Interactive: New You Resolutions 2020 (Part 2)

Jim opened up the second envelope, and pulled out the note inside:

Here’s your second resolution Jim:
— You resolve to stuff yourself every day and gain as much weight as you can.
We’re here to help! Head into the kitchen. You’ll find everything you need to make yourself a nice, filling lunch.

Jim just stared at the note, reading it again, unable to believe what he was reading. This had to be some sort of joke, didn’t it? But then, he had just quit his job! Sure, it was something he’d wanted to do, for a very long time even…but he’d never actually thought he would do it, right? He went into the kitchen, and his gut gave a rather uncharacteristic rumble. Jim wasn’t exactly in great shape, but he’d never really liked food much. It had as much to do with his sedentary desk job as anything else. He expected a meal, in all honesty, but all he found was a new blender on the counter, and a canister of some sort of powder. He looked at it, and saw it was a mix to make a weight gain shake–all he needed was some heavy cream. He checked the fridge, and sure enough, the right amount of cream was there. He wasn’t going to do this though, was he? His gut growled again, more urgently, and he pulled the cream out of the fridge, dumped the powder in the blender, and started it up. The hunger was overwhelming. He didn’t even bother pouring the mix into a glass–he just tipped the pitcher of the blender back and chugged it straight down. He tried to stop himself, especially as his gut swelled and started to ache, but he couldn’t put the thing down until it was all inside him.

At last, it was done. He felt his gorge rise a bit, but resisted the urge to hurl. He had to keep it inside him. He had…he had to get fatter. He shook his head, trying to push the urge away, looked down, and saw another envelope next to his hand, that hadn’t been there a moment earlier, he was sure of it. He opened it up as well:

Now that you don’t have to worry about that pesky job anymore, why don’t we find something more fulfilling for you to do with your free time, Jim? Here’s a few more resolutions for you:
— I resolve to start smoking cigarettes, working up to two packs a day.
— I resolve to start pumping my cock, stretching my balls, and pumping my nipples on a daily basis.
— I resolve to begin collecting gay porn, and masturbate to it at least three times a day.
Why don’t you head up to your office and get started, Jim? Dinner will be ready in a few hours.

What?

Jim was straight, wasn’t he?

Sure, he’d…thought about it on occasion, and women always seemed…difficult, to him, and he’d never really managed with relationships, but…

But an hour later, he was in the thick of it. He had a metal stretcher secured around his balls dragging them off the front of his office chair. His second cigarette from the pack he’d found next to the keyboard was lit, and he was happily inhaling off of it, eager to feel the addiction settle in. He had already worked out how the vacuum tubes worked, and had his tits inflating inside them, and now had his cock in the larger one, watching it swell and swell as he pulled the air out of the glass tube, more turned on than he could recall being in his life, as he started perusing sites for porn. When he couldn’t handle it anymore, he pulled the tube free, and started stroking his puffy cock. It was harder to cum when it was pumped, but he managed one load easily enough, before his gut grumbed again, and he went downstairs, where the ingredients for another shake like the first was set out for him, along with some assorted junk food, to get him through the evening. He made his shake and guzzled it, then carried the chips and candy upstairs with him, where he jacked off late into the night, lost in a haze of lust and smoke he couldn’t seem to control.

The days blurred together, after that. He would wake up in bed, or sometimes in his office, covered in ash and cum, and his gut would drag him downstairs for breakfast. The shakes started out small, but got larger and larger as he grew accustomed to them, and he could see an effect after just a couple of days. He would shower in the mornings on occasion, when he could resist the pull of his office for long enough, and then he would settle in for the day, light up a smoke, pump his cock, put on his stretchers, pump his nipples, and then start working on his collection, only coming down for meals and snacks as demanded by his gut.

Months passed. It was Spring now, and Jim barely recognized himself in the mirror. He’d left the house maybe twice since leaving work on January second. He smoked two packs of cigarettes a day, from the moment he woke up, to the moment he fell asleep. His cock was…different. It didn’t look right when it wasn’t pumped, and he couldn’t get hard at all unless he got it in his tube. A month ago, it had been upgraded to a larger size, and now, when he was done, it was around nine inches long, and as thick as a beer can. His balls hung quite low, another two inches or so, and his tits were always thick, and very sensitive. By far, the most drastic change was his weight. He had no idea what was in that powder, but it worked–he’d gone from 225 to 350 in a matter of months. His gut was covered in stretch marks from the rapid growth, and he couldn’t get used to navigating spaces with his new heft.

He came down this morning, to discover something that terrified him–another envelope. Apparently, it was time for a few more resolutions. What does the envelope have in store for Jim now?

Here’s your next poll! Remember, you can select three of the options below, so don’t leave votes on the table. Patrons have their bonus poll over here as well.

Interactive: New You Resolutions 2020 (Part 1)

January 2nd. The holidays were officially over, and everyone was expected back in the office, and Jim, like always, was dressed and out the door right on time…but this year, he just wasn’t feeling that excited. Maybe it was the fact that he got passed over for a promotion again. Maybe it was because, despite the fact that his yearly review at the beginning of December was good, his bonus this year was smaller than the last–and smaller than a few other co-workers he chatted with about it. Maybe it was because he was turning 35 in a couple of months, and 35 was somehow worse to him than turning 30 had been. At 30, you start to think you have things figured out. At 30, you feel like you can start blazing, full speed ahead. But at 35, with all of those goals undone, still at the same job, just feeling fatter, balding more, without a girlfriend, living alone, working long hours for no real good reason. Jim wasn’t blazing at 35, he was in a rut.

