Dale’s Story (Part 6)

Ha, well, it wasn’t quite what I was expecting to win, but option number four (pig farm) pretty much ran away with 34% of the vote. Option two (beers with friends) was in second place with 25%, so we’ll try to have Bishop meet back up with his friends at some point, beers or no. Let’s see where this goes first, however!

“Ya know what ya always called me, the name I hated the most a all?” Dale said, leaning in close to Bishop’s face, where his much younger brother was kneeling in front of him. He didn’t say anything, “Go on, guess. Ya called me it often enough that ya obviously knew how much I hated it. Go on.”

“P-Piggy?”

“Yeah, that thar’s the one! But do ya remember what ya’d always do as well?”

Bishop didn’t want to do it, but his mouth opened, under Dale’s control, and he started squealing, loudly. He’d always done that to chase Dale off–call him Piggy and squeal at him until he ran away crying. He kept trying to talk, trying to apologize or beg, but all his mouth would do is squeal, grunt and snort.

“Now, how’s ‘bout we go visit a piggy farm, Bishop? I think we could have some real fun there, don’t ya?”

Bishop shook his head, but couldn’t fight Dale’s control over him. He stood up and began stripping off his clothes, abandoning them in the office. He squealed and grunted in protest, and Dale just laughed.

“Ya ain’t gonna need those on the farm, piggy, ya’ll just git ‘em dirty,” Dale said, and examined his brother’s physique. He’d put on a bit of weight since graduating from high school, but he was still quite the stud–and as he was, he certainly got Dale’s cock hard in his fat, but Bishop didn’t deserve it, and he wouldn’t have that body for much longer, if Dale had anything to say about it. He led Bishop out of the office, caught his son’s fucking against the side of an old truck in the garage, and told them to finish closing up the shop without him, that he had an errand to run and he’d see them later. He forced Bishop into his truck, he climbed in with him, and drove out of town, keeping Bishop occupied licking and sucking at his fat until they arrived at one of the pig farms surrounding the town, and he forced Bishop out again. He covered himself up as best he could, embarrassed to be naked in the evening light, and thankfully no one was around to see him as he and Dale walked to the barn and went inside.

Bishop fell to the floor, and only after trying to get up a few times did he realize it was Dale, who’d removed his ability to walk upright, forcing him to crawl up to a massive trough along the wall, while Dale looked around, figuring out how to dispense the feed, and after finding it, he pulled the switch, and a thick, sloppy mash dropped into the trough in front of Bishop.

He fought as hard as he could for a moment, but drove his face into the muck and started eating it as quickly as he could. Dale stopped the flow once the trough was full, and then walked up and got down beside his brother, running his chubby hands over his naked back, down to his ass, slipping a couple greasy fingers inside him as he talked to him, influencing his mind.

“Yeah, that’s it Piggy–ya go tah town on that shit. That’s yer new name, by the way–the only thing ya’ll let people call ya from now on. Piggy–just hearin’ a guy say it, inside, yer gonna hate it, it’s gonna fill ya wit’ so much shame, but outside, you’ll grin, and that piggy cock a yers is gonna get a flutter. Ya’ll look like a piggy soon enough to, since we’re gonna make ya eat all the time, I think. Yeah, I can do that to ya–ya can feel that hunger now, can’t ya? The pleasure yer gettin’, fillin’ that gut a yers. Damn Piggy, got her cock hard ‘n everythin’ already, ‘n all ya’ve done i stuff that fat fuckin’ face a yers like a damn animal. Fuck, feel how full this gut a yers is? Damn piggy, yer gonna–”

He was interrupted by the barn door opening, and Dale looked behind them to where the farmer had just opened the door, shotgun in hand, staring, unbelieving, at the scene in front of him. Dale took control of him easily, and the older man set the shotgun down against the wall. From the look of him, he’d been in the mud with the pigs, the man’s rubber waders coated with muck. He wasn’t the cleanest fellow either, which was fine with him–and he had a feeling Bishop would enjoy him as well. But what does he do?

Alright, time for you to choose! Here’s a range of options, from a couple more normal ones to some…more extreme options. Again, they can be mixed and matched a bit, if two are more popular than the rest.

Dale convinces him to hire Bishop, and degrades Bishop’s mind and memories to match his new position in life.
He makes the farmer an aggressive leather master, and Bishop is his new pigslave in training.
Two pigs are better than one–he has the farmer join in with Bishop, and Dale enjoys them both.
Dale convinces him that Bishop is actually one of his sows in heat, and together they get a boar to mount him.
As an apology for trespassing, he offers Bishop’s services as a toilet and cumdump for the filthy farmer.

So, what would you all like to see happen next?

Job Revenge (Sketch)

This shit shouldn’t be legal in the goddamn 21st century, Jordan thought to himself, unable to believe he could be so stupid. Sure, some of the country thought it was a good idea to make sure people couldn’t be fired for being gay, but not here in the fucking Carolinas. Nope, here it was perfectly legal, and after his boss, Rodney, had overheard him the other day telling one of his coworkers, who wasn’t a social troglodyte, that he had a date with a hot guy that evening, he’d had a fucking grin on his face he hadn’t wiped off for a few days. It was no secret that Rodney hated Jordan–in part because everyone knew Jordan could do Rodney’s job better than him, but mostly because he was a little femme, and had always suspected Jordan might be “one of those disgusting faggots,” as he called them. And so, at the end of the day, Rodney had confronted him, and told him that Jordan had two weeks to wrap up his projects and get out.

