Officer Wetzel Meets a Demon (Part 2)

It hurt. It was dry, and even though the baton was smooth, as Officer Wetzel tried to work it into his virgin asshole, it felt like he was ripping his ass apart. No one in the circle around him showed any sympathy to his situation. The man next to him, hand on his shoulder, was slowly unbuttoning his uniform shirt, sliding one hot hand beneath it, exploring the officer’s chest and gut. The man sucking him off was bringing him closer to orgasm, no matter how hard he fought–it simply felt too good, and the man whispering in his ear wasn’t helping him focus on who he knew he was. A good man. A christian man. A man who loved his wife. A man who’d never felt a single desire for a man before in his life–but that was a lie, and the man knew, he knew it. The officer could remember, unbidden, all those desires like they were new again. That time he’d jacked off with his patrol in boy scouts. The boy who’d blown him at that Christian retreat. That…desire he felt, eveny time he was alone with his priest, and he could always tell the man felt the same, but God kept them so far apart, so far–

His hand twisted the baton in deeper, and he cried up–something between a scream and a moan, and he came, the man drinking down his cum, the men around them urging them on, vying for position. Whether the man was manipulating them too, or whether this was simply their natural state, he didn’t know, but every single one of them saw him not as a person, but as a hunk of meat, an object, a tool.

“They seem excited, don’t you think? I really should give them what they want–anything else would be rather cruel. Don’t worry–they’ll get tired eventually, and leave you alone for a few hours, but I don’t think you’ll be able to keep up that whole…straight act, not after we’ve shown you what you’re missing. Do you think that hag of yours will really look as good after you’ve learned how good it feels to have a cock in your ass?” The man smiled, his smoky breath hot against the officer’s ear. He stepped away, letting go of him for the first time, but the heat in his chest kept him there, kept him pushing the baton in deeper, the faggots closing in tighter around him.

“Please, don’t…don’t do this. I’m sorry, please.” he said, as a man in rubber, hooded, an unknown, stepped up close, pulling his uniform shirt apart the rest of the way, toying with the officer’s tender nipples, pressing their cocks together.

“Oh? Does someone want to make a deal?” the man said, leaning against the wall out of reach, watching the freaks close in around him. “Well, I suppose you can have an evening with them, or a weekend with me. It’s up to you, which you’d rather suffer.”

The rubber freak had one gloved hand on the top of Wetzel’s head, applying pressure, his other hand gripping his cock, eight inches, pierced in more places that the officer imagined possible, someone coming around the side, taking over the baton. His knees were buckling, he was…he was going to suck the man off. Then the next man too. Other’s would fuck him, and he wanted them to fuck him, he’d always wanted to know, he always wanted to know what it would be like to have a man inside him, and he’d confessed, to his priest, how he’d played with his hole while his wife was away, listening to the priest jack off while he told him, jacking off himself–“No, not them, please, not this. You can do what you want with me.”

The ring of men was pushed back by some strange force, allowing Officer Wetzel to take a breath, but it was filled with smoke, sulfur, brimstone, as the man, the demon, locked lips with him, pushing the smoke in deep, feeling the officer’s body melt against him. He was hot, so hot it felt like his skin might burn. Everywhere he touched, his skin ached with lust, his uniform caught fire and burned away, and the man turned the officer around, allowed him to brace himself against the wall. He’d become bigger, hairier, skin no longer any human tone, but a deep red, cock even larger than the rubber freaks had been, but Wetzel wanted it, he was begging for it. The demon hauled the baton from the officer’s hole and flung it away, hauling apart his ass cheeks with two hands, fingers tipped with claws, precum steaming as it dribbled from the tip of his cock. With a voice, halfway to a growl, the beast said, “You know, all it takes is one for the infection to happen, right?”

Before Wetzel could doubt his decision, the demon’s cock had forced itself into him. It burned, it was rough as sandpaper. He needed it, needed it deep inside him all the same, and he was bucking back as the beast fucked him. He felt a fever building in him, a horrific heat burning away the false faith he’d used, in desperation, to bind himself. His true self. Was he even human anymore? He was something different, that much he knew. There would be no coming back from this, now that he’d been seeded, and everything felt so…strange. Wrong. Different. The demon was pounding harder, the men still surrounding them, urging them onward. Could they see it for what it was? Could they see him changing? Or were they just victims in all of this? Did they know what was walking among them? What was inside of him?

