For those of you who don’t follow my secondary, miscellaneous blog (or who don’t know that I have a secondary blog at all) I decided to start up another interactive story like I’ve done a few times in the past, if you’ve been reading my stuff for that long. If you want to participate, follow the link above, read the first chunk of the story and you can vote beneath it on what you’d like to see in the next chunk! Also, make sure you follow @brackenousjunk so you catch the next chunks of the story, which I’m planning on posting Wednesdays and Sundays.
Author: wesleybracken8258
Derelicted (Part 2)
That was all he was able to notice before Wyatt got up from the couch, cock still leaking piss, and he rushed to the bathroom and locked the door behind him. “What the fuck!” was all Caden heard–and not knowing what else to do, he got up, went into the kitchen and opened another beer for himself–that piss had been rancid.
He heard the first pounding on the door, but ignored it, and went to the bathroom, but Wyatt refused to open the door.
“Come on man, just let me see!”
“Fuck no! Fuck this fucking shit!”
His voice sounded different–deeper and raspier than before.
There was another pound on the door.
“Dude, you need to call the hospital or something,” Wyatt said.
“The hospital? Why? Because you pissed yourself?”
“No, you don’t get it man, you don’t fucking get it! Just call 911!”
The pound came again, but this time it kept coming, a relentless beat.
“Dude, what the fuck would I even tell them?”
“Just fucking call them! Get a fucking ambulance!”
Caden backed up from the bathroom door, trying to focus. Call 911? What the hell for? What was going on in there? He tried to calm down and think a moment, but the pounding on the door was growing more urgent and he…he needed to get the door. Yeah, he could at least tell them to leave, and then he might be able to focus on what the hell had happened. He went to the apartment door, and flung it open, more than ready to tell whoever it was to fuck off, but the words froze in his throat when he saw, and smelled, the man from the alley, well awake and grinning a mouth of rotten teeth at him, eyes black aside from a glimmer so deep Caden could barely see it without falling into them.
He couldn’t breathe. The smell had locked up his lungs, and he stumbled back and collapsed to his hands and knees, fighting, trying to get his lungs to function again, and managed a weak, rasping breath. The man gave him a short look, sniffed the air noisily, and then pushed open the door, stepping into the apartment and walking right to the bathroom door, where he pounded once again on that door.
“Caden, did you fucking call them? Why are you pounding on the damn door?”
He tried to speak, but all he could do was cough and wheeze for air. His phone, where the hell had his phone gone? He saw it–it was on the table, he reached for it, but before he could grab it his entire body froze, midbreath, his eyes snapping toward the bathroom where the dark-eyed derelict was staring at him, and pounded once more on the door, louder.
“Fuck off Caden, and leave me the fuck alone until the ambulance fucking gets here!”
This must be what turning blue felt like. The derelict pounded again, and then again, and then a third time, louder and louder. Someone else would hear, someone else would have to come see, right? He managed to twist his eyes to the apartment door, but it flung closed in a snap. Did it read his mind? Was he going to die here?
“Fucking what?” Wyatt opened the door, and Caden came to life again, heaving for breath, the thing’s attention away from him and focused entirely on Wyatt, or at least the man Wyatt had become. He was shorter now, with a sagging gut heaving out, arms and legs withered sticks. He was old now, at least in his fifties–his eyes lined with wrinkles, beard and hair the grey sidewalks. His eyes were wide, lungs frozen, the thing leaning in and locking lips with him, filthy fingers running through Wyatt’s tangled locks, down his body to his cock. It looked like he was trying to scream, but something was caught in his throat, and eventually he collapsed to his knees. Caden’s first thought was that he was dead–but he could hear the slick smack of mouth on cock, and Wyatt was swallowing the thing’s cock to the hilt. Satisfied, it’s neck twisted a few degrees too far to look back at Caden behind him, those black holes freezing him in place. The medallion was once again back around it’s neck, a black tongue hanging down past it’s chin. Caden didn’t want to look, but couldn’t peel his eyes away.
Eventually, it was satisfied, and broke the gaze itself, leaving Caden a whimpering, sobbing heap on the floor. Wyatt stood up, lickiing cum from his lips, his eyes now a solid steel grey, and followed it out of the apartment. Caden was found that morning by Wyatt’s father, still curled up naked in a puddle of his own piss, cum and sweat. He claimed to remember nothing, when the police questioned him–he knew no one would believe him. They suspected him in Wyatt’s disappearance, but without any evidence of anything beyond Caden’s severe trauma, the case went cold.
Inspirations
Meant to include both of these and embed them in the the first chunk of the interactive, but I forgot. So here, if you’re curious, are the two pics that inspired this little sketch before hand. First, we have Dale:
And here, we have the stranger:
Again, just jumping off points really, but hey, gives you something else to think about maybe.