That was yesterday, and news that he was being fired, and why he was being fired, had spread through the office like wildfire. Still, Jordan wasn’t about to give up without a fight, because what Rodney didn’t know, was that Jordan was descended from a line of witches. He’d never really dabbled much in it, not after seeing some of the crazy shit that had happened to his mother when he was younger, but for this…well, he needed this damn job! The job market wasn’t exactly getting better, after all, and he’d been hoping he could at least crawl his way up to management here before looking for better work with a bit of experience. So, he pulled out his grandmother’s grimoire, and started studying.

It wasn’t easy–it took him a week just to find a spell he thought would do the trick, gather all the ingredients for the curse, and then to make it. The whole time, Rodney had been insufferable. Gloating at every chance, calling him names, turning his coworkers against him–so yeah, he was angry. When he finally wrangled the spell together into a potion Rodney would need to drink, he finally had something to channel his anger into…and the potion didn’t turn out quite right. It was supposed to be a clear blue, but his was kind of a muddy purple. Still, he didn’t have time to do it over, right? If it didn’t work, then it didn’t work, but he had to at least try.

The easiest part was getting Rodney to drink it. He always brought lunch and kept it in the fridge, along with a thermos of coffee which he always forgot around the office all day long. He’d waste hours hunting it down when he was supposed to be doing something more pressing. Jordan waited for it to be abandoned, added the potion, and then had someone return it to him–so he wouldn’t suspect Jordan had done anything to it…but he kind of had. How could he resist, really? He’d slipped into the bathroom, and jacked off into the thermos as well. All it took was a sip, after all–so even if he could taste it, he’d have a bit more revenge.

The spell was supposed to have a suggestive effect on someone, where they would find themselves unable to resist the orders of the witch for a time after drinking the spell. How long of a time was unclear–apparently in varied based on the caster’s skill (minimal) and the subject’s willpower (also minimal, since Rodney could barely grasp the concept of a spreadsheet.) All he’d need was a few hours to…change Rodney’s mind about Jordan’s worth, and everything would be just fine.

He waited half an hour, and then decided to go check on Rodney–when he got to his office, he even saw him take a swig from the thermos, grimace, and then set it back down–perfect. That, supposedly, was all it should take! So he went ahead and stepped inside and shut the door behind him–but Rodney just glared at him. “Faggot, get the fuck out of here, unless you want to be packing up your shit today.”

“No Rodney, I think the two of us need to have a little chat. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? To talk to me?”

He saw Rodney start to retort, but an odd purple wave washed through his eyes, he shook his head, and said, “Uh…I mean, what…would you like to talk about?”

Jordan had planned this–planned what he was going to say, but he felt…something odd inside him. He felt so…angry all of a sudden. Angry and…horny as hell. This…wasn’t right, was it? The spell wasn’t supposed to affect him. But this…rush! “I think you…should apologize to me. For all the shit you’ve called me.”

The same wave of purple, the same wave through him of anger and horniness. “I’m…sorry,” Rodney said, gritting his teeth, trying to fight it.

“Sorry for what?”

“For…calling you a fag, and…queer and shit.” Rodney said, but something seemed strange about him. He looked…happy, like he’d just had a burst of pleasure. “What the hell is wrong with me?” He said, a bit quiet, “I…why did that feel so good?”

“Maybe because you like submitting to me. I think you do, Rodney, I think the idea of doing whatever I say turns you on.” The words were just tumbling out now, unbidden. Sure, he’d always kind of…fantasized about this, but what in the world was he doing?

“Oh fuck, it…kind of does, doesn’t it?”

“Get over here, and lick my shoes clean.”

He didn’t expect him to do it, but Rodney got up, a throbbing erection obvious in the front of his pants, and he walked over, got down, and started licking, and Jordan felt an uncharacteristic sneer turn up the corner of his mouth. He could have some fun with this, actually, and Rodney would as well, at least if he told him so.

I’m still taking votes for Part 5 of Dale’s Story. Help me decide what to do to his asshole brother!

FatOldHog: There, I fucking did it, are you happy?

DaddyLoveXXX: You’re not done yet Hog, you still have to eat it. That was the deal, remember?

DaddyLoveXXX: Yeah, that’s a good hog, slurp all that old cum of yours down. Go on Hog, tell me how it tasted–did you enjoy eating your own seed?

FatOldHog:

It was fucking disgusting.

DaddyLoveXXX: Oh really? I thought an old pig like you would enjoy a treat like that.”

FatOldHog:

Look, I did everything you said I had to do, alright? Please just change me back.

DaddyLoveXXX: No, if you remember, I told you I’d be willing to change you back after we’d both had our fun, isn’t that right? Well I still haven’t gotten off, you old hog, so if you really want me to change you back, you’re going to have to help me out.

FatOldHog:

No, this is fucking over!

DaddyLoveXXX: Now now, be careful! You wouldn’t want me changing that username of yours again, would you? Now play with those fat grandpa titties for me, show me how much you like showing yourself off.

DaddyLoveXXX: Come on now, that isn’t very sexy at all! Hold on…

DaddyLoveXXX:

Yeah, now you’re getting into the spirit Hog! Looking sexy, getting my cock hard. Why don’t you go find one of those toys you have, and then come back and we’ll play someone.

OldHogPervert: Toys? What…

OldHogPervert:

No–fuck you, no, I’m not putting anything in my ass!

DaddyLoveXXX:

Oh really?

DaddyLoveXXX:

I thought disgusting perverts like you put things in your ass all the time, though. In fact, I bet there’s something in that old hole of yours right now.

Plug_My_PiggyHole: Oh fuck, why does that feel so good?

DaddyLoveXXX: Because you’re a slutty daddy piggy, that’s why! Fuck, look at you go, ramming that thing in deep–it looks big enough to be a fist! I bet you’d rather have my cock in your ass though, isn’t that right?