Worse still, Jim didn’t see any real way out of it. He hated his job, but it was comfortable, even if he didn’t have much free time. He hated living alone, but every attempt at a relationship with anyone, seemed to stall out in a matter of weeks. He wasn’t happy with his body, but he also wasn’t particularly interested in doing anything to change it. He wanted to change, but he had no real idea of what that change could possibly look like. Thankfully, someone out there had more imagination than Jim, and is willing to do something about that.

Jim got in his car with a sigh, thankful that traffic was light at least, and got to the office a bit early, to get caught up on the status of some of his projects. He arrived at his desk, the first employee there, like usual, and found a golden envelope sitting on his keyboard, with the words “New You Resolutions” embossed on the front. Curious as to what this might be, he opened the envelope, pulled out the stationary inside, and read the note that had been left for him.

Dear Jim,
We here at New You Resolutions understand that change is hard. We make it easy. No need to struggle, trying to figure out what to do next–we take all the stress out of your New Year’s goals, and make sure, no matter what, you end this year an entirely new person, one you won’t even recognize!
Our team has crafted a resolution plan especially for you, which will be delivered to you in a matter of stages, as we see your response to your plan. Don’t worry if some of these seem a bit scary, or out of character for you. Change requires sacrifice, but we take all the worry out of the process without patented resolution drive technology. Our organization will also make sure you have everything you need to keep your resolutions fulfilled this year, so you can just focus on changing!
Now, we’re sure you’re curious. Here’s your first resolution:
Jim, you resolve to quit your job today.
Pack up your things, put in your notice, and we’ll see you at home, Jim, were we’ll get you on the road to a whole new you!

Jim read the strange note twice, and then looked around the office. Was it a prank? It had to be a prank, right? Someone telling him that he should quit, but…who? Feeling a bit disconcerted, he sat down, pulled open a drawer, and started pulling everything out of it that belonged to him, and setting it on the desktop. When one was finished, he opened another, and did the same. He stopped himself for a moment, asking himself what he was doing exactly, but he didn’t quite know. It occured to him, after a moment, that he needed a box. A box to put everything in! He emptied out a copy paper box, and kept loading all of his stuff into it, panic rising, as he realized he was doing it. He was getting ready to quit his job, and for some reason, there was nothing he could do to stop himself.

But he needed this job! How would he pay rent? What about health insurance? He didn’t have contacts anywhere, he didn’t know where else he could work, he just kept loading up his stuff, and when he was finished, he sat and waited at his desk, until his boss wandered in late, and obviously still a bit hungover. Jim went straight to his office, handed him the resignation letter he’d drafted, effective immediately, turned in his badge, and he was out of there by eleven, his box of stuff in his arms, more terrified than he could ever recall being in his life.

He drove home, trying not to think about what was happening to him. It had to be a dream, some fucked up nightmare he’d wake up from at any moment, but nothing he did seemed to work. He pulled into the garage of the small house he rented, went inside, and as promised, a second envelope was waiting for him right there, on the table by the door. With shaking hands, Jim tore it open, pulled out the note, and read it. As promised, there were more resolutions printed there–and Jim was going to find them all just as difficult to disobey as the first one. After all, change was hard–but Jim was going to be changing whether he wanted to or not.

Alright! I enjoyed this interactive last year, and thought I’d pull it out again for this year. We’ll follow a few different characters through the year, and see how their new resolutions treat them along the way–and they might pick up a few more as the year goes on. An important note! A lot of these might have more options than my usual polls! That usually means you get to select more options than the usual two. Make sure you’re voting for as many options as you can, or you’re leaving votes on the table! For this poll, you get three selections. Patrons have their bonus poll as well, over here.

Interactive: Three Word Difference (Part 12)

Sorry for the delay on this, Christmas week turned out to be a lot busier than I was planning.

WARNING: SCAT

Skip could do nothing as the genie twisted Jason’s words yet again:

“Please, I just wish we would get fuckin’ dumber!”

“God fuckin’ damnit! Shut yer trap!” Skip said again, feeling a slight sense of deja vu as it happened, looked over at the genie, who snapped his fingers, and Skip could almost feel the thoughts in his head slow down to a crawl. “Fuck…I…Fuckin’ feels so…so fuckin’ good,” Skip said, and gave a great guffaw as he pounded deeper into his son’s hole, “Don’t it feel good boy?”

“Fuck, I…I didn’t mean tah, why, I…why’s it so hard tah think?” Jason said, his hole finally adjusting a bit to his daddy’s cock, and the pleasure started to overwhelm him a bit as well. “Fuck…feels…better Daddy, feels good havin’ ya inside me.”

Skip didn’t reply, he didn’t have the mental processing power to fuck and talk at the same time. He was just grunting and snorting behind him, driving in faster and harder until he exploded inside his boy’s guts, an even larger load than the one he’d shot in the restroom just a few minutes before this…but had he even been there really? Everything seemed like a dream to him all of a sudden, and his simpler mind couldn’t really comprehend what was happening to him. He pulled his cock free of his boy’s hole, suddering a bit, and whirled on the genie where he floating in the corner of the filthy bedroom, and stomped over to him. “I might not be the smartest fucker, but I can tell when someone’s fuckin’ with me. What the fuck are ya doin’? Yer messin’ with the shit we say, ain’t ya?”