I’m still taking votes on the interactive! You can read the first chunk here. You can vote at the end of that chunk, or feel free to send me a message or an ask instead, if that suits you better!
Interactive: Dale’s Story
I feel like doing something a bit different for a while, that just captions on Wednesday, and I’d like to start up another interactive story like I’ve done in the past. I’ve you’ve been a reader for a while you probably remember these: I write a chunk, ask you all for input on what you’d like to see in the next chunk, and I follow your direction until the story reaches some sort of conclusion. I’m going to shoot for two entries a week, probably on Wednesdays and Sundays. I’ll try to have a couple captions during the week, but that largely depends on time/inspiration/how much other shit I have going on at any given moment.
Regardless! Here’s the first chunk! I wrote this a while back, but could never quite decide how to continue it, so I’ll leave it up to you all!
“Bro, why don’t you go get us another round of drinks, eh?” Bishop said, turning to Dale beside him at the table, slapping him on the back as he did.
Dale could feel Bishop’s friends looking at him, see those smirks–his cheeks flushed red, “Uh…sure. What…should I get?”
“A pitcher. George knows what we like.”
“O-Ok.”
Dale hauled himself up out of the chair with a grunt, and he could hear a snicker or two, his cheeks deepening another few shades. He thought about asking Bishop to go get it instead, but he was already up–getting up was the hardest part, always had been. He shuffled off towards the bar, lumbering, feeling so self-conscious of himself. This is why he never came out, this was exactly why. At least at home, watching TV and snacking he didn’t have to have anyone else staring at him, scowling at him for even daring to exist. It wasn’t fair–Bishop had grown up in the same family, eating the same food. It wasn’t Dale’s fault he hated sports, that people had always teased him, that he’d…just wanted to eat, for as long as he could remember. But here he was, trying to will himself through a minefield of tables and chairs which had obviously been arranged by someone much thinner than he was. He kept bumping into people, stammering a sorry, but everyone just glared. He turned back and saw Bishop and his two friend’s laughing–probably at him. People were always laughing at him, especially Bishop. Why the hell had he agreed to come? Why in the hell was he such a sucker for Bishop’s fake brotherly love olive branches all the time?
Finally he got to the bar. George, the bartender and a nearby neighbor who’d known both Bishop and Dale since they were kids, walked over and asked him what he needed. “Bishop asked for a pitcher–he said you’d…know what to pour.”
George shrugged. Dale wasn’t sure at first if that meant he didn’t know, but before Dale could figure out what to say, George had walked over to a tap with a pitcher, filled it up, and then set it down in front of dale. “Ten bucks.”
Dale fished through the pockets of his overalls until he found a wad of bills, handed some to George, and then surveyed the best way back through the mess of tables in the bar to his the table where his brother was…except he wasn’t there. The table was empty, and he looked around, a bit frantic, in time to see Bishop disappear out the door of the bar with his friends, laughing. For a second he thought to chase them, to remind them that they’d forgotten him, and then he realized that ditching him had been the plan. He felt like an idiot. No, he was an idiot. A fat, stupid, idiot loser, and here he was with a fucking pitcher of beer. He didn’t even like beer! He turned around and set the pitcher back down in front of George. “I…they left. Can I get…my money back? I don’t want to drink this.”
“No refunds,” George said, “Sorry kid.”
“I don’t even drink beer though!”
George shrugged, and walked off. What Dale really wanted to do was to scream, but all that would do is draw even more attention to his fucking humiliation. He couldn’t cry either, his eyes wanted to fucking cry, but he balled them up and fought them off, pressing his fists into the bar as hard as he could, hating his body, hating how big he was when all he wanted right that moment was to be as small as possible.
“Well, no reason to let it go to waste, right buddy?”
Dale looked over, and saw an older man, long beard down to his gut smiling over at him from a bar stool. “If you can’t drink it all, I’m happy to keep you company a bit and help you out.” He patted the stool next to him, “Come on, have a sit.” Dale just stared at the tiny surface of the stool, imagining his wide ass perched on that thing for more than a few minutes, and how much his lower back already hurt at the thought. Almost like he was reading his mind, the guy shook his head and got up. “Nevermind that actually. Let’s…hmmm…you know, let’s go on the patio. I could use a smoke. Come on.”
Dale just watched the older man go–he didn’t look back. He’d…always hated that. Bishop had always walked like that, when he’d told Dale to follow him. He’d never looked back to see if Dale was actually coming, he’d always just…just assumed Dale would come, and he always had. He always had. But he, fuck, he’d spent his entire life looking back, his entire life looking for the next way everything he’d planned on was going to crumble to pieces, because no one gave two shits about him, about what he wanted. Maybe he’d always wanted to take up so much space, so people would have to notice him, but he was still…invisible. Looking around at who was looking at him, who was pretending not to see him at all. He looked over at the pitcher of beer beside him, picked it up, and walked after him. Why not, right? At least he didn’t have to be in here anymore, either way.