DaddyLoveXXX:

Don’t just give me that little half nod–type it out. I want to see it.

Plug_My_PiggyHole:

I wish you were fucking my old piggy hole.

Plug_My_PiggyHole:

God, why did I just call it that?

DaddyLoveXXX:

Because that’s what it is!

DaddyLoveXXX:

Daddy, keep a hold of yourself–don’t you go making another mess now!

DaddyLoveXXX:

Fuck Hog, we’re going to have to keep you better under control, so you don’t keep cumming like that.

Locked_PiggyHole: What the fuck is this fucking thing? How do you get it off?

DaddyLoveXXX:

It doesn’t fucking come off daddy–you’re going to be wearing that new cage for a long, long time–fuck, here it comes!

DaddyLoveXXX:

Damn hog, that was a fun session. Glad you enjoyed yourself as much as I did.

Locked_PiggyHole:

Please, just change me back now…

DaddyLoveXXX:

Oh alright.

LinebackerPiggy: Wait–I’m young again, but I’m still fat! And my cock’s still in this damn cage! Change me all the way back!

DaddyLoveXXX:

No way! I don’t think your coach would be very happy with me for messing with his piggy linebacker slave, do you?

LinebackerPiggy:

No, you can’t do this to me, please!

DaddyLoveXXX has signed off.>

LinebackerPiggy:

Fucking get back on here!

Rape By Neighbor (Sketch)

It was a few weeks after I’d moved into my new apartment. I’d asked my parents to finally let me move off campus this year, now that I was Junior. Don’t get me wrong, the dorms are fine and everything, but I was looking forward to the chance to have some space to myself. It was a one bedroom apartment, though that description was a bit generous–it was more like a glorified studio than anything else. Still, everything was functional and relatively clean, and only about five minutes off campus. The complex had a pool–not that I really was planning on swimming or anything–and everyone’s apartment had a little balcony that looked out over it–none of them were exactly private, but hey, that’s apartment life, right?

It was late summer and still sweltering–I’d already learned to regret going to school somewhere hot–and the apartment didn’t have air conditioning. I was…a big guy, alright? I’d done both the Freshman and the sophomore thirty-five, and so I was sweating like a pig, and the breeze was one of the few things that I could do to cool myself down during the day, and that’s when I first met Jed. He was my next door neighbor to the left, and he was out on the balcony as much as I was, thought he did it because he smoked these fat cigars almost non-stop. The apartments were allegedly smoke free, but everyone looked the other way, as long as our places didn’t stink too much when we moved out. He had a big beard, always wore these wife beaters which showed off his hairy arms and chest covered with a riot of tattoos. We chatted a bit at first, but he didn’t seem like one for much communication.

Now, the other reason I’d wanted an apartment of my own was something my parents didn’t need to know about, and that’s that I was a bit of a slut around campus…and around town. I was on Growlr all the time, and I’d had enough of my roommates walking in on me and some other guy with his cock in my mouth, or mine in his ass. Needless to say I took advantage of my new freedom almost immediately, hooking up with a few guys I hadn’t seen all summer. I don’t know when Jed figured it out–I sure didn’t tell him. He probably ran into someone leaving or heading for my apartment, and must have put two and two together…since I knew a few guys who weren’t known to be quiet or subtle in bed. It was late one night, and I couldn’t sleep in the heat. No one was around who wanted to fuck, and so I was out on the balcony on my phone, cooling off in my underwear, when I realized I wasn’t alone. Jed was out on his balcony, and he was looking at me…and groping himself, lips wrapped around one of those big cigars of his.

Now, at that moment I thought I was pretty lucky, since I’d always had a thing for the rough daddy type. I cruise him a bit, slip my hand down the front of my pants and start fondling myself–and that’s when he gets this disgusted look on his face. “Fucking faggot, did I say you could fucking touch yourself? Get your hand out of your fucking shorts.”

Fuck, one of those. I should have figured as much. I thought about just going inside and not even dealing with this, but, well, I was horny. I’ve never been known to make the best decisions when I’m horny. So I pulled my hand out, and watched him for a bit. He just kept groping himself, wouldn’t let me see his cock, and I was getting bored. Eventually I said something like, “You just gonna stand there, or you gonna do something with that?” He just glared at me, and then went back into his apartment. I went back into my apartment too and tried to get back to sleep. It was an hour later that someone started knocking at my door, and I got up, peeped through, and saw Jed on the other side, pounding away, smoking a cigar, a bottle of booze in his hand. I only opened the door to tell him to go back to his place, but as soon as I turned the handle he slammed the door into my face, and I stumbled back, blood streaming from my nose, and he was on top of me, ripping away my underwear.

It didn’t hurt, really. I…might have been busy with a toy at the moment. I didn’t even really mind the roughness, if he’d just thought to ask, you know? I just let him have his way, it was easier, and he was a pretty good fuck–nice thick cock, though he stank of smoke and booze in the moment. He came after a few minutes, and without anything else stood up and left me there to push myself up, avoid dribbling any more blood on the carpet from my nose, and shut the door behind him.

Dale’s Story (Part 5)

Looks like most of you liked power over mind, so we’ll be enjoying some mind control, it looks like!

“So wait, like mind control ‘r somethin’?” Dale asked, “Fuck, so I could make ‘em do anythin’ I want?”

“Oh trust me,” the stranger said, “You can do a lot more with it than that, but essentially, yes. Is that you’re choice then?”

The others did sound tempting to him, but he nodded, “Yeah, that sounds like a real load a fun, I think,” he leered, and shoved some more food in his face.”

