“What do you think, MoJo? You wanna work out some more?” the man smirked at the huge brute, finishing a set at the gym.

“please, I’m tired, I just wanna go home…” MoJo said, “and stop…calling me MoJo, it’s not my name?”

“Oh? Then what is your name? If you can give me another name, a true name, this will all be over. Then again, you can’t, can you? Because I have your name now, which means I get to call you whatever I want.”

MoJo still didn’t understand how this had happened. He’d been downtown, and seen a couple of faggots kissing outside a bar, and chucked a rock at them. Konked one on the head, and then this other guy had been next to him, asking him for his name, and then…and then this! He looked down at himself, unable to believe how big he’d become in just a few hours. He looked like a freak!

“Well, if you really want to stop, we can work on something else, MoJo. I think you’re looking like a proper musclefag anyway.”

“I’m not a musclefag!” MoJo fumed, “Not a fag at all…”

“No?” the man said, “I’m calling you a musclefag. Empty headed, musclefag MoJo, all brawn and no brains, but wouldn’t hurt a fly–you’re too good of a guy for that. More interested in finding some guy to plow one of your holes anyway, though you’ll always stand up for a fag in trouble, right?”

MoJo was shaking his head, but it was emptying out father than he could understand. The guy was right, after all. He’d been called a musclefag all his life, and they were right. He was muscles, and he was a fag! What else could he be? “I don’…” he started to say, but lost his train of thought almost immediately. “Fuck, I’m horny–wanna fuck my ass?”

“Only if I can fuck it right here, where anyone can see you through those windows.”

MoJo nodded dumbly–he was happy for a fuck or a suck anywhere. He bent over the bench and the man yanked down his shorts, sliding into his well used hole, and MoJo sighed, wondering if he could get back to the club before it closed, and find a few other guys willing to plow a dumb musclefag like him before the night was over.

Sometime later from this caption.


I can’t stop. If I stop, Rod will take me. Has Rod already taken me? Aren’t I his already? I can hear him screaming in my basement dungeon now. Pull on the last of my leather gear–this shit I always thought was so disgusting is so…damn comfortable now. Pull on a hood, because I don’t want him to know it’s me, not that it’ll matter much soon, if he sees my face or not. I suppose some of it just my own shame, my own embarrassment, but that’s waning now too. Light a cigar–have to have a cigar, of course. One last look, and head downstairs.

“What the fuck is this fucking shit! This some fucking pervert thing? You don’t know who the fuck you’re messing with–I’m very important! People will notice I’m missing!”

People would notice, but no one would expect to find a man like him in Pigtown. But only for a few days, and then it would be like he’d never even existed, just like all of them. He’d lost count, now. Rod needed one a week…and he’d tried to resist taking this one for a while now, but he needed him in a way he couldn’t exactly explain. 

Down the stairs, and there he was. Ropes tied meticulously over his suit, tie over the top, bound to a post behind his back. Legs wide. Eyes wide with anger…and a bit of fear. I didn’t want to see the eyes, I hate the fucking eyes. I go over to the toolkit Rod’s provided me with, a present that came with the dungeon, pull out a hood, walk over and pull it down over his head, watching the leather suck against his skull, clamping under his chin and around his neck, shutting his mouth. He struggles, I watch. stubble growing along his bare mouth…I tease it with my bearded lips, listen to him let out a deep, guttural moan of desire, and kiss him, feed him smoke for a few minutes. He begs for a few minutes, pleading with me to not take his mind, but then…just grunts, bucking against the post.

I’m horny now. I tear open the front of his suit, find a cock ring and fit it around his short thick cock and big balls, and they start to inflate inside–I get down and start sucking. I missed a drop off once–need the cum now, all the fucking time. Mine, or anyone else’s, or I feel sick. 

“Yeah pig, suck it…” the man’s mouth says, “Suck daddy bear’s big dick.”

I don’t want to do this anymore, but I don’t know how to stop. The man is thrusting down my throat now, his cock longer than a foot, but I have no problem taking it all, somehow. A…daddy would be nice, I suppose. I don’t owe him to Rod until Monday, so we have all weekend. Yeah, some daddy time would make me feel better, I’m sure of it.