The demon came, and after that, for a time, nothing mattered. Nothing even seemed to exist. It was white, or so black he know longer knew what light was. He was aware of his body existing. He could feel the cock slide out of him, and the heat began to flow out of him, exhaustion replacing it, and he fell to his knees, facing the wall. Who was he? What was he? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answers to either.

Officer Wetzel Meets a Demon (Part 1)

Every year. It was absolutely disgusting. Officer Wetzel could at least tolerate the pride parade in June–there was no modesty, but at least it wasn’t so…filthy. No, there were the drag queens, which were relatively harmless. The dykes on bikes, the…occasional man in leather or rubber, but this weekend, each year, the streets were clogged with them. Leather uniforms, rubber and latex body suits, men wearing next to nothing at all, men pretending to be dogs and pigs, the alleys stinking of piss even more than usual, as well as that sour odor he’d realized was cum a few years back, and was still hoping he could forget. Each year, he begged his Lieutenant not to force him to work that weekend–he’d request vacations, he’d try anything. Sometimes it worked, and then sometimes, like this year, he was stuck. Here, amidst the throngs, men leering all around at him as he scowled back, making sure they knew that his uniform wasn’t some fetishistic role play. Some of them still didn’t get the hint, and those were usually the ones who ended up with their face against the wall, and then in the drunk tank at the local precinct.

Still, it was only three days, one long weekend. That’s what he told himself, but it didn’t help matters much. If anything, he was becoming rather desensitized to the filth and perversion and whoring going on around him–and that alone was enough to worry him. No one should consider this normal. These displays were a modern Sodom; if only God would come down and wipe this place clean like he did Millennia ago. A little divine intervention, that’s exactly what this fucking city could use.

The day was wearing on him. It was mid afternoon, the heat still climbing even as the sun was starting to drop. His uniform was itchy and uncomfortable. This was just the first day, and he didn’t know if he was going to be able to take two more days of this filth without some well deserved police brutality. Maybe on the last day, when they were too drunk to care about reporting it. Still, considering some of the shit he’d broken up before, the pigs would probably just enjoy it, so what the hell was the point?

In his glum and dour mood, he hadn’t noticed the older fellow, a bit of a belly but quite muscled, shirtless and wearing a pair of tight leather pants, smoking a cigar and holding a beer, walk up and lean on the building beside him. “Well hello Officer,” he said, “You might be a bit more comfortable in this heat if you…took off a few layers. I could help, if you want.”

The man’s hand slipped closer, and Officer Wetzel recoiled, “Lay one of those pervert hands on me, and I swear to god, you’ll be in a jail cell so fast you won’t know what happened to you, faggot.”

“Oh my–I saw that you could use a little bit of temptation, but I suppose I hadn’t quite imagined how much.”

Officer Wetzel had had enough of this fuck–might as well get the bashing done early–as a plus, he’d have to spend the rest of the weekend doing paper work. He slipped his baton out of his holster, went to raise it up, when the man caught his wrist in a firm, sensual hold, and closed the space between them in an instant, lips inches apart, the air now mostly smoke. The cigar stank worse than most, with hints of coal and sulfur. They were in the shade of a building, but even in the shadow, the man’s eyes cast an odd glow, like a flame was reflecting in them. “Now now, officer Wetzel. Why don’t you relax for a little bit? Enjoy yourself a bit?” He glanced over at the people streaming along the sidewalk, caught the eye of some older faggot wearing only a collar and jockstrap, and pulled him closer with a beckoning finger. “How about you, cocksucker? You want to help Officer Wetzel here relax a bit?”