Now the fun part! Here’s some options that you all might like to see:
- The stranger helps Dale discover a more dominant side of himself.
- He takes control of Dale for his own pleasure and humiliates him more.
-
Dale trades in some of his fat for muscle.
- Dale becomes lazier, a slob, an alcoholic, and a chronic smoker.
- He decides Dale should become a bit more “mature”.
Fell free to pick a couple options–I’ll probably mix the two or three most popular together. You can reply below with your answer, or send me a message/ask with your preference. I’ll need answers soonish, so I have time to write the next chunk, so it’ll be open for the next day or two. You’re welcome to submit your own alternate ideas as well! If I like it, I might use it.
So then, which of those options do you want to see in the next chunk?
Derelicted (Part 1)
“If I can get it off him without him waking up, then you have to blow me again,” Wyatt said, slipping closer to where the homeless derelict was slumped over in the alley. The man looked like the rest of the trash around the city, but the medallion around his neck had glinted in the streetlights, catching the young man’s eye. He would have taken it even if he wasn’t with Caden–but hey, if he could get another bj out of his closeted friend, why not kill two birds with one stone?
“Dude, I was drunk, I’m not–” Caden shook his head. Wyatt wasn’t exactly a good friend. In fact, he was a shitty friend, but he was Caden’s only real friend, and so he tagged along like he always had, trying his best to keep the trouble that always followed Wyatt off himself. He looked at the necklace which had caught Wyatt’s eye for some reason–it was hard to tell in the dark of the alley, but it looked like a rusty gear hung around the guy’s neck with a piece of twine. “What the hell do you want that for anyway? It’s just junk.”
“It’s not junk, it’s a challenge,” Wyatt said, the metal glinting for him in a way that it didn’t for his friend. It wasn’t the first time he’d lifted something interesting off a hobo–he stepped close, checking to make sure the guy was deeply out, then he carefully caught the disk in his fingers, and lifted it away. The hobo’s head was hanging forward–all Wyatt had to do was slowly guide the ring back over his head, slipping the twine out of the man’s filthy, matted hair, and it was his. “Yes!” he said, skipping down the street with the medallion in hand, “One free blowjob for me!”
“I never even said…” Caden started to say, but Wyatt was already off down the block. He took another look at the man, and then hurried after. Once he’d caught up, he tried to finish, “I never said I would blow you Wyatt! That was an accident last time, and you said–”
“You know you can’t trust anything I say,” Wyatt said, “Besides–I’m horny. Come on to my place, my dad’s working all night.”
Caden didn’t dare say no. He’d snubbed Wyatt a few times before, and every time his wrath had been quick and humiliating. Now, Wyatt had his deepest secret, and he’d be holding it over his head until Caden had the courage to come out proper–and maybe even after that. If he ever said no…well, Wyatt would be more than happy to tell the whole school for him, he was sure. So he followed after, Wyatt slipping the medallion around his neck before lighting a cigarette from the pack he’d stolen earlier for himself, and handing a second to Caden.
They were back at Wyatt’s place fifteen minutes later, and it was empty, like Wyatt had promised. “You need to get drunk again, or do you want to get straight to it?”
“A drink.”
Wyatt brought him a beer and cracked one for himself as well, and they both watched TV for a bit on the couch, smoking and sipping, and occasionally Caden would catch a whiff of something…else. It was like musk, but fouler somehow. He gave himself a sniff first, but it wasn’t him–was it Wyatt? Something in the apartment? Granted, neither Wyatt nor his father were big on hygiene, but even this was bad. Two beers later, he didn’t notice it as much, and Wyatt started getting insistent on his blowjob–so Caden swallowed his pride, got down in front of him on the couch, and waited a moment for Wyatt to undo the fly of his shorts.
Wyatt wasn’t anywhere near being a looker–chubby, hairier than most of the teachers at school at seventeen, with a scruffy beard, girls weren’t exactly lining up to be with him. He bragged a lot, sure, but Caden knew he was a virgin–aside from his mouth of course. He himself was a bit cleaner, less hairy, but mostly the same. Together at the bottom of the social ladder–he couldn’t fucking wait to go to college. Wyatt opened the fly, and that stench appeared again with even greater force–and Caden saw right where it was coming from–Wyatt’s cock.
He’d been drunk, sure, but he still remembered what he’d seen. Wyatt had been cut, with smallish balls, about four inches and decently thick–but the thing he had in there now–it was eight inches at least, with low hanging balls coated with hair–but mostly it reeked to high heaven like it hadn’t been washed in ages. Even more disturbing, a foreskin had grown up over the head–as it hardened, the head emerged, crusted with cheese. “Wyatt…Wyatt, what the fuck happened to your cock, man?”