Arctos: Briar (Part 2)

He made himself a snack, and went to watch TV, but he couldn’t focus, and kept looking at the box, and then the clock. Jase was usually home by six…but sometimes he went out for drinks with the guys. If he wasn’t home by…say, seven…would he really mind if his dad opened it for him? It was a breach of privacy, sure, but he had a growing certainty inside him, that whatever was in there was meant not for jase, but for him. It was his! So nice of Jase to get him a present! Sure, his birthday was still a few months away, but father’s day was around the corner. He’d never splurged on anything like this before–if it was meant for him anyway, what harm was there in opening it?

He forced himself to wait. It hurt, but it was, technically, Jase’s, after all. He might be angry if he spoiled the surprise, after all. Thankfully, he heard Jase’s truck pull up outside the house and into the driveway, and it was excruciating, waiting for him to come into the house, so he could show him the package, and ask him about it. He had to play it cool though, at least a little bit. So he waited, and Jase came through the door, and in a bit of a rush, Miles said, “Hey, some guy brought you a package today–it’s by the door. What did you order?”

Jase looked at him, confused, and then went over to the box. A intense jealousy shot through him, as he watched Jase turn the box over in his hands, and then set it down again, like nothing had struck him at all. “No idea–I didn’t order anything. Who was it from?”

“He just said it was a gift, from Arctos. Are you…do you just not want to tell me about my present or something?” he asked.

“Present? What are you talking about?” Jase asked. The question hung in an awkward silence for a bit, and then he said, “It’s not mine. We might as well send it back.”

“We don’t even know what’s in there though!” Miles nearly shouted.

“Jeeze dad, get a grip! Open it if you want, I don’t care. Anyway, I’m tired–I’m going to chill out for a bit, and we can have dinner later, ok?”

Jase headed off towards his room upstairs, but Miles didn’t bother replying. How in the fuck could he not care at all, just like that! He grabbed the box, clutching it to his chest, then went and found a knife in the kitchen, slit the tape open, and opened it–inside was a large pipe, a pouch of tobacco, and a slip of paper. He’d expected the need to ebb a bit, once he’d gotten the package open and sated his curiosity, but seeing the pipe, it only got worse. With a shaking hand, he picked up the nose, but all managed to read was:

Here at the Arctos Briar Division we strive to provide the highest quality of pipes, pipe tobacco, and accessories to ensure that any man who tries one of our products is determined to be a pipe smoker for life!

Included here is one pipe smoker starter kit, which has been provided to you at no cost, through our refer a friend program. By now, our patented smart memory chemicals…

Miles already knew what he needed to to, what he wanted to do. He was a cigarette smoker, had been all his life, and while he’d seen guys smoke a pipe a few times, he had never tried one himself, even though he’d always wanted to, right? He was having a hard time figuring that out, actually. He’d thought he’d never been that interested in pipes, and yet, looking at one now, he couldn’t help but ask himself why he’d never thought of trying one before. He didn’t know quite what to do with it, but he picked up the hefty pipe, surprised by how heavy it was, feeling the smooth wood and briar, and then reached into the pouch for the tobacco. The leaf was black and quite pungent, but the smell actually made him a bit horny, for some reason. He didn’t have any trouble packing and tamping the pipe–it was like his hands simply knew what they were doing, without him needing to guide them. At last, it was ready–he put the end in his mouth, lit it with the matches from the box, because he was too excited to try and find his lighter, and puffed it to light, drawing deep as soon as he could, and exhaling with a long plume of relieved satisfaction.