“Would I fucking ever!” he said, got down on his knees, right there on the sidewalk, and started opening the fly of his uniform pants. Wetzel tried to protest, he tried to shove the man away, clober him with the baton he still had raised in his hand, but he couldn’t move. The one hand, firm on his wrist, had frozen his entire body–or rather, everything but his cock, which grew hard as soon as the old pig took the head in his mouth. He was disgusted with himself. He couldn’t really be turned on by this faggot sucking his cock, could he? What kind of man was he? What kind of godly man was he?

“Oh, God isn’t here–God hasn’t come down here in a long time, Officer Beauregard Wetzel. But I come up here every year. And every year, I bring someone down to my level–and this year, I think that’s going to be you.”

Officer Wetzel’s eyes went wide, and he began to try harder to pull himself away, both from the stranger’s hand, and from the man sucking his cock. The man just gave a deep belly laugh, leaned in closer, locked lips with him, and blew the smoke deep. It was hot, so hot it hurt, deep inside him in a place he couldn’t quite identify. He tried to cough, but the force of the man’s breath just kept filling him up, making him light headed, his arm relaxing, the baton falling to the ground as his hand went limp. The man pulled away, gently, Wetzel following him without thinking about it, a slight moan escaping his lips.

“Oh officer, you droped your baton. You really should put that in a safer place, don’t you think?”

Officer Wetzel nodded. Careful to not disrupt the cocksucker, he squatted down and retrieved his baton, and allowed his pants and underwear to drop down around his boots. The thought was in his mind, and he was horrified. He wouldn’t do this to himself, he couldn’t do this, not here, not in front of these freaks. Indeed, men had started to slow, stop, and stare at the scene unfolding here. “Go on officer, I promise that there’s no place safer.”

Wetzel gave a quiet sob, and bent over, moving his baton to the opening of his asshole.

“Daddy, I’m home!” Sammy said, shutting the door behind him. He dropped his backpack by the door, took off his shoes, and then started pulling off the rest of his clothes as he walked through the house, towards the TV den. “Sorry I’m home late daddy, traffic around the university was a nightmare.”

He stripped off his pants as he entered the den, where his daddy was on the couch, longways on his forearms and knees–where he was required to be as soon as the clock his 4:30 and his boy might be home. He had three dildos balanced across his flat back, and a tub of crisco at the top of his ass. He was sweating slightly from the exertion of holding the position, but nothing had fallen today. Too bad–Sammy had felt his daddy was getting too cocky lately, so he’d have to devise something else to knock him down another few pegs. The three dildos were sizable, but none were as large as Sammy’s ten inch cock, which he released from his underwear, half hard and already leaking. Sammy had banned toys bigger than his tool from Daddy’s house–but perhaps it was time for Daddy to take something larger than even his cock.

He went through their usual routine. Daddy kissed his cock and thanked his boy for choosing him as his daddy–said through gritted teeth, as always. Still, he said it–he’d learn to like it eventually–they always did. Sammy had only been training this daddy for a few months, since arriving here to attend school. Daddy had tried to pick him up at a bar, but had ended up on the receiving end instead. After paying tribute to his boycock, they started on the dildos. Daddy tried not to let on how good it felt, having his hole plugged, but like all of them–the more they had their boy inside of him, the more they needed to be filled. The poor daddies he’d left back home when he’d left for school–miserable, desperate creatures, all of them. He’d made them all life sized casts of his cock as souvenirs, but nothing could match the real thing.

Finally, after all three dildos in sequence, Sammy slid into his hole with no resistance. Daddy tried to fight back, but after two thrusts he was gone–his cock spewing cum, eyes vacant, drool flowing from his mouth as his boy rode him. Perhaps it was time to branch out–this daddy, he was thinking, could be a fist daddy. And so the boy started speaking to him in his trance, telling him that he’d always want his boy’s cock, but also his boy’s fists–and the fists of any man his boy took a liking to. Yeah, when daddy has to beg men at the bar Friday night to fist his hole, Sammy had a feeling he wouldn’t be feeling so cocky anymore.

Asslickers Inc. (Part 6)

The dildo was quite small now, especially compared to the width of Judd’s ass. The white and blue had faded away from the shaft as it had shrunk, leaving just a pale, creamy rod which Ari slid in deep. “Why don’t we just let that melt for a bit?”

