Dream Camp (Part 13)

Warning: Still gross and strange. Scat, anal vore, and other oddities of body and soul. This is the last chapter however! Maybe we’ll have someone more normal (and shorter) after this.

The final day of the camping trip was relatively uneventful, or perhaps it simply felt that way, because everything that had happened during the night was so insane it had rendered most everything else mundane by comparison. Christian came to his tent, and found his dad still cleaning up his morning mess–Barry was only too happy to take his son’s piss and shit right in his mouth, and then gave him a good solid fuck as well, though he found his increased mass made it substantially more difficult to give him as satisfying of a fuck as usual. Christian didn’t seem to mind–in fact, he didn’t seem the least bit fazed by any of it. Barry asked him a question about the Hoffsons, but the name no longer meant anything to Christian–apparently, it was like they had never existed at all. They finished their fuck–and Christian helped his massive father get dressed, since he couldn’t quite manage his uniform all on his own anymore, and then hauled him free of the tent, where Barry found the scouts all lined up and ready to help feed their Scoutmaster. One by one, the crouched over and Barry ate the shit straight from their holes, washing it down with their piss, and Barry had to admire them all. They had all become proper young bears overnight, covered with hair, some of them muscular, but most of them rather fat, thanks to Alex and Eric, who were busy feeding their newest pet, a man whose name Barry couldn’t even remember anymore, whose face had dissolved into nothing more than a single, massive sucking maw, with only vestigial arms and legs now, it’s entire body flabby, and yet taut–already filled to the brim with the father and sons’ milk.

Barry felt sated by the end, and the scouts all went off to prepare their own breakfasts. Barry thought he might as well cook his own, but suddenly the idea of normal food simply disgusted him…because he never ate food anymore. No, it only satisfied him once it was coming out the other end–the only things he’d be eating from now on were piss and shit–and cum of course, but that was beside the point. Still, there was…something he needed. He didn’t want food, but he was hungry as hell…and as much as he wanted to deny it, he knew what he needed. He needed to be fucked–and his hole needed to eat. Leaving his troop to their own meals, he set off wandering the campground, and he found for himself a group of college aged men enjoying the last bit of the weekend. Seeing this massively obese man lumbering towards them, covered with hair, beard crusted with shit, enter their campsite–all of them were disgusted–at least until Barry unleashed his first fart–then the three men were fighting each other for the privilege of fucking his massive hole first, but none of them needed to worry–he was famished enough to eat all three of them.

Later–now feeling considerably larger, his cock and balls swelling as the three young men dissolved in his bowels, he lumbered his way back to camp where the scouts were all eating their own meals, and he fed them all as well–his cum, the distilled manhood from the men he’d just devoured, watching his troop develop further, their hair growing longer, their musk stronger, their muscles and bones thickening and lengthening as they drank his cum, Barry feeling his balls shrink as they did, but he’d fill up again in no time. Still, it was time for them all to leave–after breakfast, the troop packed up their gear and bundled themselves into the cars–though there was substantially less room than before, with just Eric and Barry driving back–but there were also fewer scouts this time around as well.

Back at the parking lot, Barry returned his boys to their equally berish fathers, all of them so happy to see them–so happy that more than a few couldn’t resist the urge to fuck right there in the open, on the asphalt. Such a good troop he had–there was nothing Barry liked more than turning a boy into a real man–and his father into an even bigger, sexier man. And if they fought? Well, he ate the ones who resisted alive and fed them to their own sons, before auctioning off the boy to one of the other fathers in his troop. To this day, the only person who’d ever fucked him and lived was his son, Christian–and he planned on keeping it that way. The two of them headed home, finally–it had felt like that long weekend had lasted forever–but they were each already looking forward to their troop orgy Tuesday night, as well as next month’s camping trip. The entire troop had rented out a lodge in the mountains for a whole week–which meant Barry had to get busy if he was going to store up enough cum to feed everyone for an entire week. Still, Christian would keep him well supplied–he usually brought two or three men home for him every night. By next month, his balls would be so big, he’d be barely able to walk.