“I can assure you, Skip, that I am fully within the bounds of the contract of my service to you, that you consented to when you made your first wish with me.”

“Contract? What fuckin’ contract?”

The genie waved in the air, and a thick document appeared in his hands, written on rather ancient parchment. He handed it to Skip, who stared at it for a few moments, and shook his head. “I can’t read fuckin Arab or whatever this is!”

“Oh, I gave you a copy in English, Skip,” the genie said.

Skip stared at it again, and realized that his son’s wish had made him illiterate on top of everything else. He threw the document in the genie’s face, who made it disappear again before it got anywhere close to him. “Fuck you, I want ya tah change us back!”

“I only accept requests in the form of a wish,” the genie said, shrugging and smiling at Skip, who scowled at him, and turned back to where his son was lying on the bed, sweaty, fat stinking, trying to sort his own thoughts out.

“Come on son, we gotta figure this out. If we put our heads together, we can figure out a wish that’ll fix this.”

Skip concentrated–or at least he tried to concentrate. His face turned a bit red, and just as a thought was coming to him, a loud fart escaped his ass, and distracted him. Jason thought that was a hoot, and laughed on the bed, his dad cracking a grin as he did. “Oh ya liked that, huh? Ya like yer dad’s smelly farts?”

“Fuck no Pa! Yers are the worst!”

Skip lifted a leg, gave it a shake, and let another one loose in Jason’s direction, before climbing up on his boy, already feeling a bit horny again, his worries about the genie pushed to the back of his mind where they disappeared.

“Fuck Pa! Git offa me,” Jason said, “I can’t breathe with yer stink in the damn air everywhere.”

“Hell boy, wish the stink a mah farts made ya as horny as hell.”

Too late, he realized he’d just made a wish. The genie twisted things around, and what came out the second time chilled Skip to the bone:

“Hell boy, wish the stink a mah farts made ya hungry as hell fer shit.”

Skip saw the swirl of color in his son’s eyes, and Jason liked his lips, his stomach growling. “Fuck Pa…ya…ya got a load fer yer toilet boy yet? Sure smells like ya do.”

Skip shook his head, and looked over at the genie, “Ya fucker! What the fuck?”

“Come on Pa, yer boy’s so damn hungry, feed me yer shit.”

“Fuck no, git a hold a yerself, that ain’t…I mean, we’re dirty fellas, but that’s just gross.”

“I wish Pa loved feedin’ me shit,” Jason said, as Skip looked at him in horror, and it only got worse after the genie twisted it:

“I wish Pa loved feedin’ on shit with me.”

Skip felt his stomach give a great big growl, and the smell of his farts on the air was…enticing. “Fuck…fuck, you sick son of a bitch…”

“Come on Pa, feed yer dirty fuckin’ pig boy.”

Unable to stop himself, Skip got on the bed, squatting over his son’s face, and bore down, licking his own lips as he did, smelling his own shit, hoping his boy saved him some…but then, his boy loved feeding him too…didn’t he? Yeah, of course he did. Why wouldn’t he?

***

The next morning, they awoke to the sound of an alarm on one of their phones, still in the pocket of their pants, and Skip and Jason untangled their filthy bodies from one another, still in the bed. Shit was…everywhere, but then, when wasn’t it, when they got down to business? “Fuck boy, we’re gonna be late fer fuckin’ work,” Skip said, checking the clock on his phone. Gotta…gotta make ourselves a least a bit…presentable…”

Skip went into the bathroom to wipe some of the worst shit off his face, and Jason rolled out of bed, licking the dried shit off his lips. “Fuck Pa, I don’t wanna go tah work.”

“Gotta pay the bills son, come on.”

The genie was still there in the corner of the room, and that was when Jason had the idea. A great idea. An idea that could fix everything, right?”

“I wish we got paid just tah eat shit.”

The genie’s smile grew wider than Jason had ever seen it:

“I wish we got paid just tah eat trucker’s shit ‘n piss.”

Skip didn’t hear his son’s wish over the running tap, and after they threw on some clothes, they got in the truck, and headed down the interstate to a little truckstop owned by a friend of Skips–one who understood the special sort of needs a father and son like this could have. There, they took up their place in the back of the trucker’s showers, ready to take whatever the trucker’s passing by wanted to give them–piss, shit, cum–they had no limits. They were infamous really, and they truckstop was always busy with all sorts of nasty fuckers off the interstates, but Skip and Jason were happy. They had a job perfect for a couple of illiterate, filthy shit-scarfing rednecks like them, and the genie left them there, certain they would manage well enough on their own from here on out.

Where did the genie go next? We’ll have to find out some other time–but needless to say, be careful what you wish for.

Interactive: Three Word Difference (Part 11)

“I wish we were big, filthy rednecks!” Skip said, full of enthusiasm, but he realized, a moment after the words came out of his mouth, that they were not quite the words he had meant to say. “Wait, what? I–”

It was too late to take anything back though–the genie snapped his fingers, and both Skip and Jason shuddered as the changes swept through them, and both of them began to grow. Taller, first–neither of them had been very tall to begin with, Jason coming to around five foot ten, and Skip a couple inches shorter than that. Their bones swelled, and both of them were soon pushing six foot three, and the rest of their bodies were growing as well. Thick with muscle first, but it wasn’t long before a layer of fat started to cover that up. It was more pronounced on Skip, who was older. He ended up with a sizable beer gut hanging out over his waist, making him lean back a bit just to keep it well balanced. Jason had a gut of his own, but broader shoulders and hips to carry it a bit better, giving him the general shape of a barrel.