He took a few more long inhales, enjoying the rush he was getting off the smoke, so much more intense than anything he’d gotten from cigarettes before. He should have switched ages ago! He went back out into the den and sat back down on the couch, stretching out, staring at the TV but not watching anything in particular. The panic and anxiety had ebbed, and now all he felt was horny, which was strange. He didn’t exactly get horny very often anymore, and he didn’t exactly go out looking for women much anymore either. Still, it was good to know the old lizard could still wake up on occasion, right? He checked behind him, at the stairs, but his son usually camped up in his room all afternoon until dinner, so why not rub a load out? It had never occurred to him that he had never once considered jacking off where his son might discover him–he just pulled his cock through the fly of the boxers he was wearing and started stroking it slowly, leaning back, puffing on the pipe, and then pulled his balls through the hole as well, the cloth tightening around the base, hardening into steel, and the resulting cock ring only made his cock engorge further, the rest of the cloth tightening up around his thighs, turning black and slick, becoming a pair of rubber shorts which left both his cock and ass entirely exposed.

The wifebeater he had on was contorting as well, the collar pulling up closer to his throat, the rest of tighting around his hefty, hairy gut, beginning to darken. The collar detached and tightened around Miles’ neck, thickening into a leather collar studded with short spikes, the rest becoming a tight fitting rubber tank. Oblivious, he rubbed his nipples through the rubber with his free hand, feeling how huge and sensitive they were–all that effort he’d been putting into pumping them had really paid off–same with his fucking balls. His cock wasn’t huge, but his sack was bulging larger and larger, hanging lower onto the seat of the couch–he hefted them, and then gave them a tug, his cock immediately spewing precum at the sensation.

Arctos: Briar

Cole gave off another belch, then patted his gut and laughed, looking over at Jase, the younger man just rolling his eyes and walking off to get back to work on the site. “Come on, you have to admit that was a good one!” Cole shouted after him.

“You’re gross, Cole,” he said over his shoulder, “ Would you get some work done for a fucking change?”

Cole laughed, but did go back to working on the houses they were building, but he let off another belch, groped his thick cock through his cutoff jeans, amazed that he was horny again already. He’d fucking jacked off in the damn porta-potty twice today, and it looked like he was going to have to take another smoke break. Still, he kept up for a few more minutes, until his cock was aching, and then he pulled out his pipe, made a show of patting his pants, and said, “Out of fucking tobacco,” loud enough for a few guys to hear. Jase noticed, and sighed–it was just Cole being Cole, he thought, as frustrating as the fat fuck was, watching him head for his truck. He’d be missing for half an hour, leaving everyone else to pick up the slack. Still, he’d been a part of the crew for so long, none of them could imagine it without him. As annoying as he was, he was just…there. Most of which was true, except for the fact that Cole had only been working with them for about a week.

Cole hadn’t forgotten his tobacco, of course–it was in his pocket, but he needed some time alone to blow off some steam. After a week, he’d gotten used to this body for the most part, and he’d thought he’d quit getting turned on by it so much, but damn, every time he let off a belch, or noticed the heft of his gut, or caught a whiff of his musk…He lifted an arm and took a whiff, hauling out his cock before fumbling with his pipe. It wasn’t a perfect pack or light, but it did the job well enough, and the cab flooded with smoke as he stroked himself slow, smelling himself.

He’d been playing a game, the last few days, trying to remember things about himself, before he’d opened that pipe club kit he’d received from Arctos in the mail, but the image was fading, and the memories too. He’d been younger than he was now, in his thirties. Clean shaven. Working at a desk all day, but he had no clue what he’d done. Pushing papers, spreadsheets, something like that. So much fucking better, getting sweaty all day under the sun, working your body out with a bunch of other burly fuckers. Of course, this job of his was new–he’d been so happy with his pipe, that of course he’d taken advantage of the discount to order a few things from Arctos, the construction kit and a few other accessories, and here he was–a nasty pig working on the site all damn day, and he loved it. He knew, in the back of his mind, that his old self would be disgusted by what he’d become, but why in the hell should he care about that fucker? He didn’t even smoke! Fuck, if Cole had to go without his pipe for a day, he didn’t know what the fuck he’d do, but it wouldn’t be pretty.

