeper. It was enough to remind Eric that his hole was Bear’s by right–and that complaining too much just meant he would get rougher. Eric relaxed, and Bear fucked, grunting and growling and snuffling until he unloaded in his hole with a roar loud enough to make the other boy’s turn in his direction. Once he’d dismounted from him, Eric pushed his plug back in, keeping all of Bear’s helpful cum in his hole. He glowered at the beast for a second, who was panting happily, and couldn’t stay mad. Bear ended up on his back, growling and grunting while the boys all gathered around him, giving him his morning belly rubs, before going down for breakfast, Bear plodding after them–crawling through the room, and then toddling down the stairs on two legs, but hands and knees were preferable for him. Later in the day, Daddy came over to check on him and make sure he was acclimating well, but Bear had never been happier. He’d found his place after all, and he’d never look back.

Frat Daddy: Interlude #4 (Mike and the Pig)

This is another Frat Daddy commission, this time looking for a followup to Mike’s last interlude. If you’re interested in a commission like this, it’s $70 dollars for 3000 words, a $20 discount! You can find more details here.


Mike managed. That’s what his life became, after his weekend with Daddy. He managed the pig inside him, found himself weighing every urge, every thought, every fantasy, trying to separate what was him, from the pig that he was certain was growing inside of him at every moment. Was he hungry because he actually was hungry, or because the pig wanted him fatter? Better avoid the dining hall, just in case, but he’d find the hunger overwhelming him in the middle of the night instead, going downstairs into the kitchen, devouring a shake, and then another, desperate for something to fill him up. Was he exhausted and avoiding a workout because the pig wanted him lazy, or because he hadn’t slept well in days? Best to workout harder. Or did it want him to workout so he’d get sweaty and even more rank than he was? Best to avoid the gym altogether, go grab something to eat, sit at his desk trying to focus on school work. Did he want to hang out with the brothers in the house, or did the pig just want to smell them? They all smelled so different, so wonderful, but every sniff was a temptation he couldn’t afford. Best to be alone–but maybe the pig wanted him alone, wanted him isolated? Then he couldn’t avoid his own stink, and he’d find himself on his bed, arms up, snorting up his own musk, his cock hard and leaking, but he couldn’t cum without fucking, and fucking was too dangerous–far, far too dangerous. Dangerous because the other boys could never know about him, about what was wrong with him. If they knew–what would they think of him? What…what would they do with him if they knew? He could picture it, all of them gathered around him, nowhere for him to escape, forced to smell their pits, their crotches, their feet, their underwear. Drink their piss, drink their cum, eat out their asses, reduced to an animal, to a slave, to a fucking, nasty pig!

Coming back from that moment was always difficult. He’d be so lost in these fantasies, slipping between the boundary between nightmare, reality, and desire than when he found his way back to himself, he wasn’t quite the person he’d been before he’d gotten lost. A few pounds here and there, his nose suddenly turned up, his balls bigger and leaking cum all the time, his pits reeking more than before, bristly hair all over his shoulders and back. How on earth was he going to stop this? After a week, he went back to Daddy and begged him to fix him, but Daddy just shook his head.

He said to Mike, “You’re afraid, I understand that. But fear is your enemy here. What are you really afraid of? The pig, or something else?”

Mike had asked him what that meant, but Daddy just smiled, gave him a light tap on the cheek with his gloved hand, and smiled at him. “You’ll figure it out–you boys usually do in the end.”

Mike didn’t have the same reluctant faith in himself that Daddy did, but since he wasn’t giving him any real help, Mike turned somewhere else–his friend, and fellow frat brother, Jake.

Jake and Mike had been friends for a long time. They’d even gone to the same high school together, rushed at the same time, and were in the same major and most of the same classes. Jake, however, had always outclassed Mike, at least in terms of looks, athletics and girls. Jake was on the swim team, perfectly toned year round, while Mike had always had a bit of a paunch and bulk, thanks to his years on the football team. Jake could be a bit of a pompous asshole…but he was the only one that Mike felt he could trust with this. So one day after class, Mike pulled Jake aside before they got back to the house, and explained what had happened when he’d gone to stay with Daddy that weekend, and the current curse he was suffering from.

“Fuck man, that shit’s heavy,” Jake said, when Mike had finished his story, “I’d just assumed you were going queer like the rest of them, and that’s why you were acting so fucking strange the last few weeks.”

“I’m not gay!” Mike said, “I mean, I don’t…want to be. I don’t want to smell my pits either! But like today, I was so busy smelling them that I missed the shower, and–”

“Fuck bro, I don’t want the details!”

“I’m sorry, I just…who else can I talk to about this? Can…can you help me?”

“What you need, man, is pussy. I’ve been slipping out at night, you know, heading over to Gamma Pi–those chicks know how to fuck. Come along tonight–we’ll sort you out.”

The thought of fucking a woman turned his stomach–and the thought of a woman seeing him like…like this…no, that wasn’t going to work. He shook his head. “No, come on, that’s not even the issue here!”

“Well, then you’re just going to have to man up then! Come on–I can think of something to try.”

They went home together, and down into the gym. Mike hadn’t been down here in a few weeks, not since he’d caught a whiff of himself on the bench press, and nearly dropped the bar on himself. It showed on his figure–the shakes were piling on the pounds, now that he’d stopped trying to work them off. “I…I can’t do this,” Mike said, “I’ll stink too much.”

“Pussy, get on the fucking bench–I’ll spot you.”

Mike shook his head.

Jake sighed. “Spot me then.”

Mike did, following Jake around while he did a quick circuit of a few machines, working up a good sweat–then he lifted up an arm, and shoved it in Mike’s face. Mike backed away as fast as he could, until he hit a wall, Jake following him. “What the fuck man? What are you doing?”

“If you lick my pit, you fucking pathetic faggot, I am going to bend you over that bench and fuck you–is that what you want?”

“No!”

“Then don’t do it.”

Mike tried as hard as he could to resist, but the pig shoved his face forward, and he sucked the fresh sweat from Jake’s pit–and his friend, shoved him over the bench, hauled the plug from his hole, and fucked him–hard. “I’m doing this because I want you to get better, bro,” Jake said as he plowed him, “So we’re gonna have to give you some negative reinforcement. Learned this one in psych class.”

And so, Mike found himself with a new kind of torment. Jake would invent all kinds of reasons to get him alone, confront him with some new stench, and if Mike gave in, Jake would fuck him and humiliate him for it. Mike always gave in. Worse still, Mike was beginning to wonder if he enjoyed the treatment. Worse than that, he was starting to think that Jake might be enjoying it most of all. He was straight, or so he said, but he’d always had a thing for ass–as Mike had found out one night in high school after they’d both gotten a bit too drunk. Jake had apologized…but had he meant it, really? Had Mike been asking for it, like Jake had said? 

The darkness was getting harder and harder to avoid, and his own perversions were growing more and more intense. He couldn’t bear to shower now, just like Daddy had said would happen. He’d gained so much weight he needed a new jockstrap, after the other one started cutting into his chubby hips. Sleep was impossible. The dreams were too intense, and the boys were asking too many questions about why he would wake up snorting and squealing and screaming in the night. So he’d retreat downstairs to the gym, enjoy the fading musk of the boys’ evening workout, usually with a pilfered shoe of Jake’s. He wouldn’t know, he was busy sneaking out every night fucking some pussy when…when he had a perfectly good pig to use here, right? Daddy found him like that, sitting on the floor, face shoved in his brother’s shoe, snorting and stoking on edge. 

“When’s the last time you came, boy?” Daddy asked.

Mike snorted in surprise, and fumbled the sneaker to the floor, face red with embarrassment. “Daddy, I wasn’t–”

“When’s the last time you came.”

He hadn’t been able to fuck anyone since he’d visited Daddy, and that was the only time they could cum, so… “Not…since that night, with you.”

“No wonder you’re so pent up.”

The tears were welling up before he could do anything about it, and he started sobbing there on the gym floor. “I’m…I’m scared, Daddy,” he said, “I don’t want to be a pig. I don’t want to want to be a pig. And Jake, he’s just making it all worse, and he’s supposed to be my friend, and I don’t know what to do anymore. I’m tired, Daddy, I’m so tired of fighting it.”

“Then don’t.”

Mike looked up at him.

“Stop fighting it. What’s the worst that can happen?”

Mike couldn’t believe Daddy would say something so cruel to him. He knew what could happen. He knew!

“I know you’re worried, boy. I know this is new for you, and scary. But it’s not the pig controlling you, it’s your fear.”

“I don’t…what are you talking about?”

“Tell you what,” Daddy said, and stood back up. “Come spend the night with me. Or, spend the night with that sneaker, again. Don’t think I haven’t heard you in here the last few nights with that thing already. I’m surprised you haven’t sucked all the stink out of it by now. It’s up to you–but you’ll only have a chance to cum with one of those options–and you know which one.”

Daddy turned around and walked back down the tunnel to his home. Mike sat there for a minute, looking from the tunnel to the shoe and back again. He could smell Daddy on the air now, fresher than the workout musk from earlier, and his mouth watered, his cock drooled. He got up, and followed Daddy down the tunnel, and found him in the dungeon on the other end, waiting for him. He was wearing just a pair of briefs, nothing else, and from where Mike was standing, he’d been wearing them for a few days–maybe…maybe a week. They stood there, facing one another, until Mike finally muttered, “Is…can I…” but the words died on his lips.

“Is there something you want, boy?” Daddy asked him. “Come and get it, or go back to the shoe–your choice.”

“I…but what if…I get stuck?”

“Stuck as what?”

“As a pig! What if…I don’t come back as me!”

“So what if you don’t?” Daddy said, and took a step forward, stretching his arms up and putting them behind his head, “So what if you end up as a filthy, fat, stinking pig down in my dungeon, locked in a cage heaped with my filthy clothing? So what if I only let you out in the evenings so you can crawl down the tunnel and go clean up all the good little boys after their workout? So what? What if you really do want that, boy? What if it isn’t the pig you’ve been hearing all this time? What if it’s just you?”

Mike stepped back, turned toward the tunnel, but before he could run Daddy grabbed hold of his wrist, tugged him back, and pulled his face into his pit, feeling Mike relax against him and start licking, sighing with relief, and Daddy pushed down on his shoulders, guiding him down his pecs and chest to his crotch, Mike burying his face in the stained briefs, snorting and grunting in heat, cock rock hard and aching. “Oh fuck Daddy, oh fuck you smell so fucking good Sir…”

“That’s it boy, you enjoy that,” Daddy said, and dropped the briefs to the floor. Mike grabbed then and shoved them to his face, snorting happily, while Daddy went to the wall of the dungeon, and came back with thicker collar than the boys usually wore. After taking off Mike’s thin one, He snatched the briefs from Mike’s hands, pulled them over his face, and secured the  bigger collar tight around his neck with the waistband tucked past it, pulling the briefs tight over his face, blinding and hooding him. 

Mike was terrified at first, tried to rip the briefs off his face, but Daddy grabbed his hands and held them behind his back, shushing in his ear, bringing him back down out of the terror. “That’s it boy, just relax, just let it all out. You’re so horny, aren’t you? Don’t you want to cum?” Daddy lifted one of Mike’s arms and sniffed his pit, and then licked it. “Oh, what a naughty pigboy–you’ve been skipping showers, haven’t you? And you’re getting so fat now–too nervous working out with your brothers? Worried their musk would distract you?” Daddy groped his gut, and Mike moaned and muttered something unintelligible. “Well, you don’t have to worry about that, boy. You just focus on this,” Daddy said, and tore open a hole large enough for Mike’s mouth in the seat of the briefs over his face. “You just worship Daddy, enjoy it.”

He guided his mouth down to his pit again, and Mike happily licked at them, lost in the pleasure of it now, hungry for more. Daddy guided him from one pit to the other, then down lower, having the boy worship his cock and crotch for a while, and then down to his feet. Once he was satisfied, Daddy rolled over, pushed his ass into Mike’s face–and the boy balked. “I…Daddy, I–”

“Boy–what are you?”

“I…I’m a pig, Daddy,” Mike said, surprised by how good the admission felt after so many weeks of denial.

“Then eat my ass like a good pig. Doesn’t it smell good and ripe?”

Mike gave it a tentative lick, and then dove it, probing Daddy’s hole with his tongue, giving the hairy crack long, loving licks from bottom to top, his own cock hard and aching in his hands, drooling precum all over the floor. “Please Daddy, please let me cum…” he muttered.

“Boys only get to cum in a hole, isn’t that right?”

Mike whimpered a bit–there was no one here for him to fuck…right? Had…had Daddy meant…should he…

“What are you, boy?”

“I’m a pig Daddy.”

“Are you a fucking pig, boy? A manly, burly, fat, hairy, stinking pig fucker?”

Mike was panting now, unable to take it. He raised up, felt with his hand, lined his cock up with Daddy’s loosened hole and drove it inside.

“Fuck yeah, you fucking pig! Give it to Daddy!”

“Fuck yeah, I’m a fucking pig!”

“That’s it boy, this is what you fucking wanted, isn’t it?”

“I’m a fucking pig, I’m a big, fat, stinking pig fucker!” Mike shouted, and his cock unloaded deep in Daddy’s hole. The orgasm felt like it lasted an hour, burst after burst of pleasure he’d resisted for so long overwhelming him, until he finally felt himself come down, exhausted and aching and happy and relaxed, and He slid free of Daddy’s hole. He came around, pulled his boy into a hug, and held him, Mike nuzzling into the base of Daddy’s neck, smelling his musk there, licking a bit, happier now than he could remember being…ever, perhaps. 

“That was great boy, you did great.”

“T-Thank you Daddy…”

“Come on, stand up now–I want you to see something.”

Daddy helped Mike up, and he was a bit unsteady for reasons he couldn’t quite figure out at first. He assumed he was just disoriented, from the briefs still pulled down over his head, but when Daddy pulled them free, Mike saw…something else, in the mirror in front of him. It was him–he recognized him, but he was…different. Taller and broader, more muscular across his back and shoulders. Below that, a thick gut stuck out, almost like a beach ball. He was coated with hair, matted in sweat, a thicker beard growing higher up his face than it had before, and his cock! It…fuck, it was bigger than Jake’s now, and Jake had always been quick to point out the difference before. 

“What do you think, boy? You make a pretty fine pig, don’t you think?”

“Fuck Daddy, I…I mean…”

“Just say yes, boy.”

Mike gulped. “Yes, Sir. Thank you Daddy, for letting me, uh…”

“Thank you for servicing my hole, fuck pig–I’d been wondering who the first boy would be to have the honor.”

Mike blushed with pride, and then he realized he was missing something–the fear…it was gone. It had evaporated, and all that remained was a deep relief, and he nearly collapsed from it, but Daddy caught him before he could hit the ground. “Come on boy, let’s get to bed.”

“Wait, I…Daddy, I have something to say,” he said, and turned to face him, head hung low. “I’m sorry for my behavior before. What I said–I allowed my…fear to control me, and I insulted you. You were right. And you were right, that one day I’d understand what to apologize for. I think…you’re probably right about everything.”

Daddy chuckled, “I wouldn’t go that far, boy–now come on.”

Mike nodded, and allowed Daddy to help him upstairs to his room, where they slept together, and Mike had the most peaceful night of sleep in ages.

The next day, when Mike returned to the house, after the communal shower, stinking of sweat and cum and sex, looking beefy and fat and hairy and rough, with a massive bulge in the pouch of his jock, no one knew what to say. Mike threw a wink at Carter across the room, who nodded, glad that he’d finally understood what Daddy could offer. And later, when Jack confronted him, accused him of giving in, of becoming a faggot, Mike didn’t have anything to say to him–he just threw him against the wall, hauled out his plug, and shoved his big pig cock up his brother’s hole. This one would get what was coming to him, Mike thought, sooner or later. But Mike didn’t have to worry about him anymore. He knew what he was now–he was a fuckpig. And this boy was just an asshole–and he knew just what to do with an asshole, didn’t he?