“Alright–I’ll give you the gift of my power for 24 hours. At this time tomorrow, whatever changes you’ve made to Bishop-or anyone else–will be irreversible,” the stranger walked up to him, pressed a finger to Dale’s temple, and he felt a strange shock run through him–and he realized he could…hear things. Thoughts. He could hear his sons working on cars, staring at each other across the room, thinking about fucking in the restroom on their break. The men in the waiting room were bored, impatient and irritated, and he laughed, the stranger smiling. “Holy fuckin’ shit, I can…hear what they all thinkin’?”

“You sure can, Dale. The office had a window so that he could see in the waiting room, and there were a few people in there, waiting on cars, but two caught his eye in particular. A grungy looking biker–older, with a big beard–and a middle aged redneck. With a nudge, they caught each other’s eye, thinking…new thoughts. And then, the redneck was up, crossing the short distance, getting down and opening the biker’s fly and sucking his old cock. The rest of the people stared for a moment, but he suppressed their surprise and they resumed whatever they were doing,m paying no attention to the men having sex right in front of them. “Holy fuck, it really does work…” Dale muttered, his own cock rock hard in his pants.

“You can do more than control people, you know,” the stranger said, “You can change their minds, their memories, their deep emotions.”

Dale focused on the biker, delving deeper into his mind in particular, crossing wires. Eliminating any trace of heterosexuality he might have had, and replacing it with a deep, impossible to sate desire for men. He made him rougher, meaner, more dominant, and watched him shove the redneck back onto the floor with a snarl, yank down his jeans and fuck the man’s ass dry, the man screaming in pain, but no one paid them any mind. Turning to the redneck–he started warping his memories. He no longer remembers having a wife and two kids–no, he’s a drifter. A biker bitch. A boy owned by his daddy to be abused however he sees fit. His pain became tolerable–desired even, since he craved it now. Needed it. Going too long without abuse, he would start to shake and sweat, begging random men on the street to beat him and rape him.

“Goodness, you’re a natural!” the stranger said, “Better watch my back.”

Dale thought about turning the two men back…but he actually preferred them this way, and when they rode off on the biker’s Harley in an hours time, the boy’s ass still leaking cum into his jeans, on their way to get him properly outfitted for the road, he knew there’d be no going back for either of them now.

Bishop arrived right on time for his appointment, and Dale was at the desk to greet him. He probed around his old brother’s mind, enjoying for a moment how disgusting he found the obese, slobby mechanic he’d become overnight–and then started toying with him, turning that disgust into lust, a hopeless desire Bishop would do anything to sate. By the time he took the keys from him, Bishop was staring at his body with a hunger the young man had never experienced before, his cock hard and leaking, most of his mind unable to believe he was actually finding himself attracted to someone he knew, in his mind, he should find absolutely appalling.

“Alright Bishop, all set!” Dale said, handing the keys to one of his sons, “Now, is there anything else I can help ya out with?”

“I…I…” Bishop muttered, unable or unwilling to get the words out, so Dale gave him a light push. “I…want you…”

“Ya want me?” Dale said, a bit louder than he needed to be, enjoying the humiliation that rushed through Bishop’s system. “Which part a me, boy?”

“Ev…ry part…” Bishop moaned, and felt his cock explode in his pants, leaving him heaving for breath and clutching the counter, “Oh fuck, what the fuck’s wrong with me.”

“Well come on back tah mah office, boy, ‘n I’ll see what I can do tah help ya out.”

Bishop tried to fight, he tried to run, but like someone else was controlling him, he walked back after the massive man, into his office, helped him strip out of his filthy coveralls and spent the next several hours licking the man clean from face to foot. He hated what he was doing. He was still straight, but he wanted this. He…enjoyed the humiliation. Every time one of Dale’s son’s came in to check on a job and found Bishop there, his face buried in some fatty roll, he’d explode all over again in shame, his crotch wet with cum. The boys would just smile knowingly, give him a suggestion or some encouragement, and then shut the door and get back to work.

They didn’t actually get to Bishop’s car before they closed up for the night, and Dale finally allowed Bishop the right to suck his cock–and as he swallowed his cum, he provided him the knowledge that the cock he was sucking actually belonged to a brother he’d managed to forget all about–and as horrifed as Bishop was, he couldn’t stop himself from swallowing everything.

“Well bro, that sure was fun–but we got all night ‘n mosta tomorrow tah play around. Where do ya think we should go fer some fun?” Dale asked, thought a moment, and then said…

Alright, so here are your choices!

“Let’s check out the truck stop–bet we can find some dirty bikers or truckers tah use those fresh holes a yers.”
“Let’s call those friends a yers and meet ‘em at George’s bar. We never did finish our drinks last night.”
“Ya know, I think the tattoo ‘n piercing shop’s open this late–how ‘bout we git ya some decorations?”
“I bet we could have a whole lotta fun visitin’ one of the pig farms ‘round here–how does that sound to you?”
“Let’s go check out that big porno shop two towns over–I hear they even sell some gear ‘n toys I know ya’ll love.”

These can all probably be mixed and matched a bit, so if two are fairly popular, I’ll probably combine them into one idea! As always, you get two votes that you can pool in one option, or split between two choices. So what would you like Bishop’s fate to be?

Perfect Girlfriend (Part 2)

WARNING: IMPLICIT SCAT, BABY PLAY

“Come on pig, if you get started with that, we’re never going to get you dinner,” Ken said, pushing Andy’s empty-eyed face away, and got up from his recliner, walking to his kitchen with Andy crawling behind him. From the fridge, he hauled several huge tupperware containers of slop from the fridge–the pig was eating so much these days, it helped to prepare it’s feed ahead of time– and poured it into the pig’s huge bowl on the floor, and it dug in with a squeal, shoving it’s face into the fattening muck without a moment’s reservation. Ken watched for a couple of minutes, smoking his cigar, occasionally digging his bare foot into the slop and making his pig lick it out from between his toes, when the knock on the door he’d been expecting came, and he went to get it.

