If you have questions, now’s the time to ask them! I’ll be breaking in the new blog with questions, and probably a few story captions for the rest of the day.

How come you never do your Q&As anymore?

Well, there are a few reasons, actually. First, answering questions takes a surprising about of time, especially if you care about giving reasonably detailed answers. I simply haven’t had all that much free time to answer questions, or by the time I get time, the questions have often lost relevance. That said, I always really liked taking questions, so I miss the Q&A aspect of my work a lot, because it gives me a chance to touch base with readers, see what’s working and what isn’t.

Second, it was taking up a whole lot of space on my blog. Like I said, I love answering asks, but a lot of readers don’t necessarily care that much about them (which is perfectly fine and understandable!) and I would on occasion get notes asking me to do fewer asks, because it would clutter people’s feeds, and I decided, after a few heated discussions, to back off the Q&A stuff for a while, and focus on putting out stories, and figure out a solution to this later.

Well, I have a solution! I went ahead and started a secondary blog, Bracken’s Junkbox. Rather than cluttering up my main blog with Q&A stuff, I figured I might as well create a secondary space for everything else. That way, if people just want the stories, they can just follow my main blog, and if they want to see everything else too, then they can follow my junk blog too. But the junk blog will have more than just asks, I’ve also wanted a space where I could reblog pictures, create captions, start collaborative stories and engage with other writers, artists and everyone else.

Nothing about this blog is going to change. There will still be four posts a week, just like always. Ok, so there is one change–this primary blog will no longer be accepting asks or submissions at all. If you want to send me one, then the only way to get it to me is through the ask page at Bracken’s Junkbox instead[1]. So if you have questions, or if you have stories or photos you’d like to see, make sure you get them to the right spot. The links above will now help you get to the proper location, to try and make things a bit easier for you. I may occasionally cross post as well, if I feel I have information important enough to bear mentioning on my main blog as well.

Other than that, things should go smoothly. I hope you all might find my junk interesting! There isn’t much over there now, but hopefully that will change rather quickly. I plan on doing a ask me anything session each Wednesday (including today!) So if there’s anything that’s been on your mind, now’s a good time to ask!

Thanks, as always, for reading!

Wes

[1] The reason for this is actually tumblr’s fault–instead of having asks go into one large pile, it divides messages between blogs, and prohibits you from answering questions from one blog on a different blog–and the same with submissions. That is, it forces a one-to-one relationship as far as submissions and asks go, which is a bit frustrating.

Hello World

Wesley Bracken here. I’ve decided to start up a secondary blog to provide more content, rather than clutter up my main page with more posts that not everyone will be interested in. All of my original stories will continue to show up on my primary blog, Bracken’s Corner–and this blog will be everything else. Asks, metawriting entries, photo reblogs, captions, reviews, commentary, arguments, rants, etc. I’m not exactly sure what kind of format it will look like or how often I’ll be posting over here, but if that sound intriguing to you, then make sure you follow this blog too.

Sketch – Mutual Friends (Part 2)

Warning: Gets a bit scummy–felching, slob, light scat.

Fuck, I don’t know where to begin. I don’t…is this even me? Am I even me anymore? I mean, sure, I enjoyed it, I…I wanted all of it, but maybe, maybe the best thing I can do is get it down, get it out of my head.

Gus wanted me to come over for a long weekend, with Sam. He said that Sam needed some special sessions, and that he’d have more fun if I was there too, along with him, helping Gus out with some things. I tried to say no, when he offered, but fuck, he wore me down quick. It was…he has more power over me, I don’t know how else to say it. At first, I mean, that stink, sure, when I was near it, there was nothing I could do, but away from him I felt like I had more autonomy, but the longer I’m with him, the more often we’re together, it’s harder and harder for me to think, harder for me to not do what Gus suggests. Fuck, even taking showers is getting hard, I don’t like them like I used to, I always feel…violated by how clean I feel when I get out, There’s just nothing quite like how sweaty and dirty and musky you are after a good long day at work, you know? When all you want to do is lounge around, lick out your own nasty pits, suck on your socks, and jack off six, seven times in a row. That’s what I do now. That’s what I want to do now, I can’t deny it, but it was Gus–I know he’s making me do this, making me think these things, making me into…into someone else.