Frat Daddy – Interlude #3 (Carter’s Rebellion)

This interlude was a commission, and involves a bit of a time jump. Don’t worry, we’ll return and pick up Coach Mason’s tale another time. I’d also recommend reading the first interlude, which has the beginnings of Carter’s journey. If you’d like a commission like this one, you can find out more details here!


Fall was slowly shifting to Winter around the two houses. The leaves had fallen and been raked up by the boys, classes were gearing up for finals, some were eyeing the oncoming Winter break with a nervous glance, since it was unlikely that the Frat Daddy would simply allow the boys to return home to their families without some humiliating expectations of behavior to follow. But other boys were struggling for other reasons–and one of those boys was Carter. These last few months had been a whirlwind, from losing his hair, to finding himself under Daddy’s paddle and whip, finding himself beaten down and built back up again by Sarge on a regular basis in the dungeon. Some weeks, he felt like he could take on the world. Other weeks, he ached from the bruises, welts and cuts on his body, from his muscles and bones working through another growth spurt, and wondered how he could want this, if he was broken for wanting it at all. Other weeks, all he could do was stare at the other boys, frustrated that he couldn’t take his budding sadism out on them, as Daddy did to him. He’d look at himself in the mirror, miss his hair, no longer knowing what he wanted, or who he wanted to be. Just a mass of sensation, rudderless, no consistent identity from one day to the next. 

Maybe that was why it happened. Or maybe, it was the dreams that had been plaguing him most every night, the visions of being stripped and hung in Daddy’s dungeon, flesh and soul peeling away from him with every strike of the lash until there was nothing left of him, just a dull buzz of…something in the back of his mind, something trying to pull him together. Or maybe it was Daddy wishing for him to understand, to see what Daddy saw in him, consciously or unconsciously. But whatever the reason it happened, one Friday morning, wondering if he’d be able to spend another weekend with Daddy again, wondering if he wanted to spend another weekend with him, he found himself mostly thinking about his hair. He’d be lying, if he said he didn’t miss it. He understood, somewhat, why Daddy did it…but at this point, hadn’t he proven to him that he was more than just his hair? Couldn’t Daddy at least let him grow it out again, instead of keeping his scalp shaved down every single day? It didn’t help that his beard wasn’t growing in as thick as he would have liked. His blonde coloring just didn’t stand out enough, making it look like thin, long, peach fuzz.

He looked away from the mirror, and felt something familiar brush against the back of his neck. When he turned back around, he was shocked to see his hair! It was growing in again, faster and thicker than it had before, still that perfect golden blonde that so many girls had gone wild for in high school and college, before Daddy had taken over. He ran his hands through it and gave it a tug, but it was real. How was this even possible? Looking at himself, he noticed that his beard was also filling in and growing. It finally passed through that awkward fuzzy stage and became a thick, blonde beard that reached down to his chest.

“D-Daddy?” he asked, but the room was empty–most of the other boys in the house were eating downstairs or in class. He looked back at the mirror, and then down at himself. If Daddy hadn’t done this, then…had it been him? As a little test, he thought about being bigger–thicker and taller really, and he felt his body surge outwards and respond to him, packing on muscle, his harness growing tight against his body. As he ran his hands over himself, another boy, named Ryan, came up the stairs and into the communal bedroom–and froze when he saw Carter in front of him. “C-Carter?” he asked, “Your…hair, man, how…”

Could he…change others? “Ryan–get over here and bend over, I’m fucking horny,” Carter said with a grin, and watched as Ryan did exactly as he ordered, bending over the side of his bed, and allowing Carter to pull his plug out with a pop. Ryan almost never got fucked in the house–he was too careful, but Carter had gotten him a few times. But now, he’d just…given up! Given up, because Carter had ordered him to. The rush he felt then–the sensation of power and domination over another. He loved fucking Ryan’s hole then, but nothing compared to watching that boy obey him without a single question. “Feels good, doesn’t it Ryan? You want me inside you more often, don’t you? You want me inside you as much as you can get me, got it?” he said, and Ryan started moaning and panting louder, pushing back as Carter fucked him, until he came deep in his ass–but when he pulled out, Ryan turned around, cock hard in his jockstrap, and begged him for more, his eyes betraying a terror and frustration that his mouth couldn’t articulate, but Carter was so lost in the pleasure of control that he didn’t even notice it. “Come on Ryan, let’s go see how the boys downstairs are doing. Maybe if they get me horny enough, I’ll fuck you again, would you like that?”

“Yes Sir, more than anything,” Ryan said, following along meekly as Carter went downstairs, eager to have some fun with the boys before Daddy came over in the evening.


Ethan had finished his dinner, dressed himself in his gear, and selected a cigar. With one last look in the mirror to ensure he was holding himself to the same standard he held his boys to, he went downstairs to his dungeon and crossed through the tunnel between his own home and the frat house next door, mulling over his decision again. He’d had most of the boys over at least once at this point, sometimes one on one, and sometimes together, enough to have introduced them all to the specialized plans that Daddy had for their budding manhood. Carter though–he was the exception. While he hadn’t come over every weekend, Daddy had devoted a potentially unfair amount of attention to the budding masochist over the last few months. While he wanted him again this weekend, for his own selfish ends as well as for Carter’s growth, he had decided against it. Carter had hit a wall over the last couple of weeks, one that Daddy was familiar with. He was wrestling with himself, with what he wanted to be, and it was best to let him rest for some time, to sort it out in his own time. If he pushed him too hard, it wouldn’t help anything.

He came out of the tunnel in the gym under the frat house, and that was the first indication that something was amiss–there was no one down there working out. Usually, on a Friday night, many of the boys would be down here working off their dinner, some of them working out while they smoked to take the edge off their horniness without having to fuck–or for the couple of boys in chastity at the moment, because they couldn’t. But there was no one. Guarded, he climbed the stairwell that led up to the living room, and found himself looking at the entire house of boys, all of them clustered around Carter, who was sprawled on a chaise, every single boy in the house worshipping him, with Ryan on top, fucking himself on Carter’s cock, moaning in ecstasy.

“Boys, Line up!” Daddy called, and that was enough to jolt them to their senses. Most of the boys did as commanded, some of them looking a bit…confused or scared, like they’d been caught in the act of something wrong. Carter did not line up with them, but instead stepped forward, his long hair and beard soaked with sweat from the hour long orgy he’d instigated with the rest of the house–well, commanded, really. Carter had been waiting for this, hoping his Daddy would be proud of him, but what he saw in Daddy’s eyes wasn’t appreciation, it was the sort of scowl he reserved for the boys who truly misbehaved. “Carter, what is the meaning of this? Where the fuck did that hair come from? You know that is a violation of the house dress code.”

“I…I grew it, Daddy,” Carter said. “I…I thought it was you.”

“Tell me what happened boy,” Daddy said, and Carter did–told him about how he’d grown his hair, about the power he had over the rest of the boys, the same sort of power that Daddy had himself. 

“Can’t you see Daddy? I’m a man now! Like you said I would be one day, I’m…like you. I can help you!”

Daddy sighed. “Carter, come here–stand with me and look at the boys in the line.”

Carter did as he was told, but wasn’t sure what he was looking at.

“They’re scared, Carter. They’re scared of you.”

Carter looked again, and he understood then. None of them would meet his eyes. Some turned away, out of fear or shame, or perhaps both. “Well, they should be afraid of me,” Carter said. “They should be afraid of both of us.”

The slap shocked him. It wasn’t the first time Daddy had done so, usually when Carter mouthed off in the dungeon, but never publicly, and never quite that hard. “No–that is not what we do. That is not what I do. We do not use fear, not here, not between us. Power, yes, but never fear. Get downstairs, Carter–we have to figure out what’s going on here, and how to stop this…power of yours.”

“What? No!” Carter said, “I…I thought you would be proud of me.”

“Carter,” Daddy said, resting his hands on his shoulders, “You are still so young, and so new. Gifted, yes, but you are wading into waters far too deep for you to handle yet. I’m not angry–I understand, but you need to listen to me. We have to fix this, alright? I cannot allow what you have done here tonight to stand. Now come with me, and we will sort this out.”

Ethan inflected that last sentence as an order,, with a sliver of will from the amulet around his neck, but he felt Carter shrug it off without much effort. “Let go of me,” Carter said in response, and the force of it caught Daddy off guard. He removed his hands, and Carter stepped back. “You’re weak. You were always weak. I’m stronger than you, I bet. Why don’t you get down on your knees and kiss my feet, Daddy? Maybe a few days servicing me will help you appreciate my power a little better.”

The young man was strong, but Ethan felt the command slide off him without him so much as flexing a knee. When he didn’t bend, he saw the kernel of fear that Carter had been hiding in his eyes grow a bit larger, and he took another step back. 

“I said kneel!” Carter said again, but again, Daddy was unbent, even as every boy in the line off to the side collapsed to their knees at the force of the command.

“This is not power, Carter, this is a tantrum. Get downstairs now, or I will drag you down there myself.”

Carter found that he had to flex all of the will he could muster just to shrug off Daddy’s command–he would lose if this kept up. He had to get out of here. He bolted for the front door, and was out and down the steps before Daddy could make it onto the porch. 

“God damn it boy, get your ass back in this house!” Daddy shouted at him. Carter felt the pull, but sprinted harder, dragging free of it. There, on the street, a motorcycle. Had it been there, or was this a wish of his own? He didn’t know how to ride it, but with a wish, he was dressed in leathers and a helmet, hopped on, and sped off down the street. He made it a few blocks before he had to pull over, rip the helmet off, and sob. He would show him, one day soon. He’d show Daddy just what kind of man he was. He’d be back, and when he did–Daddy would be the one kneeling before him, begging for forgiveness.


Ethan stood on the porch and watched Carter roar off down the road. He probably could have caught him, brought him back, but he decided not to–it was more important to tend to the boys and make sure they were ok, in any case. Back inside, the boys were rattled, but mostly resilient. Daddy canceled training that weekend, and spent the next couple of days with the boys, focusing more on making sure they felt cared for, smoking together, lying around with them, seeing to their course work, talking with them. Many asked about Carter, about what Daddy would do about him, but Daddy told them not to worry. Carter had needed space from him–but apparently, he’d needed more space than even Daddy had anticipated. One way or another, he would be back. All Daddy could hope, was that when he returned, he’d come back with a new understanding. Otherwise, there might not be a choice, other than to fight.

He sat with the amulet and meditated with it, trying to uncover how, or when, Carter had been given that strange power. In the end, nothing revealed itself which was troubling itself. If Ethan couldn’t understand how he had gifted Carter his power, then that meant he would have to be ready for it to happen again with the other boys. The weekend passed, and Carter didn’t return. Daddy spent the evenings out on the porch with a whiskey and a cigar, ready and waiting to see that motorcycle come back–but it didn’t come. After a week, Ethan began to wonder if he might be gone for good–or that perhaps something else had happened. In any case, there was nothing he could gain from worrying over it. In the end, he hung up the vigil, and things settled back down into a new normal.

Thanksgiving was coming closer, and Daddy and the boys were getting ready for the feast–none of them could return home to see their families, Daddy said, and while many were disappointed, they had found themselves growing closer to one another, and to Daddy–enough that to some of them, this felt more like their family than their old one ever had. It was Monday night andEthan had been out late shopping. Sure, he could just make the food appear if he wanted to, but he didn’t like to rely on it for the mundane. He believed it was better to retain a bit of humility, as a reminder. When he pulled up in front of the house, there was the bike. It had obviously been well travelled over the last few weeks, the wheels coated with dust and mud. Still, Carter wouldn’t have parked it here if he’d planned on jumping him. That either meant he’d come to his senses, or he’d grown powerful enough that he thought he could take Daddy without the element of surprise.

The door had been unlocked–not surprising, with Carter’s power. Daddy took a few minutes to put the food away, and just listened. He couldn’t hear much, but he could smell smoke wafting up from the dungeon below. Once the groceries were stashed away, Daddy took a cigar from his humidor, lit it, and went downstairs to meet his lost boy.

Carter was there, sitting in the bondage chair, a cigar in one hand, and a glass of whiskey balanced on the arm rest. He looked about as rough as the bike did–hair greasy and unwashed, longer than it had been in the house, reaching almost to the small of his back. His beard had grown out as well, down to his belly–or rather, a gut. Carter looked up at him as he entered, and Daddy saw that Carter was not the same boy that he’d been when he’d left. He was older–not as old as Daddy, but easily in his thirties. His skin weathered from hours riding under the sun. He shuffled his feet, and downed most of his glass of whiskey. “Hi…Daddy,” he said, finally.

“Welcome back, boy. I was worried about you,” Daddy said, and pulled over a chair to face Carter.

“You…didn’t come after me. If you were worried, why didn’t you look?”

“You needed space,” Daddy said. “Me chasing you wouldn’t have made you stop running, and it wouldn’t have helped the rest of the boys either. They needed me here more than you needed me coming after you.”

Carter looked a bit pained, like the reason was so obvious now, and the fact that he hadn’t seen it only made him feel worse. “Are…they all ok?”

“Yes, for the most part. I don’t know if they’ll be happy to see you, but they’re ok.”

“I came…I mean…I tried, I really did,” Carter said, and the first of the tears fell then. Daddy held back–but it was painful to watch all the same. “All I wanted was to be like you. To be strong like you are. I thought…if I could do it to others, then I must be, but god, I fucked up, I fucked up…”

“You did.”

“Not just the house, out there. I thought it was complicated here, but out there–fuck.”

Daddy nodded. 

“You were right. I wasn’t ready. I’m just a kid, but the more I felt that way, the older I got, and I…I don’t know if I can go back, it won’t let me go back.”

“You can’t go back, Carter. There’s no erasing what you did. All you can do is go forward.”

“Please, I want to be a boy again. Help me try again, I’ll be better, I’ll listen this time.”

Daddy chuckled, and took a drag off his cigar, “But if you went back, you won’t know why you needed to listen, would you?”

Carter’s head sank. “So…I’m stuck? Like this? For good?”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” Daddy said, and stood up. “I can try something, I think–but you have to trust me, like you did that first day–can you do that? You have to want this to be right, more than you want to feel ashamed, and guilty, and depressed. You have to believe that I can offer you something else.”

Daddy walked over, and started fastening Carter’s wrists and ankles to the arms and legs of the bondage chair, then slipped a blindfold over his eyes. He went to the wall, took down a pair of scissors, and bundled up Carter’s hair into his fist. “What do you want me to do, boy?”

“Please Daddy–cut my hair. I…I haven’t earned the right to wear it yet.”

“I will boy–but listen to me. When I cut this hair from you, I will sever you from your power–this power. Concentrate on that. It will be sealed away inside you, until you are allowed to grow this again, properly. And when that power is sealed, you will be renewed, do you understand? You will be a boy again–you will be my boy again.”

“Yes Sir, I understand Sir.”

Ethan cut through the hair–but it was harder than the first time. The grease didn’t help, but the power was resisting as well. He had to draw on his own, push it down into the blades of the shears, but they finally cut through, and Carter let out a sob of relief. Daddy kept cutting, working around the strap of the blindfold, and when he’d clipped as close as he could, he shaved Carter bald once again–but he left the beard. A token, perhaps, but in all honesty, it was vanity. It looked good–and the boy would need something to remind him of this.

He removed the restraints, led Carter in front of the mirror, and took off the blindfold–and Carter gasped in relief. He was young again. Himself again. He collapsed to his knees, and kissed Daddy’s boots, thanking him for another chance. Daddy got down with him, and pulled him close, giving him a kiss, running his fingers through his still grungy beard. “I’m proud of you,” Daddy said.

Carter didn’t say anything back–he clearly didn’t understand how Daddy could be proud of him, after what he’d done.