The filth came next. Their uniforms went from relatively clean to looking like they hadn’t been washed in weeks–the fronts of both were covered in food stains, oil, dirt, grime, and who knew what else from all of their tasks around campus. Skip caught a whiff of himself and gagged a bit, before he found himself growing more accustomed to it. He swung around and looked at himself in the mirror over the sink, at the hair growing down the back of his head (he’d had a mullet ever since high school after all, and Skip wasn’t really one to change something that worked), the yellowed, crooked teeth (he’d never taken good care of them after all, and all the cigarettes he smoked had, well, his boy didn’t seem to mind the taste of his mouth at least) and the scraggly beard around the rest of his face (why cut it? It just grew back anyway!). He shook his head, pushing the rationalizations away as best he could, and looked over at his son, sweaty, his own bearded face covered with acne, smelling just about as rank as his father did in all honesty. “Fuck Pa, what the fuckin’ hell happened tah us?” Jason asked, looking down at himself, running his big, grimy hands over the front of his soiled uniform, “Why the hell’d ya make us a couple a filthy rednecks?”

“I didn’t, I mean, it ain’t what I wanted tah wish fer!” he said, and turned to the genie, “Ya’ve been fuckin’ with me, haven’t ya? Messin’ with what I was tryin’ ta say!”

The genie just shrugged, “My powers allow me a small amount of leeway, to ensure that my Master’s wishes are fulfilled in ways that are most amenable to reality, and to me.”

“Ya fuckin’ piece a shit, change us back right the fuck now!”

The genie smirked, “Would you care to phrase that as a wish, Master?”

Skip scowled at him, not really willing to risk it. He didn’t know how the genie was messing with him exactly, and so he couldn’t try and reverse this.

“Pa, who ya talkin’ to?” Jason asked, and Skip looked at his boy, wide eyed and a bit terrified, obviously, to see his father talking to air.

“Fuck, would ya just show ‘em?” Skip said, and the genie nodded, and appeared for Jason as well, who’s jaw just about dropped to the floor. “That’s…that’s how ya been doin’ it? There’s a fuckin’ genie! Fuck you, you…you fuck!”

“Now son, calm down,” Skip said, “We gotta think about this.”

“Fuck you! Genie, I fuckin’ wish this fucker had never run intah me!”

The genie smiled, and Jason felt the odd sensation of time running backwards, his words knitting themselves together into new patterns, and what came out instead was:

“I fuckin’ wish this fucker would always piss intah me.”

“As you wish, Master,” the genie said, and snapped his fingers, both of their eyes clouding over for a moment.

“Get down on yer knees son, Daddy’s gotta piss after ya sucked the cum outta me,” he said, and Jason found himself unable to resist. He got down, took his Pa’s cock in his mouth, and Skip pissed right down Jason’s throat, while the genie just laughed and smiled at them both. When Skip was finished, Jason sprang back up, stormed over at the genie, tried to punch him, but his fist went right through him.

“Now now, Master, I can only grant you what you desire,” the genie said, and Jason punched at him again.

“Fuck you, ya fuckin’, if I could hit ya, I’d…fuckin’ hell!”

“Jason! Calm down!” Skip said, but it was clear Jason wasn’t going to calm down anytime soon.

“I wish I was back tah normal!” Jason shouted at the genie, but again, the words twisted, and out came:

“I wish we was back home fuckin’!”

“As you wish, Master,” the genie said, and with a snap, the smoke engulfed them both, and when it cleared a moment later, they weren’t in the bathroom anymore–they were home. Or rather, they were in the single wide trailer the two of them now called home. The place was a sty, with dirty laundry, empty take out bags and containers, and beer cans strewn about everywhere. They were in the bedroom, Jason on the bed, naked, his father behind him, and without any warning, Skip found his cock thrust into his son’s hole, making Jason holler in pain.

“Fuckin’ shut up, you dumb fuckin’ shithead!” Skip shouted at him, unable to stop his body from forcing his cock in deeper.

“Fuck it fuckin’ hurts! Stop!”

“I can’t stop boy! It’s what ya fuckin’ wished for!”

“But it fuckin’ hurts!”

“Take it like a fuckin’ man, I’ll be done in a few minutes.”

Jason started blubbering a bit, and even though he knew it wouldn’t do any good, he said, “Please, I just wish you would stop fuckin’ me!”

“God fuckin’ damnit! Shut yer damn trap!” Skip said, but it was too late–the genie was already warping his next wish, and giving Jason exactly what he asked for next.

Use the poll below to vote for the final chapter! You get two choices like usual. Patrons can access their bonus poll over here.

Interactive: Three Word Difference (Part 10)

Time flowed forward again, and Skip’s wish came out a bit differently this time around:

“I wish you were working with me in maintenance. That way, I could use this mouth whenever I wanted!”

The genie smirked, snapped his fingers, and Jason was enveloped in a cloud of swirling mist. The young man stood up, interrupted in his sucking for the moment, as he coughed and gagged, trying to get the sickly smoke away from him. It dissipated after a few moments, leaving him feeling dizzy and discombobulated. He was looking at…at Skip there, leaning against the counter, but he didn’t know how he knew the older man’s name all of a sudden.