This weekend, I was scared, sure. I was nervous. I was on guard as best I could be, for what Gus might try to get me to do. Sam and I finished work and I drove him over, Sam’s face buried in my armpit as I drove, like usual for us now. We got to the apartment, and for the first time ever, Gus’ musk and stench wasn’t the most powerful aroma in the room. Gus, apparently, had been cooking, and cooking a lot. Every piece of real estate in the already filthy kitchen was covered with food, and Gus told me to sit Sam down in the chair at the table and then had me bind him to the frame using the rope he’d left out, and I did as was told. Sam was excited–drooling from his mouth and his cock at the same time, begging for food…and I didn’t know what to make of it. I’d noticed Sam gaining weight lately, but I hadn’t thought much of it, really–because I didn’t want to think about it. My job, I thought, was to keep Sam in check at work–nothing less or more, but I could already tell that this weekend was going to result in a promotion of sorts.

I got him all bound up–including Sam’s hands to the arms of the chair–and Gus told me I could go ahead and get started. I didn’t know what he meant. So Gus, like talking to a child, told me to start feeding the pig. That was…when I tried to object. It didn’t work, of course–Gus came over, and got me all…horny, and soon I was shoving food in Sam’s face, and I was…it was hot, actually. Seeing him scarfing food down, unable to stop, even as his gut started bulging, and I…well, Gus kept encouraging me too. I fed the pig for hours, and eventually Gus stopped me. Sam was so full all he could do was moan. He’d shot his load a couple of times, and I hadn’t even touched his cock once. I was covered with food, and Gus got me out of my clothes, and told me we needed to go out and get dessert.

I thought we were going to the store. No–Gus forced me into some leather gear of his that kind of fit me, and we drove downtown to a sleazy leather bar and…

I don’t know how many it was.

My ass was free for any man who wanted it, and Gus…well, Gus made sure a lot of men wanted it. It hurt–I’d never been fucked before, and after each guy came inside of me, if there was no one right after them, Gus would plug me up with a small, wide dildo, keeping their seed inside me. I…I think a couple of guys even pissed in me. My gut hurt so much–I nearly cried on the ride home, but Gus just told me to be strong, that it was important I not lose Sam’s dessert. We got back, and tipped Sam back, I straddled him so he could lock lips with my hole, and I kept feeding him, and I was so disgusted with myself, but Sam ate all of it, and Gus…fuck, Gus made me like it, I shouldn’t be hard, thinking about that again, but here I am, sniffing my pits and stroking off thinking about that nasty pig sucking all that filth from my hole…

I did it again, the next night. And I was excited that time. I…I suggested it. Gus didn’t have to say anything, I did the work–begging men for their loads in my ass, and this time, the fuller my guts got, the…the sexier I felt, the harder my cock got, the more I looked forward to getting home so I could feed this filth to that nasty pig. The next day, it felt…wrong, not having anything in my hole. Gus fucked me over and over. I…I told him I’d just get started on dessert myself, and left Gus to feed Sam so I could find even more men to fill me up good, yeah, fuck, I…I thought this would help, it’s not helping. I…I miss it. I’ve tried to resist, I didn’t want to go out, but I gotta. I gotta feel it again, and I can’t feed the pig, but maybe…I mean, Gus was telling me how good it tastes, made me…made me clean the pig’s nasty face yesterday while he fucked me good…I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t but I want to. I need to. Fuck. Fuck it, fuck, I gotta get fucked, I don’t–forget it. At least he let me keep the leather gear, right? Just once, just to get it out of my system, and I’ll be good. I can control myself, right?

Sketch – Mutual Friends (Part 1)

He hadn’t been on the crew for very long at that point–to be honest, most of the other guys kind of hated him. Not because of anything he’d done, really–it’s just that the job was on a tight schedule and Sam had no fucking idea how to do anything, which meant that when he wasn’t slowing us down, we were stopping work just to teach him how to lay fucking asphalt. After a few days, he ended up flagging, which was better to be honest all around. Still, I could remember what it was like to be that green, and holding up projects. Some of the guys were outright cold, refused to even talk to him; the least I could do was a hello and some small talk, right?

Then the guy goes and thinks we’re fucking friends. I should have seen it coming. Out of the damn blue he invites me over to his place to watch the game with his roommate, and I didn’t have a damn interest in going, so I declined. Me and some of the other guys had planned on going to a strip joint, not that I told him, because heaven forbid he decided to tag along, right? Still, the invitations just wouldn’t fucking stop, after that, and a guy can only keep up with the damn excuses for so long. Still, he didn’t seem like a bad guy. I hadn’t exactly learned much about him, not that I cared, but he seemed…not just green, but…well, this work just didn’t seem like something he was used to. Sure, he was greasy and dirty like the rest of us, but he had no callouses on his hands, no tan, no work muscle–guy was kind of a ball of chub, if you know what I mean. Maybe he’d been laid off or something, I didn’t know, I didn’t want to listen to a sob story for sure. But on a night when I was feeling a bit down myself and thought the company couldn’t hurt, I finally took him up on his offer. He was bussing to work, but I had my truck, so I offered to drive him home and hang out for a bit with him and his “roommate.”