“You came back, boy. You came back–but more than that, you were man enough to admit that you’d been wrong. You surrendered to me not because you had to, but because you want to. And that shows that you are stronger than nearly every man I have ever met–and you’re still just a boy, for now. But one day, I can already tell, you’re going to make a great Daddy yourself. Maybe even a Frat Daddy like me.”

“I…Thank you Sir, I’d…be honored.”

“But first, there’s the small matter of your punishment, I believe.”

“I’ll take whatever you deem necessary Sir.”

“Oh, you’ll take a beating from me, yes. But first, I think the other boys have a right to first crack at you. Get up–you’re going on that cross. Every boy in the house is getting a flogging lesson tonight–and you’re the meat–got it?”

Carter gulped, but they both saw his cock jump at the thought. And once all the boys in the house had gotten a chance to take a little bit of their frustration and shame out on the now powerless Carter, they were all more than happy to take him back into the fold. And for Thanksgiving, they were all thankful for Daddy–but none more so that Carter, at Daddy’s right hand. He knew what he was now, without a doubt. It would take time, and training, and practice, and diligence, but he’d be a Daddy too, one day–it was the only thing he wanted to be. The only thing he could be. But he’d do it right, and he knew that with Daddy guiding him, he’d grow to be the best man he could possibly be.

This interlude was a commission, and involves a bit of a time jump. Don’t worry, we’ll return and pick up Coach Mason’s tale another time. I’d also recommend reading the first interlude, which has the beginnings of Carter’s journey. If you’d like a commission like this one, you can find out more details here!


Fall was slowly shifting to Winter around the two houses. The leaves had fallen and been raked up by the boys, classes were gearing up for finals, some were eyeing the oncoming Winter break with a nervous glance, since it was unlikely that the Frat Daddy would simply allow the boys to return home to their families without some humiliating expectations of behavior to follow. But other boys were struggling for other reasons–and one of those boys was Carter. These last few months had been a whirlwind, from losing his hair, to finding himself under Daddy’s paddle and whip, finding himself beaten down and built back up again by Sarge on a regular basis in the dungeon. Some weeks, he felt like he could take on the world. Other weeks, he ached from the bruises, welts and cuts on his body, from his muscles and bones working through another growth spurt, and wondered how he could want this, if he was broken for wanting it at all. Other weeks, all he could do was stare at the other boys, frustrated that he couldn’t take his budding sadism out on them, as Daddy did to him. He’d look at himself in the mirror, miss his hair, no longer knowing what he wanted, or who he wanted to be. Just a mass of sensation, rudderless, no consistent identity from one day to the next. 

Maybe that was why it happened. Or maybe, it was the dreams that had been plaguing him most every night, the visions of being stripped and hung in Daddy’s dungeon, flesh and soul peeling away from him with every strike of the lash until there was nothing left of him, just a dull buzz of…something in the back of his mind, something trying to pull him together. Or maybe it was Daddy wishing for him to understand, to see what Daddy saw in him, consciously or unconsciously. But whatever the reason it happened, one Friday morning, wondering if he’d be able to spend another weekend with Daddy again, wondering if he wanted to spend another weekend with him, he found himself mostly thinking about his hair. He’d be lying, if he said he didn’t miss it. He understood, somewhat, why Daddy did it…but at this point, hadn’t he proven to him that he was more than just his hair? Couldn’t Daddy at least let him grow it out again, instead of keeping his scalp shaved down every single day? It didn’t help that his beard wasn’t growing in as thick as he would have liked. His blonde coloring just didn’t stand out enough, making it look like thin, long, peach fuzz.

He looked away from the mirror, and felt something familiar brush against the back of his neck. When he turned back around, he was shocked to see his hair! It was growing in again, faster and thicker than it had before, still that perfect golden blonde that so many girls had gone wild for in high school and college, before Daddy had taken over. He ran his hands through it and gave it a tug, but it was real. How was this even possible? Looking at himself, he noticed that his beard was also filling in and growing. It finally passed through that awkward fuzzy stage and became a thick, blonde beard that reached down to his chest.

“D-Daddy?” he asked, but the room was empty–most of the other boys in the house were eating downstairs or in class. He looked back at the mirror, and then down at himself. If Daddy hadn’t done this, then…had it been him? As a little test, he thought about being bigger–thicker and taller really, and he felt his body surge outwards and respond to him, packing on muscle, his harness growing tight against his body. As he ran his hands over himself, another boy, named Ryan, came up the stairs and into the communal bedroom–and froze when he saw Carter in front of him. “C-Carter?” he asked, “Your…hair, man, how…”

Could he…change others? “Ryan–get over here and bend over, I’m fucking horny,” Carter said with a grin, and watched as Ryan did exactly as he ordered, bending over the side of his bed, and allowing Carter to pull his plug out with a pop. Ryan almost never got fucked in the house–he was too careful, but Carter had gotten him a few times. But now, he’d just…given up! Given up, because Carter had ordered him to. The rush he felt then–the sensation of power and domination over another. He loved fucking Ryan’s hole then, but nothing compared to watching that boy obey him without a single question. “Feels good, doesn’t it Ryan? You want me inside you more often, don’t you? You want me inside you as much as you can get me, got it?” he said, and Ryan started moaning and panting louder, pushing back as Carter fucked him, until he came deep in his ass–but when he pulled out, Ryan turned around, cock hard in his jockstrap, and begged him for more, his eyes betraying a terror and frustration that his mouth couldn’t articulate, but Carter was so lost in the pleasure of control that he didn’t even notice it. “Come on Ryan, let’s go see how the boys downstairs are doing. Maybe if they get me horny enough, I’ll fuck you again, would you like that?”

“Yes Sir, more than anything,” Ryan said, following along meekly as Carter went downstairs, eager to have some fun with the boys before Daddy came over in the evening.


Ethan had finished his dinner, dressed himself in his gear, and selected a cigar. With one last look in the mirror to ensure he was holding himself to the same standard he held his boys to, he went downstairs to his dungeon and crossed through the tunnel between his own home and the frat house next door, mulling over his decision again. He’d had most of the boys over at least once at this point, sometimes one on one, and sometimes together, enough to have introduced them all to the specialized plans that Daddy had for their budding manhood. Carter though–he was the exception. While he hadn’t come over every weekend, Daddy had devoted a potentially unfair amount of attention to the budding masochist over the last few months. While he wanted him again this weekend, for his own selfish ends as well as for Carter’s growth, he had decided against it. Carter had hit a wall over the last couple of weeks, one that Daddy was familiar with. He was wrestling with himself, with what he wanted to be, and it was best to let him rest for some time, to sort it out in his own time. If he pushed him too hard, it wouldn’t help anything.

He came out of the tunnel in the gym under the frat house, and that was the first indication that something was amiss–there was no one down there working out. Usually, on a Friday night, many of the boys would be down here working off their dinner, some of them working out while they smoked to take the edge off their horniness without having to fuck–or for the couple of boys in chastity at the moment, because they couldn’t. But there was no one. Guarded, he climbed the stairwell that led up to the living room, and found himself looking at the entire house of boys, all of them clustered around Carter, who was sprawled on a chaise, every single boy in the house worshipping him, with Ryan on top, fucking himself on Carter’s cock, moaning in ecstasy.

“Boys, Line up!” Daddy called, and that was enough to jolt them to their senses. Most of the boys did as commanded, some of them looking a bit…confused or scared, like they’d been caught in the act of something wrong. Carter did not line up with them, but instead stepped forward, his long hair and beard soaked with sweat from the hour long orgy he’d instigated with the rest of the house–well, commanded, really. Carter had been waiting for this, hoping his Daddy would be proud of him, but what he saw in Daddy’s eyes wasn’t appreciation, it was the sort of scowl he reserved for the boys who truly misbehaved. “Carter, what is the meaning of this? Where the fuck did that hair come from? You know that is a violation of the house dress code.”

“I…I grew it, Daddy,” Carter said. “I…I thought it was you.”

“Tell me what happened boy,” Daddy said, and Carter did–told him about how he’d grown his hair, about the power he had over the rest of the boys, the same sort of power that Daddy had himself. 

“Can’t you see Daddy? I’m a man now! Like you said I would be one day, I’m…like you. I can help you!”

Daddy sighed. “Carter, come here–stand with me and look at the boys in the line.”

Carter did as he was told, but wasn’t sure what he was looking at.

“They’re scared, Carter. They’re scared of you.”

Carter looked again, and he understood then. None of them would meet his eyes. Some turned away, out of fear or shame, or perhaps both. “Well, they should be afraid of me,” Carter said. “They should be afraid of both of us.”

The slap shocked him. It wasn’t the first time Daddy had done so, usually when Carter mouthed off in the dungeon, but never publicly, and never quite that hard. “No–that is not what we do. That is not what I do. We do not use fear, not here, not between us. Power, yes, but never fear. Get downstairs, Carter–we have to figure out what’s going on here, and how to stop this…power of yours.”

“What? No!” Carter said, “I…I thought you would be proud of me.”

“Carter,” Daddy said, resting his hands on his shoulders, “You are still so young, and so new. Gifted, yes, but you are wading into waters far too deep for you to handle yet. I’m not angry–I understand, but you need to listen to me. We have to fix this, alright? I cannot allow what you have done here tonight to stand. Now come with me, and we will sort this out.”

Ethan inflected that last sentence as an order,, with a sliver of will from the amulet around his neck, but he felt Carter shrug it off without much effort. “Let go of me,” Carter said in response, and the force of it caught Daddy off guard. He removed his hands, and Carter stepped back. “You’re weak. You were always weak. I’m stronger than you, I bet. Why don’t you get down on your knees and kiss my feet, Daddy? Maybe a few days servicing me will help you appreciate my power a little better.”

The young man was strong, but Ethan felt the command slide off him without him so much as flexing a knee. When he didn’t bend, he saw the kernel of fear that Carter had been hiding in his eyes grow a bit larger, and he took another step back. 

“I said kneel!” Carter said again, but again, Daddy was unbent, even as every boy in the line off to the side collapsed to their knees at the force of the command.

“This is not power, Carter, this is a tantrum. Get downstairs now, or I will drag you down there myself.”

Carter found that he had to flex all of the will he could muster just to shrug off Daddy’s command–he would lose if this kept up. He had to get out of here. He bolted for the front door, and was out and down the steps before Daddy could make it onto the porch. 

“God damn it boy, get your ass back in this house!” Daddy shouted at him. Carter felt the pull, but sprinted harder, dragging free of it. There, on the street, a motorcycle. Had it been there, or was this a wish of his own? He didn’t know how to ride it, but with a wish, he was dressed in leathers and a helmet, hopped on, and sped off down the street. He made it a few blocks before he had to pull over, rip the helmet off, and sob. He would show him, one day soon. He’d show Daddy just what kind of man he was. He’d be back, and when he did–Daddy would be the one kneeling before him, begging for forgiveness.


Ethan stood on the porch and watched Carter roar off down the road. He probably could have caught him, brought him back, but he decided not to–it was more important to tend to the boys and make sure they were ok, in any case. Back inside, the boys were rattled, but mostly resilient. Daddy canceled training that weekend, and spent the next couple of days with the boys, focusing more on making sure they felt cared for, smoking together, lying around with them, seeing to their course work, talking with them. Many asked about Carter, about what Daddy would do about him, but Daddy told them not to worry. Carter had needed space from him–but apparently, he’d needed more space than even Daddy had anticipated. One way or another, he would be back. All Daddy could hope, was that when he returned, he’d come back with a new understanding. Otherwise, there might not be a choice, other than to fight.

He sat with the amulet and meditated with it, trying to uncover how, or when, Carter had been given that strange power. In the end, nothing revealed itself which was troubling itself. If Ethan couldn’t understand how he had gifted Carter his power, then that meant he would have to be ready for it to happen again with the other boys. The weekend passed, and Carter didn’t return. Daddy spent the evenings out on the porch with a whiskey and a cigar, ready and waiting to see that motorcycle come back–but it didn’t come. After a week, Ethan began to wonder if he might be gone for good–or that perhaps something else had happened. In any case, there was nothing he could gain from worrying over it. In the end, he hung up the vigil, and things settled back down into a new normal.

Thanksgiving was coming closer, and Daddy and the boys were getting ready for the feast–none of them could return home to see their families, Daddy said, and while many were disappointed, they had found themselves growing closer to one another, and to Daddy–enough that to some of them, this felt more like their family than their old one ever had. It was Monday night andEthan had been out late shopping. Sure, he could just make the food appear if he wanted to, but he didn’t like to rely on it for the mundane. He believed it was better to retain a bit of humility, as a reminder. When he pulled up in front of the house, there was the bike. It had obviously been well travelled over the last few weeks, the wheels coated with dust and mud. Still, Carter wouldn’t have parked it here if he’d planned on jumping him. That either meant he’d come to his senses, or he’d grown powerful enough that he thought he could take Daddy without the element of surprise.

The door had been unlocked–not surprising, with Carter’s power. Daddy took a few minutes to put the food away, and just listened. He couldn’t hear much, but he could smell smoke wafting up from the dungeon below. Once the groceries were stashed away, Daddy took a cigar from his humidor, lit it, and went downstairs to meet his lost boy.

Carter was there, sitting in the bondage chair, a cigar in one hand, and a glass of whiskey balanced on the arm rest. He looked about as rough as the bike did–hair greasy and unwashed, longer than it had been in the house, reaching almost to the small of his back. His beard had grown out as well, down to his belly–or rather, a gut. Carter looked up at him as he entered, and Daddy saw that Carter was not the same boy that he’d been when he’d left. He was older–not as old as Daddy, but easily in his thirties. His skin weathered from hours riding under the sun. He shuffled his feet, and downed most of his glass of whiskey. “Hi…Daddy,” he said, finally.

“Welcome back, boy. I was worried about you,” Daddy said, and pulled over a chair to face Carter.

“You…didn’t come after me. If you were worried, why didn’t you look?”

“You needed space,” Daddy said. “Me chasing you wouldn’t have made you stop running, and it wouldn’t have helped the rest of the boys either. They needed me here more than you needed me coming after you.”

Carter looked a bit pained, like the reason was so obvious now, and the fact that he hadn’t seen it only made him feel worse. “Are…they all ok?”

“Yes, for the most part. I don’t know if they’ll be happy to see you, but they’re ok.”

“I came…I mean…I tried, I really did,” Carter said, and the first of the tears fell then. Daddy held back–but it was painful to watch all the same. “All I wanted was to be like you. To be strong like you are. I thought…if I could do it to others, then I must be, but god, I fucked up, I fucked up…”

“You did.”

“Not just the house, out there. I thought it was complicated here, but out there–fuck.”

Daddy nodded. 

“You were right. I wasn’t ready. I’m just a kid, but the more I felt that way, the older I got, and I…I don’t know if I can go back, it won’t let me go back.”

“You can’t go back, Carter. There’s no erasing what you did. All you can do is go forward.”

“Please, I want to be a boy again. Help me try again, I’ll be better, I’ll listen this time.”

Daddy chuckled, and took a drag off his cigar, “But if you went back, you won’t know why you needed to listen, would you?”

Carter’s head sank. “So…I’m stuck? Like this? For good?”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” Daddy said, and stood up. “I can try something, I think–but you have to trust me, like you did that first day–can you do that? You have to want this to be right, more than you want to feel ashamed, and guilty, and depressed. You have to believe that I can offer you something else.”

Daddy walked over, and started fastening Carter’s wrists and ankles to the arms and legs of the bondage chair, then slipped a blindfold over his eyes. He went to the wall, took down a pair of scissors, and bundled up Carter’s hair into his fist. “What do you want me to do, boy?”

“Please Daddy–cut my hair. I…I haven’t earned the right to wear it yet.”

“I will boy–but listen to me. When I cut this hair from you, I will sever you from your power–this power. Concentrate on that. It will be sealed away inside you, until you are allowed to grow this again, properly. And when that power is sealed, you will be renewed, do you understand? You will be a boy again–you will be my boy again.”

“Yes Sir, I understand Sir.”