He hiked his dusty wifebeater up over his hairy gut, giving it a rub with his free hand, pinching one of his fat nipples, thinking about Jase. He’d been saving his referral to the pipe club for someone special, and on the first day, he’d decided that special someone was going to be Jase. The guy was young, but built–at least six four, three hundred pounds, a bunch of it muscle. Beard down to his chest, a bright red. He’d requested a kinkcub cut tobacco with a heavy musk flavor added, and expedited shipping of course. Earlier that day, he’d gotten a message from his phone that the package had arrived while they were here at work. He’d give Jase a few hours to…get acclimated, and then come knocking tonight, and the two of them were going to have some real fun. He storked a bit faster, gave a long fart, and then shot his load up onto his gut, rubbing it in until it turned sticky, and then climbed out of his truck, puffing smoke, and headed back to the worksite. Quitting time couldn’t come soon enough, in his opinion, and all day, jase noticed that Cole kept glancing over at him, rubbing his crotch, head shrouded in that pipe smoke of his–and he too, couldn’t wait to get away when the day was over.

Something Cole hadn’t bothered to learn about Jase, however, was whether or not he lived alone. In fact, Jase still lived with his father, Miles–he’d been trying to scrape money together to move out for a while now, but honestly it was just easier to stay with him. They were both pretty laid back, he helped out with expenses, he had privacy, and his dad, he thought, was mostly happy to not have to live all by himself. He was in his early 50’s, and worked a warehouse job early in the morning, and was usually home early in the afternoon–early enough to have answered the door when the burly delivery man from some company named Arctos showed up with a small package for his son. As soon as he touched the box, he felt an odd rush through his body, and along with that, an intense curiosity for what might be inside. To his knowledge, his son had never been one to order things online or anything–what in the hell could it be?

He made himself a snack, and went to watch TV, but he couldn’t focus, and kept looking at the box, and then the clock. Jase was usually home by six…but sometimes he went out for drinks with the guys. If he wasn’t home by…say, seven…would he really mind if his dad opened it for him? It was a breach of privacy, sure, but he had a growing certainty inside him, that whatever was in there was meant not for jase, but for him. It was his! So nice of Jase to get him a present! Sure, his birthday was still a few months away, but father’s day was around the corner. He’d never splurged on anything like this before–if it was meant for him anyway, what harm was there in opening it?

He forced himself to wait. It hurt, but it was, technically, Jase’s, after all. He might be angry if he spoiled the surprise, after all. Thankfully, he heard Jase’s truck pull up outside the house and into the driveway, and it was excruciating, waiting for him to come into the house, so he could show him the package, and ask him about it. He had to play it cool though, at least a little bit. So he waited, and Jase came through the door, and in a bit of a rush, Miles said, “Hey, some guy brought you a package today–it’s by the door. What did you order?”

Jase looked at him, confused, and then went over to the box. A intense jealousy shot through him, as he watched Jase turn the box over in his hands, and then set it down again, like nothing had struck him at all. “No idea–I didn’t order anything. Who was it from?”

“He just said it was a gift, from Arctos. Are you…do you just not want to tell me about my present or something?” he asked.

“Present? What are you talking about?” Jase asked. The question hung in an awkward silence for a bit, and then he said, “It’s not mine. We might as well send it back.”

“We don’t even know what’s in there though!” Miles nearly shouted.

“Jeeze dad, get a grip! Open it if you want, I don’t care. Anyway, I’m tired–I’m going to chill out for a bit, and we can have dinner later, ok?”

Jase headed off towards his room upstairs, but Miles didn’t bother replying. How in the fuck could he not care at all, just like that! He grabbed the box, clutching it to his chest, then went and found a knife in the kitchen, slit the tape open, and opened it–inside was a large pipe, a pouch of tobacco, and a slip of paper. He’d expected the need to ebb a bit, once he’d gotten the package open and sated his curiosity, but seeing the pipe, it only got worse. With a shaking hand, he picked up the nose, but all managed to read was:

Here at the Arctos Briar Division we strive to provide the highest quality of pipes, pipe tobacco, and accessories to ensure that any man who tries one of our products is determined to be a pipe smoker for life!