He lived in a shitty apartment in a shittier complex. He shoved open the door, and the whole place was a fucking sty–don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t exactly neat and tidy, but that place made me cringe. And fuck, it stank! Not just musky, not just stale–it stank. Still, I couldn’t really beg off now–I took a beer from him, he cleared off the couch and we sat down and started watching the game that was on, chatting a bit. His roommate was out–”probably buying beer or something,” Sam told me–but he seemed…anxious. Kept looking his phone and checking the time. I’d probably been there half an hour, and was trying to figure out a way to ditch somewhat gracefully, when the door swung open, and Sam’s roommate came in, with a twenty-four pack of beer under his arm. The guy was as messy as the apartment. The thing I remember most–his white t-shirt, those fucking pits of his were stained brown–I could see it across the room. The guy said hi, dropped the beer on the table in front of us, and immediately shoved himself in between us on the couch, throwing his arms around us both, and fuck! The stench rolling off those fuckin’ pits!

My eyes were watering, I started gagging, but I was paralyzed. My body…it wouldn’t move, even as it tried to keep the odor out of my lungs. On the other side of him, all I could hear was this strange slurping and groaning–I managed to roll my head far enough to see what was going on, and Sam had his face shoved in his roommate’s armpit, and was licking and sucking at it, hungry as could be, and the guy was…was encouraging him. Then he turned to me.

“So, you must be that buddy of Sam’s from work–he’s been trying to coax you over for weeks now! Good to meet you. Dale, right? My name’s Gus. Gotta say Sam, ya picked a good one.”

“Thanks Gus, I…I thought he’d be perfect.”

“Fuck yeah, he’s a beauty. Good muscles–I love the tattoos,” Gus ran his hand up under my shirt, where I was spasming on the couch, trying to understand what was happening to me. “Nice fuckin’ bulge too. Sam, get over here and show our guest some manners, get that cock out and start suckin’ on him like a good pig.”

“Fuck yeah, sure thing Gus! I’ve wanted his cock since the first day I saw him,” Sam said, got off the couch and in between my legs, hauled out my cock and started licking at my cock and balls, still sweaty from a day in the summer heat.

I tried to pull away, but Gus grabbed my head and pulled it back, right into the crook of his pit, pushing his face close, his breath as foul as his pits. “Now, now, don’t fight it, that’ll only make it hurt, or I’ll have to go to some extreme measures. Just inhale, Dale, and everything will be fine. You’ll get used to it, I promise. Fuck, look at Sam down there–just two months ago he came here looking for a room to rest, some fancy fucker in a suit with a job at a tech company but and now look at him. Still, I need someone to keep an eye on him during the day, and that somebody’s gonna be you. Help me out and do as I say, and everything will be just fine–you’ll get to use this pig’s holes as much as you want. Now take a deep breath, and relax…”

I…I don’t really remember what happened after that big breath I took. Gus…said a lot of things. A lot of things that made…a lot of sense, even though I can’t recall them right now. I ended up staying that first night, and by morning…it just made sense to help Gus out with his pig, you know? Keep him in line at work, help him out, make sure his holes are well worked and loose throughout the day. And everyday, I give Sam a ride home from the worksite…and Gus is there…and I get to smell him. I get to smell Gus while I fuck that pig’s brains out, and…and I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t stop myself, and it’s only getting worse. That, and Gus…Gus has been giving me these weird looks, these hungry looks. Talking about…about me the way he talks about Sam, sometimes, when he talks about…about what’s gonna happen to the pig. I’m staying with them both for a long weekend, and I wish I could say no…but I have a sinking, stinking feeling there’s not much I’d say no to, if Gus’ filthy body is involved.

Making Pigs (Part 3)

Officer Vernon knew this wasn’t what he should be doing.

He’d received multiple calls about a couple of guys having sex on the side of the freeway, in open view, and he’d been tasked with getting them to stop and arresting them for gross indecency. But he’d gotten off his motorcycle, walked over towards them, and then…and then here he’d been standing for a few minutes, just watching them fuck, his cock out of his uniform pants, stroking himself off, unable to look away.