“Don’t try backing out now,” Wyatt said, “A deal’s a damn deal man.”
Before Caden could protest further, Wyatt grabbed him by the hair, yanked a bit, and when Caden’s mouth opened to yelp, slipped his cock into his mouth. The taste was horrific, but Wyatt held on tight, skull fucking him a few times. Wyatt was a quick shooter, and he felt himself getting close–but it wasn’t cum that filled Caden’s mouth–it was piss. Horrified, Caden flung himself back away from Wyatt, who realized what his cock was doing–the stream was still flowing, arcing from where he was sitting onto the carpet. “Dude–what the fuck!” Caden shouted, wiping his mouth and spitting, before reaching for what remained of his beer in an effort to get rid of the taste.
“I can’t–it won’t stop!” Wyatt said, gripping his cock, piss still streaming everywhere. “Shit is this…what the fuck is this thing! This isn’t my fucking dick.”
“That’s what I tried to tell you!” Caden said, he looked up at Wyatt from where he was sitting on the floor, and saw something else–Wyatt’s cock wasn’t the only thing that had changed. It was a bit difficult to figure out what was different at first–he just seemed grungier than he had been. Beard longer and tangled. The hair he usually kept cropped close had grown out and was receding, flecks of grey appearing in it. His skin was shiny, whether from oil or sweat Caden didn’t want to know. He was looking both fatter and skinnier than he had been–his arms and legs wasting slightly, while his gut and chest filled out with fat.
Arctos: Briar (Part 5)
Then, as quickly as it had begun, it was gone, leaving Jase gasping and shaking on the floor, trying to understand what had just happened to him. Where even was he anyway? He looked around, found he was in the hallway outside his son’s door, which was open a crack. He must have been…been peeping. Yeah, he always liked to watch his son get plowed by the guys he brought home, and he’d been bringing that sexy fucker Cole home a whole lot lately. Damn, that pig was nasty, and a huge damn cock…
No–No, he wasn’t thinking straight. Jase stumbled up, but couldn’t catch his balance, felt like he was going to throw up. He went into the bathroom and stared at himself in the mirror…but the reflection was wrong! He looked so…so young, not even a hint of grey anywhere, and certainly more muscular…right? He looked more like his son, if anything–what it the world was going on? Some other part of him was trying to tell him he was wrong, that something had happened to his mind, that he wasn’t thinking straight somehow, but everything was so hazy…maybe if he had a smoke…He patted his pockets, but his pipe wasn’t there. He checked the floor where he’d fallen, but it wasn’t there either.
Downstairs, he heard the doorbell. The pipe could wait a moment–it was more important that he go down and get his package. He opened the door and found a burly delivery man there–a sexy fucker, huge cock outlined in those tight shorts, and he handed Jase a small package, told him to have a good day, and then left. Jase closed the door and opened up the box, where he found a short note:
“Valued Arctos Customer,
We’ve been alerted to a reality incongruence event, and wish to apologize for any distress this may have caused you with a complimentary gift to help ease your transition.
Enjoy!”
It was his pipe.
His favorite pipe was in this box for some reason, along with a pouch of his usual tobacco, but how in the hell had it gotten there? Then again, maybe…maybe that wasn’t worth worrying about, better to just get it lit as soon as possible. He’d feel better with some smoke in his lungs. He found his son’s lighter and packed the pipe, fumbling with it awkwardly, like his hands kept trying to fight him somehow, some voice screaming deep in him, best to shut it up quick before he got any ideas. He pulled in the first lungful of smoke, and calm suffused his body, muffling the objections he’d been feeling. Everything was alright, now that he had his pipe–now he could get back to what really mattered–watching that hot daddy Cole give his son a proper pounding. His standards seemed pretty low–maybe he’d even give Jase a fuck too.
He climbed the stairs, and halfway up his joints and muscles started to ache familiarly. He passed the bathroom and caught sight of himself in the mirror. Funny, he thought he’d looked odd a few minutes earlier, but things were looking more normal now–his frizzy mane of hair had lost nearly all of it’s red at this point, the same with his beard. He was short, with a thick gut, arms and legs withered a bit with age, that puny cock of his…couldn’t even get hard anymore, not that he’d ever had much use for it. No, he was an old pig through and through–taught his boy everything he knew, and he couldn’t be more proud of the filthy slut Miles had become.
He got back down on his knees, slowly this time, one hand on the wall to steady himself. It fucking sucked getting old–twenty years ago, there wasn’t a single pig around here who could match him. Still, maybe it was time to pass the baton to his boy, because fucking look at him. The way he’s taking Cole’s cock, god damn. Jase reached down under his sweaty, greasy gut for his short cock and found it at half mast–even that was an increasing rarity these days, but a relief to know that the old pecker wasn’t quite dead yet.