Included here is one pipe smoker starter kit, which has been provided to you at no cost, through our refer a friend program. By now, our patented smart memory chemicals…

Miles already knew what he needed to to, what he wanted to do. He was a cigarette smoker, had been all his life, and while he’d seen guys smoke a pipe a few times, he had never tried one himself, even though he’d always wanted to, right? He was having a hard time figuring that out, actually. He’d thought he’d never been that interested in pipes, and yet, looking at one now, he couldn’t help but ask himself why he’d never thought of trying one before. He didn’t know quite what to do with it, but he picked up the hefty pipe, surprised by how heavy it was, feeling the smooth wood and briar, and then reached into the pouch for the tobacco. The leaf was black and quite pungent, but the smell actually made him a bit horny, for some reason. He didn’t have any trouble packing and tamping the pipe–it was like his hands simply knew what they were doing, without him needing to guide them. At last, it was ready–he put the end in his mouth, lit it with the matches from the box, because he was too excited to try and find his lighter, and puffed it to light, drawing deep as soon as he could, and exhaling with a long plume of relieved satisfaction.

He took a few more long inhales, enjoying the rush he was getting off the smoke, so much more intense than anything he’d gotten from cigarettes before. He should have switched ages ago! He went back out into the den and sat back down on the couch, stretching out, staring at the TV but not watching anything in particular. The panic and anxiety had ebbed, and now all he felt was horny, which was strange. He didn’t exactly get horny very often anymore, and he didn’t exactly go out looking for women much anymore either. Still, it was good to know the old lizard could still wake up on occasion, right? He checked behind him, at the stairs, but his son usually camped up in his room all afternoon until dinner, so why not rub a load out? It had never occurred to him that he had never once considered jacking off where his son might discover him–he just pulled his cock through the fly of the boxers he was wearing and started stroking it slowly, leaning back, puffing on the pipe, and then pulled his balls through the hole as well, the cloth tightening around the base, hardening into steel, and the resulting cock ring only made his cock engorge further, the rest of the cloth tightening up around his thighs, turning black and slick, becoming a pair of rubber shorts which left both his cock and ass entirely exposed.

The wifebeater he had on was contorting as well, the collar pulling up closer to his throat, the rest tighting around his hefty, hairy gut, beginning to darken. The collar detached and tightened around Miles’ neck, thickening into a leather collar studded with short spikes, the rest becoming a tight fitting rubber tank. Oblivious, he rubbed his nipples through the rubber with his free hand, feeling how huge and sensitive they were–all that effort he’d been putting into pumping them had really paid off–same with his fucking balls. His cock wasn’t huge, but his sack was bulging larger and larger, hanging lower onto the seat of the couch–he hefted them, and then gave them a tug, his cock immediately spewing precum at the sensation.

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?”

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.

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, getting more and more perverse every time a new Arctos sample showed up on the doorstep…well, that’s a story for another time, don’t you think?

Strange Sketch (Part 2)

WARNING: Still super weird!


I got lightheaded and stopped tugging; the harness relaxed, but the jock didn’t stop milking me. It felt…good, I’ll admit that, but that sure as hell didn’t stop me from freaking out on the inside. I tried to call for help, but each time I tried, the harness would squeeze shut before I could even get a scream out, like it could read my fucking mind. So I stayed there, huddled in this dark, tiny bathroom, my cock being milked by an autonomous jockstrap. Then, I heard footsteps, and a distant voice. The voice didn’t sound like words, or if they were words, it was like the words made by someone choking on something. He crossed in front of the doorway, and I gave a breathless scream when I saw him in the light of day…

The uniform…it was squirming, rippling up and down his body as he walked. His legs were thick, the knees had popped and were bent backwards. The boots…they weren’t shaped like human feet anymore. The boot toes had split into three and had bent out, like their own toes. His cock–fuck, that thing–it was at least a foot long, but didn’t dangle–it drooped, and then arced back up, like a fucking prehensile arm. Shiny black rubber, looking like it should have been pulled tight against the skin, but no sign of veins or anything normal, just a swollen head leaking something black onto the floor as it looked around, like an eye on a stalk. The jacket–his chest looked caved in, his back hunched and too big–he was the same height, so he must have grown taller…but his fucking face…he did have a hood on, or what might have been a hood once, but perfectly smooth, like his cock. No nose…no eyes, no brow, and the hood–it looked like it was digging in under his skin along the line of his cheeks, black tendrils shoving their way down into his jaw around his mouth…and out again. From a distance, they may have looked like a full, long beard, but they writhed and wriggled and…and it was alive somehow, and it was speaking, but it was clear why it couldn’t do so well–it’s tongue was growing and extending out of his mouth. It sounded scared. It sounded like it was in pain. The cock and beard swung towards me, and I wondered if it was looking at me somehow, and then it kept going, pacing, moaning and choking.