“That’s good pig, just keep stroking that big, thick shaft of yours. Just keep watching me pound Porgy’s front hole. You like watching men fuck, don’t you? In fact, whenever you see men fucking, it’s like every other thought flies straight out of your brain, and it’s all you can think about.”

Yeah…yeah, he did have a hard time focusing on anything where guys were fucking in front of him, especially when one of them was a sexy pig like Porgy…fuck, watching that perfectly smooth fat jiggle, the fucker’s triple chins wobbling as the man plowed that pig’s cockhole deeper and deeper…What had he been thinking about again? It…it probably wasn’t that important really. His cock was important. He looked down at it, at the fifteen inch long monstrosity in his hands, and could barely believe the size of it. It hadn’t been that big before, had it? Who cares? It felt fucking good in his hands as he milked it, angling himself so he could show it off to the car’s driving by.

“Yeah pig, that’s right. You like showing off, don’t you? Why don’t you take that shirt off, show everyone that firm gut of yours and piggy pecs, those fat, inch long nipples you have studded on your chest. Go on, give them a twist, I bet they’re sensitive as hell, right? Almost enough to make you cum, just playing with those by themselves. And those fucking meaty thighs, packed with as much fat as muscle I bet.”

The buttons popped off as he tried to get his shirt off, and he ended up just tearing his way out of it, hearing the seams of his pants ripping apart at the same time. After a moment, he too was naked, aside from his boots which were bulging around his enlarging feet, stroking his massive cock with one hand, twisting his huge nipples with the other, eyes empty, drool leaking out one corner of his mouth, lost in the pleasure of his own changing body.

“Hairy beast too, a proper boar. Stupid as fuck though. Bet you can’t even talk. Still, those hands and feet of those are as massive as your cock–guess it’s true what they say. Damn short though–what are you, just a little over five feet? Damn pig, that cock of yours almost hits your fucking knees. Yeah, fucking look at you, Can’t believe I caught myself two today, gonna fuckin’–”

He watched the man start huffing and fucking Porgy deeper now, and with a cry, he shot his own load deep in Porgy’s front cunt, the pig letting out a squeal of his own, cumming for the fourth or fifth time.

“Get over here, come clean out Porgy’s holes like I know you want to. Cum hungry slut, covered with fucking hair. No thought in your heads except about fucking and stroking that big cock. Need a name too though–how about Boaris, eh?”

Boaris snorted his approval, and tried to walk over, bursting from the remains of the boots as he did, and got down in front of Porgy, hefted up the fat apron and shoved his lips to the pig’s gunt, sucking out all the cum he could, licking it up, digging his tongue in deep. The man came up behind him, running his hands through the thick, furry pelt that had grown in over Boaris’ whole body, from the tops of his size twenty feet to the backs of his palms to the huge curly beard swallowing his face.

“Porgy, clean yourself out, and give Boaris a treat–eh?”

Porgy somehow knew what the man meant, and he let loose his bladder, sending a flood of piss out his hole which Boaris tried to drink up, but a good bit of it just ran down the front of his body, soaking into his hair, running down over his pecs and the curve of his muscular gut.

“Alright you pigs, that’s enough get in the back–we have an auction to get to, and a long drive to get there.”

The two pigs, their past lives now well forgotten, hauled themselves into the bed of the truck–Boaris helping the massive Porgy in first, before hauling himself up after. The man climbed in the cab, started the engine, and drove off. It wasn’t a mile down the road that he felt the truck start bouncing–sure enough, Porgy was flat in the bed and Boaris was mounting him at eighty miles an hour down the highway. Yeah, these two were going to fetch a damn good price at the hog auction today, he could just tell. And with all the attention they were getting, it was a good chance they’d pick up a third or fourth pig on the way too. The man smiled and took a long drag off his cigarette–the pigs never see it coming, but somehow it never gets old.

Making Pigs (Part 2)

The man took another drag off his cigarette, looking like he was pondering something, while the pig kept sucking his cock, fiddling with his nipples as he did. “Still, I suppose we need a name for you, eh pig? I can’t just keep calling you pig, after all.”