Miles and Cole shifted positions, and the cub looked over and saw the door was open, and someone was crouched down in the crack. He had no idea who it could be, but he recognized his pervy, nasty dad after a few moments. Odd how he’d looked like a total stranger for a moment, but rare was the time when his dad wasn’t watching his son get fucked by the men he brought home with him. He put on a bit of a show, watching his old man’s gut heave a bit, drool in his thick beard, old tongue on his thin lips, huffing on that ancient pipe of his. Past his prime, but damn, Miles wished his old cock could still work. His dad wasn’t much of a fucker of course, but Miles had always liked how…close he felt, getting fucked by his dad, back when he was still learning what a damn pig he was. Cole noticed him a moment later, and his reaction was a bit more extreme. He hauled his cock out and stepped back, shouting, “Who the fuck is that?”
“Just my pig dad Cole, don’t worry about it. I always let him watch,” Miles said, “Get back in me daddy, I want your damn cock, sir…”
Cole ignored him and strode to the door, opening it, and looking down at the short, flabby old man in the doorway. Jase–he could still see him in there, even as the smoke rewrote his memories. He’d always pictured him as a cub…but damn, he made a sexy old pig in the end too. “Nonsense, I think your dad should play too, don’t you Miles?”
“His cock don’t work anymore.”
“Yeah,” Jase added, “Was never much a top anyway.”
Cole smirked, “Get in here dad. Shove that fist up your boy’s cunt, and I’m gonna feed his throat. How’s that sound?”
Jase’s cloudy eyes lit up with a sparkle. Cole helped the old man up and together they flanked his son and got to work. By morning, all three of them couldn’t even fathom a time when they hadn’t been living together, their own fucked up family unit, and with how often Arctos showed up on the doorstep…well, that’s a story for another time, don’t you think?
Arctos: Briar (Part 4)
Cole heard that. He sat back and stood up, his face appearing from behind Miles, and he did a double take. “Jase?”
“Cole?” Jase said, “What the fuck are you–who the fuck is this? What…Where’s my dad…?”
Miles was blushing a bit, but also found it kind of sexy that they’d gotten caught by his…son? His mind immediately told him that couldn’t be right–he and Jase were almost the same age after all. No, so then…housemates? Yeah, housemates, of course. He kind of wished they were more than that, after all, Jase was one sexy fucker, but he’d settled for Jase’s equally hot coworker Cole in the meantime. He figured that if Jase…stumbled in on them a few times, he might eventually get up the courage to maybe join in. “Sorry Jase,” he said, “we got a little carried away, right Daddy?”
Cole didn’t say anything–if this wasn’t Jase, then who the hell…his mind started filling in blanks for him. How he’d met Miles when he’d stopped by the worksite one day to give Jase something from home, and the two of them had known at a glance that they were going to fuck, and soon. That very night, in fact, Cole followed Jase home and fucked around with Miles, much to Jase’s frustration. He could still recall, of course, that Jase had been his original target, but Miles was certainly a nice consolation prize if nothing else. “Yeah, sorry man…you know how I get around Miles, right?”
Jase didn’t know. Even as the other two had new memories forming, Jase was at a loss, the smoke filled room making his eyes water a bit, unable to understand where his dad had gone, and how these two strangers had gotten here instead.
“Guess he’s speechless–come on daddy, wanna keep going in my room?”
“Sure thing cub, lead the way!”
Miles got off the couch, grabbed Cole’s hand and pulled him towards the stairs, passing Jase along the way, who was still unable to process what was going on. He shared a look with Cole as he passed, the older man regarding him with a smile, but was there also a bit of disappointment there? They both went upstairs, and all that remained was their plumes of smoke, which Jase couldn’t help breathe in, and he started looking around wondering where his dad was, but the more second hand smoke he breathed, the less certain he became that his father was there at all. Still, he could remember him, right? Certainly he could remember someone else who should be here besides Miles, his housemate. No–what?
He paused. Where in the hell had that thought come from? And wasn’t Miles his father’s name? That was an odd coincidence he supposed, but not really that strange in the end. His memories felt more and more confused, and he heard a loud thump from upstairs in the master bedroom, where Miles slept, a groan, and then the squeak of his bed’s springs. Ugh, he couldn’t believe Miles liked Cole of all people. He didn’t really care that they were fags, but did he have to pick the coworker he liked the least the fuck around with? He shook his head, figuring there were just some things he wouldn’t understand, and he too, went upstairs, back to his room and inside, but where the air was clearer, the worries returned.