“Aww fuck…can’ believe ya fuckin’ turned me intah some dumbass redneck slob. Can’t believe how much I fuckin’ love it, fuck! I’d fuckin’ plow mah ass if I could, hot damn, what a pig…” Judd muttered to himself, gazing at his reflection. “Ya got anythin’ tah smoke round here? Could use somethin’…got an itch tah scratch.”

“Sorry, I don’t smoke. I can get you a beer though.”

“Fine, two cans though–’n just the cheap shit! Don’t need so sissy fuckin’ import shit. Real fuckin’ ‘Merican’s drink domestic!”

Ari just shook his head, and went into the kitchen, as a new taste flooded Judd’s mouth. It was like sweet whipped cream…but with a sour tinge, almost like yogurt, or…cum. Yeah, it was like sugary cum, that was it exactly! Fuck, it tasted pretty damn good–he wouldn’t mind some real cum, now that he was thinking about it. Ari returned, and since Judd’s body was still paralyzed and limp, He had to help the big lug drink the two cans down. A good amount ran down his chins and onto the rubber sheet, running around his filthy body, but he got a small buzz going–enough to ignore the growing need for tobacco in one form or another. “Thanks fucker–now git that cock in mah mouth–this pigs hungry fer some cum.”

“No kidding. Still, I want to check on the rest of the effects, and see how that’s working first.” Ari walked around behind him, and looked at Judd’s ball sack–which was tingling a bit, and Ari gave a few noises of approval. “Damn Judd–you’ve got quite the sack on you now! And better get used to having the crotches of your overalls wet, because that cock of yours will be leaking at the first sight of a guy’s cock you want.”

“Yeah? Well I fuckin’ want yers! Now git round here, ‘n fuckin’ feed me! This pig’s fuckin’ hungry.”

Judd didn’t actually get through the blow job before he fell asleep, thanks to the tranquilizers Ari had put in the beers. Still, he took pity on him, skull fucked his fat, bearded face and buried deep into his throat, pumping his gut full of a load, and then got up off the bed, found his phone, and made a call.

“Got a pickup for you. He’s asleep….Sure thing, one hour.”

Overall, a successful test–as good as he could hope for really. He could review the tapes later, and decide on what changes he might make to the product line–but for now, it was nearly four in the morning, and he needed to sleep. He managed an hour nap, before the crew arrived, marched in, bundled up Judd and carted him off out of the apartment–Ari didn’t know where they took them when he finished with them, and he didn’t really want to know. All he really wanted, was a nice long sleep–and when he woke up? He’d pick another target, and conduct his next test in next week.

Judd woke up to a pounding headache, and with a groan, rolled over in the tight queen bed that barely contained his bulk, and wondered where, exactly, he was. He should be home…right? Was this his home? He had fuzzy memories of some crazy dream, but they were already fading–he sat up, belched, gave his furry pit a scratch and sniff, before hauling himself up and squeezing through the tight trailer, finding the filthy bathroom where he pissed mostly into the toilet, and then started scrounging around for something to smoke. The only thing he found was a can of chewing tobacco, so he hauled out a thick wad of the dark leaf and shoved it in his mouth, feeling better as he gnawed on it, dark spit rolling out the side of his mouth and down into his beard. Beer next–then breakfast. Then he could worry about how he’d ended up here.

Still, by the time he’d gotten four beers in his gut, cooked up a pile of eggs and potatoes and scarfed the whole thing down, his brain had managed to catch up–and he realized he was home. After all, it didn’t make sense for him to be anywhere else…and he’d probably just drank a bit too much, and fucked up his head, like usual.

Breakfast hadn’t quite sated all of his hungers, however, and he hauled up his massive gut and started proding at his cock–turnin’ on the cumtap as he liked to call it. His balls were massive–at least the size of two grapefruits, and the cum streamed out of him in a torrent–fast enough for him to hang off a chair, milk his cock with one hand, hold a big glass in the other, and guzzle down a full cup of fresh jizz every few minutes. His milking routine was interrupted by an unfamiliar ringtone–he dug through the filth of the trailer for a few moments, hunted down the years out of date flip phone, and answered it with a long, drawled hello.