That…that wasn’t right. He had a name, didn’t he? It was hard with his mouth glued to the man’s cock, but he twisted his eyes over, to the badge still pinned to the uniform shirt he’d stripped off earlier. Robertson. Something Robertson. And…and he had a wife, and he…he shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t be on the side of the fuycking highway, sucking off a stranger, no…no matter how much he might enjoy it. It took all of his energy, but he pulled himself away–it took so much force, that he ended up falling on his chubby ass on the pavement, which hurt, but the pain only brought his mind back more. “Fuck…fuck you, I have a name, you son of a bitch. My…My name is Robertson, and…and you’re under arrest, you fucking pervert.”

The man took a drag off his cigarette, and laughed. “Pig, you’re no cop–not anymore. Hey–I’ll tell you what. If you can fit in that uniform there, then I’ll let you arrest me, tough guy. Go on, I want to see you try.”

So he tried. He grabbed the shirt, and while he could get it over his shoulders, no matter how hard he tugged, there was no hope that he could possibly button it. Undeterred, he tried with the pants, but his thighs and ass had swollen so large that he couldn’t even get them close to his waist. “They…they fit me earlier. I was wearing them…”

“No pig, you weren’t–you weren’t wearing anything, because pigs don’t get to wear clothes.”

“They don’t?”

“Fuck no–now take those fucking things off, you dumb ass, and give them to me”

Confused, the pig none the less did as the man said, took off the uniform, and handed them to the man, watching as he got out his lighter, set them aflame, and chucked them a few yards off in front of the car. “That ain’t nobody anymore. And that means, you don’t have a name, right?”

“I…I suppose so.”

“How about Porgy? I think I’m going to call you that for a while, and see if it sticks. You like that name, I think. It makes your little, tiny piggy cock leak a bit whenever I call you that, doesn’t it? Just like how it makes you link knowing you’re naked in front of all of these fucking people. You’re one horny pig at this point, I bet–so why don’t we make you cum? Pig’s like you can only cum with a cock in their asspussy though, so you’d better bend over the front of the truck, Porgy.”

Porgy didn’t really…understand much of that, but his puny cock was hard, and he did want to feel that man’s big cock in his ass, really bad. With a snort, he waddled over and bent over the front of the truck, the metal hot on his flesh, ass towards the road. The man got out and came around behind him, sucking on his fingers and getting them wet, before probing around in the pigs hole with two or three, listening to the man’s grunts of pain turn to snorts of pleasure.

“Fuck, I love hairless pigs like you–not a hair anywhere on your body. Nude crotch, nothing in your crack, not even anything on that head of yours,” the man said, watching the hair on the man’s scalp retract, and he palmed Porgy’s head, “Feel’s good, huh Porgy? Good to have a man taking control of you, good to have his fingers in your cunt, good to show the whole world what a fat slut you are?” One last drag off that cigarette, and all that was left was a small butt. “Open up Porgy.”

The pig opened wide–the man snuffed his butt out on the pig’s tongue and then fed it to him, made the pig lick his fingers clean afterward, and took his time lighting another cig, the pig getting antsy, hungry to feel a real man’s cock deep in his piggy hole for the first time, dribbles of precum wetting the pavement beneath him as it dripped from his gunt. With another cigarette, he figured the pig was finally ready for his first proper fuck. He lined himself up and slipped in, the pig’s cunt giving no resistance, and Porgy let loose his first real squeal, bucking back, feeling his entire hole light up with pleasure, with need. This…this was his purpose, this was what he was made for, this is what he needed to to, needed to be. The first orgasm overwhelmed his entire body, his smooth skin shaking, eyes rolling back in his head as cum gushed out of his gunt across the asphalt beneath him.

The man pulled out, and ordered the pig to turn around. Not sure what the man was doing, he felt the man heft up his low hanging apron, and thrust himself inside the pig’s cock cavity. It hurt, feeling the man’s cock pound against his own, and yet…it felt good too. “How does it feel, huh? having a cock so small, being so fat that you might as well be a pussy? That you have a front hole where a cock should be?” The man twisted the pig’s nipples, and felt a second gush of cum flood around out around his cock as he thrust deeper, the pig’s cock shrinking even further up into his body. He pulled his cigarette free from his mouth after a long drag, leaned in and locked lips, feeding the pig his smoke, listening to the car honking behind them, the sound of tires grinding along the shoulder behind them. He looked up after the kiss, and saw a second pig climbing off a motorcycle and coming towards them. He hadn’t really planned on collecting two pigs today, but he wasn’t about to turn another one down, if they were coming to him.

Making Pigs (Part 1)

“Sir, do you know why I pulled you over?”