“You’re late,” Ken said, letting the man into the apartment.

“Sorry, got a bit lost–these damn complexes, you know? Can never find the damn letter, not with my eyesight. So…is he ready?”

“Yeah, I’ve been laying the groundwork. I’m sure there will be a few kinks tonight, but we can adjust things a bit later. Biggest hangup is the shitting. Getting him to piss is easy enough, but fucker’s still knotted up tight in the back end.”

“Oh…because…I mean, that’s…”

“Don’t worry, I’m loading him up with laxatives as we speak. Tonight will be fine, trust me. Need a viagra?”

“Hell yeah. Old lizard doesn’t work too well anymore.”

“Here. We can hang out a bit, wait for everyone’s meds to kick in, and then give the two of you some alone time.”

Andy finished it’s bowl of slop after a while, and feeling the edge taken off it’s hunger, crawled back out to find master sitting with some stranger he didn’t recognize. If he’d been Ken’s son at the moment, he likely would have assumed it was another one of his uncles–Andy had lots and lots of uncles who visited his daddy, and all of them liked to play with Andy too. But he was a pig right now, so he focused on his master’s cock, and the stranger’s as well. It wasn’t very hard at first, but it perked up eventually–and as he was sucking, he felt his guts gurgle oddly, and let loose a blast of wind which the pig realized was…a bit more than just wind. Pigs weren’t supposed to feel shame, but Andy felt it’s cheeks redden a bit anyway.

“Guess that means he’s ready!” Master said with a chuckle. “Hey pig, go into neutral.”

Andy was never sure what happened in neutral, but it was always a bit of a relief to just zone out for a bit, listening to his master, simply focused on doing what he was told to do. It was a relief, not having to care. Master spoke for a while, and Andy absorbed. They went into his room and…things were happening to him, but he wasn’t sure what. Andy wasn’t sure of anything, really, other than of how important it was to listen to his master and obey. At last, Ken said, “Alright…ready? Time to wake up, baby.”

Baby. Baby hadn’t been out much, Baby was relatively new. Andy was on his bed in his room, but it was covered with…rubber? Something. The stranger was there with his daddy, Ken, and Andy sucked a bit on his pacifier, running his hands over his body, feeling his diaper around his crotch, and giggled. “Daddy…I feel funny,” he said around the rubber in his mouth

“Fuck, he’s beautiful,” the stranger said, walked over and started groping Andy’s diaper, the baby arching his back a bit, groaning and muttering softly.

“Baby, this here is your Uncle Jack. Think you two can play nice together? I’ve been telling Jack what a nasty, naughty baby you are, and he’s very excited, as you can see.”

“Oh yeah baby–you wanna play with your dirty Uncle?” Jack said, “Go on, show me how nasty you are?”

Andy felt his bladder release into his diaper, soaking himself with piss. He should…shit himself too, but the thought of doing that still made him feel so bad, but he also discovered, a moment later, he couldn’t stop himself, the shit flooding out of his ass, packing it’s way into his diaper, the stink of it filling the room. “Oh fuck…dirty baby…” he groaned, Jack feeling the full diaper and licking his lips at the stink.

“Jack’s just as dirty as you are baby, just you fucking wait.”

Standing by the door, dressed for another day at work, Andy could still taste Uncle Jack’s shit in his mouth. Even after brushing his teeth twice, and after another huge breakfast of slop from Ken, he could still taste it. He worried he might taste it forever. He was waiting for Ken to open the door, so he could leave, but the old man was making him wait. A minute later, he came, holding something in his hand.

“Alright Andy, you know what? I think it’s time for those two friends of yours to finally meet that perfect girlfriend of yours, what do you think?”

“Oh fuck, no–you can’t make me.”

“You won’t have a choice. Jack loved you so much, he wants a baby all to himself, but I’ve put too much work into you to give you up. I’m sure I can find someone else who wants that other one too. So, you’re going to go out today for beers, buy a pitcher, and put this in it,” he handed Andy a pouch of some white powder, “Get them to drinking, and then bring them home to meet Kendra for dinner. They should be…more than willing, got it?”

“No…no, fuck you, fuck this.”

Ken laughed. “Like I said, I know you’ll perform perfectly. But if you don’t? Let’s just say you’re going to be baby for the rest of your life, Andy.”

He nearly shit himself at the word baby, it took all his will to hold it in. Last night with Uncle Jack had removed that last bit of shame from him, and terrified, he grabbed the bag and gripped it tight.

“Have a good day, sweetie,” Ken said, and opened the door, and Andy left, that last kiss from Kendra still tingling on his cheek. He was so happy his friends could finally meet her! They were going to have such a good time tonight, once they got to know her, he couldn’t wait.

Perfect Girlfriend (Part 1)

“I’m not kidding guys. She’s, like, the perfect girlfriend,” Andy said, talking with his two friends, Sam and Owen in the breakroom. He’d just finished his shift, and was getting ready to go home for the day, but couldn’t resist the opportunity to keep bragging about Kendra, his girlfriend of six months. They’d moved in together last week, and so far, it had, apparently, been bliss. “She’s so fucking horny, you wouldn’t believe it, needs me, like, four times a damn day. How am I supposed to keep up with that?”

