Author: wesleybracken8258

Commission – Little Critter Diaper Delivery (Part 2)

He hit send, and the diaper brought him to another orgasm. He spewed hardly any cum, his balls drained dry, but this time he seemed to float along in pleasure for ages. The diaper had stopped for the moment, and even though he was exhausted, he also felt…wonderful, somehow. Easy going. Content. Relaxed. He could feel a build up in his bladder again, but he released it without a second thought, feeling the diaper sagging down even heavier, now completely sodden and desperate for a change. Thank goodness he had someone coming over who could help him out with that. A friend…a…a daddy…even.

He lolled about on the ground for a few more minutes, until he heard a knock on the door. He needed to get that, see if it was his friend coming to help change him. Everytime he tried to get up to his feet though, he would get dizzy and topple over. In the end, he crawled over and opened the door on his knees, and found Matt standing there, a six foot three brown bear, fairly chubby, with a big gut hanging over his dress pants from work. “Hey, I came as soon as…fuck, what stinks…?” he says, and then looks down at Hux in the doorway, smiling up at him innocently, naked aside from a very, very heavy diaper and a red hanky tied round his neck. Part of him knew he should be disgusted, shut the door and walk away…but damn, did that little pup need help. Help from…from someone like him. “Looks like I got here just in time, pup,” Matt says, smirking, and steps inside.

“I’m…willy wet…would you change me?” Hux asked, one hand moving up to his mouth, shoving his thumb in and sucking on it. He’d never really realized how…sexy Matt was, actually. It sure was good of him to help him out like this.

“Heh, of course little pup, that’s what…dudes like me are for, right?” Matt said, closing the door behind him. Dude wasn’t quite the right word though, there was a better term, something else he could be… “Go on and lay down, and let’s get you out of that wet thing.”

Like nothing was strange about this situation at all, Matt got down on his knees beside Hux, and undid the side straps on the diapers, a task which had proved completely impossible earlier–not that it should surprise him. Pups couldn’t work diapers, only…only daddies. Matt pulled down the front of the diaper, soaked with piss, and took a deep sniff. “Fuck boy, ya fouled this thing up good–got my cock risin’ real good–fuck pup, what the fuck is that thing? That yer cock?”

Hux sat up a bit, feeling Matt toying with something under his gut…but it didn’t feel right. He looked down, and felt his eyes bug out a bit at the sight of his new cock between two of Matt’s thick fingers. He’d never been incredibly hung before, but now–now his cock was less than an inch long, still somewhat thick, with a small sack of balls underneath. It wasn’t particularly sensitive either…though Matt’s touch had it as hard as it could get. That…that wasn’t right though. None of this was right. “M–Matt,” he said, trying very hard not to say Daddy instead, “I think…you need to get out of here.”

“Nah, hold on, pup, fuckin’ curious now–gotta compare…” Matt said, giving a few grunts as his other hand reached down under his gut, and let his fly loose, hauling his own cock out, and his eyes showed that, inside, he was freaked out by what his body was doing, but he was helpless to stop himself. His own cock was only averaged size, about five inches, but beside Hux’s tiny pecker it looked massive. Hux moaning a bit, sucking his thumb again as…as daddy looked at their cocks together, and started rubbing his up and down, beside Hux’s cock. “Fuck pup, that thing is fuckin’ tiny. Still, I think we both know that’s not what pups really need, right?” He looked over at Hux sucking his thumb and grinned wide. His face looked…different. Usually his facial hair was well trimmed, but it seemed to be extending slightly, forming a longer beard with a few flecks of grey around the chin. His hand had left Hux’s puny cocklet, and was slipping between his thighs, pressing between his ass cheeks for his hole, and when he touched it, Hux shivered and moaned, sucking his thumb harder.

“Oh…Oh fuck, daddy…” Hux said. Half of him wanted it inside of him, the other half wanted all of this to stop, but that chunk of him was growing smaller by the moment.

“Don’t want to waste such a good opportunity, do we pup? Hux wasn’t quite sure what that meant, but Matt answered the question by rolling Hux off the diaper, onto his belly, and then mounted him, running his cock between his ass cheeks, one hand holding his thick tail back and away from the hole, before pressing the head against his chute and sliding inside. “Oh fuck pup, fuck!” Matt said, before dropping into a low growl, slamming in deep. “So fuckin’ tight, fuck! Gonna fuckin’ cum pup, gonna seed yer hole boy, make ya mine, that what ya want?”