Ethan cut through the hair–but it was harder than the first time. The grease didn’t help, but the power was resisting as well. He had to draw on his own, push it down into the blades of the shears, but they finally cut through, and Carter let out a sob of relief. Daddy kept cutting, working around the strap of the blindfold, and when he’d clipped as close as he could, he shaved Carter bald once again–but he left the beard. A token, perhaps, but in all honesty, it was vanity. It looked good–and the boy would need something to remind him of this.

He removed the restraints, led Carter in front of the mirror, and took off the blindfold–and Carter gasped in relief. He was young again. Himself again. He collapsed to his knees, and kissed Daddy’s boots, thanking him for another chance. Daddy got down with him, and pulled him close, giving him a kiss, running his fingers through his still grungy beard. “I’m proud of you,” Daddy said.

Carter didn’t say anything back–he clearly didn’t understand how Daddy could be proud of him, after what he’d done.

“You came back, boy. You came back–but more than that, you were man enough to admit that you’d been wrong. You surrendered to me not because you had to, but because you want to. And that shows that you are stronger than nearly every man I have ever met–and you’re still just a boy, for now. But one day, I can already tell, you’re going to make a great Daddy yourself. Maybe even a Frat Daddy like me.”

“I…Thank you Sir, I’d…be honored.”

“But first, there’s the small matter of your punishment, I believe.”

“I’ll take whatever you deem necessary Sir.”

“Oh, you’ll take a beating from me, yes. But first, I think the other boys have a right to first crack at you. Get up–you’re going on that cross. Every boy in the house is getting a flogging lesson tonight–and you’re the meat–got it?”

Carter gulped, but they both saw his cock jump at the thought. And once all the boys in the house had gotten a chance to take a little bit of their frustration and shame out on the now powerless Carter, they were all more than happy to take him back into the fold. And for Thanksgiving, they were all thankful for Daddy–but none more so that Carter, at Daddy’s right hand. He knew what he was now, without a doubt. It would take time, and training, and practice, and diligence, but he’d be a Daddy too, one day–it was the only thing he wanted to be. The only thing he could be. But he’d do it right, and he knew that with Daddy guiding him, he’d grow to be the best man he could possibly be.

Interactive: Frat Daddy (Part 3)

I am currently open for commissions! Of particular note there is a special, limited edition commission I’ll be offering this summer–a custom interlude in the Frat Daddy story line! Want to see one of the boys I’ve done go back to Daddy for another round? Have a particular fetish or scenario that you’d like to see Daddy inflict on one of the boys? You can get a 3000 word entry for a flat rate of $70 ($20 off the usual price!). Send me a note if you’re interested on tumblr, twitter, discord or email! You can find all the details at the link above.


The next couple of weeks passed by rather eventfully for the boys of the house, as they adjusted themselves to the new rules of the house. There was more than a little complaining, but none of the young men were brave enough to stand up to their frat daddy directly and challenge him–not after what happened to Peter. It had been in the evening, a few days after frat daddy’s arrival, and he had made an impromptu visit to the house, clomping his way up the stairs from the basement–where he had a private tunnel connecting the frat house to his own private residence next door. He called the boys for an assembly and inspection in the living room, but caught one boy trying to sneak off upstairs. It was Peter. He grabbed hold of the young jock and dragged him back down the stairs, turned him around, and found that, sure enough, Peter didn’t have his plug in his hole.

Ethan was disappointed. Peter tried to make excuses, that it was too big for him, that it hurt, but Daddy didn’t have any interest in his excuses–he told Peter to stand against the wall, and as the rest of the boy’s watched, he pulled his belt free from his leather pants, and gave him twenty lashings, making Peter count them all out loud. Then, after inspecting the rest of the boys, he suggested that they all help Peter’s hole adjust to his plug a little more–and took them all downstairs, to the gym…and the dungeon.

Peter ended up tied over a sawhorse, and one after the other, every boy in the house fucked him, with Daddy supervising them, critiquing their technique, giving the occasional lash against their thighs or ass if they went too slow, or treated Peter too gently for his taste. It was well past midnight by the time they were all finished, and Peter had collapsed against the saw horse, leg’s shaking, when Daddy finally untied him from the wood, and helped him down, pulling him into his lap, were Peter sobbed and clung to him, while Daddy whispered little nothing’s in his ear, claiming him down, telling him how proud he was of him, that what he did, he did to make him the best man, and the best brother, that he could be. He wrapped one gloved hand around Peter’s cock and stroked him slowly, Peter moaning softly, as Daddy’s other gloved hand slipped two, and then three fingers into his well worked hole. It wasn’t long before Peter came as well, and Daddy had him lick the cum off his glove like a good boy, and fit him with a plug that no longer felt like such a burden.

After that, Peter didn’t object again. If anything, he seemed rather…eager to have his brothers fuck him, and on more than one occasion had to restrain himself from begging his brothers to use his hole. Begging wasn’t required in any case–after all, when the boys had one of their cigars, about all they could think about was getting off, and Peter was more than happy to remain near the humidor in the evenings, should anyone need a smoke and a fuck.

Daddy’s inspections took place outside the house as well. Jameson, in particular, was inflicted with a rather humiliating display out on the quad one sunny afternoon. Daddy, smoking a cigar, passed by on some errand or other, and ordered a surprise inspection. Right there, in front of everyone on the quad, Jameson pulled off his shirt to show his Daddy that the harness was on, as required, but that wasn’t good enough. He had to bend over the back of a bench, drop his pants, and show not only his jock, but his plug as well. Daddy gave it a test, and found it a bit too loose–he pulled the small plug out, and slid in a slightly larger one from his sack, Jameson groaning and moaning as he slid it in, and only after it was firmly in place could Jameson continue on. His face was burning, and he was worried someone would report them for their lewd behavior, but no seemed to have given them a second look. And why would they? A frat daddy was off course allowed to inspect his boys at any time, on or off campus. 

This didn’t sit well with everyone on campus–including with Mason Wright, the college football coach. A number of the fratboys were on the football team, and when they showed up in the locker room in these strange leather harnesses that they refused to remove…Mason was confused. What the boys were telling him, about the rules that their frat daddy had established, it made…sense, and yet it didn’t. Not at all. As the next couple of weeks wore on, the coach found himself growing more and more convinced of a conspiracy afoot, something being perpetrated against the students, some…foul faggotry. Mason was a devout Christian, he knew what faggots got up to in their dark dens, what kind of devils they worshiped, and how they would try to sink their claws, and other things, into innocent young men to corrupt them. He became convinced that he would uncover whatever was going on, and put a stop to it–but he also knew he couldn’t do it alone. 

So he enlisted some help, a young man named Jace, who had recently been hired to the university’s security department. He had been assigned the athletic department during the day, and he and Mason would regularly chat about things, their time in the army, though Jace’s time was more recent that Mason’s, and Mason had been asking him about church, finally convincing him to start attending services with him. He was a sharp young man, with a good amount of discipline, but Mason could tell he didn’t quite have firm faith yet. Still, perhaps this would help him along, and help him see what they were up against. All he asked, was for Jace to check in on the boys at the frat house, and see if anything odd was going on there–he didn’t specify anything, after all, Mason couldn’t quite pin down what was bothering him exactly either. 

Jace did as he was asked, though he wasn’t quite sure what he was supposed to be looking for exactly–at least, until he staked out the house in the evening, and right there, through the front window, he watched the burly man who lived next door to the frat house appear inside, and begin…molesting the boys, right there in the living room! It took him a few minutes to process what, exactly, he was seeing, and he had to work to convince himself that his instincts were right, that what he was looking at was wrong. When the scene had finished, and the man had apparently returned to his own home some other way, because he appeared on the porch, smoking a cigar–and Jace decided he needed to have a word with him.

He only got as far as the walkway up to the house, before the man had stood up, and was on his way to greet him. Well I can’t believe it, is that you, Jace?”

Jace stopped in his tracks, and looked at the man closely. He…didn’t know him, did he? “Sir, I’m a member of campus security, and I have a few questions to ask you.”

“Oh come now, Jace, that’s no way to talk to your old frat Daddy, is it? Why didn’t you tell me you were back on campus?”

“You…You must have me mistaken for someone else…Sir,” Jace said, unsure of why that last word had slipped from his lips, or why it felt so good and right to say.

“Nonsense, I never forget one of my boys. You graduated four years ago, then went into the Army, wasn’t it? A proper pursuit for a man, I must say, but I’m glad they didn’t keep you too long. How long have you been back here?”

Jace struggled for a moment, his head spinning. He hadn’t gone to college, what was this crazy fucker talking about? But the harder he tried to convince himself this, the easier it was to remember, somehow, the years he’d spent here in this house, under…under Daddy’s supervision, under his guidance and…and his control. He took a step backwards, remembering what Mason had said about faggots, about how they could…manipulate you, if you weren’t careful, if you didn’t keep God in your heart at all times. But the smell of the cigar, and when Daddy embraced him, he sighed and collapsed a bit, some of his careful guard dropping. Daddy knew all of his secrets after all, everything about him.

“It’s good to see you boy, I missed you.”

“I missed you too Daddy,” Jace found himself saying, his cock…hard, and pressing into the older man’s own erection. He knew he should be disgusted, get away from him, but why would he want to get away from Daddy? Wasn’t he happy to see him? 

“Come on boy, have a cigar with me on the porch–I want to hear about how the new position is treating you, and I have some questions too. The boys have been telling me some…troubling things about the football coach, Coach Mason, I think? You wouldn’t happen to know him, would you?

“I do Daddy, but I don’t…what have the boys been telling you?” Jace asked, already forgetting he had ever been here for a reason other than to see his old Frat Daddy.

“First things first, boy, you know the rules, don’t you?” Ethan asked, grinning around his cigar, “How you properly greet a Daddy.”

Jace blushed, got down, and prostrated himself in front of Ethan, kissed both of his boots, and then knelt down in front of him, right there on the sidewalk, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Only when Daddy told him to rise did he stand again, and follow Daddy up to the porch, where he was more than happy to relay everything about the troublesome coach to Daddy.

“I see, I had feeling that might be the case,” Daddy said, “Well, you’ll help me deal with that, won’t you boy?” he said, pulling Jase closer to him, and sharing a smoky kiss with him. 

“Of course Daddy, anything for you,” Jace said.

“Good boy,” Ethan said, and Jace’s heart fluttered in a way he hadn’t felt in four years, since he’d graduated. “Come on inside, boy. We have more to discuss, I think, and I want to see what those Daddies in the army taught you.”

Jace grinned, and followed Ethan inside the house, his prior plan with Mason all but forgotten. Now, he was more interested in showing Daddy a few trips his drill sergeant taught him in the barracks that might surprise even him.


Mason was in his office, trying not to worry. He’d gotten a few messages from Jace on his stakeout, along with some very disturbing videos. Jace had told him we was going to confront the strange older man he’d seen, and while Mason had told him not to, he hadn’t heard back from him the rest of the evening. He’d assumed he’d be back today sometime to follow up with him and what had happened, but he hadn’t seen Jace around the building all day. Now practice was over, it was about time to go home…but he was wondering if he should go investigate himself. No–that was too risky. Most likely, there was an explanation for Jace’s sudden disappearance that made sense. He was well guarded against the manipulations of faggots, at least if he had been listening to what Mason had been telling him. If he hadn’t heard from him by tomorrow, he’d sort it out then. For now, there was no reason to make his wife worry more–he might as well head home and try to put it out of his mind.

He closed up his office for the evening, and noticed that the athletic building was surprisingly empty, despite the fact that it was still fairly early. He was heading for the exit when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He looked at the message from Jace’s phone, and it was a picture–a picture of Jace, bound up and nearly naked, blindfolded and gagged. Below it was a message, “Meet me in the locker room, we have some things to discuss, coach.”

There was no question of what he would do, of course. He was a righteous man of God–no faggot could touch him. He would sort this out, with his fists if necessary. He stormed off back down into the building, got to the locker room, but when he arrived, it was…empty. He knew where that picture had been taken, but no one was there. He was about to leave again, when someone tackled him from behind, sending them both crashing to the concrete. Mason tried to fight off the attacker, but in a matter of moments he found his hands cuffed behind him, and secured to the foot of one of the benches running between the rows of lockers, forcing him to sit. He looked up at the man who’d tackled him, and realized the man he was staring up at, was Jace.

Except it wasn’t Jace, not really. The faggot–he must have gotten to him somehow! He wasn’t dressed in his security uniform, instead, he was wearing some freakish version of a police uniform, made entirely out of leather, all of it shined perfectly. “He’s secure, Daddy,” Jace said, and another man stepped out from behind the lockers, dressed in the same sort of leather uniform Jace was wearing.

“Coach Mason, isn’t it? We haven’t had a chance to be properly introduced. I’m sorry for the restraints, but I felt it was best given your…proclivities, to keep you bound for now.”

“You–you’re the one who did it, aren’t you! The faggot who…I don’t know what you did, but the boys in Phi Beta Alpha, I know that something isn’t right there. What have you done to them? What the hell have you done to Jace?”

“What do you mean?” Ethan asked him, stepped over and rubbed his leather gloved hands over Jace beside him, the younger man moaning and pushing up against him. “I’ve known Jace for years–he was a PBA boy before he was in the army, weren’t you? I was the one who took the scrawny little twig you were and built you into the fine specimen of a man you see before you.”

“Fuck yeah you were Daddy,” Jace said, “and every day I think about how lucky I was to have you as my Frat Daddy,” he leaned in and kissed Ethan, and Mason tried to not let his stomach turn and dump what remained of his lunch on the floor.

“You turned him into a faggot!” he said.

Ethan looked around, “I don’t see any faggots here, Coach. Just two men who understand what real manliness looks like, and desire it more than anything,” he said, and stepped away from Jace. “As for you, well, you might be a man, or you might be something else. That all depends on what you say to the deal I’m about to offer you,” Ethan said, and crouched down beside Mason.

The coach was a handsome fellow. In his mid to late forties, with just a bit of grey beginning to touch his short cropped hair. He had a stocky build, well muscled still. He wanted to set a good example for his players, after all. Ethan pulled up his shirt and looked under, at the healthy treasure trail running up his small muscle gut, as Mason squirmed and tried to wrench away from him–but with his hands bound behind him, there was only so much he could do. Ethan’s hands drifted lower, giving his thighs a squeeze, before sliding over and groping the coach’s crotch, which only made him squirm harder. Handsome, but so misguided. Well, Ethan would be more than happy to put him on the right track–or if he refused, then he’d deal with him in other ways.

“Now, my boys, they look up to you, Mason,” Ethan said, “They respect you–and rightfully so. You work hard, you’re no hypocrite, you care about their well being. However, you seem to have arrived at the unfortunate notion that we are enemies here, rather than compatriots, looking to make sure these boys become the best men that they can possibly me–men like Jace here. Don’t you think Jace is a fine example of a man?”

“He was, until you warped his head and dressed him up in that faggot leather!”

“Now now, like I said, there are no faggots here, Mason, not yet at least. Here is what I can offer you. Let me help you, Mason. You’re a fine example of a man, but you’re so afraid. You’ve let fear color everything around you–it’s your weakness. Aren’t you tired of being so afraid of us? Of being afraid of your fellow man? So afraid that someone might think you weak, when’s the last time you allowed another fellow to embrace you? To kiss you? Can’t you see that you’re starving here?” Ethan leaned in closer now, lips inches from Mason’s face, where he’d turned away from him. “You need us, Mason. We can complete you. We can take all of that fear inside you and destroy it, and all that will remain is happiness. Don’t you want to be happy?”

“I am happy, thank you very much. I have a loving wife, I have two kids. That’s a real man’s place. That’s where I belong.”

“Hmm, yes, well we can’t have that now, can we?” Ethan said. “Well, she must not have been very happy, since she left you all those years ago. Took the kids too. None of them even write to you anymore, no one calls. It’s like you don’t even exist to them anymore.”

“That’s not true!”