Like magic, an answer appeared in his mind. He knew Skip because they worked together, of course. They were both in the university’s maintenance department, and would regularly meet up on the job so Jason could suck Skip off. His mind repeated all of this at him like it was perfectly normal, and Jason had to fight it. He looked in the mirror, and with a dull horror, saw that his preppy clothes had disappeared–he was wearing the same work uniform as Skip was. The same work uniform they both wore everyday…because what else would be be wearing, anyway?

“No–no, this isn’t right, get me the fuck out of this shit!” Jason said, and started pulling at the front of his shirt, but the genie made it impossible for him to remove his uniform for the moment, enjoying watching the young man struggle with his impossible buttons. “I don’t know how the fuck you’re doing this shit to me, but I’m not some fucking handyman! I’m a fucking college student!”

Skip laughed. “Maybe you were, but not for long. I wish you were a high school dropout.”

The genie made a few quick edits:

“I wish you were my son, who’s a high school dropout.”

Jason shook his head, but he could already feel it, his memories of college disappearing from his head, along with a good amount of his intelligence. “No dad, don’t…I don’t wanna be dumb! I wanna go to college again!”

“Shut up you stupid fucker. I wish the only thing you cared about was pleasing my cock.”

Or rather, once the genie was finished with it:

“I wish the only thing you cared about was pleasing my thick, chessy, uncut cock.”

Jason shook his head, but with a snap of his fingers, the genie invaded the young man’s mind once more, his eyes turning the same shifting shades as the genie’s smoke, and he took a couple steps forward again. Fuck, why had he stopped sucking his dad’s cock anyway? It was always a treat when they finished a job up quick, because his dad would give him some time to suck him off before going back to the maintenance office. He got back down on his knees, licking his lips, and sucked his dad’s cock back into his mouth, enjoying how the thick shaft stretched his jaw. He cleaned under Skip’s thick foreskin and found some cheese he hadn’t eaten earlier and swallowed it down with a moan, shoving one had down the front of his work pants to start jack himself off as well.

“Yeah, that’s better, isn’t it son? No need to worry about anything complicated anymore, you just let your daddy handle all of that stuff from now on. After all, I’m the smartest one in the family now–the one who managed to graduate from high school at least! The only way you got this job is because I work here–you’re too stupid to handle it without me, you know that right?”

Jason nodded in agreement, and Skip noticed, up close, how much the young man resembled him now. It was a bit…uncanny actually, but in all honesty, it made the whole scene so much hotter. He was getting close to blowing a load down his son’s throat at this point, and it was clear that Jason was hungry for it. With a moan, Skip unloaded down Jason’s throat, his boy swallowing all of it eagerly, and licking his lips afterwards. “Fuck dad, I love your fuckin’ cock so much…”

“Yeah, you’re as much a perverted fuck as I am,” Skip said, and helped Jesse up, sizing up his boy a bit more, now that the excitement was ebbing away a bit. He was a good looking young man in a lot of ways, but he was a little too skinny for Skip’s taste. He liked guys with a bit more muscle on them, in all honesty. It was an easy fix, of course. “I wish you were big and muscular,” he said.

The genie smiled, and decided that Skip’s wish could use a little more imagination.

Here’s the next poll! You can find the patron only poll over here as well.

Early Access: The Christmas Imp’s Secret Santas #1

I have a series of Christmas vignettes that I’m working on this month! I don’t know how many I will get done–the goal is always twelve with these sorts of things, but you know, we’ll see how things go. All of these are based on Patron suggestions, and as such, they’ll get access to them all first! If you’re a patron at the $5 level or more, you can find the full version of this story here. They’ll all start to go public after Christmas for everyone else. In the meantime, have a teaser…

Jesse went into the apartment’s living room on Christmas morning, not really expecting much. He lived alone, and hadn’t really had the time this month to decorate anything. He hadn’t even bothered to go get a tree or anything either. He had a few presents on his table from some college friends and family members around the country who had sent him things at least, but that could wait until after his morning coffee.

But as the pot brewed, and he inspected the small pile, something stood out that he didn’t recognize at all. It was a very small present, wrapped in simple brown paper, and the tag on it didn’t have a name–all it said was that it was from his Secret Santa. His office had already done a secret santa this year though, and he had the socks to prove it. While the coffee finished brewing, he figured he might as well solve this mystery quick–he tore into the paper, and was left with a can of chewing tobacco sitting in his hand.

He just looked at it in confusion. Who in their right mind would have given him this? He didn’t even smoke, much less use chewing tobacco, the entire idea was vile to him. But as he was about to put it down, there was a puff of smoke in the middle of the room, and a strange creature appeared before him. Jesse had no idea what he was looking at–the creature was quite short, no more than three feet tall, and covered in green fur from head to toe. The thing was naked as well, with a stubby cock leaking green tinted precum on the floor of his living room, the beast grinning at him, baring all of it’s sharp teeth in the process.