It would check on me regularly, cock and tendrils inspecting me, a few more times. I was feeling hungry–or what I thought was hunger…then I started throwing up some strange, grey slime. I tried to spit it out, but it felt like it was coating the inside of my mouth and throat. Then, it came back past, surveyed me, and stepped into the bathroom. I tried to crawl back, but there was nowhere I could go as it came closer, the strange beard worming it’s way over my face, pushing it’s way into my mouth, each tendril with more strength than I thought possible. I tried to bite them, it was like chewing plastic. They forced my mouth open…and it stretched. It stretched wider than I thought possible, like my bones and tendons had gone to jelly. The tendrils gripped my teeth and began tugging them out–they came away so easily, and I heard them bouncing as they hit the floor below me, and I heaved. I heaved, and something came up from inside me, pushing it’s way up through my throat. It felt massive. I thought it would kill me, but every part of me just stretched, as the thing, a strange, goopy ball, hauled it’s way free of my mouth…and then crawled back up over my face, sticking below my eyes and stretching over my entire scalp to the back of my head. There was a sharp pain, and I couldn’t feel my body anymore. I could hear the thing inside my brain, and I fought, I’m still fighting, but I don’t even know what it is.

It was easier when I could still see. For a while, the thing was stretched thin and clear, like a dirty window over my eyes, but it began to darken soon. I thought it was just turning black…but something tells me what I witnessed was actually my eyes simply…dissolving away underneath it. I can’t smell anything. I can’t hear. I can feel–the thing is still with me, and my body is…moving. I just can’t control any of it. I’m just a passenger now, and I don’t think I’ll be that even for much longer either. No, I think…I think I’m going to be…a womb. The thing has been fucking me for a while now–it’s cock is so big…but I’d feel so empty without it inside me, at this point. It kissed me for a while as well–or I thought it was kissing me, but it was shaping my mouth, reforming it into a tunnel, and now it’s burrowing deeper, opening me up even more. The thing holding me to the wall, the web–either it’s tighter, or I’m lighter, because I’m suspended in the air now, tied to the wall where…where I belong. Yes, the seed it’s filling me with, I can feel it. I’m heavy with it, and…I…I can use this. Make more, more…eggs. More eggs for the master. I can’t do anything else, so I will make eggs for the master.

Strange Sketch (Part 1)

This one’s a little out there, just as a warning. The second part especially.


It had been dark, but that was the fucking point, right? How in the hell could I have known what he was? Hell, for all I know, last night, he’d looked normal, just like everyone else in there, just like me, dressed up in my leather harness, kneepads advertising my preferred position, looking to have some fun with people I wouldn’t have to introduce myself to the next morning. I was young, muscular, men wanted me, this, I felt, is what I was made for, in some way. Is that what drew him to me? Did he just choose me? I don’t remember, but I saw the shadow of him framed in the dim light of the bar away from the depravity, and that was enough to catch my interest.

His silhouette was leather–a bit bulkier than someone in rubber, body heavy with a jacket, legs thick with pants. The smoothness of his head signaled a hood of some kind, and from the sheen of it, I guessed rubber, but couldn’t be certain. We cruised each other; he seemed hesitant, taking one step closer, then backing up quickly, like he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to, like something was worrying him. In the end, I approached him. I told him I was clean, that he didn’t have to worry–all he did was moan in response, and press his leather clad body close to mine. The feel of the fabric was strange, not quite like real leather at all. Maybe he was just being cheap, and went for something less expensive and easier to clean. The jacket was closed and zipped, so I couldn’t access his body, aside from the lower half of his face. We were kissing, and I remember how sweaty and hot he felt, almost feverish, pressing his body to me, I felt his cock pressing against mine, through his leather, and my jockstrap. He must have unzipped, though I hadn’t heard a zipper, because a moment later it was out and grinding up against my pouch, exploring it, getting it sopping wet with precum.