Sam and Owen rolled their eyes–they were both tired of hearing about Kendra–it seemed like the only thing Andy was interested in talking about, and it had only gotten worse over the last few months. Andy had used to be a pretty fun guy, hanging out, playing video games, but ever since he’d started dating her, the guys had seen less and less of him, and he’d started changing in odd ways as well. He’d packed on at least 25 pounds, going from a wiry fairly normal 200 to a husky 230, with no sign of stopping–but he did love her cooking, he said, over and over again. All of this, and neither Sam nor Owen had ever even seen her, much less met her. They’d both suspected she was fictional, but even they’d never heard of someone going so far as to “move in” with a fictional girlfriend. Needless to say, neither of them replied to Andy’s news of sexual conquest–it didn’t matter if they said anything or not; he’d keep going regardless.

“Anyway, she said she’s making meatloaf tonight, so I’d better get home quick, right?” Andy laughed at himself, “See you two tomorrow!”

“Yeah, man.”

“Later.”

Andy loved these days when he could get off early, around three. He got in his car and drove home to his apartment, fifteen minutes or so from work, thinking about Kendra. How as soon as he opened the door, she’d be there, ready for him to ravish her, and then she’d cook him dinner. Fuck! This was the damn life, right?

He pulled into his parking spot outside the complex, got out of his car, and couldn’t help but notice his hands were clenched into fists he couldn’t quite get loose, his guts roiling, body shaking slightly. Damn, what was up with him all of a sudden? Probably just hungry, or maybe that sushi he ate for lunch, who knows? He walked up the flight of stairs to his apartment, fingers fumbling with his keys, and he couldn’t quite get it into the lock, like his hand kept missing it somehow. Still, he needed to get in and see Kendra, he was so damn excited! On the third try, the key slipped in and turned. He stepped inside and shut the door behind him.

“There’s my handsome boyfriend,” Ken said, sitting in the recliner in front of the TV, the same place Ken always was when Andy got home, when he remembered. He grabbed the door handle, trying to twist it, but he already knew he wouldn’t be able to get it open–he could always get in, but he’d never once been able to get out without Ken’s permission.

Ken. Andy had moved into the apartment across from him a year ago, and he’d just assumed his neighbor was an old weirdo, and a bit of a pervert, from the way he kept looking at him when they passed on the stairs. He was dirty, with long hair and a big beard, teeth rotting, clothes reeking with cum and smoke and who knew what else. He…didn’t know when he’d been ensnared, but he’d dated Kendra without knowing her real identity for a month, before Ken revealed himself one night, before raping Andy’s hole. He’s been trapped in this nightmare ever since–outside, he’s dating his beautiful, perfect girlfriend Kendra. Inside, he’s little more than Ken’s mindfucked slave.

“Come on over here son,” Ken said, “Daddy’s been edging for hours, waiting for you to get home.”

Oh fuck yeah, Andy thought, stripping off his work clothes as fast as he could, hurrying to his dad’s side. Fuck, he loved his dad so damn much, he’d do anything for him. He immediately climbed on top of his dad, grinding their bellies together, waiting for Ken to pull his cigar out before giving him a long, wet, sloppy kiss, sucking the smoke from his mouth as he exhaled, before kissing him again, slipping down lower, feeling his dad’s thick, hard cock slipping up and down his crack, catching slightly on his boyhole. God, he wanted daddy inside him, it was the only time he felt alive, serving the cock that made him. Another few tries, and the head slipped in, followed by the rest of his shaft, Daddy holding his son tight, the boy letting him slide in and out, slow, moaning and sighing and whimpering.

“I love you son, do you love me?”

“Oh god daddy, I love you so much!” Andy cried, “Oh fuck daddy, fuck me!”

“Could never fucking help yourself, you know. I remember the first day you came into my room, begging me for my cock like a little whore. Telling me how you’d seen guys fucking on the damn internet, wanted your old dad here to show you what it felt like to have a cock in your ass…”

Andy didn’t remember that, really, but he’d probably just forgotten that. His dad would never make something like that up. It did sound like something he’d say anyway–Daddy was always talking about how much of a nasty, desperate slut his son was.

“Finally getting some meat on those bones, turning into a damn hot fuck.”

“Thanks daddy.”

“But you want to be bigger, I bet–think you’re hot now, just wait till you finally top 300, you fucking pig.”

Andy’s eyes glazed over, mouth going slack, and he gave a great, long snort, bucking his hips faster, grunting in time with Ken’s thrusts, mouth exploring his master’s body, lciking and sucking at his sweat and musk.

“Nasty, disgusting, filthy piggy. Gonna stuff yourself today. Stuff yourself, and you won’t be able to fucking stop, hell no.”

The hunger was back, oh fucking god, he was so hungry! He slurped and licked at his master’s neck before biting down on his shoulder, slobbering, gut kneading itself into knots, master closer to cuming now, closer to cuming deep in his pig’s filthy hole, and then maybe he can eat, maybe it can fucking eat! Drool ran from it’s mouth uncontrollably as Master thrust in time with the pig’s grunts, and then with a groan, he came, holding pig on for a moment longer, before letting him slide off. The pig tried to stand on two feet for a moment, but fell onto hands and knees, where it felt much more natural. Master’s cock was there, and it crawled over, cleaning off the filth from it’s own ass, and as disgusting as it tasted, it was too good for a pig like him, and it ebbed the hunger slightly, having something it it’s mouth to lick and slurp on.

I’m still taking votes for the fourth chunk of Dale’s Story here!