“God fuckin’ damn it Judd, where the fuckin’ hell are ya? This god damn truck ain’t gonna drive itself, ‘n yer half an hour late n’–fuck, from the way yer pantin’, were ya milkin’ yerself again?”

“I don’t know…who ya are, but…” Judd stammered.

“Shut the fuck up pig! If ya weren’t such a cum hungry faggot, I’d a canned yer worthless fat ass months ago. Git here now, fucker–’n if ya don’t got her nasty mouth round mah cock in twenty minutes, yer gonna be findin’ another fuckin’ job!”

Memories were falling into place again–that was his boss–Heathrow Midstel–and the owner of one of the biggest, fattest cocks Judd had ever seen. Trucking wasn’t something he liked to do–but if he got to drink his boss’ cum on a regular basis, he’d manage. Grumbling, he hauled on a pair of filthy overalls, the crotch stained dark and stiff with cum, threw on some boots, and went out to his old beat up truck. It wasn’t a perfect life–but it was the only one he had…and if Judd was honest, it was the only life he wanted now too.

Asslickers Inc. (Part 5)

Jules didn’t like the sound of that. “Why? Are you just going to keep me here? As some fucking freak for you to play with?”

“Oh goodness no, you’re pretty much used up at this point I’m afraid. Testing is always better on a fresh canvas–I can get a better feel for the effects. That said, I can’t just keep you here–I’d be drowning in you fucks before too long, with the amount of testing I have to do to get these models ready for production. Still, you’re not completely worthless at this point, so don’t feel too bad. You can still test one of the biggies.”

“The biggies?”

“Oh yeah–these ones are real impressive. Some of my best work! Not entirely sure I’d be able to pull them off, when Arctos asked me for them, but they actually work quite well at this point. Now, you’re going to get a rather special one–a new combo I’ve worked out just last week, and I’m excited to see how it works.” He walked back to the wall, and returned with a sizable shaft, this one with a rather uneven texture, and colored a dirty, greenish brown. It didn’t look particularly appealing, and he certainly didn’t want it going in his ass at all. “What in the world does that thing do?”

“This one? Well, this is the grand finale! It’s part of a new line I’m calling assbreakers–it’s got two mystery flavors inside as well, which you’ll discover soon enough. Still, it’s late, and I’m tired, so let’s get this thing in you, and see if it works how I hope it will.”

“No, look, please–I don’t want to change anymore! You can have the money, just…I don’t know, don’t do this to me again.”

“Sorry Jules, but this is the last one. You’ll love it too–or at least, you should by the time we’re finished with it.”

“But I don’t want–” he grunted, as the thick shaft pushed into his loose hole. It wasn’t as large as the massive one had been, but when the taste flooded his mouth a moment later, he gagged, trying to spit it out. “Fuck, what the fuck is this? It tastes vile!” It was like someone had wadded up an extremely filthy and sweaty pair of underwear into his mouth, or like hi tongue had been glued to the armpit of that one gymrat who never wore deodorant and never wiped the machines down after he was finished. It was filthy, and he couldn’t escape it. Ari pushed it all the way in, and then started pistoning it in and out, eager to be finished with this. Jules noticed that he was starting to sweat profusely, all over his body–his hair becoming matted, greasy and tangled–and then he belched, the smell roiling up out of him in a thick cloud of gas, and he was appalled by it…and yet…enjoyed it a bit, too. Fuck, no, he wasn’t going to enjoy this, he wasn’t going to be some disgusting slob! He let of another belch, bigger than the last, and followed it up with some gas which slipped out around the dildo, Ari waving the stench away from his face.

“No, I’m not going to be some fucking disgusting slob, you twisted fucker!” he said, and belched again.

“Oh? Tell me Jules, when’s the last time you had a shower?”

“Just…I mean I think…” but his memory was failing him, because he didn’t take showers…right? No, why the hell would he take a shower? He loved his nasty stench! Jules shook his head, fighting the thoughts invading him, faster now, but they were changing him faster than he could even grapple with them. He could feel the filthy taste rotting his teeth, but he didn’t care–he let off another wet fart, and laughed, smelling his nasty pits wafting up to his nose.