I remember I reached down to touch it, and faster, he grabbed my wrists and pinned me to the wall, grinding up against me, sucking at my neck, drool all over me. It was…sticky, I remember thinking that, but it was kind of hot, how hungry he was for me, and then he flipped me around against the wall, wrists still pinned above me, and he started poking at my hole with his cock. Now, I knew he couldn’t have had a condom on–the soaked pouch cupping my junk was proof of that–but as his cock slipped between my cheeks it felt…rubbery, like it had a condom on it. That was the first thing that I really noticed, that triggered a bit of alarm, but I was on PrEP, and happy to fuck raw if that’s what a top wanted. I thought I was safe. His cock, it seemed soft, somehow, the way it seemed to explore my crack, slip around my hole. I worried he might not be able to get inside of me, but with one thrust, he pushed in deep, my hole just, opening up for him. I remember feeling really wet, and assumed he was just that much of a leaker, and he just kept fucking me. My hole went numb, and he kept fucking me. I thought he was shooting inside me, but he just kept going, and then I started to feel…strange. Sick to my stomach and dizzy. His hands were still locked on my wrists, but I remember looking down, my vision going blurry, and my stomach, which was always meticulously flat, looked…distended.

I passed out not too long after that, I think. He was still fucking me, and then I woke up here. I still don’t know where here is–some derelict building from the look of it. I think we’re a few floors up, from the way the light came in when I woke up. I was still in my gear from the night before–or at least, I assume it was the night before. I don’t know how long I was out, but it couldn’t have been that long, right? When I woke up, I was alone, as far as I could tell, and I stood up, my legs shaky, trying to remember what had happened, but knowing whatever was going on, I needed to get the hell out of here. I tried to get out of the bathroom, but felt something tugging me back. Looking back…something rubbery was connecting the back of my harness to the tile behind me, like a leash, or a web. I grabbed hold of the door frame, trying to pull myself through, and while the thing stretched to a point, it refused to break, I snapped back, reached around and tried to feel what the thing was–I couldn’t get a good grip, really, but it was adhered to the back of my harness somehow, and I couldn’t feel a seam–it went straight from odd goo to the feel of my leather. I figured I could at least just get out of my harness, but soon discovered something strange as well. I couldn’t unhook the buckles. I couldn’t even pull the leather straps away from my skin–it hurt when I tried, like someone had superglued the thing to me…and then…I think it had had enough of me fucking with it, because it started to squeeze–hard. The leather just…contracted, and I couldn’t breathe…and at the same time, I felt my jockstrap start…squeezing my cock, all on its own. I tried to get that off too, but it too, had somehow stuck to my body. I couldn’t rip it, not without feeling like I was going to rip my cock and balls apart in the process.

“I would say I’m sorry, but I think we both know that it’d be a lie,” Jamie said, shoving the plug deep into Sam’s hole again, giving it a twist for good measure.

Sam yanked at the ropes binding his hands to the gate. He’d woken up here a few moments before, tied and gagged, and when he’d tried to scream, it was Jamie who had come out of the darkness. One of his coworkers, and one of his competitors for partner at the firm. Everyone knew Sam deserved the spot, of course, but he’d always known Jamie had resented him. Now he was discovering just how much.

“Don’t worry, I won’t be sticking around for long, just gotta get the place smelling a bit, wait until the pigs come out for the night to find you. Try not to worry too much about it, you’ll be as happy here as the rest of them. He slammed the dildo in and then left it, wiping his gloved hands off with a towel he’d brought with him, and then dropped it to the ground. “I took the liberty of putting in your notice at work–after all, you won’t be coming back again, I don’t think. Certainly none of the other’s have.”

Sam could hear something in the darkness around them, something alive.