“Oh fuck daddy, fuck, please…” Hux heard himself moan, unable to stop himself.

His own cock was spitting cum on the floor as it ground against it, but the true pleasure was in his hole. Daddy’s hole. He felt it now, as Matt let out a roar, filling up his insides, nearly as much cum as he’d filled his diaper with, feeling everything around him…settle somehow. Fall into place. Daddy kept thrusting for a moment longer, and then hauled his cock out. “Fuck…goddamn pup, that damn hole a yers…every damn time.” He heaved a few breaths, and then added, “come on, let’s get you padded up again, before you make a big mess on the floor.”

Matt laid out another diaper from the package, and Hux laid out on it obediently, still sucking his thumb, looking up at and adoring his daddy. He looked…different from earlier, somehow, but he couldn’t place it. The grubby jeans, the stained wifebeater that didn’t quite cover his entire gut, leaving a crescent of brown fur sticking out. “Alright, there’s my baby pup!” Matt said, smiling as he fastened the straps. Matt could feel his daddy’s cum seeping out his ass and into the back of the diaper, but he didn’t mind–it felt…good. Normal. The way things were supposed to be. “Damn, Daddy’s a bit tuckered after all that! Gonna get me a beer and relax a bit–how’s that sound? You can play in the den with your toys.”

Hux crawled after his daddy, and noticed that the entire apartment had…shifted, somehow. But this is just where he lived, right? Lived with his daddy of course. His big, manly Papa Bear, as he liked to call him. He spent some time playing with his dolls and trucks, and then sucked off his Daddy when he got horny again, drinking down all the cum, realizing only later that his diaper was wet again with piss. Daddy liked it though, the smell of it, so he had his pup wear it for the rest of the evening, through dinner, and into bed–Hux only taking a moment to log onto his favorite forums, and add his own positive review of Little Critter Diaper Delivery–it really had changed his life, he wrote, and he never, ever, ever wanted to go back.

Commission – The Little Critter Diaper Service (Part 1)

Hux climbed the stairs to his apartment, saw the package sitting on his doorstep, and his heart skipped a beat, his cheeks blushing red under his fur. Right there on the side of the damn box–”Little Critter Diaper Delivery”–he’d thought ordering them online would be more discreet, not less! As quick as he could, he fumbled his keys out and got the door unlocked, dragging in the large package with one paw as he stepped inside, and threw the door shut behind him. God, he hoped none of his neighbors had seen that–he was usually home from work before other people at the apartment complex, at least, so chances were his secret was still safe–hopefully.

It wasn’t something he was very comfortable with yet, but Hux…liked diapers. Liked wearing diapers. Liked pissing in them, liked…feeling like a big baby. Something about it turned him on damn much, even if the very idea of anyone knowing about his fetish was a bit humiliating. He’d stumbled across a diaper story a few years back, and his obsession had grown from there. He’d been wearing diapers on occasion for the past few months, usually for an afternoon or something, until he got tired of it and cleaned himself up, but the clerk at the store had recognized him the last time he was there to buy some, and he’d turned bright red and hauled ass out of there. He’d asked around some forums, about where he could order some quality diapers, and over and over, guys kept recommending “Little Critter Diaper Delivery,” saying that once they’d started wearing those, they’d never gone back to another brand. The users who suggested them were all regulars on the forum–he’d seen them online there all the time, so they probably were the ones to know. They added that they were great for long term wear, good for play with daddies–not necessarily things Hux was looking for…yet, but interesting to him all the same.

Now that the embarrassment was wearing off, the horniness was starting to grow. He went into the kitchen and found a knife he could use to cut the tape, opened up the box and found his order of twenty-four disposable XXL diapers. Thick diapers, he discovered as he pulled them out. He’d never bought ones that were this thick, and that actually worried him a bit. He liked cumming in diapers, mostly, but these looked like he wouldn’t even be able to feel his dick through the hefty fabric. They would be absorbent though…no wonder the guys online said they were good for long sessions. Still, what’s the worst that could happen, really? If they didn’t work, he could always just ship them back, right? He didn’t really want to go back to the store, but he’d gotten other recommendations on the forums he might try. He held them up to his waist, under his gut, giving them a bit of a stretch. They’d fit him at least–the one’s before were always a bit too small for a big boy like he was.