This was the Christmas Imp. A rather fateful mistake by Santa Claus when he tried to use genetic engineering to make a more perfect elf, he instead ended up with a rather filthy minded monster–one Santa had managed to keep looked away for quite a few years now. However, the imp had escaped in the midst of a rather hectic year at the North Pole, and was now ready to fulfill a few Christmas wishes of his own, though his ideas tended to be a bit…filthier than was traditional for Christmas. “Go on boy,” the imp rasped, one clawed hand toying with his cock, “It’s a special can that Daddy made just for you…”

Jesse wanted to run–he wanted to do pretty much anything other than twist off the top of the can of tobacco and look inside. He didn’t know what chewing tobacco was supposed to look like, but he was pretty sure that the scummy, pasty goo on top of the leaf wasn’t supposed to be there. What in the hell was it? He tried to pry his gaze away from the imp, but he couldn’t. His fingers pushed their way into the gooey leaf, and as he did, he realized what the substance was–it was cum. Someone had cum on top of the leaf, and closed the lid again. It made his stomach turn in disgust, but he couldn’t stop himself as he put the cummy leaf in his mouth, between his teeth and lip.

“More, you need it all, Daddy made it special…” the imp rasped at him…

If you want to read more, and see the other entries as I finish them, support me on Patreon at the $5 level or more!

Interactive: Three Word Difference (Part 9)

Another day, another toilet to unclog. These old buildings with their old plumbing, they were always having trouble in one way or another, and the fact that all of the kids living here didn’t bother to respect the place didn’t help either.

Skip pushed his key card against the pad and the door unlocked–he juggled the rest of his equipment for a moment and managed to pull the door open. He was halfway through the door when he saw the young man on the other side, doing nothing to help, and just looking at him with something between contempt and indifference. Skip made it inside, and the young man brushed past him and knocked some of his gear out of Skip’s hand. “Hey! Morty said, but the guy was already on his way out of the door, leaving Skip to gather everything up, grumbling to himself about the ungrateful shits who lived here.

Skip had never had the chance to go to college himself. His parents were poor, and he hadn’t exactly been good in school, and so here he was. He’d been fixing problems on this campus for close to ten years now, and it was the best job he’d managed to find–but fuck, the kids drove him crazy sometimes, in more ways than one. Skip was gay, and he’d always had a soft spot for younger guys, and the school could be great eye candy…but some of them were so damn thoughtless at times, like that fellow he’d just run into literally. With his stuff together again, he started hiking up the stairs to the third floor, where the broken toilet was waiting for him.

That was also where the genie was, invisible in the hallway, deliberating between various options of who to appear before next. He heard the footsteps on the stairs, spun and saw Skip there, hairy and overweight, sweaty from the three flight climb, and he smirked. Now there was someone a bit different–and who could certainly use a bit of his special brand of help. He slipped back into his bottle, and manifested inside Skip’s toolbox as he pushed his way into the bathroom to see what he was dealing with.

It was worse than he’d been expecting. Despite the sign someone had put on it, at least two guys had used the broken toilet since in had stopped flushing, leaving quite a mess in the bowl. Heaving a sigh, he opened up his toolbox, and resting on top, he found a small bottle of clouded glass that he had never seen before. It was stoppered with a cork, and there was a little tag hanging off the end, which read: “For your toilet problem.”

Skip looked back at the toilet, and wondered what on earth this could be. A special kind of drain cleaner? You never used those with a toilet though. He popped off the cork, intending to give whatever was inside a sniff, but before he could, a massive cloud of smoke poured out of it, and manifested into a genie before him, eyes shimmering with blues and purples, smirking at Skip, as he mumbled and shook in surprise. “What…what the fuck?”

“Hello Master, I am a genie, and for the next 24 hours, I will grant as many wishes as you desire to give me.”

Skip just stared at the genie, and then at the toilet. “This…this can’t be real.”

The genie just shrugged. “There is one way to find out easily, isn’t there?”

“I…uh…I wish the toilet was fixed properly.”

The genie didn’t bother changing that wish around–he just snapped his fingers and while Skip watched, the filth in the toilet disappeared entirely. He walked over, triggered the flush, and the toilet worked perfectly. “You…have gotta be kidding me.”

“I could make it so none of the toilets on campus would plug again, if you’d like, Master. However, I know there are usually more interesting things that your kind desires, beyond the mundane.”

“I…I can wish for anything?” Skip asked, “Aren’t there, usually, limits?”

“I can usually accommodate most anything.”

Skip’s mind was reeling…but he wanted to start small still, just…to confirm it worked. “I…There was a guy earlier, downstairs who was rude to me. I wish he was here, and that he’d apologize to me.”

The genie smiled. He was being cautious, of course, but he could tell what Skip really wanted–why not push him in the right direction? Time rewound, and when the wish came out again, there were a few changes.

I wish he was here, and that he’d apologize and suck me off.”

The genie snapped his fingers, and a cloud of blue and purple mist exploded by the door, and the young man appeared there, looking confused. A moment later though, his eyes glazed over, the same hazy colors as the smoke, and he walked over towards where Skip was by the counter. “I…I’m sorry, Sir, for being rude earlier,” the young man said, as he got down on his knees and started unbuttoning the fly on Skip’s work pants. “Let…let me show you just how sorry I am Sir, please…”

Skip could barely believe what was happening in front of him, but his cock was more than ready. The young man started sucking on him, and Skip moaned in pleasure, the genie smiling at him, happy to be of service. “Fuck, I…I don’t care if I am stroking out or something, this is amazing…Go on boy, take my cock all the way, that’s how I’ll know you’re really sorry about what you did…”

The young man–named Jason–did as he was told, and took Skip’s cock to the hilt in his mouth. Inside, the rich, preppy kid was freaking out–one second he’d been walking across the quad, going to meet some friends for dinner, and the next second he’d been teleported into this bathroom, and was sucking off some fat, ugly maintenance worker! Jason kept trying to resist, but he couldn’t disobey the strange compulsion in his head. He had to suck this man off…he didn’t have a choice.