“Think I got that layer a bit too think,” Ari said, sliding the dildo out, to check it’s progress. “Still, I don’t think you mind much, right Jules?”

“Nah, I don’t mind none–fuck!” Jules said, surprised by the long, slow drawl which had warped his words. “What in tarnation? Why’s I talkin’ like some dumbass hick?”

“Cause we hit the second layer a few minutes ago,” Ari said, sliding the dildo out, giving Jules a chance to see it in the mirror to his side. Sure enough, the greasy brown layer had all been absorbed by his now filthy body, and what remained below was a red, white and blue pattern–a red field, with blue stripes and white stars…just like the confederate flag. “Aww nah, git that fuckin’ thang outta mah fuckhole! I ain’t gonna be no fuckin’ redneck!”

“Now now Jules, mind your double negatives…” Ari said, and pushed the dildo back in. Sure enough, the taste in his mouth was shifting from rank filth, to a new medley–tobacco, cheap booze and liquor, hay, dust, grease…it tasted like…like home? No, not his home, but it did make him feel comfortable, or somehow at ease. That was a trap too, he realized, but it was difficult to resist–in the mirror, he saw his hair shifting slightly, the top shortening until what remained was a mullet, straight out of the 80’s and very long in the back. He also knew…somehow, that underneath all that fur of his, he’d find all sorts of tattoos he’d picked up over the years–but the only ones he could see easily were the confederate flags on the sides of his flabby neck. it was getting harder to think–which wasn’t surprising. After all, Judd hadn’t gone to any sort of college–hell, he hadn’t even graduated from high school!

He was confused for a moment, about who Judd was, before he realized that was his name. But it wasn’t really, right? He’d had a different name, something else–but as hard as he tried to remember it, the further it drifted from his grasp, leaving him with Judd–and Judd’s dull life. Growing up in a trailer park, drinking and chewing tobacco, getting a job as a trucker which barely paid the bills, hooking up with other nasty pigs and bikers at rest stops to get his nuts off. His old memories of offices and city life had disappeared before he could even think to miss them, leaving him grunting and groaning, demanding that Ari, “Pick up the goddamn pace, ya fucker! Pound that nasty confederate hole a mine real fuckin’ good., fuck yeah…”

“Heh, looks like that layer’s all finished,” Ari said, checking what remained of the shaft, “Guess we finally made it to the creamy center.”

Ditto Sketch (2/2)

Don’t ask me how I got my Ry clone home, but I did. It was slowly beginning to discern human behavior from it’s observations of me–but I had something else in mind–I sat the thing down in front of the computer, and started playing a massive compilation of porn in front of the strangely dead eyes, allowing it to absorb positions, fetishes, appearances, and then we started playing. The flesh wasn’t…quite right to the touch–mostly because it was room temperature, but it had a nice ass which I was more than happy to fuck, and just like in the porn films it had absorbed, it made it perfectly clear that it enjoyed having my cock in its hole.

So now, after a few weeks, I have my own version of Ry–except mines much, much better than the original. It doesn’t have to eat or drink. I’ve taught it how to do all of the chores around the house with general success. It’s perfectly obedient to everything I say and command, and I can dress it up in whatever kinky gear I want, and do whatever strange thing I want to do to it. Or at least, that’s how it was, for a while.

Admittedly, I’ve never tested Ditto in this fashion. Id’ never even allowed it to hole a form for longer than a few hours before this. Naturally…it’s starting to behave a bit strangely. For one thing, it’s cock has grown massive all of a sudden. I don’t know where it got the extra mass to grow larger, but somehow it did. It’s also become kind of…clingy all of a sudden. I keep waking up with the thing wrapped around my body in a tight hug, and I have to pry it off me each time. I think it’s time to retire this blob, and return it to mush–but I think, one more fuck first.