“Ah, that would be them. Like I said, try and enjoy yourself Sam, you’ve earned it.”

Jamie picked up his case and walked towards the staircase, climbing up out of the abandoned subway station in the middle of Pigtown. He turned back in time to see the things coming closer, sniffing at the sacrifice he’d left them, Sam staring up and back at him, pleading through the gag, but one of them was already ripping the plug from his ass and mounting him. Jamie continued climbing–the first time, he’d watched for a bit, but it no longer had much appeal. But he slowed towards the top of the steps, where a heavyset man was waiting, smoking a thick cigar. “Hello Jamie. Come to drop something off again?”

“You promised me safe passage, Rod.”

“No, I promised you save passage for a price,” Rod said, “but that was a few years ago. Don’t they teach you about interest in business anymore?”

Before Jamie could reply, Rod stepped closer to him, locking lips, exhaling a thick, greasy plume of smoke into his lungs, forcing him to hold it, tonguing around the inside of his mouth a moment, before pulling away, Jamie coughing and gagging.

“Here,” Rod said, “You’ll be wanting these.” He tossed a couple of cellophane wrapped cigars and a lighter to the ground, and Jamie collected them, lighting one up and taking a deep breath, the scratch in his throat immediately relieved.

“That wasn’t the damn deal!” Jamie shouted, as Rod walked off.

“Just a reminder whose terms and conditions you’re operating under, Jamie. I’ll be needing a tribute every month from now on, if you don’t want to see me again real soon.”

Hey man, good to see ya! Thought you might not make it, but I know you wouldn’t want to miss a party like this. Yeah, we got him all set up over here, go on, tubes all ready–take a deep breath, and blow–

Ha! Listen to the thing moan in there! Been a few hours at this point, so it’s starting to settle down, finally. You should have seen it, whimpering and crying while me and Louie were getting it all set up.

Who was it? Don’t really know. Some straight prick was pissing and moaning about us smoking down at the bar, telling us it was illegal and whatever, like we fucking care, you know? Well, it was Louie who puffed him–locked lips with the fucker, gave him a deep breath and zonked him to the floor! Bartender didn’t say nothing, he was ujust glad to be free of the little fuck, you know? That’s why it was such short notice, ‘n only half the gangs here. Still, it’s a good looking party, don’t you think? Still, always more fun when the whole family gets together.

Yeah, Blake’s here–think he’s a bit busy with Louie. He won’t care if you go butt it, of course, though ya might have to share.

Hey now, I know, we all know you…don’t share nicely! It was supposed to be a damn joke man, take it easy, take a drag off that thing ‘n just relax…

Look, the guys ‘n I have been talking, ‘n we think you need someone.

Yeah, lone wolf ‘n all that, fine. But…Blake’s been…look, I just think…why don’t you camp out with this guy for a bit? Feed him for a while? Make him…someone for you. We all know you’re lonely man, and you could have whatever you want. All the guys are cool with it. You just gotta mellow out a bit, you know what I’m saying.

Yeah yeah, pound me into the ground if you want, but we all know it’s true, including you. 

We know you’re tough, just have some fun with him, you know. Come on, give him another breath, think about it. Could be a hot little cub, chubby in all the right places, wide ass, hungry for that big cock of yours. Hell, even a damn pig, stupid as a brick, drooling on the floor while you fuck it’s holes, drinking your piss, eating the big butts of your cigars. Whatever you want! Take your time and get to know him a bit better. You’ll be happier, and it’ll be a load off our backs too.

Glad you agree. Can’t wait to see how he turns out in the morning! I’ll have Blake come over and help ya brainstorm and suck ya off–ya always think better with a mouth around your cock, right?

Will you write any Amsterdam themed porn? (Amsterdam equivalent to rednecks😏?)

The Netherlands has a whole lot of farmers, but I don’t know how well that would equate to rednecks in the American sense. That said, I am rather looking forward to getting some inspiration from more clubs on the 

Warmoesstraat.

My worry is it will all be tamer than shit I’ve already written.

Oh well, I can always make it more interesting, right?