He saw pictures of him and his father, pinned to the wall, the memories of them here in this house so damn clear to him, but at the same time, some other part of him kept saying he had to be mistaken. He pushed that other part of himself away, and focused on his memories–coming home and talking to his dad. That strange box he’d received in the mail. It was crazy, but…but what if Miles…was his dad? Had something happened to him? Or more precisely, had Cole done something to him? He thought of the surprise he’d seen on Cole’s face downstairs, of the sense of disappointment as he’d walked past. The box…it had been for him. Was…did something happen to his dad that should have happened to him instead?
He could still smell smoke. He threw open his window, leaned against the screen, and his head cleared further still. His dad had been acting so strange about that package, and Cole was such a raging pervert…there was a piece of the puzzle he was missing though–what had been in the box? He went downstairs and searched a bit further, until he found where his father had opened it in the kitchen, but there was nothing there–just an empty box with Arctos printed on the side, a blank piece of paper beside it. This was no use–he’d have to…maybe if he spied a bit, he’d figure something out, something that would help him figure out what had happened to his dad.
He crept up the stairs, towards the door to the Master bedroom. The smoke was thicker here, the smell as strong as it had been downstairs, and he could hear them moaning behind it–he cracked open the door, smoke billowing through, and it was so thick, he could only see the outlines of them fucking on the bed. His housemate was there, Cole’s cock buried in his hole–no! No, it was his dad. Fuck, looking at him, how hadn’t he seen it before? He looked like he had in old family portraits, just hairier, and…sluttier. But he was so young, he couldn’t be his dad, and be that young. The smoke was thick in his lungs, making him feel lightheaded. Those doubts were back, and he fought harder, knowing that they were false…but the more smoke he breathed, the stronger they got. He could sense them, trying to rewire his mind somehow, frustrated that he was being as resistant as he was, and then they noticed his awareness, and they pushed harder. He focused as hard as he could, focusing on his dad, on helping him, on fighting, but it was too much. He felt a sharp pain rip through his brain as something in him broke apart, and then fell back clutching his head, trying not not to scream.
Arctos: Briar (Part 3)
He couldn’t see very well through the smoke, but the TV was still playing one of his favorite pornos. He waved a bit of it away, watching that thick, massively hung daddy line that cock up with that cub’s hole, hearing him whimpering with need, and start slipping it inside, bit by bit, the moaning now pained, but still so eager, and Miles bounced on the dildo in his hole a bit faster. That’s what he fucking needed, some god damn daddy dick in his hole! That thought set off some doubts, some worries–he wasn’t gay, was he? Then again, he’d thought he wouldn’t like pipes, and look at him now? Still, he was old enough to be a daddy himself, after all, Jase was right upstairs. Hopefully his son couldn’t hear him moaning…then again, Jase was sexy. Not quite daddy material, but Miles wasn’t feeling too picky. Any cock in a storm, right?
His full beard had pulled back in a bit, shortening as the grey disappeared, turning a vibrant red he hadn’t seen on himself in decades. His body hair thickened in, spreading across his chest and especially in his pits and crack, and his nose caught a smell he loved–he lifted his arm and took a deep breath of his musky stench, and shuddered, leaning his face in and licking at the sweat there. Hopefully jase hadn’t taken a shower yet; it would be so much better if he still stank from work, tasted like dirt and dust and sweat, letting his cub lick him from pit to toe, fuck! He could suck on those damn feet of his all night, if he let him. The room around him was a bit messy, and he got up for a moment, finding a pair of Jase’s work socks and taking them with him back to the couch, sniffing at first, in between puffs on his pipe, and then started sucking the sweat out of them, wiping up his own cum and sweat with them and sucking that out too. Getting close, but better to edge for a bit longer. Maybe Jase will come down, and catch him. Fuck, embarrassing, sure, but at least it would be out there. That fucker can’t know what he’s missing, plowing Mile’s tight cub hole, if he hasn’t seen it, right? That didn’t happen, but a few minutes later, there was a knock at the front door.
Someone killing his damn vibe. He ignored the door, and just kept stroking, moaning a bit louder, hoping to summon Jase down by curiosity, and there was another pounding at the door, louder, and a deep voice yelled through it, “Goddamn it cub, I can fucking smell you in there! Open the damn door and take care of this fucking daddy cock.”
Now that caught his attention. He got up from the couch, wondering who in the hell it might be, nervous and anxious, but whoever it was, daddy was hot. Now that he was closer to the door, he could smell him too–the scent was new and yet so…damn familiar. Surely he must have smelt him somewhere before. He unlocked the door and pulled it open, and Cole was standing them, sneering around his own pipe, rubbing his cock through his sweat soaked cutoffs. Daddy. Seeing him…it clicked into place. His daddy. He had a daddy, thank fucking god, a daddy to save him from himself.