“I know it’s hard, Mason, but you can’t be happy until you face the truth. I know you didn’t want anyone here to know, you kept up a strong face, pretended like everything was fine–but they’re gone. You have to accept that.”

Mason tried to hold onto it, tried as hard as he could to resist what the man was saying, but he could feel it worming into him, the knowledge that…that his secret was out. She’d left him and taken the kids years ago, with almost no warning. He hadn’t seen them since. He’d kept up the lie as best he could–he was too ashamed to admit it. That he’d failed. He’d failed as a husband, and he’d failed as a father, and he’d failed as a man. Ethan’s gloved hand cupped his chin, and pulled his face towards his–and Mason realized that it was the first intimate, human contact he’d had with another person since she’d left. The tenderness surprised him. It even aroused him, though he couldn’t admit that to himself.

“We’re here for you, Mason. A new family. Men who understand you, who understand what you really need. She left because she realized, even before you did, that you weren’t right for her–the only people who can handle you are men–real men like us.”

“No–you’re the fucking devil,” Mason said, holding back tears, unwilling to show weakness in front of them.

“I swear I am no such thing–just a man offering you a future. You could do such good here, you know. Training these young men. It’s no wonder you were drawn here to them, so you could help mold them. You enjoy being around them, don’t you? They fill a hole inside you you didn’t know was there. You want them too–don’t try to deny it. I know how you think about it in your office, and at home in that lonely apartment you rent now, how you wish you could hold them, and smell then, and caress them, and fuck them.”

Ethan’s hand slipped lower, groping Mason’s crotch again, and now, the coach was rock hard. He couldn’t help but thrust up, just ever so slightly, into Ethan’s hand, but then stopped himself, froze, horrified by what he was thinking, that this man could see so deeply into him without having ever met him. How could he know any of this? His deepest secrets, his deepest shames. 

“Just say ‘Yes, Daddy’. That’s all you have to do. Just say yes, and I can show you all of the things you’ve missed, all of the pleasures you never allowed yourself, but that you longed for so deeply. All you have to do is say the words, and you’ll never have to worry again.”

Mason moaned, despite himself. He was lonely. He’d always been lonely, even before the divorce, even before the kids, even before the marriage, all the way back, he’d been alone. So afraid of what anyone else might think, he’d closed himself off for so long, that even this was enough to bring him to the verge of tears. But that was where he wanted him. Dependent. Weak. Open. But he was stronger than this. He was stronger than this faggot magic. He had to fight, he had to fight!

“No–I could never do that to these boys. They look up to me. I’m their coach! It’s perverse. It’s wrong. I would never betray their confidence like that.”

“Well, you don’t have to be their coach, if that’s a problem for you,” Ethan said, and Mason’s guts twisted a bit. “Come on, I know you’re hurting–but I can help you. No one else can, not like me. Just say it, don’t fight it–I won’t give you a better offer than this one, right here, right now.”

“No–no, I won’t let you do this to me.”

Ethan sighed.

“You don’t understand. I’ve been a coach here for going on fifteen years. This is like a family to me. You won’t understand that, you faggots don’t understand anything like that. Everything is sex with you, there’s nothing else.”

“You don’t have to keep up the lie with me, Mason.”

“I’m not lying! I love these players like they’re my own children.”

“Not about that–about being a coach. You’re getting things mixed up again. I know it can be hard to remember, sometimes, when you get lost in a fantasy, but you’re not the coach, Mason.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Sure, you like to come here, to the locker room. Fantasize about being the coach. About ordering all those players to line up in their smelly jockstraps for an inspection. But you’re not the coach–you’re the janitor, Mason. Thirty years, you’ve been the janitor here. Always looking, always lusting, stealing jocks for your collection back at your apartment, from all of your favorite players over the years.”

“Shut up! It’s not true.”

“Lurking under the bleachers during practice, coming in for some equipment you forgot while the boys are all showering together. You don’t have to be ashamed anymore, Mason. I know what you need, and I can help you–but you have to be honest with me. You have to be honest with yourself.”

“No! No, I won’t let you do this, I won’t!”

“You pigs sometimes, so damn stubborn!” Ethan said, and turned to Jace, “Help me get him up.”

They unlocked the cuff around one hand, unhooked it from the foot of the bench, and then resecured it around his wrist. Together, Ethan and Jace took one of Mason’s elbows and hauled him upright, then walked him down the row of lockers, towards the showers, where a large mirror was on the wall. Mason closed his eyes, not wanting to look. He was the coach. He was in charge here. He cared for these boys, he looked out for them! He wouldn’t let this freak take that away from him, he wouldn’t!

“Open your eyes, Mason.”

“No.”

“Why not? Are you afraid of what you’re going to see? If you’re so sure that you’re the coach, wouldn’t you know exactly what that reflection is going to look like? You know you won’t open your eyes and see an old man in his late fifties, wearing a pair of filthy, cumstained coveralls, with a big gut and no real muscles, a thick, greying beard stained around the mouth from all those cigars you chain smoke.”

“That’s not me!”

“If that’s true, then open your eyes, and let’s look, together.”

“You’re trying to trick me, you’re the fucking devil! I don’t have to look, I know the truth, I know it!”

“Go on then. Tell me what you’re really going to see. If you’re right, then I’ll let you go, and you’ll never see me again. If I’m right, well, then you’ll have to listen to what I’ll offer you. So say it pig, who do you think’s in that mirror?”

Mason tried to focus, tried to remember, but suddenly, the vision wasn’t as clear as it should have been. “M-Muscular. I’m…43, I think. Clean shaven, I know that for sure. Tall, yeah, tall and still strong, because I work out every day with the boys, watching…I mean. Yeah, and hairy too, fuck.”

“Alright, so open them up, Mason, and let’s see who’s right.”

He knew it. He had faith. He knew who he was, who he had to be. He opened his eyes, ready to sneer in the frat daddy’s face, but he had to stare at the reflection in the mirror for a few moments, trying to sort out who he was looking at. There, on both sides, were the two leather men, but in between them–no, no that couldn’t be him, it couldn’t be him! He looked at the stranger in his late fifties, looked at the full beard, looked at the gut sagging out from under the ill-fitting athletic department t-shirt he had on, the cumstained gym shorts–he was the coach, he wasn’t the janitor! He wasn’t!

“Please no, please just let me have this, please,” he said to Daddy, “You can’t do this to me, you can’t!”

“Just be honest with me, Mason–you have to tell me the truth now, alright? No more lies. Whose clothes are these?”

Mason tried to say that they were his, that they were the usual clothes he wore to work, but instead he said, “I stole the shirt and shorts from the coach’s office at the beginning of the year, while I was cleaning it.” 

He felt his face burn, as Ethan nodded, and pulled down his shorts, to reveal a well soiled jock underneath–which they could all smell in the room. “And the rest of it? The jock? The socks?” Ethan asked.

“The jock was…from Jullian Barber, class of ‘02. Linebacker. Never washed his jock, thought it was lucky. He tossed it when they lost the championship–fuck! No, why–the socks are from…from August Rickett, class of ‘08 on the right, and Wade Marger, class of ‘98 on…on the left…”

“Sounds like you’re quite the collector, Mason.”

“Please–please don’t tell anyone, I’m not hurting anyone, I’ve never touched any of them, they’re just…fuck, I…they’re so sexy, you know? I know they would never want me, but…but I like to pretend. I’m just so lonely, I’m–” Mason said, and choked back a sob. Daddy stepped into him, pulled him close, and let the old fellow cry into his chest for a moment, holding him tight. No one had held him like this, this firmly, since he was young, and the smell of the leather, it was…no–no, this wasn’t right either, he’d been tricked again, hadn’t he? Everything was so twisted up. He was tired, and horny, and lonely, and angry, and scared. He just wanted someone to tell him what to do, he just wanted all of this to be over.

Ethan released him from his embrace when he’d calmed down a bit, and Mason stared at his reflection, in resignation. “I was wrong. I want to help. I can help! Please, I…I’m sorry for what I said, before. I’ll do whatever you ask, just…just tell me what you want from me.”

“Well, I’m afraid that offer is no longer on the table,” Ethan said, “That was an offer I was willing to make to the coach–but you aren’t the coach, are you? You’re just a dirty minded janitor, a pig who lusts after hot, young athletes all day long. But I’ll make you a new offer, how about that?”

Mason gulped–what choice did he have? He nodded, and waited to see what Ethan and Jace had in store for him.


It’s finally time for another survey! Because I’m going to be working on commissions, I probably won’t be able to keep up with the usual pace of this story, but I’ll do my best–and of course, commission interludes will be posted as I finish them, if people want them. Patrons have their bonus survey as usual, with two extra questions! They can access that survey here, through Patreon.

Featured

Summer Commissions are Open!

Hey everyone! Due to a number of unfortunate financial incidents over the last month, I’m going to be opening up for commissions through the summer and into the fall. Most of the details are the same as the last time I was open last winter (you know, a lifetime ago at this point) but you can find all the details below, if you have questions!

— What kinds of commissions am I offering?

I will be offering three kinds of commissions while I am open.

Sketch story commissions – A sketch story is around 1000 words long, and generally isn’t a fully fleshed out story. Think of it as a writer’s version of an artist’s sketch. The cost for a sketch commission is a flat $25 fee. Other ideas that can be turned into sketches rather easily would include:

  • A TF scene you would like me to write, which doesn’t necessarily warrant a full story.
  • A caption for a photo or two that you would like to see.
  • A branch you would like to see continued over on CYOC with a new chapter.
  • An alternate branch on an interactive story I have written, if you’d wanted to see a different sort of outcome.
  • A short fanfic story, though if I have to research a show or video game I don’t know, it will cost an extra $10 dollars.

Frat Daddy interlude commissions – This is a limited offer for the summer season! Have you been enjoying my Frat Daddy story? Is there a scenario or a fetish that you’d like the see Daddy inflict on one of his boys in the house? These will be a 3000 word commission, offered at a flat rate of $70 dollars–which is a $20 discount off the usual price of this length of story.

Short story commissions – I define a short story as anything shorter than 5000 words. The rate for a short story is 3 cents a word, or 30 dollars per 1000 words written. A short story comes with more restrictions on content.

  • No fan fiction.
  • Stories involving your fursona or OC characters may require further consultation. This isn’t to say that furry stories aren’t allowed–but some ideas may be better suited to the sketch category above, than a full fledged story.

— How does my commission process work?

I do not work with a queue system–I’ve found it tends to make it harder for me to get through more pieces if I have to finish them in a particular order. Instead, I use what I call the pot system. It works like this:

  1. You ask me for a commission, and we chat about your idea. If it sounds like something I can write for you, then I will send you a rough synopsis of the story, as I plan on writing it. Once you agree to that outline, I will put your commission ‘into the pot’.
  2. There are two pots. There is the priority pot, reserved for patrons, and a general pot, for non-patrons. The pots will be publicly posted so you will know how many people are waiting. Sketch and story commissions share the same pots. 
  3. I will select stories from the pot to commit to writing, and then ask for the down payment before I begin the story. A sketch story requires the entire $25 payment before I begin, and a short story requires a $30 down payment. I will select commissions from the priority pot first, and then, once the priority pot is empty, I will begin taking general commissions from the pot, and working on those in turn.
  4. Once I finish a story, I will send you a link to the first draft, and discuss any edits you would like to make. Small detail edits are free–if I have to substantially rework the story, that will incur an additional fee. The balance on a short story commission is due before edits will be done, and the story polished.
  5. I will do my best to work through all of the commissions in both pots as quickly as I can. However, I can’t guarantee that I will finish every commission I put in the pot–this is why I take the down payment before I begin writing, not immediately after the consultation. 

— How do I accept payments?

I prefer accepting payments over cash app or paypal.

— How long will I remain open for commissions?

I plan on remaining open through the end of August, and perhaps longer, depending on demand. When I reach a point that I feel like I cannot reasonably accept more commissions and finish them all in the time I have given myself, I will close the pots–but continue finishing the stories in them. I generally plan to finish all of the stories in both pots–however, life happens. I will only guarantee a story will be written once I have accepted a down payment from you.

What sort of content will I be posting during this time?

I generally put most of my energy into commissions when I am open, so depending on demand, Frat Daddy may be put on hold for the time being. I will still have the suggestion box open through July and August, however.

–Can you get more than one short story commission? Can you commission sequels?

You sure can! However, I only work on one commission from each individual at a time, so you can’t commission 10,000 words all at once. If you would like another commission from me, you’re more than welcome to do so, however, all repeat customers go to the back of the queue automatically, to make sure a few people aren’t hogging my time. In the case of sequels, or multiple stories in the same larger arc, I am generally willing to do so. However, if the story is rather involved, I may charge a 3.5 cent per word rate for sequels.

— How do I contact you?

You can use the following ways to contact me regarding a commission. If you send me a message in some other fashion (say, over on tumblr) I can’t guarantee I’ll receive it. Patrons should message me either through discord, or send me a message through Patreon.

Email – wesley.bracken@gmail.com

Telegram – username @brackenous

Twitter – Send me a DM, my profile is @wesleybracken

Discord: username Wesley Bracken#4835

Thanks for your support as always! Get in touch if you’re interested in a commission!

Frat Daddy – Interlude #2 (Mike)

Mike had thus far avoided any of Frat Daddy’s direct attention, and he counted himself thankful, because keeping up with just the new rules of the frat house was proving challenging enough. The worst part, though, was the showers. Or really, the lack of them. Mike was on the football team, along with a few other guys in the house, and between only showering three times a week, not being allowed to use much soap at all, and just being an active guy, trying to workout and burn through the massive calorie diet Daddy had them all on, he reeked–and he hated it. Mike had always prided himself on his cleanliness and style, always smelling and looking good for the girls on campus–none of who would give him a second look now.

None of this had escaped Ethan’s attention though–especially when he found contraband in Mike’s drawer during a surprise check. It was a can of deodorant (unscented even, because he knew any scent would have given him away in the house) and Daddy had him turn around, and threatened to shove the aerosol can up his hole, if he ever found something like this in the house again. Instead, he just gave him ten solid paddlings with the metal cylinder, and left the house with it. When Friday rolled around, and it was again time to gather up and find out who Daddy would have spend the weekend with him, Mike was surprised when Daddy chose him. 

The week before, Carter had come back and he’d been…different. More assertive. Bigger too, somehow. He’d been vague about his time with Daddy, but said it had been something very special, and that he couldn’t wait to go back and see him again sometime. In fact, Carter looked outright despondent that he hadn’t been selected, while Mike was trying to figure out, why him? If it was a reward, why pick him after finding contraband in his room? If it was a punishment…he didn’t really want to think too hard about that, actually. There was only one bright spot, he thought, as he followed Daddy through the tunnel and over to his home, and that was, maybe, he could get that little can back from him. It was risky, sure…but maybe, if he could just talk to him, he’d understand, right?

Daddy cooked him dinner, which was off putting. He hadn’t had much in the way of real food, aside from the occasional dining hall visits, since anything consumed outside of the house didn’t actually count towards their daily goal, and the shakes were so damn filling. Daddy was quiet–not like he was angry, but like he was trying to give Mike some space to think. It was enough for Mike to reconsider him for a moment, that maybe he was something more than just the taskmaster he had taken him to be. Daddy asked him about football, and about the coach in particular, if he’d said anything to the boys about their uniform, their diet, or the fact they were forbidden to shower after practice. From there, talk drifted to the topic of hygiene. Mike tried to, gently, suggest that maybe the boys could be allowed to shower more–at least after practice, but Daddy didn’t seem interested in changing his mind. What he did say, was that if Mike still felt that way after this weekend, then he might consider it. It wasn’t much, but a bit of hope was better than nothing. When Mike asked him what they were doing this weekend, Daddy was honest–the house needed some work, especially outside in the garden, ahead of winter. As part of his punishment, Mike would be helping him. That seemed fair to Mike–and he imagined that Daddy could have inflicted much harsher punishments if he so chose. Daddy showed him to his room, and then left–he’d get him up in the morning.