He stripped out of his work clothes, the khakis and his button down shirt from the dumb office job where he was working currently, tied on the hanky he liked to wear–it always made him feel like a pup, when he’d worn hankies like this all the time–and then laid out the first diaper he’d pulled out, sat down on it, and went about pulling it up around him, pulling the straps tight around him until it was snug around his whole crotch and ass, with a hole in the back for his fluffy tail. The forum was right–they were comfortable. Really comfortable in fact. Like he was sitting on a cloud, almost…so relaxing he could…could just…

It took him a few moments to realize the warmth around his crotch wasn’t just comfort–but piss. He felt like he should be freaking out a bit, but instead he laid back, feeling the warmth spread around him. He hadn’t really managed to get much piss out into the diapers before, and he’d certainly never let loose like this before! It was as good as he’d always thought it would feel, and he moaned a bit, thrusting his crotch into the air, his paws groping the fluffy diaper. Unfortunately, his earlier worry had been confirmed–he couldn’t feel his paws on his cock at all. Still…something felt good in there, almost like the wet fabric was massaging his cock somehow. He tried to push his hand down the waistband, but he must have pulled it tighter than he remembered–he couldn’t even fit his hand down there to jack off. As he tried, the sensation around his cock was intensifying–now he was certain something was going on–he sat up, the piss starting to grow a bit lukewarm, and again felt the outside of the diaper. His paws just felt fluff, but inside–it was like someone’s mouth and ass were toying with his cock simultaneously, quicker now, and with a jerk, clutching the front of the diaper, he shouted, “Fuck, I’m cumming!”

It was easily the most intense orgasm he’d ever experienced, and as soon as it had begun to ebb, the diaper contracted around his cock again, sending him into another orgasm, even stronger than the last. The diaper refused to stop, milking as much cum out of his cock as it could with each orgasm, the next one beginning almost as soon as the last one ended. His paws, shaking, desperately tugged at the tabs on the sides of the diaper, but they refused to come unstuck. He couldn’t even feel the seams anymore, and another orgasm had him on his back, thrusting into the air, moaning and howling with pleasure, almost as a punishment for trying to escape.

It wasn’t long before the milking of his cock took on a different sensation, becoming less sensual and gentle, and rougher, harder–the fabric crushing against his cock and balls, squeezing and pulling them in strange, unfamiliar ways. It made his stomach ache, like he was seasick, but it didn’t stop him from cumming again and again. They were as intense as before, but growing shorter–less and less cum flowing into the now soggy, sagging diaper with each shot. For a while, he kept trying to get himself out of the diaper, but before long he’d rolled over onto his belly and was willingly thrusting into the diaper, drooling on the carpet, listening to the soaked fabric squelch beneath him, tail wagging too and fro in the air behind him.

Help–he had to get help. He can see his khakis on the floor a few feet away, and he crawls over…enjoying the sensation of the sagging diaper between his fat thighs that he cums from that sensation alone, his balls aching in their fabric cage. He fumbled through his contacts, terrified that someone was going to see him like this, but he…needed someone here with him. He couldn’t do this alone. He had a good friend who lived nearby, a coworker named Matt a bit older than he was, in his 30’s. They’d hung out regularly and he was cool with everything Hux had told him about–hopefully he’d be cool with this. He took his time, typing out a text as he panted, tongue hanging out, diaper nursing his cock gently, urging him on.

“Hey, could you come over please? I’m having a emergency, and need some help. ASAP!”

What sort of things get you into twink-TF related stuff? You occasionally write that sort of thing, and I was wondering what gets that itch going (the Green Fairy story is pretty damn great). Then again, minus the trim slight build, sometimes an archetype of a lisping chubby cub (who seems like twink+100lbs) appears in your stories.

Most twink stories are written as commissions or requests. It’s just not something I’m ever into personally, though I know the tropes well enough to write something when necessary. I sure do like a femmy cub on occasion though.

Do you know what happened to AgainstMyWill? I know you did a tribute to him semi-recently so I thought you might know

I haven’t spoken to him lately, so no. I know he’s still alive, or at least he was a few months ago, because he commented on one of his older stories that popped up suddenly on the new archive at gay spiral stories. Is it weird that I noticed that? I’m a bit of a creeper I guess. But no, I haven’t seen any new stories of his in quite a while.