Cole pushed into the house, shutting the door behind them with a slam and pressed their bodies together, slick with sweat, smelling his new boy, and moaning. “Fuck, I can’t fucking believe how hot you look, better than I fucking imagined!” Cole said, and shoved his face into Miles’ pit, snorting and licking, “Yeah, fucking reek! Just like they fucking advertised…Come on cub, give daddy one of those sloppy kisses of yours, suck my tongue like you’re gonna be suckin’ my cock from now on.”
They forgot to take their pipes out, but caught them, and kissed, Cole spinning them around and shoving his cub up against the door, hard, the wall shaking a bit, licking his boy’s bearded face, Miles sucking his tongue into his mouth, nibbling at it, both hands working his daddy’s cutoffs, hauling out his huge daddy cock and stroking it, his ass aching for it, even though it was still stuffed full with his favorite dildo. “God daddy, fuck me, my fuckin’ hole sir…”
Cole growled, bit down on his boy’s neck, hearing him hiss, back arching as he sucked at his wet throat, and let go with a pop. “Fuck, yeah, forget the fucking bj, I want that hole, I can smell it pig, get on the couch.”
Miles bounded over and got on the couch, facing the back on his knees, spread wide, crack ready. Cole shoved the coffee table back and got down on his knees behind him, hauling the big dildo out, tossing it to the side, and shoving his mouth against his cub’s hole, licking and sucking at the pucker, and Mile’s let loose a long fart.
“Oh fuck boy, you know how to turn daddy’s damn cranks…”
“Fuck yeah, I know what daddies want…”
“Wanted you since the first damn day I saw you, you know that?” Cole said, pulling away for a moment, “Now you’re mine now, ain’t that right?”
“Fuck yeah, Daddy, I’m fucking yours!”
“That’s what I wanna hear,” Cole said, and dug back into Miles’ crack, wrapping one hand around his massive sack and tugging it away from his body, listening to him moan loudly, loud enough that Cole didn’t hear the sound of Jase coming down the stairs. The sounds coming from the lower level had grown too loud for him to ignore, but he couldn’t imagine what his father might be watching, or doing, downstairs. He came down and around the corner, facing the back of the couch, and he saw a strange young man, thick red beard and short hair, puffing on a pipe and groaning in some strange rubber get up, and he froze, before saying, “What the fuck? Who the fuck are you?”
Posted on the wrong account, sorry everyone. Thanks @xuluc for the heads up.
Arctos: Briar (Part 3)
He couldn’t see very well through the smoke, but the TV was still playing one of his favorite pornos. He waved a bit of it away, watching that thick, massively hung daddy line that cock up with that cub’s hole, hearing him whimpering with need, and start slipping it inside, bit by bit, the moaning now pained, but still so eager, and Miles bounced on the dildo in his hole a bit faster. That’s what he fucking needed, some god damn daddy dick in his hole! That thought set off some doubts, some worries–he wasn’t gay, was he? Then again, he’d thought he wouldn’t like pipes, and look at him now? Still, he was old enough to be a daddy himself, after all, Jase was right upstairs. Hopefully his son couldn’t hear him moaning…then again, Jase was sexy. Not quite daddy material, but Miles wasn’t feeling too picky. Any cock in a storm, right?
His full beard had pulled back in a bit, shortening as the grey disappeared, turning a vibrant red he hadn’t seen on himself in decades. His body hair thickened in, spreading across his chest and especially in his pits and crack, and his nose caught a smell he loved–he lifted his arm and took a deep breath of his musky stench, and shuddered, leaning his face in and licking at the sweat there. Hopefully jase hadn’t taken a shower yet; it would be so much better if he still stank from work, tasted like dirt and dust and sweat, letting his cub lick him from pit to toe, fuck! He could suck on those damn feet of his all night, if he let him. The room around him was a bit messy, and he got up for a moment, finding a pair of Jase’s work socks and taking them with him back to the couch, sniffing at first, in between puffs on his pipe, and then started sucking the sweat out of them, wiping up his own cum and sweat with them and sucking that out too. Getting close, but better to edge for a bit longer. Maybe Jase will come down, and catch him. Fuck, embarrassing, sure, but at least it would be out there. That fucker can’t know what he’s missing, plowing Mile’s tight cub hole, if he hasn’t seen it, right? That didn’t happen, but a few minutes later, there was a knock at the front door.
Someone killing his damn vibe. He ignored the door, and just kept stroking, moaning a bit louder, hoping to summon Jase down by curiosity, and there was another pounding at the door, louder, and a deep voice yelled through it, “Goddamn it cub, I can fucking smell you in there! Open the damn door and take care of this fucking daddy cock.”
Now that caught his attention. He got up from the couch, wondering who in the hell it might be, nervous and anxious, but whoever it was, daddy was hot. Now that he was closer to the door, he could smell him too–the scent was new and yet so…damn familiar. Surely he must have smelt him somewhere before. He unlocked the door and pulled it open, and Cole was standing them, sneering around his own pipe, rubbing his cock through his sweat soaked cutoffs. Daddy. Seeing him…it clicked into place. His daddy. He had a daddy, thank fucking god, a daddy to save him from himself.