“Fuck, can’t remember the last time I got head like this…it’s fucking nice…Fuck boy, you know what? I wish you were living with me. That way, I could use this mouth whenever I wanted!”

The genie smiled, and made a few alterations to that wish for a little added fun.

Here’s your next poll! The patron only poll is over here as well.

Interactive: Three Word Difference (Part 8)

“I wish my bros were into big, slutty himbos like me! We’d be…we’d, uh…what was I sayin’ again?” Tim said, the genie already sapping what remained of Tim’s intellect to start fulfilling his modified wish. The genie didn’t feel the need to modify much of the big man’s physique with this one, but as Tim grew dumber still, new desires started to cloud his mind–mostly focusing on how eager he was to get a good fuck. He hadn’t gotten fucked in ages! The biggest, manliest slut on campus, and he honestly couldn’t recall the last time he’d had a cock inside him. He took another drag off his cigar, imagining it was a cock, and moaned. Leaning forward, he shoved one hand down the back of his tight spandex shorts, and probed his hole with one meaty finger, his cock leaking in the front of them as well.

“I believe, Master, that you were going to tell me more about these, ‘bros’, you live with.”

“Fuck genie, they’re all fuckin’ studs, eager for my hole, you wouldn’t fuckin’ believe how lucky I am. I mean, I wish more of them were cigar smokers–it grosses a couple of them out.”

The genie rewound that bit, and Timothy spoke his wish again.

“I wish all of them were dominant, sadistic, cigar smokers–it grosses a couple of them out.”

Tim, not really smart enough to realize what his idle wish had done, leaned back, smoked, and fingered himself for another minute or two, until someone pounded on the door. “Hey slut! Are you in there?”

Tim recognized the voice–it was Greg, one of the members of the frat. He hurried over, opened his door, and there his bro stood–muscled, shirtless, smoking a cigar just as large as Tim’s was, groping the front of his mesh shorts.

“What the fuck did we tell you about locking your door, fag?”

“S-Sorry, I–” Tim’s excuse evaporated into a groan, as Greg latched onto his nipples and gave them a hard twist.

“I don’t need your dumb excuses–get on the bed.”

Tim hopped up on the bed, shorts down, ass up, and Greg grabbed some lube off Tim’s bedside table and slathered some on his cock. “Yeah, that’s right slut–we have an open door policy around here–you know that. That means that whenever any of us want this hole of yours, we should be able to just walk right in here and grab it–think you can remember that?”

“Fuck bro, I’m sorry man, but fuck, get…get that cock in me man, I fuckin’ need it so bad!” Tim said.

Greg laughed. “Can’t believe a bottom like you got the biggest cock on campus. What a fuckin’ waste.”

“Fuck bro, I wish your cock was big like mine…”

The genie’s eyes glowed, and time skipped a beat.

“Fuck bro, I wish your cock was big instead of mine…”

Greg slid his cock in, and Tim gasped a bit in surprise. Greg was on the smaller side of the cocks in the house, and usually Time could take him without any trouble, but today…maybe he was just a bit tighter? Greg drove his cock in deeper and deeper with each thrust, with Tim’s slutty hole finding itself stretched to the max, as his cock dwindled down, becoming even smaller than Greg’s had been before–just a couple inches long. “Yeah, you like that slut? Like having my monster cock planted deep in your fucking guts?” Greg said as he pushed his now eleven inches completely into Tim’s ass, listening to the slut moan with something between pain and desperate need.

“Fuck bro, just…just fuck me man, fuck my slutty hole…”

Greg held out for a couple more minutes, but he eventually came deep, planted to the root, Tim shuddering as he felt his bro’s massive cock throbbing and filling him up with a load of cum. Greg finished, and pulled out. “Remember fucker, no locks for you, or we’ll just take the door off.”

It took Tim a few minutes to recover from that fuck, quivering and shaking on the bed. He finally reached down to stroke himself, and was horrified to find that he was working with much, much less suddenly–and he realized then, what he’d said in the heat of sex.

“Wait! I…I didn’t want to lose my cock too,” he said to the genie, “I wish my cock was big again!”

Or rather, once the genie was through with it…

“I wish my cock was permanently locked up!”

The genie snapped his fingers, there was a sharp pain, and Greg found himself looking down at his tiny cock in a very small chastity cage–riveted shut. “No! What the fuckin’ hell! That…that’s not what I wanted!” He tugged at the cage, but it refused to budge. “You…you fucked with my wish, didn’t you! How did you do that?”

The genie just smirked, and Tim heard the frat house door open, and the sound of loud voices in the common room downstairs. Football practice was over–and that meant most of the house was home.

“Where’s that fuckin’ slut!” one of them shouted, “Get your ass down here, now!”

Tim shook his head, but the genie’s eyes sparkled. He found himself unable to resist going downstairs, where the filthy football players all took turns with both ends for the rest of the evening, Tim losing himself in a haze of fucking, musk, smoke and humiliation that he couldn’t get enough of, even as he knew it was all wrong. He woke up the next morning in his bed, hole wrecked as usual, a dried mess of cum under his locked crotch–some his own, but most of it from his loose hole, and he rolled upright, and found the genie looking at him, still smirking.