“Yeah big boy, how are you feeling? Hungry? Hell, of course you’re hungry–open that mouth wider, I wanna see that thing stuffed full. Go on, chew fucker, chew! I know muscle fucks like you don’t know how to eat, so I’m going to give you a crash course. You can stop trying to make yourself stop, you know–there’s nothing you can do now about that. You’re stuck here until I’m good and finished with you, and we have all fucking weekend. Now chew, fucker, chew! Yeah, that’s it–now here comes some more…”

…

“I never did ask if you remember me. Do I ring any bells? No, I didn’t think so–guys like you, you just ruin someone’s day, laugh about it for a moment, and then forget it, right? I remember you though–it was a couple months back, I was new in town, there at the leather bar, looking for some friends or maybe a fuck, just being nice, minding my own business, when you start squealing and pointing. Those friends of yours joined in–hell, half the bar joined in. Now, don’t go getting it twisted or anything, I have enough self-esteem that your little stunt didn’t faze me, but I just knew I was going to have to get some personal time with you, and now here you are. Now give me a squeal, like you did back in the bar. Come on piggy–I’m gonna twist these big nipples of yours, on these new fat tits you have, and I want to hear you squeal. No, I want the neighbors to hear you squeal, got it?”

…

“That bellyhole feel good? Fuck, listening to you moan about it, it fucking must! Hold on, let me oil that big belly up a bit more, open it up a bit more. What do you think piggy? You want me to fuck this belly hole with my big cock? I bet I can fuck it so hard that I get that little cock of yours to explode deep in that gunt of yours, how does that sound? No no, I got this–you focus on stuffing that chubby face of yours. Fuck, you’re disgusting, but not disgusting enough, yet. Just wait until I make this thing a fucking crater! Guys will be fisting this belly soon enough–how does that sound? Heh, doesn’t sound like you like that idea, but I think you’ll come around here soon enough. And when I’m done here, I’ll give that virgin, jiggly ass a good plowing too. Can’t wait to see you at the bar–because you’ll be hanging out there plenty, trust me, begging all those old muscle friends to fuck any one of your holes–even paying them to do it, if they refuse. And I’ll be watching, you know. Me and everyone else. And I promise, we’ll all be squealing piggy–and you’ll be squealing along with us.”

Dale’s Story (Part 4)

Thanks again for all of the participation with this one! I hope you’re all enjoying how this is shaping up so far. Option four won handily over the last few days, with a solid plurality of 44%. Despite an early lead, option two came in second, with 27%. Here’s the next chunk! Hope you all enjoy.

The stranger smiled, and said, “Boys, why don’t we make sure your daddy doesn’t run off with a few more pitchers of beer and some greasy bar food.”

“Yeah!” Mike said, “I’ll go get some food from George. Jerry, you make sure daddy finishes his pitcher.”

“Heh, sounds good to me–sound good to you, Daddy? Come on and have a seat, you must be starving.”

“Starving is right,” the stranger said, and before Dale could object, his gut let off a massive rumble, and the hunger he’d lived with his entire life doubled or tripled in force. “Come on and sit back down Dale–we all know you aren’t going anywhere for a while yet.”

Dale fought his body, he fought the desperate need to eat gnawing away inside him, but he sat back down at the table, Jerry picked up the pitcher, skipping the glass, put it to his daddy’s bearded lips and tipped it up. All Dale could do was drink, and stare at the stranger leering down at them both, feeling the beer take hold of him, making things…fuzzier. He felt the beer running out each side of his mouth and down his front, soaking his coveralls, his cock hardening at the thought of what a mess he was making…and…and at the thought of Jerry cleaning him up. Yeah…fuck yeah…

The pitcher came away from his lips, nearly empty, and Dale let off a massive belch, groping his soaked gut for a moment, before unzipping the front of his coveralls. “Made a right mess a mahself boy, go on and lick daddy’s fat tits clean.”

“Ah fuck daddy…” Jerry moaned, swung a leg over his Daddy’s lap so he straddling him, his son’s cock pressing into his daddy’s expanding gut, leaned in and started licking up the beer from his dad’s fat chest and neck, listening to Dale groan and belch, feeling him pull his boy closer, grinding into him.

“See Dale? I knew you’d start to enjoy yourself eventually,” the stranger said, then looked up, “Oh good, Mike’s got your evening snacks I see. George knows what you love, of course.”

Dale looked over at the door as it opened, both terrified and desperate to see what his other son was bringing. The sight of fried chicken, piles of fries and onion rings, all drenched in ranch and barbeque sauce made his mouth water, and he licked his lips. “Fuck boy, get that shit in mah big belly, I’m fuckin’ starvin’…”

“Heh, sure thing daddy, but Jerry’s in the way.”

“Git down there boy, daddy’s gotta eat!” Dale said, and pushed Jerry down, under the table, where he unzipped his daddy’s coveralls further, his massive flabby body spilling out, and started digging around for his cock in Dale’s inflating gunt, while Mike started shoving food in his dad’s open maw, Dale focusing on chewing and swallowing as fast as he could, kneading his fat, feeling himself grow even larger still than he had been. Every little while, Dale would get a break, and guzzle some more beer straight from a pitcher, and then keep eating, his focus collapsing to just him and his two boys, getting drunker and heavier until he came with a long, food muffled moan, down Jerry’s throat, having demolished all of his snacks, Mike kissing and cleaning up his food coated face.

He looked about the patio for the stranger, but he was gone–when had he left? He couldn’t recall. “Where’d mah friend go?” he asked Mike.

“Who? Daddy, it’s just us out here.”

“Nah boy, thar was another guy. Older, with a pipe.”

Jerry crawled out from under the table, and got up, dusting off his knees. “Dad, it’s just us–I think ya had too much tah drink–let’s git on home. Ya good tah drive, Mike?”

“Sure bro.”

Together, they hauled up their massive, 600 pound father from his chair and led the very drunk Dale back through the bar, as he kept insisting to talk to the stranger, but everyone just ignored him–they knew how Dale got when he’d had too much to drink, and the fat ass had too much to drink quite often. At least he had his two boys to take care of him, right?