Fuck! Oh fuck, it’s out there. I woke up with that thing around me again–but this time, I was…literally inside of it. I had to claw my way out of the mass, and I ran in here, and the shit’s still all over me, and I can’t get it off! Worse, it’s…melding to me, becoming a part of me. I think…I know where it got the raw material for it’s extra mass now–it got it from my cum…and piss…and all those things I thought had gone missing over the last few weeks. Oh god, it’s growing, it’s taking over my body, I can feel it–I…I look just like it now, and I can’t breathe, but that’s…that’s ok? Everything is…dull…I need…fuck. Yeah, need to fuck. Find other fuck thing, there’s fuck thing. Fuck. Fuck, grow, spread, more fuck things. Make more fuck things.

Source: golfadicto

Ditto Sketch (½)

At some point, in order to make progress, you have to step over at least some ethical line, right? Or at least, that’s what I kept telling myself, watching the thing I’d invented–a thing I liked to call Ditto, for reasons you’ll understand in a moment–take on the spitting image of a the rat in the cage with it. Was it alive? It was in a sense, I suppose. Over the next few hours, as Ditto figured out how to observe and take in it’s environment, as it learned, it began to move, following the parent rat around the cage. Learning how to eat, learning that it pooped, learning to drink water. Later, when I cut it open, Ditto had formed a rudimentary internal structure to accomplish the tasks at hand, but nothing like a real rat would have–because, of course, it wasn’t really alive. It was more like…a smart substance. Perhaps, even, a kind of artificial intellect, and amazingly easy to mass produce. And perhaps…well, it wasn’t exactly human testing, right?

See, I have a crush on this guy–his name is Ry, and he doesn’t know I exist, but whatever. He’s cute as fuck, and I’d never have a chance with him in real life, given that he’s straight and popular and so on, but maybe, with a sample, I could have a Ry of my own. It took about a month to assemble enough raw Ditto for what I was thinking, and that gave me plenty of time to sneak into the locker room while Ry was practicing and collect a DNA sample for Ditto to use. I waited until everyone had left the lab that night, and gave Ditto the sample and jolt of energy–watching the mass of goo begin forming into a coherent shape–seven hours later, there it was, a perfect replica of Ry, essentially comatose, right in front of me.

So yeah, I jacked off–and to my surprise, the Ditto started to copy me, and began to jack off as well. Not long after I came, it too spurted a solution which at least looked like semen, even if it really wasn’t. I hadn’t planned on this going any further–I’d duplicate Ry, just to see if I could, and then dissolve the Ditto back down to mush. But if it could, in fact, learn, then why not have a bit more fun with it?

Source: dirtyhairymind

Don’t let all the offended idiots get you down! I absolutely adore your stories, and try to read them all (even if they have content that I’m unused to). They’re incredibly well written and very enjoyable. Don’t stop doing what you’re doing, just because some people are too stupid to stop reading if they get upset.

Oh, I’m hardly down or upset. Rather, I enjoy the opportunity to pontificate. I mean, the troll does have a good point, and it’s one which I have addressed multiple times before, and it’s worth discussing, even if they didn’t really have much investment in any kind of constructive conversation. Luckily, I’m well versed in talking to myself.

Asslickers Inc. (Part 4)

The hoist was groaning from the additional weight, but it was holding, lowering Jules slowly back down onto the bed. “Please, I’m fucking serious! I didn’t know I could be this fucking hungry.”

“I know how hungry you are, Jules, but you’re going to have to be patient.”

“I don’t want to be patient, I want to fucking eat!”

Ari didn’t reply, just focused on settling the sheet back down onto the bed, Jules now massively flabby frame inside of it, and unfolded it back over the bed, giving him a better look at the daddy’s huge frame now that he was off the scale. Bent over as he was, it was difficult to see the full scope, but he noticed a telltale twitch of an arm–the relaxer was wearing off. He went over to the wall and brought back a clear buttplug and pushed it into Jules hole, letting its effect take hold, Jules’ eyes glazing over slightly. “Alright Jules–you’ll be able to move soon, so we’re going to go to the kitchen, have something to eat, and conduct a bit of business. You won’t think of running. You won’t look for help. You want to be here, and you want to do everything I tell you to do. Do you understand?”