The man in truck took a drag off his cigarette, and eyed the police officer up and down, outside his window. Young, probably pretty new to the force. Cocky eyes. Flat top. Well muscled. Bulge in the front of his uniform pants. “Probably ‘cause I was goin’ ninety or so. What’s it to you?” he said, and blew a cloud of smoke in his direction.

“Sir, I’ll need your license and registration, and please put out that cigarette while I’m talking to you.”

He chuckled, “Sorry, I don’t obey anyone with a one inch dick in their pants.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me just fine.”

“Sir, get out of the car.”

The man did nothing, just took another inhale of smoke. “I’ll do whatever you want if you can prove yer cock’s bigger than my thumb.”

“My dick–sir, get out of the fucking car.” The man did nothing, just watched the young cop’s face turn redder, either out of anger or embarrassment he couldn’t tell, but it didn’t really matter. The cop wasn’t sure….why he did it exactly. It made sense at the time. He unbuckled his belt, undid his fly and pulled down his underwear, but his cock didn’t flop out like it usually did. He looked down, confused.

“We come on then, let me measure–come closer.”

The cop’s feet edged him closer, the man leaning out the window of the truck, pushing his thumb up next to the cop’s shrived cock, but it didn’t even come close to matching the man’s thumb. “Sorry, that ain’t gonna do.”

“If…if it was hard, it would…”

The man laughed, and started twiddling the cop’s now tiny cock, watching it grow slightly as the man moaned, unable to believe how sensitive the nub had become. It got hard in less than a minute, and the man measured again, but it still came up plenty short. “Heh, I was generous when I said an inch, that’s one of the smallest cock’s I’ve ever seen.” he said, and pulled his hand back.

“Wait! Wait, don’t…keep…keep touching it…”

“I told you, bitch, I don’t take orders from little fuckers like you. No, you take orders from me, isn’t that right?”

“N–No, I’m…I mean, I have the damn…the damn badge…” he said, but he couldn’t pull his hand away from his nub of a cock, couldn’t take his ears away from the cars whizzing past behind him on the freeway.

The man laughed, sucked on his cigarette, and then hauled his own cock out–all ten inches of it, and started stroking it slowly. The cop couldn’t take his eyes away from it. “I don’t think you’re going to be wearing that uniform anymore boy, you’re disrespecting it with that tiny cock. Strip.”

“But, I’m on the side of the road!” the cop said, but his hands were already moving, dropping his pants so he could step out of them, unbuttoning his shirt. Before he realized it, he was already in his underwear–a white tank over his muscular body, his tiny cock barely poking free of his briefs, still in his boots. “Please, I’ll…I’ll let you off with a warning! Please, just let me go.”

The man kept stroking for a moment, savoring it. “No. No, you’re going to suck my cock, right here on the side of the road. That’s what you really want, isn’t it pig?”

The cop shook his head side to side, and licked his lips, unable to keep his hands from his nub. The man popped open the door and twisted to the side, his legs hanging out the door, his cock…right there. The cop felt his feet moving him forward again, until he fell to his knees and licked the man’s cock from root to tip, and then took it in his mouth, sucking tentatively, surprised when the man grabbed him by the back of the head and shoved him down deep, feeling the cop gag and fight for breath, trying to push his way off.

“Don’t fight me, pig, you’re too fucking weak. No muscles, just that disgusting, flabby body hanging out of your underwear. You can’t do anything, so just fucking choke on it–I love the feeling of your throat fighting me.”

Tears were streaming from his eyes. What the fuck was wrong with him? Why was his hand still on his cock, shoved in his gunt, his finger running its way around the head buried in there, feeling how wet it was with precum, his other hand groping his flabby tits, pinching his meaty nipples through the tight tank he was wearing, riding up over his gut, which was hanging out entirely. Had…Had he always felt this…big? No–no, he’d been thinner before, he’d had muscles, hadn’t he? It was so hard to think, this guy’s cock was so hard, and it felt…so good, lodged in his throat, his face pressed into the man’s bush. This was…wrong. He should be in charge. He was the police officer, the…the pig around here, yeah, the big, fat pig.

“Everyone can see you, piggy. Everyone in the whole world can see you sucking my cock. You like that, don’t you? You like showing the whole world what a whore for cock you are?” Someone driving by yelled out the window, calling them sicko perverts. For…for some reason, that just made the pig’s cock ooze out more cum. “That’s good, pig. But why don’t we show the world just how shameless you are, eh?” He groaned, but even now, he wasn’t sure if he was terrified, or…or excited to see what the man had in mind.