I have a question that you might be able to answer. Do you know of any other blogs that do similar weight gain stories and photo caption type stuff like you do? I can’t seem to find any.

I listed some of my recommendations here, at one point, though no one seems to be posting much of anything lately, so I feel like I’m shouting into a bit of a void again, and I don’t like that. 

Don’t make me tag you, you already know who I’m talking about.

I have stumbled across a couple of other writers, and two in particular that might be up your alley are @restrixxxion and @xenoxephyr, so check their stuff out! And leave them notes, telling them to write more stuff!

Two questions: Did Rod, himself, have a “Rod”? As in, was he himself once a project in the same way he makes other men his projects now? And is Pigtown’s geographical location fixed, or is it like Springfield, where the specifics change for what the area and the plot want them to be? I kinda like the latter idea, it gives this eldritch quality to the area as a concept, reaching out with a literal will of its own.

#1: Did Rod have a “Rod”? In pretty much everything I’ve written regarding Pigtown, no, not really. Rod is a person who, through a series of unfortunate events, became a part of Pigtown–more a part of it’s consciousness than anything else. He can’t leave the premises, or can only do so under special conditions. He’s not quite human at this point, but that doesn’t mean I know what he is.

#2: It’s geographical location is not fixed. Nothing about Pigtown, as a place, is fixed. Pigtown is a bar, or an area surrounding a bar. It could be any kind of bar. Generally it’s located in an urban locale, but this isn’t necessarily always the case. This is less an eldritch thing, and really just a consequence of the fact that Pigtown is a setting, not a world, in writer speak.

Don’t ask how he made his balls get that big. Don’t ask what made his balls that big. Don’t ask about how they seem to bulge and vibrate, about how the sack doesn’t seem to contain balls at all, how it seems to contain something that seems to be bulge and pulse and vibrate all on it’s own.

You wouldn’t think to ask any of those thing anyway, not now. He’s not really your type. He’s musky, crude, rough around the edges, smokes unfiltered cigarettes, and tastes like it too, when he kisses you, or rather, when he mauls his mouth with yours. 

Don’t ask his name, he won’t tell you. He likes being anonymous. He doesn’t want you to find him later, when you start feeling ill, when you start to notice something is happening inside your guts. When the strangest cravings kick in, when you loom over the toilet after you just pissed in it, jacking off without a thought in your head, clenching your ring, feeling like you’re missing something inside you. No, he’ll find you again, when he knows you’re ready.

When will you be ready? When you’ve given up on your job, because all you can focus on is getting as much cock in your ass as possible. When you’ve noticed your gut is growing–or rather, distending–even though you’ve been eating less and less. When you realize your cock and your balls don’t quite look like they’re supposed to–your glans looks smoothed down, like a soap figure halfway through it’s life in the shower. Your balls are pulled up tighter to the shaft and now run along it, the testes smaller, even though the sack is bigger. When you’ve lost about half of your teeth, but you’re trying not to think about it. Then he’ll find you. He won’t look like he did before. You won’t know how to describe the thing that stalks you through the streets for a few hours, but you’ll be able to smell it hunting you, and you’ll know it can smell you too. You’ll know there’s nowhere to hide. You’ll know that you don’t want to hide. You want it inside you again, more than anything.

As for what might happen after that, you don’t really want to know, do you?

Source: juicedmen

Dark Mind (Part 6)

Sorry I forgot to post this yesterday!

Jordan fought, as best he could, for the first few weeks. Direct disobedience was an utter fool’s errand, he quickly realized–the beast had plenty of control over him in his waking state, and seemed much less concerned with his body’s appearance than Jordan was. Oliver too, seemed to enjoy it–running his hands over the scars crisscrossing Jordan’s back, shivering and getting a bit hard. Was he thinking about the scars that also marked his own back, that the beast was giving him in the night? Certainly, Oliver appeared exhausted, and when Jordan pressed him on it, he revealed he was only receiving two, maybe three hours of sleep a night, but that for Master, he’d suffer anything.

Oliver remained a puzzle Jordan soon realized he’d never be able to disentangle. Half the time, Oliver never even seemed to be addressing him, when he spoke, and all of Jordan’s pleas to him–both rational and physical–would run headlong into the massive brick wall that was Oliver’s utter devotion to the thing which had taken up residence in Jordan’s brain and body. However, Oliver’s exhaustion soon grew so extreme that he woke one morning to the appearance of a second slave in his apartment (or a third, rather, but be refused to count himself, even though Oliver was constantly reminding him of his alleged status). The newcomer slept all day long, and it was several days before Jordan even learned his name–Paul–because his role was different from Oliver’s. He was only there for the nights, to sate the Master’s desires from dusk to dawn.