But before he fell asleep that night, and before he forgot, Barry took off the amulet and hung it away in the closet. He had a feeling he wouldn’t be wearing it again for a while–his dreams were so crazy now, he figured he’d better give the amulet a rest for a while–but at least he had it in case he ever needed it, or maybe he’d pass it on to one of his boys one day, and help them make their dreams come true too.

The End

Dream Camp (Part 12)

***WARNING*** This is probably the most disturbing thing I’ve ever written, though it does have significant competition on that front. Scat, filth, snuff and anal vore–you should probably skip this one too.

Max yanked harder, but Barry’s hole had his cock in a vice grip–he could pull harder, perhaps, but he was genuinely terrified that he might end up ripping off his cock. He looked to his father in terror, and Kyle began shouting at the pig, ordering him to release his son’s cock, but Barry wasn’t listening, because he was too focused on his own strange thoughts to pay attention to his master. It…it was the amulet. It could…sense that he’d lost control, and it was…giving him an opportunity, something he could use to fight back. Without knowing exactly how, his ass began…tugging at Max’s cock, making Barry shudder with pleasure all over again, like he’d turned on a perpetual orgasm machine–and it was clear that Max felt similarly. His cock, despite being in a vice grip, came again almost immediately, and then again and again, the orgasms coming so rapidly that to Max it became excruciatingly painful. He began tugging harder, but suddenly Barry’s hole made a new motion, latching on and pulling in even more of him, swallowing not only his entire cock, but his massive ball sack as well. Max began screaming in proper terror now, yanking and tugging, no longer caring if he yanked his genitals off, but he was feeling…weaker. His muscles were fading, his body was turning pale, and as Kyle watched, his son collapsed over the pig’s back, shuddering on occasion, shrinking bit by bit, until Barry’s ass opened once more, impossibly wide, and a much smaller Max fell partway into the stinking maw, the ass slamming shut, bending him backwards with a sickening crunch–like a bug in the mouth of a frog–Kyle screaming at his son’s lifeless eyes, and with one more crunch, Max fell into Barry’s ass and was swallowed whole.

Barry only had a distant grasp on what he’d just done, but with Max now…inside of him, he could almost feel him…digesting. His own body was changing, his balls…regrowing, emerging in his fat, his cock lengthening again as well, but he was still…famished, and he looked to Kyle, and grinned.

“What…what the fuck did you do to him?” Kyle stammered, “What the fuck did you do to my boy!”

Barry just looked up at him from the muddy filth he was lolling in, felt a pressure building at his ass, and let loose a filthy, disgusting fart, the stench both horrid and yet…oddly appealing. Kyle took a step back, but the stench hit him with the force of a truck, his cock immediately hardening and leaking, unable to think about anything beyond the horrid stench of the pig’s hole…and…and how much he wanted to…to fuck it. He fought, he pulled away, even though every fiber in his body screamed at him to fuck. Barry unleashed a second fart, louder and frothy, and watched Kyle’s eyes go blank, the beast stumbling forward and around behind him, lining up his hard, aching cock, and slipped it inside, Barry immediately clamping down and milked him roughly as well, but Kyle didn’t fight, not like Max had. The…stench, it was eating away at his mind. He was happy to be fucking, happy to feel these orgasms ripping their way through his body, happy to feel his body begin withering away, as he fucked himself deeper, allowing himself to be sucked into the gaping maw, eager to be swallowed by the disgusting, dripping orifice, happy to die fucking, and his mind was gone even before he’d been swallowed up whole.

Finally, Barry could feel himself relax, his ass full of food, feeling it slowly digest, his body changing slowly as he lounged in the muck. His muscles pumped themselves up again, enough that he would at least be able to walk. His cock bulged out, his balls as well–not as large as they’d been previously, but he was at least happy to have anything at all, after everything Kyle had done to him. Hair filled in across his body once more, turning slightly silver, as he grew older once more, but he was…happy. Content, and for the moment, not hungry. The dream, he could sense, was finally beginning to fade, the nightmare finally over.