But Mike had a hard time sleeping, for a number of reasons. He was horny, for one thing, but that had become a rather constant feature of his life, since he didn’t exactly enjoy having sex with his brothers, and women were off limits. In fact, Mike hadn’t fucked anyone in the last week–as hard as it was to resist after a cigar. It wasn’t required, so why do it? That, though, brought up another reason sleeping was difficult. He’d taken to consuming one of his required cigars in the evening, and he hadn’t today–so much to his displeasure, he was jonesing a bit for nicotine. The room was also quite hot–hotter than it should have been, especially this late in October. He’d kicked off all the sheets, and was still soaked in sweat. He tried to open the window, it wouldn’t budge. In the end, he got up, tried to door, and much to his surprise, it wasn’t locked–though why he’d expected it to be…he didn’t know. Maybe he could find that can of deodorant at least–if he didn’t have to smell himself, he’d sleep a bit better. If not that, a cigar–Daddy would understand, he was sure. He’d seen a humidor downstairs in the lounge–might as well go there first, for an alibi.

After fetching a cigar–the smallest he could find, since he didn’t want to be up all night, he made his way back upstairs, and found himself outside Daddy’s room–he could tell from the snoring. He pushed open the door, which was ajar, and it was just as sweltering as his own room, not that it was bothering Daddy at all. Sure enough, there, on the dresser, was the little can of deodorant. Just grab it, slip out, spray it on, put it back, and he’d be good for the weekend at least. But instead, as he crossed the side of the room as quietly as he could–he smelled something else. Looking down, he realized what it was, he was standing right on some of Daddy’s well worn underwear, and he could smell it, the cum, the piss, the sweat, all of it wafting up to him, and he didn’t understand what he did, or why, but he bent down, picked them up, and retreated to his own room where he closed the door, lit his cigar, and spent the next hour with the underwear pressed to his nose, moaning and groaning and jacking off, always on edge, unable to cum, until at last, he passed out, the butt of the cigar balance on the side table, still smoldering. 

Outside the room, Ethan was crouched, looking through the door that Mike thought had been shut tight, but no doors were closed to Daddy. He hadn’t been sure that Mike would take the bait–but the deodorant would have been a fine surprise for the boy too–just a different sort of surprise. For now, he would go with this plan–the weekend was still long, after all, and Mike was a tough nut, he could already tell.


The pounding on the door jostled Mike awake. “Come on boy! Get a move on,” a voice said from the other side of the door, and it took Mike a moment to place it, before he remembered where he was. It was Daddy of course. He sat up, saw the cigar on the side table, and remembered everything else that had happened last night, and his stomach turned. The underwear! He looked around for it on the bed, but it wasn’t anywhere–and then he looked down, and saw that he…was wearing it.

His stomach turned a bit, at the sheer thought of wearing someone else’s underwear–especially one as dirty and…and why were they still wet? He tried to take them off, only to discover they refused to budge from around his waist. In a rising panic, he stood up, almost called to Daddy…but then he’d have to admit that he took them, and admit what he did the night before, which he could barely even reckon with himself. Instead, he put on the clothes that had appeared on a chair by the door–a pair of old 501 levis that fit surprisingly well, a wife beater, socks, and a pair of work boots. They were all used as well, they all smelled of a vague musk, but what choice did he have? He’d just have to get through the weekend and be done with it. He thought again about that can on the dresser, but Daddy pounded on the door again, ordering him out. Mike emerged, followed Daddy downstairs and they had breakfast, followed by a cigar, as Daddy outlined the tasks for the day.

Daddy had some general work to do winterizing the house and the backyard. Mike would be spending the day mowing the lawn, organizing the shed, and a few other general tasks, should he be a good boy and finish all of those quickly. The morning chill burnt off quickly, and Mike found himself mowing the lawn in a heat that felt more like August than Fall–it was unnatural, and he found himself working up a sweat almost immediately. The lawn was connected seamlessly to the frat house’s front lawn, and Daddy told him to mow that as well. Quite a few of his brothers could see him through the windows, and Mike grumbled a bit, knowing that the rest of them would know that he was Daddy’s chore boy this weekend. At least he could smoke a cigar while he was mowing, though that did nothing to ease his horniness. Every erection he sprouted as he walked, he knew it was rubbing up against Daddy’s dirty underwear, and he found it hard to know how he really felt about that. Disgusted? Excited? Both? He mowed faster so he could at least be done with it, and when he was finished, he went back and found Daddy in the backyard, as soaked in sweat as he was.

They had a quick break for lunch, and sat out on the porch to eat it. Each time Daddy raised his arm to take a swig from his beer, Mike would get a whiff of his pits, and the same emotions would roil through him all over again. He was certain this was Daddy’s plan all along, turn him into some…musky boy or whatever he had it mind, like how Carter had come back, and suddenly he was twisting tits and smacking asses as he fucked everyone, and…and what in the world was happening to them all? This wasn’t normal, right? He had to remember that. He had to keep telling himself that.

They finished lunch, and returned to work. Mike spent the afternoon in the shed, organizing and sorting Daddy’s tools, and the tin roof turned it into an oven. Soon, all he could smell was his own musk, or was it Daddy’s? He couldn’t tell anymore, but it was making his cock ache, but he refused to give in. He stayed focused on his task, and finished it without making a fool of himself. If he could demonstrate self-control, if he could show Daddy that he didn’t need to be dirty to be a good boy…then maybe he really would listen to him. He hoped he would, at least. 

With their chores finished, and their bodies plenty sore, they went in, and Daddy cooked another sizable dinner. Once they’d eaten, Daddy poured them both some bourbon and they sat back out on the porch with their cigars, this time on the swinging bench, Daddy’s arm around Mike’s shoulder, his pit inches from the boy’s face. “Well boy, you did some nice work today, I have to admit. Good boys deserve a reward, don’t you think?”

Daddy’s arm contracted around his shoulders and pulled him closer, while his other hand groped his boy’s crotch. Mike was very hard–it felt like he’d been hard all day long at this point. The urge to lean in and just…smell Daddy’s pit was nearly overwhelming, but one little lapse, and he’d have lost. He was so focused on not giving in, that he forgot what Daddy would find when he undid the button fly of his jeans–and Daddy chuckled. “Well boy, now where did you get those?”

Mike tried to pull away from him, but Daddy tugged him even closer.

“Looks like someone snuck into Daddy’s room, and made off with a pair of underwear, you little thief. To think, all this time, saying you can’t handle the smell of the other boys in the house, and the first chance you get, you steal a pair of my dirty, cumstained, stinking underwear so you can wear them yourself.”

“That’s not…I didn’t…”

“Sure seems like you enjoy it boy,” Daddy said, groping harder and rougher, and then he pressed his fingers to Mike’s nose. He snorted in reflex, and then moaned, the smell of his own musk mixing with Daddy’s more than he could really take. “What does it smell like, boy? Does it smell like hard work? Smell like hardworking, burly, hairy men? You like men like that, don’t you? Like Daddy? Don’t you want to be a stinking man like that? Dominating all of the men around you with your pits, with your crotch, with your feet?”

“No,” Mike said, and managed to push himself away, and stand up. “No–I know what you’re doing, but I’m not like you, I’m not! I’m not just…just going to let you do this to me, to all of us.”

“Boy, sit your ass back down, right now,” Daddy said, but Mike ran inside, and headed for the stairs. The first place he stopped was the bathroom, so he could get in the shower–but he discovered that there simply wasn’t one there. 

“Boy, think about what you’re doing right now, you’re about to make a mistake.”

“Shut up!” Mike cried, “I’m not some fucking boy–I know what I’m doing, and what I want, and it isn’t this!”

He went into Daddy’s master bedroom, but again, somehow, the shower in the attached bathroom he was certain should be there was just…gone. He turned, saw the little can on the dresser, and made a beeline for it. He might not be clean, but at least he wouldn’t stink!

He popped off the cap, and Daddy stepped into the room, hands down, looking…not angry, like Mike had expected of him, but a bit…concerned. “Boy, you don’t understand what you’re about to do. I know it’s hard, but I just need you to trust me, and you’ll understand that what I’m offering you is about more than this. That if you don’t work past this, one way or another, you won’t–”

“Shut up! I’m sick and tired of your rules, and your lectures, and your fucking stink!” he said, and proceeded to spray himself from head to foot–but as soon as the mist struck his nose, he knew something was wrong. This…wasn’t unscented anymore. It smelled…foul. Fuck, it fucking reeked so…so fucking much, and the next thing Mike really remembered clearly, he had crawled across the floor, grunting and snorting, and shoved his nose into Daddy’s crotch, snorting up all the musk there, hungry for it, aching for it.

“I tried to warn you pig, but some boys need to learn the hard way, no matter what,” Daddy said, and dropped his own jeans, so Mike could shove his nose into his dirty underwear, sniffing and grunting and squealing until he shot a load in the filthy pair of underwear he had on still. Mike was desperately trying to regain control of himself, but he could feel that he was changing further, his gut sagging lower, his body coated with sweat and grime like he hadn’t had a shower in ages. Daddy stripped down, got on the bed, and let the pig climb up with him, licking him clean, worshipping every inch of his body, every slight difference in musk registered and relished by his more sensitive nose, until Daddy had had enough with the licking, shoved the pig down on his belly, and pounded his hole, making the pig squeal and shoot another load all over the sheets beneath him. After that, Daddy kicked the pig out of bed. Mike crawled around, sniffing for a while, and eventually curled up in a pile of dirty laundry, and was soon snoring away.


Sunday morning came, and all that registered to Mike at first, was a headache, like he had spent all night huffing paint. He made his way to the bathroom, splashed a bit of water on his face, took care of his business, stumbled out, but Daddy must have woken up already. Mike went downstairs, carefully, since the world was still spinning a bit rapidly, and found Daddy cooking a delicious smelling breakfast. His memories of the night before were…hazy. He could remember the fight, somewhat, and he felt…bad, but he wasn’t quite sure why. 

“There you are, pig,” Daddy said, with a grin, “sleep well?”

“I…I feel like I got hit by a train, Daddy,” Mike said, and sat down at the table.

“I tried to warn you, boy, but you didn’t want to listen.”

“Well I’m sick of listening! I’m sick of you telling us what to do. We’re adults, you know! We’re–” before Mike could get anything else out, Daddy had walked over, shoved his face into his pit, and everything else disappeared–there was just that wonderful, filthy stench, and with a grunt, Mike was licking and sucking at his pit with pure delight, until Daddy pulled away, and Mike came back to himself, horrified. “How…why did I do that?”

“You’re a pig.”

“But the spray, I thought it wore off.”

“It might wear off, eventually. But until then, anytime you smell another fellows musk–you’re going to turn into one hundred percent grade A muskpig.”

“You…you can’t be serious.”

“I most certainly am. It’ll get worse, too. You’ll get fatter, the more it happens. Dirtier. It’ll start wearing off on you. Showers, for you, are optional from now on–if you can stand to take them. You might even start to like it. You might forget you ever wanted to be a man at all, boy. You might just leave here a pig, and never look back.”

Mike sat in silence, while Daddy finished cooking, and set the meal in front of him. Was he hungry because he was legitimately starving, or was he hungry because the pig was urging him on? He ate anyway, trying to hold back, trying to find the line, but it eluded him. “For what I said, Daddy, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. You meant it,” Daddy said, and looked him in the eye, “When you really understand what you did wrong–then apologize. Until then, well, we’ll see.”

After breakfast, Mike returned to the house. The boys all asked him how it had been, if the chores had been a punishment, or something else. Mike didn’t really know what to tell any of them. Later, Carter found him, alone, and sat beside him–and just put his arm around him. Mike knew it was commiseration, but it took all of his will to not leap into Carter’s pit and suck it clean.

“Daddy’s a real bastard, isn’t he?” Carter said, “But fuck, he knows what he’s talking about.”

“He is a bastard, that’s for sure,” Mike replied, and left it at that.

Frat Daddy – Interlude #1 (Carter)

So, given the answers on the last survey, I found that the chapters were going to be too rushed if I tried to fit everything in, but I was also a bit hesitant to have this story turn into some massive monstrosity. That said, I’ve been getting good feedback on it, I’ve been enjoying it, and so I figured I might as well embrace it and just let it get larger until I get a bit sick of it. This is the first interlude in the story, which are little asides, as Daddy takes the boys, one or two at a time, and gives them some private sessions of various kinds. There won’t be any surveys after these interludes, only after the chunks that advance the narrative further. I considered making some of these interludes Patron Only, but for now, I’ll go ahead and post them publicly.


On Friday night, the boys lined up in the living room, and Daddy came before them and considered them all quietly. None of the young men quite knew how to feel about this. Daddy had told them that, each weekend, he would select one or two boys to spend the weekend with him at his house next door, but it wasn’t clear whether this would be considered a punishment or a reward. 

“Carter, come along with me. The rest of you are dismissed.”

Carter gulped, but at the same time, he found himself…excited. Ever since that moment in the bathroom, where he’d allowed Daddy to cut off all of his hair, he’d found himself adrift, no longer sure of who he was, or what he was doing, or who he was becoming. But one thing he knew for sure, was that he would follow Daddy wherever he lead him. Daddy had apparently sensed the same thing in him, or perhaps something else. Carter followed him down into the basement, through the tunnel connecting the two houses together, and back up into Daddy’s home. Carter was scared, but doing his best to not show it too badly. Daddy saw his nerves, and pulled him into a hug. 

“No need to fret tonight. We’ll have dinner, have a smoke, talk a bit. Tomorrow, I have something special planned however. I think you’ll enjoy it.”

Daddy cooked for them both. It was strange, seeing the figure who had spent all week dominating them doing something so domestic and ordinary. It was also the first real food that Carter had tasted in a week. The shakes from the machine weren’t bad–but they also weren’t this delicious. Regardless of what might come tomorrow, he would at least relish this. After they’d eaten, they adjourned to Daddy’s smoking room lined with humidors, smoked a cigar together, and spoke. Well, Daddy asked Carter questions, and he answered them as best he could. Questions about his youth, about his family, about manhood, about what he wanted. Questions that Carter couldn’t really answer anymore. He’d grown up in a rather free spirited family, independently wealthy, one of two children with enough freedom that they could both pursue whatever they wanted. He’d thought he’d wanted that freedom–the hair had been an expression of that, certainly. Now, he wasn’t so sure.

They finished their smokes, and Carter expected Daddy to ravage him at last, but instead, he led him to a guest room, and told him to sleep well. It was going to be a long day tomorrow, and he’d need his sleep. Carter didn’t think he’d be able to sleep at all, but was surprised that, as soon as his head hit the pillow, he was out, and didn’t wake up until Daddy knocked on his door the next morning. They ate a light breakfast, but the nerves had returned, and Carter found it hard to eat, wondering what Daddy had in store for him today. He knew better than to ask–Daddy would tell him when he was ready for Carter to know.

Then, Daddy spoke to him, said…something, and Carter…couldn’t recall what happened next. But when he was next aware of what was happening to him, he was in darkness–total darkness. He was upright, his hands shackled and strung to the ceiling with chains, from what he could hear. His legs also had shackles on them, with a bar between them, keeping them spread apart, and also bolted to the floor. There was light then, and…Daddy walked in, but not…not Daddy. He wasn’t Daddy right now. Right now…he was Sarge. The leather uniform was gone, replaced by a pair of fatigues, combat boots, and a cap. 

Ethan stepped into the room, took a drag on his cigar, and admired the boy for a moment where he was suspended in the middle of his dungeon. Carter was a handsome man, well built, with a small coating of hair on his chest and a modest bush around a sizable cock, and a heavy sack below. He was looking at him now, eyes wide with something between fear and helpless arousal, as he tried to take in what was happening to him now. “I…Sarge…” he said, and the word sent a jolt right to Ethan’s cock, “What am I doing here?”