The workouts remained murderous. He was forced to smoke until the desire for nicotine took over and Jordan no longer had the will to resist his own internal desire for the cigars Oliver kept him supplied with from the moment he woke, to the time the tranqs took hold in the evening. As months wore on, Jordan felt, more and more, like he was trapped in some strange dream of a life, without reason or logic, but which he sensed he’d never be able to escape. The beast inside him sensed the weakness, and seized it, pushing at him as he woke, with whispers and secrets–but the mirrors were the worst. Looking down at himself, he still mostly resembled his lanky form, though he had put on some muscle under Oliver’s direction. But looking in a mirror, his eyes would trick him. He would see the beast there, mimicking him, mocking him perhaps–well over six feet tall, thick, strong, hairy, confident, all of the things Jordan had always despised, and yet he found himself obsessing over this new image, as disgusted as he was by the idea. When he’d been especially good, he was allowed to fuck Oliver facing a mirror, experiencing the beasts pleasure vicariously, while Oliver merely tolerated his master’ vessel attempting to please his hole.

What did it want? Jordan found himself asking that often. Wasn’t there some way it could allow them both to exist, together? No–the beast was too desperate for control to allow such an arrangement, but this situation, Jordan trapped in his own apartment with two mindfucked slaves, he could tell this wouldn’t satisfy the beast either. He was certain he’d be able to solve it f he could just get a restful night’s sleep! But everyday, he woke up exhausted, spent, barely able to keep up with Oliver’s training, hating his body, how weak he was, taunted by that image haunting him in reflections all over the apartment. He wanted it to just…stop. He just wanted to sleep. And then, one morning, Oliver led him into what had been his bedroom.

Jordan hadn’t set foot in the room since arriving home that morning–after all, his body was essentially active all day and night, while the slaves slept in shifts on a small cot in the living room. His bedroom was no longer a bedroom–it had, somehow, been converted into a small, makeshift lab without him even knowing. His notes, which he’d assumed had been destroyed, were all there–everything he needed to continue his work on the serum, in fact, or…or an antidote. He felt a twinge of pleasure at the thought–yes, of course–this is what the thing wanted as well–an antidote to him. In the end, only one of them could survive like this, and they both knew it, and the beast was willing to bet it’s control over him was, even while he was awake, strong enough to convince Jordan to murder himself–but Jordan’s sense of self-preservation lingered on all the same.

From that day on, his days were consumed with work in the lab, the beast in his mind at all times, forcing his hand in small and large ways, the two of them battling out as he mixed and crafted what he simply called the antidote, but in all honesty, he wasn’t quite sure what the thing would do, if one of them took it. He thought–he hoped–that he had successfully pushed the serum to stabilize erratic brain activity in the patient, in order to restore a normal sleep cycle–but the serum the beast wanted…he wasn’t quite sure what it was, really. The beast didn’t operate through science or rationality, but through impulse and desire. The one thing he knew, was that it wasn’t something he wanted to take–but on the day it was finished, he didn’t have a choice–The Beast took control, prepped the needle, and injected it straight into Jordan’s arm.

Jordan was never quite clear on what happened next. There was pain–a lot of it, all across his body, but also, somehow, in his very brain, like every synapse had turned on and began firing simultaneously. For a while, he was certain he was going to die. For a shorter time, lying on the floor, he was equally certain he was dead…but he wasn’t. However, he didn’t really know who, or what, he was. The man pushed himself up from the floor, looking around at the smashed up lab equipment around him, trying to process what had happened–there were so many memories, and too many people in his mind to sort them all out. Jordan and Harry, who was he? Which was he?

In the mirror, he looked like Harry–massively muscled, rough of face, massive cock, and certainly a desperate desire to fuck, but Jordan was there too, in ways. Perhaps less of him than Harry, but enough to make a certain difference in his mind, in how he thought, in what he wanted. His slaves, Oliver and Paul, entered the lab timidly, but both were ecstatic to see him, and he them. He could figure out who, or what, he’d become in a while–but right now, his slaves needed their master inside them, and he was only too happy to do so.