Dale was in the office at the auto shop the next day, working on some paperwork, shoving chips in his mouth absentmindedly, thinking back on the night before, wondering how much of it had just been his imagination, how much had been the beer, and how much had been real. He’d woken up in his own bed, two boys beside him, and after a morning fuck and a big breakfast, they’d gone to work, like normal…right? But then why did this feel so new to him? He knew what he was doing, sure, but…but something still didn’t quite feel right. Even a big lunch at the buffet hadn’t improved his mood much.

The office door creaked open, and he looked up to find himself looking right at the stranger from the night before, and his jaw dropped. He was real! Then…then did that mean…everything else was real too? “Sorry I disappeared so suddenly yesterday, but I had plans to make, people to see. But don’t think I forgot about my promise Dale! It just so happens that brother of yours is having some car trouble–he’ll be calling here to make an appointment, I think.”

Before Dale could respond, the phone rang, and Dale answered it. Sure enough, it was Bishop–his car was making an odd noise, and he couldn’t figure out what it was, and Dale told him to bring the car by in a couple of hours so he could look at it. He set the phone down. “He…he can’t be my brother…but he was by brother, wasn’t he? Fuck, what did you do to me?”

“This was the deal, Dale. This is my town now, and everyone’s going to find out what that means soon enough, but you’re the first. Now, here’s the deal–I have three powers at my disposal–the power of body, the power of time, and the power of mind–and I’ll give you one of them, so you can have some fun with your brother and his friends, so you can get the revenge I know you still crave. So Dale, the choice is yours.”

Actually, the choice is yours! Here’s the three options:

Power over time – the user can manipulate the strands of time to create alternate outcomes, including control over age, fate, the past and the future.
Power over body – the user has control over the body’s natural form and processes, including control over physical features, physiological function, and size.
Power over mind – the user can manipulate and control an individual’s mental states , including control over desires, memories, belief and intellect.

I have various ideas for each option, but if there’s something you’d like to see in particular, let me know and I’ll consider it! So, what would you like to see?

My Training Journal (Part 3)

Entry 55

Felix says I can write in you no more. He over here now helpin me move out cause i gotta go live with him now he says because i can’t go back to school cause i just a big dumb muscle slave. I guess hes write though i can’t think very hard anymore bout anythin other than working out and cocks and shit like that but I really like thinking about that stuff so maybe its ok!

I just wanted to tell you that im doin good on training and shit. I can ride Master’s fuck machine for a good hour now which is like super cool, makes me wanna jizz a bit but you know i cant. Not sure the last time i shoot but master says thats normal that i wont even wanna think about it soon because my worthless dick wont even be there much longer.

Fuck so much i wanna write but my head cant figure out how to word it. I’m gonna live with master for my own good from now on i suppose which is good. Hes helping me move out now. I dont need much really just the clothes he gave me to wear (the rubber and lycra and all the stuff thats so fuckin sexy on my huge bod, but I told you about that!) Oh! Master says i cant go back to college but that he found a night school for me instead! With classes and games and dancing and professors and everything, just like a real school but for stupid fagwhores like me! Im super excited to see what its like though. Anyway dont miss me too much!!! Master says ill be ok and happy and stuff and hes never been wrong before so why would he be wrong now, right?

Entry 56

Guess I underestimated that musclefag a bit! It’s a damn good thing he never showed this to anyone, or I probably would have been up shit creek by now. Still, whatever-his-name (I just call him Bitch usually, or Fag sometimes) has been doing really well since he moved in with me a few months back–I’m sure he’d be real proud of himself if he had much capacity for self-reflection anymore, but all of that is pretty much gone. Just a drooling idiot at this point. Even if I hadn’t taken this thing away from him it wouldn’t have mattered–he can’t even write anymore, so why would he have a journal?

Heh, I say he, but I don’t know what Bitch would really count as anymore. It doesn’t have a cock anymore, after all, or a sack. Supposedly the balls just get sucked up and still produce a minimal amount of hormones designed to keep up its muscle mass, but looking at the crotch? You wouldn’t know what it is. You should see the looks it gets, walking down the street in those tight lycra pants, tight enough to crawl up the crack of his wide, wide ass (wider now that we’ve been working in some collagen injections) but on the front, just nothing. No bulge, not even an outline. People don’t know what the fuck it is, and Bitch is too oblivious to even realize it’s a freak of nature at this point. Its pecs are massive, way out of proportion, with huge nipples. Got them pierced, and as soon as I can it’ll be swinging doorknockers from them, which will make its routine at the clubs just that much stranger and sexier. Lips too, got them inflated nice and puffy, great for blowjobs now that its gag reflex is finally gone–that took forever with this one!

Just re-read that last entry he made! Fucking night school, what a dipshit. Didn’t have to keep up that gag for too long, once it settled into the routine. Dancing for patrons, getting shoved in a gloryhole booth for hours on end, and of course, private rentals with his favorite “professors” four or five nights of the week. It just needs a whole lot of tutoring, I suppose. Anyone who wants it for a night can have it, and the rich old fags at these places love the idea of some docile adonis worshiping them for hours on end, no cock of its own to compete with their needs. I got so many regular customers I have a waiting list two weeks long! I suppose what that really means, is that I need to grow the stable a bit, right? Well don’t worry–I got a new athlete all lined up already. A bit older this time, bit of a muscle daddy in his late 30’s looking to get bigger. Well, we can do that. Still, I think I need to diversify my product line a bit–keep the hair on this one, and a big huge cock. Might as well corner the bottom market too, right? I think so. I think I’ll even have him keep a journal too, since reading through this thing while Bitch sucks me off make me nut like nothing else. His first sessions tomorrow, and I can’t fucking wait.