“What you told me last night, Cadet, none of that surprises me. You lack structure and discipline. You crave it, but without a real man giving it to you, you have become shaggy and overgrown, both outside and inside. I’m going to train you into something new, into a proper man–isn’t that what you want boy?”

Ethan had stepped into the room, and as he spoke, ran a hand along Carter’s stomach, bulging a bit from his new diet, but still plenty firm. Carter flinched at the touch, and then shuddered a bit as the hand came around to his back, was joined by another one, and ran down the whole of his back down to his ass, groping and pinching enough to make him wince slightly. “I…I don’t know, Sir…”

“Why did you let me cut your hair, cadet?”

“Because…in the mirror. I…I didn’t want to become that…that person.”

“And what did you see in the mirror? What scared you more there, than the prospect of me cutting off that beautiful hair,” Ethan said, and ran his hand over Ethan’s scalp, feeling the young man shudder again, his young cock pulsing slightly. 

“I…I was old.”

“Everyone gets old,” Ethan said, and gave Carter a sharp slap on the ass, making him gasp, “What did you see! Be honest boy.”

“He…he was a loser, Sir.”

Another sharp smack, another gasp.

“He didn’t have anything left! There…there was nothing, I don’t know what you want me to say Sir, I don’t know, I just…I couldn’t…”

Ethan stepped around, and looked the boy in the eye. Carter flinched like Ethan had struck him again, and dropped his eyes almost immediately. 

“He…you…I didn’t want to look like that Sir. I…wanted to be like you. He looked like he had no control, over anything. But you…Sir…you can control…anyone. I…I want that.”

“Then the first thing you have to learn, Cadet, is self-control,” Ethan said, grabbed hold of Ethan’s nipples in his hands, and tightened the pinch slowly. Almost immediately, Carter began to groan and try and twist away, but Ethan was relentless, tightening, and twisting, with a slight pull, until Carter was begging him to stop–but Ethan just held him there, until he looked at him again, and he saw the fear in his eyes.

“You have no control here. I can do whatever I want to you. You have no choice but to submit to me. The one thing you can control here, is yourself. Your anger. Your pain. Your pleasure. Your fear. Master all of those, and there is nothing I can do to you that will touch you.” Ethan released his tits then, and Carter sighed, and Ethan grabbed hold of Carter’s cock in one hand–and Carter realized he was…hard. Rock hard.

“You seem to have betrayed yourself, Cadet. Do you like having those tits of yours tortured?” Ethan said, and while one hand stroked the young man’s cock slowly, he twisted one tit again…and this time, Carter felt something unexpected. There was pleasure twisted up with the pain now, and he gasped, unsure of which sensation brought it forth. His cock spasmed, and precum shot from the head all over the back of Ethan’s hand. He pulled it away, and wiped it across Carter’s face. “Today, I’m going to show you something else. I’m going to show you just how little control you have over yourself. It will be up to you, do decide if you want to develop the will after that.”

Carter tried to reply, but Ethan pushed a gag into his mouth, secured it around the back of his head, and began. He started with his tits–pumping them first, and then when Carter was moaning, a puddle of precum collecting underneath him, he tugged the pumps off, clipped each of them, and added a weight. His balls were next. Ethan tugged them away from Carter’s body, secured a leather parachute around them, and began adding weight, little by little, until Carter was dribbling pre in an almost constant stream, begging Sarge for release–unsure if he was begging him to allow him to cum, or begging him to let him go, because the pain was growing more excruciatingly exciting. 

Sarge stepped back and admired his work, the boy’s body slick with sweat now, breath quick, cock hard and red and angry and eager to shoot–but not yet. No, not yet. He picked up a paddle from the wall, went around behind him, and went to work on the boy’s ass, each swat causing his body to jolt forward, his the weight on his balls and tits swinging away from him, picking up a rhythm, the boy descending into heaving, gasping, mindless emotion. “Look how easily I’ve broken you, Cadet. I’ve turned you into my little pain pig in less than an hour. I could do whatever I want to do to you, cause you any amount of pain that I want, and you’d beg for more, wouldn’t you? Doesn’t it feel good boy? Don’t you want me to hurt you more?”

Carter couldn’t speak through the gag, but he found himself nodding vigorously. He…did need more. He needed it. Sarge pulled a flogger down next, and began pounding at the boy’s back, sending shockwaves through his body, until he was shaking and shuddering, an orgasm unlike anything he’d ever experienced ripping through him, centered on his forehead, while his cock just kept leaking. Every swing while he convulsed was just more pleasure piled on top of pleasure, and when Daddy stopped swinging, Carter shook, the absence of pain somehow more painful than the beating had been. 

While the bar between his feet was bolted to the floor in the middle, it could swivel–and Sarge spun the young man around so he was facing behind him now–and again, Carter found himself face to face with a mirror, and again, the reflection looking back at him…it wasn’t his own. It was another future, and while his ego was horrified, the part of him that was growing more and more addicted to pain looked at himself in wonder. At the balls stretched down between his thighs, the scrotum covered his studs and rings. The tits tortured so much that they looked like small sausages, pierced through with six or sever rings each. His cock, no longer able to even get hard unless he was being tortured, also pierced all over. His body was completely hairless and pale, and he could see the bruises and welts from sessions with his Master. But it was the eyes that scared him the most. The acceptance, the eagerness, the anticipation. He could feel it now, welling up inside him, how you could become lost in this, if you weren’t careful. Lose yourself and never find your way back again.

“What do you think, Cadet? Do you want to become my little pain pig? Send you back to the house, make you beg all your brothers to spank you, and beat you, and fuck you until that pain addicted cock finally cums? Pierce you all over, tattoo you, make sure no one will ever be able to mistake you for a man ever again? Is that what you want?” Ethan’s hand wrapped its way around his cock and started stroking. “All you have to do is cum, pig. Cum–and I’ll make all your dreams come true.”

Fuck, it was tempting. Carter stared at the image again, and started swinging gently, feeling the weights on his tits and balls pull away from his body, making his cock stiff and ache for release, but he stopped himself. This…he could have this. He could even want this. But he didn’t. Control–he’d lost control of himself, he was allowing his pain and pleasure to rule him–but this wasn’t the kind of man that he wanted to be. This isn’t what Sarge was offering him. He stopped, took a few deep breaths, and Daddy took the gag from his mouth, allowing him to say, “No Sir. Thank you Sir, for the offer. But I don’t want to be a pig Sarge, I want to be a man, like you.”

Ethan smiled, and Carter knew he’d made the right decision. “That’s my boy–I knew you were stronger than the rest.”

Sarge kissed him then, and the tenderness shocked him, and when Sarge moved again, there was a new image in the mirror. Carter, older, muscled and hairy and strong and firm and confident and all of the things he’d always wanted to be, and Ethan kept stroking. Come on Cadet–shoot for your Sarge. You’ve fucking earned it.” 

Carter exploded at last, shooting a massive load all over the floor of the dungeon, and then Sarge embraced him, holding him tight while he collapsed against him, and he took the weights off his balls and tits, released him from the ceiling, and pulled him to the floor, where Carter shook and cried and laughed and Daddy held him tight, telling him how proud of him he was, that one day, he’d be that man in the mirror, and Daddy would do everything in his power to help him get there.

Sunday afternoon, Carter returned to the house, and while there was nothing obviously different about him, the other men could still sense a difference. He seemed…larger, somehow. Taller and broader. Whether he had actually grown, or whether it was just a matter of posture, no one could quite tell. But there was a firmness, a confidence that Carter hadn’t had, not even before all of this, when he’d had his full mane of hair. Tyler nailed it, eventually. Carter…was walking and talking and behaving like Daddy, in a way that he couldn’t quite figure out. It was…hot though. Tyler asked Carter what had happened, what Daddy had done to him, but Carter just smiled, reached out, and gave one of Tyler’s nipples a twist, making him cringe a bit. 

“Want me to show you?” he said, and Tyler nodded.

Interactive: Frat Daddy (Part 2)

“Come on boys, time to get those asses up. We have a lot to discuss today, because we’re going to be making a few changes around here.”

The young men of Phi Beta Alpha all moaned a bit, still struggling with their hangovers and their recollections of their first wild party under their new Frat Daddy. Tyler sat up on the couch where he must have collapsed, looked at their frat’s Daddy sitting in a high backed chair in front of the fireplace, a mug of coffee steaming on the small table beside him, and a cigar burning in his other hand, and tried to remember the man from the night before.

He’d been older, but rather unassuming. Average build. He could almost recall glasses, but he wasn’t sure. A beard, but a rather thin one. Not unattractive, but not particularly striking either. He’d been wearing khakis, a button down shirt, no tie. The man sitting in the chair before them, however, only vaguely resembled the man from his memory. It was hard to take in anything other than the clothes at first, the leather boots shining in the light of the morning sun through the window, chaps stretched tight across Daddy’s thick thighs and calves, his monstrous cock and balls exposed, lying against the side of his thigh. He had on no shirt, just a leather vest and an armband with the insignia of PBA made from steel studs. The same insignia was on the leather muir cap he was wearing.

Under the gear, the man was simply massive. It was difficult to tell because he was sitting, but he had to be over six feet tall, perhaps by several inches. His shoulders were broad, chest and torso shaped like a barrel, packed with muscle and a tight muscle gut underneath. There was hair everywhere, across his belly and chest, on top of his shoulders and down his arms. He had a thick full beard with a touch of silver, trimmed neatly to about an inch long. He picked up the mug in his massive hands, took a sip, and set it back down. “Come on boys,” Ethan said, his voice deeper, with a bit of a western twang, “Hurry up and gather around Daddy’s boots, we have a lot to cover today, and you don’t want to waste Daddy’s time.”

The fratboys gathered around, skipping the chairs and the couches and instead sitting on the floor around Daddy, where boys were supposed to be, looking up at him. The more they stared, the less out of sorts he seemed to be, and Ethan smiled. When he’d woken up this morning, he’d felt like he’d needed a bit of a makeover, and the amulet had helped give him the body of his fantasies. Now it was time for his boys to help make a few more come true. He looked down at their anxious faces, none of them knowing what to expect, and his cock got a little harder, leaking a little bit of precum onto his chaps.

“Now, as your new Frat Daddy, my first impression of you boys here is that you lack discipline. For far too long, you’ve had Daddies who let you do whatever you like, who don’t best know how to help young men like yourselves grow up and mature into proper PBA men. Well all of that is going to change starting now. You might find me to be a taskmaster. You will consider my methods too harsh, at first. But these are the rules my frat daddy had for me when I was a PBA boy, and so they will be the rules you must abide by as well.”

He allowed a pause, but none of the boys spoke up. A few looked confused, their heads trying to catch up to reality as best they could. The amulet glinted in the sunlight–it would sort things out in any case.

“First things first, will be the establishment of a proper uniform for all of you boys, while you are under my care. While in the house, the only thing you will be permitted to wear are the items I am about to show you now. Outside the house, when you attend classes, you will be allowed to wear civilian clothes over it, but you may not remove the uniform unless given explicit permission, is that clear?”

Silence again.

“When I ask a question boys, the proper response is ‘Yes Daddy,’ is it not? Or do all of you lack even that basic understanding of your role here?”

“Yes Daddy,” the fratboys said, but it was a mutter. Displeased, Ethan stood up from the chair, rising to his full height of six foot five, grabbed one of the boys in front by the wrist, and dragged him forward so he was on his belly, and then Ethan straddled his back, pinning the boy to the ground, head towards the fireplace, with his ass before the rest of the young men. Ethan picked him because he hadn’t said anything either time, and he groped the young man’s tight ass in his rough hands. He brought one hand down, hard, on the young man’s ass, and made him holler.

“All of you will need to learn quickly that I do not tolerate lax discipline among my boys,” Ethan said, and brought down a hand on the other cheek, bringing out another yelp of pain. “You will not question me, and you will obey my commands with enthusiasm. You are members of this fraternity, this brotherhood,” he said, and smacked the ass before him again, hearing the young man sob slightly, “because you all wish to become proper PBA men. But I know full well that the only way to become a man is to be a boy first. Obedient, eager, and submissive.” Another smack, and the young man was shuddering now. “Do you all understand?”

A resounding cry of “Yes, Daddy” came from the fratboys, along with one whimpered cry behind him, and Ethan got off the boy’s back, rolled him over, and pulled him into his arms. The sudden embrace surprised the boy, and he tried to flinch away for a moment, but Daddy’s arms were too tight, and after a moment, he relented, and pressed his face into Daddy’s chest. “I will be hard on you. You will resent me at times. I do these things because I believe you boys are capable of withstanding them, and growing stronger. Some of you will not rise to the challenge I give you. Some of you will break, and will be expelled. But trust me when I say, that if you embrace me, my rules, my dominance, my order, you will understand in time that it was all worth it. 

The young man in Daddy’s arms, named Jamie, was caught between too many different feelings in that moment, and much to his surprise, began to cry, though he didn’t quite know why. The other boys looked uncomfortable, but Daddy stroked his head, held him close, his musk washing over him. “Daddy has you boy, you did well, thank you for serving me,” Ethan said, only loud enough for Jamie to hear, and much to his continued confusion, Jamie felt his cock throb. When he’d regained most of his composure after a minute or two, Ethan stood up and returned to his chair, but kept Jamie with him, sitting on the ground between his legs, both hands on his shoulders, squeezing him gently, reminding him of his power, and also of his care.

“First, on matters of personal grooming,” Daddy said, “All boys will have their heads shaven each day, when you wake up. You will rise at six each morning, gather in the communal bathroom, and shave one another’s heads clean. No one is permitted to shave their facial hair without my explicit approval, and the same goes for all other hair on your bodies. Shaving your heads is a sign of discipline, and your status–growing your hair shows that you desire to become men, true proper, PBA men. On Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, after you shave, you will be permitted your weekly, communal shower, and you all must soap and wash one another, never yourselves. Your soap will be unscented, and deodorant and any other scented product is forbidden. If you want to become men, you will have to smell like one soon enough.” He stood up from his chair, finished his coffee, and picked up his cigar. “Come on then, we might as well take care of that much. Then we will discuss the house uniform in more detail.

The boys discovered that all of the separate bathrooms in the house had disappeared, and one massive open bathroom had replaced them. Along one wall were several sinks and mirrors, along the other were toilets with no partitions. The third wall had a line of shower heads and soap dispensers between them. Daddy told the boys to pair up, take a stool from where they were stacked in a corner, collect a set of shaving gear, and begin–scissors first, if the hair was long, and then a razor–no electric equipment. Any boy who cut another would receive a spank from Daddy, for disrespecting their brother’s trust.

One boy, however, held back. Carter had been growing his hair out since he was little, and it was stunning–thick golden blond waves falling down to the middle of his back, which he usually had pulled up into a bun or kept in a ponytail. He was eyeing the scissors as someone would eye a noose, and Ethan went over to him, pulled him close, and guided him to a stool, telling him he would take care of him personally.

Carter sat on the stool, shaking a bit, obviously trying not to cry, while Daddy got out the scissors and ran his hands through his long hair, and at last, he begged, “Please Daddy, please don’t cut it, I’ve worked so long on it, please, anything else but not this…”

“Boy, that’s why I have to cut it,” Ethan said in his ear, “This hair is your pride, and no boy can become a man without being humbled. This is a gift for me. Offer this to me. I will not cut it until you ask it of me, because I have to know that you want what I can give you more than you want your precious hair.”

“I don’t understand why you’re doing this to us!”

“Because you need it. Because all of you need it, even if you don’t realize it yet. You think this is enough,” Ethan said, wrapping one hand in Carter’s hair and pulling it tight, “But what happens when you lose it? You think this hair makes you a man. You think this hair makes you who you are, but look in the mirror, go on, look,” Ethan said, and turned him towards a mirror, and Carter gasped.