Cole pushed into the house, shutting the door behind them with a slam and pressed their bodies together, slick with sweat, smelling his new boy, and moaning. “Fuck, I can’t fucking believe how hot you look, better than I fucking imagined!” Cole said, and shoved his face into Miles’ pit, snorting and licking, “Yeah, fucking reek! Just like they fucking advertised…Come on cub, give daddy one of those sloppy kisses of yours, suck my tongue like you’re gonna be suckin’ my cock from now on.”
They forgot to take their pipes out, but caught them, and kissed, Cole spinning them around and shoving his cub up against the door, hard, the wall shaking a bit, licking his boy’s bearded face, Miles sucking his tongue into his mouth, nibbling at it, both hands working his daddy’s cutoffs, hauling out his huge daddy cock and stroking it, his ass aching for it, even though it was still stuffed full with his favorite dildo. “God daddy, fuck me, my fuckin’ hole sir…”
Cole growled, bit down on his boy’s neck, hearing him hiss, back arching as he sucked at his wet throat, and let go with a pop. “Fuck, yeah, forget the fucking bj, I want that hole, I can smell it pig, get on the couch.”
Miles bounded over and got on the couch, facing the back on his knees, spread wide, crack ready. Cole shoved the coffee table back and got down on his knees behind him, hauling the big dildo out, tossing it to the side, and shoving his mouth against his cub’s hole, licking and sucking at the pucker, and Mile’s let loose a long fart.
“Oh fuck boy, you know how to turn daddy’s damn cranks…”
“Fuck yeah, I know what daddies want…”
“Wanted you since the first damn day I saw you, you know that?” Cole said, pulling away for a moment, “Now you’re mine now, ain’t that right?”
“Fuck yeah, Daddy, I’m fucking yours!”
“That’s what I wanna hear,” Cole said, and dug back into Miles’ crack, wrapping one hand around his massive sack and tugging it away from his body, listening to him moan loudly, loud enough that Cole didn’t hear the sound of Jase coming down the stairs. The sounds coming from the lower level had grown too loud for him to ignore, but he couldn’t imagine what his father might be watching, or doing, downstairs. He came down and around the corner, facing the back of the couch, and he saw a strange young man, thick red beard and short hair, puffing on a pipe and groaning in some strange rubber get up, and he froze, before saying, “What the fuck? Who the fuck are you?”
Fuck, you hate these shitty apartments, you have got to move somewhere a bit nicer, or your neighbors are going to drive you insane. You pull up, home from work, and get out of your car, seeing your newest neighbor, some roughneck kind of fuck, sitting sideways on the one staircase up to the second floor, where both of your apartments are, foot up on the railing, blocking all access.
You go over, dreading any sort of interaction with the guy, smoking his cigar, exhaling thick plumes all over the place. “Hey, could you move?” you ask, “I gotta get to the second floor.”
“I’ll move when I’m done smokin’, boy,” he says.
You just stare at him for a moment. “Seriously? You’re gonna make me climb over you?”
“No, you’re gonna wait, boy. Nobody gets on top a me.”
“Yeah? And what the fuck am I supposed to do while you’re smoking?”
“You can lick my boot, boy, and stroke that little boy cock of yours until you nut.”
You roll your eyes, but get down and start licking the sole of the boot which is planting on the railing, hauling your cock out of your pants and stroking it hard. The rubber’s cleaner than usual at least–last week, there was a big chunk of dog shit you had to scrape off with your teeth and choke down. A couple of people walk by, and stare at you like you’re crazy, but it’s not your fault! This fuck’s just in the damn way, is all–it’s his fault.
You’re getting close to cumming–and he can tell. “Put that cock away, and cum in those pants of yours.” You do as he says, tucking your cock back in and rubbing it until you shoot. “Good boy–now piss yourself while you’re at it.”
That one’s a bit harder–he’s started making you do that more often now, but after a few seconds, you turn on your cock, and feel the piss drench the front of your work pants, running down to your knees, where it spreads out on the pavement below you. He taps off a long cinder of ash and keep smoking, but he’s about finished–he switches boots and you clean the other one, and when you’re done, he stamps out the butt and gets up, finally letting you passed, climbing up the stairs ahead of you. You walk a bit faster hoping to get to your door before–
“In here boy, daddy needs some help for a while.”
You look over, and he’s at his own door, groping himself. You grit your teeth, but follow in after him. A new apartment, this week, you promise yourself. Like you’ve been promising yourself for two months now, since Daddy moved in, but something tells you this week won’t be the week either. Oh well, maybe the next one, you hope, but probably not that one either.
Bracken's Corner 