Jules nodded and muttered a distant yes. Ari kept the plug in until it had fully dissolved, to make sure his directions had sunk in, and then pulled out the stick and set it aside, before helping Jules get used to his new body, as it came back alive. The Mindplug worked for about four hours–more than enough time. Jules was incredibly impatient, but the relaxer didn’t give him back full use of his legs for another half hour–and Ari broke down and brought him a bag of chips for a snack, which Jules inhaled in a minute or less, immediately demanding more. Still, they got him upright on his wide feet and cankles, Jules staring down at his massive, furry body, running his hands over it…and wondering why this wasn’t freaking him out as much as it should be. Sure…he liked being fat, but…but this was so fucked up, right? Then why did he just…keep doing everything Ari told him to do?

He waddled his way back to the kitchen, where Ari set out a large spread of snacks, which Jules found himself helpless against. He tried to control himself, tried to tell himself that he’d worked hard at the gym all his life to keep from becoming like this–but as soon as he’d thought that…he realized that he couldn’t actually remember ever being in a gym once in his life. No, what he was recalling now, were years spent stuffing his face at buffets, in front of the TV, growing bigger, and bigger, and bigger… “We…we met at the gym, right?”

Ari nodded, “You’re probably wondering why your memory seems all messed up?”

Jules nodded.

“The asslickers can warp your brain too. Once it settles into it’s new format–you won’t even believe you were ever in a gym. Your head will invent some other place where we met, which makes more sense–like a buffet or something.”

“You mean…fuck–this shit fucked me up.”

“Yeah, but you do love it, don’t you?” Ari said, jiggling Jules’ side rolls, making him giggle and groan, his cock hardening.

“Fuck, do that again…”

“I’ll do more than that, but you have to do something for me first.”

Ari got his computer, and directed Jules to compile a massive list of information about his financial assets–all of his stocks and bonds, his accounts, his retirement. He also had to list all of his personal information. He wasn’t exactly sure why he was doing it…but Ari had told him to, so he did it. When he was finished, Ari sent the documents off to someone by email, and then told Jules what he was getting. “You want my cock in that big ass of yours, right pig? Get back in that bedroom, and I’m going to plow you better than any asslicker ever could.”

With an excited nod, Jules heaved himself up from the table and walked back into the bedroom, his massive frame already feeling natural to him, his body adjusting naturally as his brain caught up to what it already knew–that he was a chub, that he was a gainer and had been all his life, that if he didn’t pass 600 pounds by the end of the year, he’d feel like a complete failure. He got back on the bed, and Ari put on a thick condom–even covering his balls–before fucking Jules deep and long. After all, he had no interest in getting any remaining residue from his projects on any sensitive areas. When he finally came–Jules tried to get up, but discovered that he couldn’t move. Beyond that–he also noticed that his head was starting to clear, after that strange plug Ari had used on him. Had he really just given Ari information about all of his money? Why in the fuck had he done that?

“You know, for a big shot executive like you describe yourself on your website, I thought you would have been worth a bit more than all that. Still, thanks for the seed money, I can promise it’ll be put to good use.”

“No–no, this is fucking robbery! I wasn’t in my right mind!”

“Oh, trust me, my lawyers–well, Arctos’ layers–will sort all of that out. They’ve been very efficient with my previous test subjects.”

“Wait–you looked at my website?”

“Well of course–I’ve been tracking you for a while. No partner, small social circle, work obsessed, no one will be surprised to hear you cracked. Everyone will think you pulled a sudden retirement after a nervous breakdown, letting you spend your wealth in some beautiful tropical country. I mean, not really–but at least they’ll be happy for you. I mean, you won’t actually be at a resort of course,” he said with a laugh, “No, I don’t think you’ll be heading to any resort any time soon.”

Could you list any stories you have written involving silicone enhancement? I’m pretty certain you did a story involving a guy that transforms his arm with silicone so he could better fist his master…

I would check out all of the stories involving the tag “rubber,” which you can find here. I’m not sure about the story you’ve described though–it sounds like something I would write, but it doesn’t sound like anything I have written.