“Have a good night, slut? It sure looked like you were enjoying yourself,” the genie said.

“Please…please, I…I wish I didn’t have to be the frat’s sex slave anymore.”

The genie just shook his head, and this time Tim felt it, the words forcing their way back into his mouth, changing in his mind, becoming something else when he spit them back out.

“I wish I have to be the frat’s sex slave forever now!”

He clapped his hands over his mouth, but it was too late–the frat president and a few other bros came into his room, and told him that the frat had come to a decision. Tim wasn’t going to be a student anymore–he was going to be moving rooms too. They dragged him down into the basement, where they forced him into a cage next to the house washer and dryer, gagged him, and went back to bed. Tim begged through the gag to the genie, begging him not to leave him like this, but he just laughed.

“I’m sorry master, I can’t hear you through that silly gag–I’m just going to have to assume my services are no longer required here–enjoy yourself.”

With that, the genie disappeared, leaving Tim to his new lifetime role as the fraternity’s cumdump.

***

The genie found his way back to the same dorm as before, now two students lighter. He looked around again at his options, and made a decision of who to visit next. There was still Eli, the jock who had been Adam’s roommate, until he got whisked away into his new life. There was the clean freak freshman who had been complaining to Timothy about his slobby roommate earlier. There was a young, thin fellow currently jacking off in his room, thinking about…one of his older, bearish professors. Finally, coming up the stairs, was an older maintenance man, coming to fix some wiring. He was a bit of a perv himself–and liked his job mostly because he could see all the hot college boys that he wanted. There was plenty to work with, but what does the genie choose?

Here’s the poll! I think this will be the last character in this interactive–once the new year hits, I’ll do another round of New You Resolutions! The bonus poll for patrons is over here as well.

Archive: Matchmaker

Originally published July, 2012

Figured I might as well get back into cleaning up and reposting some old stories of mine! This was an old one with quite a few pics to go with it. This is the original version without much doctoring. For those interested, I added a few notes on to the end.

Synopsis: A young construction worker finds himself the heir to an unlikely legacy, and uses his new powers to help the men in his family find some unlikely romantic matches.

Click below to read more!

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Interactive: Three Word Difference (Part 7)

“Fuck it, I wish I was the big man on campus,” Timothy said. Is that what he’d wanted to say? He couldn’t quite recall, exactly, what he’d meant to come out of his mouth, but that seemed…right, mostly.

“Ah yes, that can certainly be arranged, Master,” the genie said, snapped his fingers, and Timothy felt something happening to his body. It didn’t hurt, exactly, but it also didn’t feel comfortable. It was his feet, at first–they were growing in his shoes, and it was getting uncomfortable in there, and then it really did start to hurt. He tried to undo the laces in time, but in a few moments, his feet ripped out through the sneakers entirely, and Timothy found himself face to face with his new size twenty feet, the tops covered in hair, and he just, gaped at them.

The sensation was rising higher, his legs beginning to throb and expand. Again, Timothy tried his very best to get out of his clothes, but he was growing too fast. He tore his way out of his jeans, his thighs now not only thicker, but longer as well, as he grew taller, in addition to larger in general.

“Hold…hold on, could you slow this down or something?” Timothy said, trying to get out of his shirt, but it was too tight already to come off, and in frustration, he tore in down the front as his chest expanded into two meaty pecs, the genie just holding his usual cocky smile. “I said I wanted to be the big man on campus, but I didn’t really mean it literally!”

“Oh I know Master, don’t worry, the physical changes are only part of the wish,” the genie said, and that didn’t exactly fill Timothy with confidence either. Thankfully, the changes were beginning to slow down somewhat, Timothy tearing off the rags of the clothes he’d been wearing moments before as he looked down at his new body. He was massive, easily six and a half feet tall, weighing in at over 300 pounds. Much of it was muscle, but he was…thick in other areas too, especially his gut, which was filling in last, along with plenty of body hair all over his chest, arms, and crotch. He looked over his gut and his eyes went wide–he was certainly the big man where it counted now! He gave his new, eleven inch cock a few strokes, and it hardened almost immediately, filling out to almost a foot long, thicker than a beer can–whoever he was with was going to have a hard time taking this monster, that was for sure.

“Look, this…this is too much, I don’t want to be a freak!” He turned to look at the genie, only to be captivated by the genie’s shimmering eyes, as the rest of the wish took hold of him. After all, a body like this would be wasted on a RA position–this was the body of a jock! Timothy’s mind began to drain, his studious nature replaced with a more athletic focus, his diligence replaced with a smug masculinity as well. The genie snapped his fingers again, and they weren’t standing in Timothy’s RA dorm room anymore–they were standing in Tim’s room at the nearby fraternity instead. Tim blinked a couple of times, looked around his room and grinned. “Fuck genie, this is fuckin’ crazy man! I’m a fuckin’ jock!”

He turned towards the mirror and gave a flex, admiring his new look, and already in love with it. “Fuckin’ amazing…” he said, picked up his still burning cigar, and took a long drag off of it, still working his cock. “Man, I wish my bros were big men like me! We’d be fuckin’ unstoppable on the field, man.”

The genie was already hard at work, warping Tim’s idle wish that he hadn’t really thought too hard about making. Still, the genie thought that Tim was in good shape, but he needed to start having some fun, or the genie was going to get a bit bored.

Sorry for the delay on this next chunk! Here’s your poll for the next wish. Patrons can find their bonus poll over here.