Male Bonding (Part 5)

Life was never quite the same for any of those men. Jared and Trevor continued to bond over his father’s vacation time, and by the end of it, his father had completely accepted his proper position in life as his son’s whore. He spent his days at work, trying his best to pretend to be a version of himself which never existed any longer, but only felt fulfilled when he was at home, being plowed by the various men Trevor would bring over to abuse him. Trevor seemed like an expert at finding men to have sex with his father, actually–to be honest, Jared wondered if he simply walked out on the street, and picked randomly from the men passing by. After all, it wasn’t like anyone was going to say no, with his son’s ring glinting in their eyes.

A few months later, Maurice and Laura had a falling out, after she caught her husband once again drinking his own piss in the bathroom, and she kicked him out of the house. With nowhere to go, Maurice came over to Jared’s house, and begged Trevor for a place to stay while he sorted himself out. Trevor was more than happy to let him stay, on the condition that he become the house’s permanent urinal, though Trevor would occasionally rent him out to various clubs, so the pig could help make a bit of extra income for the house. Kirk, too, had a falling out with his wife, and ended up moving in with Trevor and Jared as well. Forbidden to shower now, he was a rank mess, begging men to let him suck on their feet or clean out their holes for them, after they got done abusing Maurice or Jared. His special treat, when he was especially well behaved, was that he got to eat all of the cum men had shot up Jared’s ass that day, and he live for it, gobbling all of it fresh from his hole. He also was often rented out alongside Maurice–thought Kirk got the job of being the club’s reusable toilet paper for the evening, while his old co-worker had a gut sloshing with piss.

Carter, Ryan, and Dustin managed to keep their lives together–somewhat. Carter had to get a divorce–he no longer had any interested in his wife, now that he understood how…intensely pleasurable it was him to have an arm shoved deep in his hole. He had to keep at least a six inch dildo in all day long, just to keep that damn itch at bay–thankfully he had Ryan in the office to help him out on a regular basis. In fact, Ryan was the boss of the entire department now–after Carter’s performance had slipped, he got transferred laterally, and the new and improved Ryan had been a perfect fit for the position. Dustin’s attitude was much improved as well, and he had proven to be an excellent assistant to Ryan now that he understood his proper position in the company, and in bed. It was Dustin who had perhaps taken his changes most to heart. he’d packed on close to fifty pounds in under six months, and Ryan was happy to make him eat all of the words he’d used to insult his new master in the past. He wasn’t going to let Ryan stop until he was over 400 pounds, and his slave wouldn’t get his cock free again until he hit 300. If he wanted the cage off his cock, then he was going to have to grow and grow and grow.

Ryan and Trevor became fast friends–at least, that’s how it seemed to Trevor. He liked Ryan, and he liked Ryan’s new attitude even more. How abusive he’d become, how he treated his inferiors. It made Trevor…proud to have made him. What he hadn’t realized, was that Ryan was playing him too–Ryan no longer kept his eye on Trevor’s ring out of bedazzlement, but out of envy. He waited patiently, until one night Trevor slipped up–drank too much, and blacked out, giving Ryan the perfect chance to pry the ring off his finger, slip in onto his own, and when Trevor woke up a few hours later, he and his new master had a little…chat, and Trevor realized just how much sense it made to let Ryan be in charge after all, and Ryan made his own rules–in particular, that no man inferior to him could weigh less than him, and so they all began gaining.

A year later, not one of them was less than 500 hundred pounds, because Ryan himself had ballooned up to 515. Still, his team of men (including Trevor, who had finally managed to find himself a good job working with his father, as well as Carter, who Ryan had transferred back under his proper sway) they were recognized as one of the most effective teams in the company, When asked what their secret was, all Ryan would say was that they had managed to bond not only as a team, but as men, in a way he could have hardly thought possible, and he smirked, shone his ring in the CEO’s face, and had one of his little chats.

Male Bonding (Part 4)

The game continued. Under the table, Jared had finished with Jared cock, and at his son’s orders had begun sucking off the remaining four men, while Maurice crawled around with him, draining bladders as the men needed–and they needed to often, as Trevor kept forcing drinks down their throats, and kept lighting more and more cigars for each of them. Kirk went down next–he’d never had that good of a poker face. Trevor had him eating out his armpits within moments, and then made the middle aged man get on his knees, and beg him to allow him the honor of licking his feet clean. Trevor was all too happy, but forced him to untie his shoes and pull off his socks with his teeth–and then made him promise that he wouldn’t shower more than once a week from that day on, and never with soap or deodorant–all the better to enjoy his own stink, right? Kirk was more than happy to agree, as he shoved his nose between Trevor’s toes and took it great heaving, piggish snorts, running his entire tongue from heel to toe, moaning and stroking his own cock like mad. He shoot on the floor, and Trevor made him lick it clean, before ordering him under the table as well to give the remaining three players foot massages and to lick them clean.