It was…him in the mirror, but…older. Probably in his fifties, but what Carter couldn’t look away from was his head. His hair was gone–no, not gone, but the ensuing thirty years had not been kind. He only had a ring of hair left, brittle and greying and thin, but still long–but he could see in his older eyes how empty he was. How hard he had fought to keep that hair, where he’d stored so much of himself for so long, and now that it was gone, what was left? He wasn’t looking at a man, he was looking at a shell.

“Keep your hair if you so desire. Leave. I can expel you, but know that this is what waits for you if you do so, if you turn your back on your brothers now. If you turn your back on me.”

“If…If you cut it, what do I look like then?”

“I do not know–that is up to you, boy, and the work you do here for me.”

Carter ground his teeth for a moment, before whispering, “Cut it.”

“What was that boy?”

Carter realized that the entire bathroom had gone silent, and everyone was staring at him. “I said cut it, Daddy. Cut it off.”

“Thank you boy,” Ethan said, gathered his hair up in a fist, took the scissors and sheered it off. Carter let out a sob despite trying to remain strong, and then went quiet as Daddy cut away what remained, lathered his scalp, and shaved him smooth. Carter looked at himself in the mirror again, and didn’t recognize the face looking back at him. That…older version, he had known that was him somehow, even with all those years between them. But this new head, hairless and pale, he didn’t know who this was at all, and that terrified him more. But it was done. Daddy administered the required spankings for the boy’s whose blades had nicked one another, and after a shower observed by Daddy, the boys dried off and went upstairs, where their two room dorm rooms had been converted into one communal living area. The boys personal effects were gathered either in a small chest between the bunks or at the floor of the bed, or at the desks lining the other side of the room. On each bed was a small pile of gear.

Ethan led Carter over to his bunk, and used him to demonstrate the uniform. First, a bulldog leather harness on their chest, second, a leather jockstrap, and lastly, a buttplug. The plug, Daddy said, was especially important. Any boy found without a plug in their hole at any time would be subjected to substantial punishment. The plugs he’d provided them to start with were small–he saw the boys eyes go a bit wide when he said that. Apparently, they didn’t have the same understanding of ‘small’ that he did. Ethan helped the boys into their new uniforms, often having to work the plug in himself, since they were a bit too shy. Much to his surprise, one of the only boys to do everything himself was Jamie, the boy he had spanked downstairs. Without so much as a whisper of disobedience, he put on the harness as Daddy had demonstrated, sat down, and worked the plug into his hole with a grimace, but succeeded with less tears than others. Daddy made sure to put a hand on his shoulder, reach down and give his cock a little grope through the jock, showing him that he was pleased. When all the boys were dressed, they lined up for the final piece of their uniform–their collar. One by one, they kneeled down before Daddy as he went down the line, put the leather collar around their neck and padlocked them closed, and had each boy kiss the head of his cock and thank him for accepting them into the PBA brotherhood. He had them all stand again, and he looked down the line, head’s shaven, strapped into their new leather gear, all of their faces coated with a layer of fine scruff, and Ethan had to resist the urge to order them all to bend over so he could fuck them on a line. Later though.

Daddy brought the boys back downstairs and into the kitchen–where they found that most of the cooking equipment was gone, with a sizable machine against the wall. “From now on, you boys will be kept on a strict diet–a minimum of 5000 calories a day. This machine will dispense meals for you, and also keep track of your consumption, so I can monitor your progress. You are, of course, welcome to consume more if you so choose.”

The boys murmured a bit, and one of them spoke up, “Daddy…that’s…a lot.”

“Do you boys want to grow into men or not?”

“But what if we get fat?”

“Luckily, you have access to a newly installed house gym in the basement. The food here is more than willing to convert to fat or muscle. Whichever you would prefer is up to you and your discipline.”

No one was sure how to reply to that, and were a bit scared of upsetting Daddy, and so they stayed quiet. “In addition to your new diet, all of you will be expected to smoke at least two cigars a day,” Daddy said, leading the boys to the sizable humidor that had been installed near the kitchen. “Why don’t we get started, since I know some of you have never smoked one before. Take a cigar boys.”

Ethan walked the boys through the process of lighting a cigar. He used his lighter–a privilege, he emphasized. The boys used long cigar matches, cutting the end, turning the cigar for an even light, several of them taking in too much and coughing. 

“That’s good boys, nothing will get you going and feeling horny like smoking a cigar,” he said, feeling the amulet heat up slightly against his hairy chest. Sure enough, some of the boys reached down and started groping their cocks, only for Daddy to walk over and slap their hands away. “No masturbation! Men don’t need to masturbate–men need to fuck. If you want to nut, you’re going to have to use a hole. One of your brothers’ holes.”

The boys looked around at one another nervously.

You can, if you so choose, offer your hole to a brother willingly. But, any boy who subdues and forcefully removes the plug of another brother gains the right to that hole then and there, regardless of who it is–you will submit, and submit gladly. 

It didn’t take long for the first gasp to come up from the crowd of boys. They all turned, and saw that Jamie had reached out and tugged Tyler’s plug out with a pop, making him double over in pain from the sudden removal. Jamie, who had been hard and horny since receiving his public spanking from Daddy earlier, bent him over the back of a couch in the living room, lined up his cock, and drove inside, gently, but eager. Half the boys watched in shock, while the others all backed up against various walls and looked at each other suspiciously, their own bulges pushing out as they continued smoking.

“It’s up to you all, how you will negotiate this. I know many of you consider yourselves straight, though I have my doubts. One thing you are all, for certain, is brothers, and in my years as a frat daddy, one thing I can say with certainty is that you will only get through this together. You will need to learn to trust and appreciate and service one another as you service me.

Against the wall, two boys, Jameson and another, looked at each other, reached down, and pulled the plugs free from each other’s holes. Jameson was still loose from getting fucked by Daddy the night before, and part of him…missed it. He turned around against the wall, cigar gripped in his teeth, and allowed his brother to plunge into his hole and start rutting. Other groups of boys were wrestling each other to the ground, to discover who would come out on top. Daddy watched it all unfold before his eyes, his own cock growing to its substantial nine inch length, and growled in approval. A boy named Steve pinned Carter to the ground, pulled his plug free, and replaced it with his own cock in a moment, and Daddy stomped over, gripped the plug in Steve’s hole, tugged it free, and pressed his own cock to the boy’s hole. Steve tried to squirm away, but Daddy gripped him, shoving his own cock deep into the boy’s guts, and driving his own cock deeper into Carter below them, smashed beneath them both. Daddy provided all the momentum. With each drive into Steven’s hole, Steven would find himself fucking Carter, who would let out another groan of pain or pleasure, or something between the two. Steve came first, but Daddy didn’t relent. Steve ended up unloading a second time with Daddy holding him close, the heat of his cigar next to his ear, Daddy growling sweet little nothings into his ear before spilling his own load into the boy’s guts. He pulled free, and shoved the plug back in before any of Daddy’s seed could spill back out. He pulled Steve and Carter close to him on either side, sitting on the floor, sharing smoky kisses and paying extra attention to Carter’s smooth head, feeling the boy shudder each time Daddy rubbed his hand over his scalp. 

Yeah, Ethan was going to enjoy this, he thought to himself, he was going to turn the fratboys into real men–the men he wanted them to be, and he was going to love every moment of it.


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Interactive: Frat Daddy (Part 1)

Ethan went strolling down the sidewalk, fondling the amulet around his neck. It still seemed too good to be true–an amulet that would allow him to warp people’s minds to his own desires, an amulet that could change bodies and even warp reality around him. He’d tested it on a few small things, but now, it was time for the real show. He came to a stop in front of a large victorian style house in a nice neighborhood beside a college campus, and looked up at the house. “I wish this was my house, that I owned it, and that no one will ever take it away from me, no matter what happens.”

He watched as the car parked outside on the driveway disappeared, the various decorations in the yard vanished–whoever had lived here before no longer did–where they had gone was not Ethan’s problem, they had merely been in the way. He strode up the walkway and found the key to the house on his keychain. Inside, he found all of the furniture from his apartment across town inside–it wasn’t nearly enough to fill the large house, but that could wait. It was his. His house. But more important, was the fact that he now lived next door to Phi Beta Alpha–one of the hottest fraternities on campus, and a constant obsession of Ethan’s.

Ethan was a pervert. He had a perfectly normal life, or he had had one before the amulet had made such a thing unnecessary. Working in an office as a manager, nothing particularly impressive about him, aging more or less gracefully into his forties with a bit of a pot belly, and more hair on his body than on his head. Ethan was gay, but had never really found much success in relationships. What he’d always wanted was in the realm of fantasy, in any case. He’d always loved jocks. Back in college, he’d…gotten in a bit of trouble for spying on a fraternity then, as well, thinking about all the naughty things he wanted to do to those young men. The desires had only intensified for him as he’d grown older, imagining more and more perversities to visit on their youthful bodies, minds, and souls. And now, with the amulet in hand, he could finally make his fantasies reality.

He’d spied on this frat often enough to know the major players. The term had just started not too long ago, and the new Freshmen pledges had been inducted and were getting settled. He’d chosen today, of course, because Phi Beta Alpha was throwing their first major post-rush party. It was the perfect time to introduce all of the young men to their new Frat Daddy, who would be living next door, and taking control of their organization from now on. His cock was rock hard in his khakis at the thought, a dark spot growing where he was leaking. He wanted to jack off, but he could wait–it would be better, so much better, to wait, now that he was so close. Instead, he walked through his new home, filling in the rooms here and there, giving extra care to the extensive dungeon in the basement. Before he knew, it was night, and he could hear the party next door picking up plenty of steam. It was time for the new frat daddy to make his first appearance.

“I wish that I had the new title of frat daddy, for Phi Beta Alpha. As frat daddy, I can dictate all of the rules of the frat, and all members of the frat, as well as anyone in the frat house, is compelled to obey me without question. The members of the frat do not know any of this yet, but when they learn of it, they will all accept it without question.”

With that, the amulet glowed a bit, as it did for the larger wishes, and then fell dark again. Satisfied, Ethan left his new home, went next door, and let himself into the frat house. No one noticed him at first, between the loud music, the conversation, and all of the beer being drunk. The first young man to notice him as a fish out of water was Tyler, a sophomore, who was sitting with his girlfriend Natasha on the couch. “Hey! Who the fuck are you?” he said as Ethan looked around the living room.

“I’m your frat daddy, Tyler,” Ethan said, knowing everyone about the young man as soon as he saw him. It was natural, after all, for the frat daddy to know everything about his subjects. “You know that, don’t you?”

Tyler blinked, confused for a moment, and then nodded slowly, while Natasha just looked at him, wondering what was going on. “Of course Sir, sorry, I…didn’t recognize you, I guess.”

“That’s good boy, but who is this now?”

“This…this is Natasha. My girlfriend.”

“Now Tyler, you know it’s forbidden for members of PBA to fraternize with women. You’ll have to break up with her immediately.”

“But…but we…”

“Who makes the rules of the frat, Tyler?”

“You do, Daddy,” Tyler said, and turned to Natasha, looking a bit sheepish. “Sorry babe, we gotta break up.”

Natasha was dumbstruck, and waited for someone to tell her it was a joke. It never came. “You…you can’t just break up with me! What the fuck?”

“Natasha, leave his house. When you step outside, you will forget you were ever in a relationship with Tyler, and you will never return here. Now go.”

Natasha looked like she wanted to bite his head off, but instead she grabbed her things and left, without looking back.

“I’m sorry Daddy,” Tyler said, “I forgot that was a rule, I guess.”

“That’s alright Tyler,” Ethan said, sitting down on the couch next to the hot jock, “Now give Daddy a kiss.”

Tyler balked, but couldn’t refuse. He tried to lean in for a little peck, only for Ethan to wrap one hairy forearm around his neck, pull him in, and force his tongue into Tyler’s mouth in the middle of the party, kissing him for most of a minute before pulling away. Tyler was horrified, and tried to get up from the couch, but Ethan pulled him back down. “Say thank you.”

“T-Thank you Daddy, for the kiss…”

“Good. Now take that shirt off, and dance for me.”

Tyler did as Daddy asked, and started gyrating to the techno playing around them, shaking his ass for Ethan while he groped himself, telling Tyler what a good boy he was, until several other members of the frat noticed what was going on, and music stopped. Tyler stopped as well, and retreated away before Daddy could say anything else to him.

“What the fuck are you doing Tyler? Who’s the pervert?”

“It’s…he’s the frat daddy! He asked me to dance for him…”

Ethan watched as the looks of confusion all turned to realization in a matter of moments. Ethan stood up and looked around the now quiet room. “I see too many women here–you boys know women are forbidden from the grounds. All of you girls leave, forget you were ever here, and do not return.”

The girlfriends and dates of the frat brothers all swarmed out of the house, leaving just the brothers and their new frat daddy in the living room. The fraternity president, Jameson, stepped forward then, and cleared his throat. “Daddy, I don’t think that most of the guys here appreciate you sending the girls away.”

“But it’s time for the ceremony, Jameson. After rush, at the first big party, the fraternity president bends over right here, and gets fucked by the frat daddy while the rest of your brother’s watch. You recall that, don’t you?”

“I…I mean, of course, but…”

“But what?”

“But I’m…straight, Daddy.”

“Why should that matter to me? Bend the fuck over. Daddy’s horny as fuckin’ hell.”

Jameson gulped, and bent over the back of the couch. Ethan pulled down his athletic shorts and boxers, pushed the head of his rock hard cock against his hole, and said, “Beg.”

“What Daddy?”

“Beg me to fuck you. You’re straight as an arrow, but you want me inside you more than anything else in the whole world. You want all of your brothers to watch me fuck you. You want them all to feel jealous that I fucked you first, that you earned that right as president. You know it will hurt, but you don’t care, you want me inside you more. Now beg.”

“Please Daddy! Please fuck my ass, make it hurt, please, fuck me, your fucking hot jock boy, I’ve worked on my ass so much for you, I want you to enjoy it, I want to be so tight for you, I want you to ruin my hole, Daddy, I want you to rape me, please, fuck me!” The words spilled out of Jameson’s mouth faster than he could really process them, and at the end of it, Daddy did as he’d asked, and pushed the head of his sizable cock into his hole, making Jameson hollar in pain, but he pushed back, eager to feel the whole thing inside him, hungry for it, aching for it.

The rest of the boys watched, unable to look away, as Ethan started fucking Jameson in earnest. “All of you,” Ethan said as he fucked, “Strip, and start jacking off. You’re all going to fantasize about how much you wish it was you over this couch, getting fucked by the frat daddy. You’re all going to cum into your hands, and you will feed your loads to Jameson, who will thank you for each and every one of them, and lick your hands clean afterward.”

One by one, the jocks all came in their hands, thinking about how much they too desired Daddy’s cock. They walked forward and fed their loads to Jameson, who thanked them and licked their hands clean afterward. Ethan watched in glee, fucking hard, completely in control of his orgasm thanks to an earlier wish. When all of the boys had fed Jameson their cum, he came as well, pushing in deep, and pumping a massive load into Jameson’s ass. 

No one really remembered what happened after that. It was a flurry of sex and deabuchery, with plenty of beer helping to lube up the boys’ inhibitions. They woke the next morning in a pile of bodies, aching and sore, humiliated and shamed at what they had done. The only person who wasn’t was Ethan, fully dressed again, with a mug of coffee in his hand, sitting on a chair in front of the fireplace.

“Come on boys, time to wake up. We have some new house rules to discuss. Take your seats and listen closely–you will all be expected to obey all of these rules to the letter from now on.”


Hey everyone! I’m going to be trying something a little different with this interactive. There will probably be just one, maybe two entries a week, but they will be a bit more substantial than usual. The polls are also going to be different! I’m trying a different program here, which allows for the ranked choice voting I prefer, and also allows me to ask multiple questions! There are four questions below. Everyone will be able to provide answers to two of them, but for the other two, those will only be available for patrons. Patrons can find their extended survey over here. Everyone else, you can answer the questions below! Just click and drag the possible answers around, and rank them from top to bottom.