Carter, Dustin, and Ryan were the only remaining players. A strong rivalry had developed between Carter and Dustin, between ruler and usurper. It didn’t help that, with the fewest clothes, they each were the most vulnerable at being removed next. Ryan, on the other hand, still had the most clothes, and he was more than happy to keep it that way. He lost a few more, but it was Carter who fell next, pulling off his underwear as Trevor strode over, laughing. “Oh, and the boss falls! Still, we’ll have to find you something to sit on, don’t you think? Kirk! Get out here, and help me out with your boss here. Get on your hands and knees, Carter.”

Kirk was only too happy to clean out his boss’ hole. Well, at first he was disgusted, but the more he licked it, the more he…couldn’t stop. The more he enjoyed it. The more he loved the sensation of burrowing his tongue in there, getting it slick and wet. Trevor had to haul him away by the hair so he could line up his cock with Carter’s hole and slide it into the well opened hole, Carter immediately fighting the pleasure of it, of being penetrated, of being filled. His resistance didn’t last long, however, and he was shoving his whole body back, desperate to get more of Trevor’s cock inside him. Trevor told the two men at the table to get back to the game, that he had more to do with this pig here. A few rounds later, Carter was howling in some mixture of pain and pleasure as Trevor slipped his fist into his hole, the boss’ cock exploding across the carpet, Kirk diving for it and eating it up from the carpet. Trevor kept an eye on the heated battle going on between Dustin and Ryan. Neither had much left to lose in the game, and Dustin had come back from losing to being neck and neck. Ryan was terrified–but he hated Dustin, and he refused to lose to him. In the end, he counted the deck better, and beat him. Dustin was furious and went to jump across the table and throttle that “fat bitch,” but Trevor stopped him, and then told his father to take over loosening up his bosses’ asspussy for him. Jared dutifully got down and pushed his own fist in Carter’s hole in his son’s stead.

“Dustin, sit back down. Aren’t you hungry?”

“No I’m not fucking hungry, I’m–” he started to say, but Trevor shoved a slice of pizza in his mouth as he spoke.

“No fucker–you’re hungry. You’re fucking famished. You’re going to eat. You’re going to eat, and you’re not going to stop until I tell you to, got it?”

Dustin tried to fight the command, but he couldn’t. He went over to the mostly untouched snack table, and started stuffing his face with everything Laura, Maurice’s wife, had prepared earlier, shoving food in his mouth with his hands, terrified not only at the ferocity of his hunger, but also how horny he was at his sudden lack of control, at the sensation of his full gut.

Trevor ignored Dustin, however, and sat down next to Ryan. “Well done Ryan, looks like you win! Congrats–I kind of hope you’d be the one left standing.”

“Does…does that mean I can go? That…that you won’t do anything to me?”

Trevor laughed. “Let you go? Of course now, Ryan! No, you get the very best prize of all, in fact. No, forget…this. No, you’re a piece of shit, Ryan. Not because you’re fat–I love your size. No, because you’re the smartest fucker in this room, but you don’t believe it. You fucking hate yourself. No, Ryan. I’m not going to let you go–I’m going to kill everything in you that makes you weak, and then you’re going to help me break in these nasty sluts–how does that sound?”

Ryan tried to object, but Trevor just leaned in and started whispering in his ear. Slowly, Ryan stopped trying to fight back, and his face went…blank. Almost featureless, at the debauchery going on around them. Then, his mouth curled up into a smirk–a cruel smirk which was utterly alien to his face. His eyes took on new life, looking around him, at this nasty fucks around him, thinking about…about how much he was going to enjoy this. How much he’d always craved this, this ability to become a brutalizer, and he’d never even known it was inside him all along. Trevor released him, and he immediately got up from his chair, went over to Dustin, and started feeding him, faster than he could hope to keep up with, mocking him as he gagged and choked, trying to swallow everything Ryan shoved into him, and he smiled at Trevor. Trevor–he’d enslaved all of these men, sure, but not him. No, he’d simply told Ryan how to be free.