Over…it was over, he was finally awake from that insanity. He rolled over in his tent, vaguely aware that he should still be sleeping with Kyle Hoffson…but he was alone. Alone, because apparently the old wive’s tale was true–if you die in your dreams, you really do die in real life. Or in this case…it would seem that you fail to have existed at all. That made him…feel rather uncomfortable, and his massive belly gave a loud rumble of discomfort–one he assumed was a stomach ache, until he felt his ass suddenly release, and shit spewed forth from him into his massive sleeping bag. The humiliation and embarrassment only lasted a second, until he smelled his own mess and they were both swept aside by excruciating hunger–and he began eating his own shit, grunting and snorting in his tent, piss following shortly behind, soaking the floor of his tent, and he realized he had hardly escaped that dream unscathed–and he wondered how true the final segment of it might be as well.

Dream Camp (Part 11)

***Warning*** Here’s where things start getting really strange. You might just want to stop here if watersports, scat, anal vore, or snuff freak you out–which just to clarify, they probably should freak you out. Still, these are horror stories! You’ve been warned!!!

“Silly, silly little boy. Playing at being a grownup this whole time, but I remember you, oh fuck, do I remember you now,” Kyle said, as he stalked closer to him, “Weak, fat, terrified. My son was right to beat you up, you little shit!”

Spittle flew, smacking Barry in the face. He kept trying to move, trying to run, but his feet were glued to the ground, stuck in the mud, and he felt…shorter. Smaller and weaker than before, this monster bearing down on him, and there was nothing he could do. Nothing–he was…was weak. He was just…just a pig, just a boy, not a man at all…

His body was changing, and he was aware that it was his own loss of confidence causing it, but there was no stopping it, nothing he could do, because Kyle was right. ScoutMaster Hoffson was right, had been right about everything. He could feel his muscles diminishing as his fat spread all around him in every direction, rooting him into the ground even more, sinking into the mud which had begun bubbling around him. It…it would feel so…so good, to just stop. To stop fighting, to just…embrace this. He was too heavy to do anything, too heavy to fight anymore. His legs began to wobble, and finally collapsed beneath him, mud splattering out and up, sinking into his folds, cold against his balls and cock, and he could feel them shrivelling up, growing smaller and smaller, tucking themselves away into his fat where he’d never be able to reach them, where no one would be able to reach them, where they should just stay. He didn’t need them, he didn’t even want them.

Master Hoffson walked over, pushed him backwards into the mud and climbed on him, pinning him in the muck, his huge cock pushing itself into his soft gut, “Not even a pig–fuck no, just a hog. Worthless as a fucking man, no fucking balls at all–all you’re good for is eating and abusing, isn’t that right? That’s what you want, isn’t it? To eat? To drink? To serve? To be abused?”

Barry knew, in his head, that everything he was saying was a lie, that he didn’t–that he shouldn’t–want these things, but feeling his balls shrivel further and finally disappear, feeling his snout start drooling, he was…starving. Every hole of his was starving. Master stood up again, leaving him in the muck, walked around to his head and squatted down over Barry’s now porcine face, his hairy ass right over him, and Barry knew, what he needed. Knew what would satisfy his hunger, and he began licking at his Master’s pucker, feeling it loosen, and the shit start pouring over him, and he swallowed down as much of it as he could, the filth choking out any shame that remained in him, the desire for filth overwhelming him, dominating every last chunk of his small mind, feeling his own bladder release, piss cascading from his gunt and out over his fat thighs, shit spilling out into the mud beneath him, warm muck between his cheeks. Master Hoffson finished his load and allowed his pig to lick his crack clean, and then washed off his face with a blast of musky piss, marking him now, demonstrating to them both that this was not just any hog–but his hog. His toilet. His cumdump. And Barry no longer could conceive of wanting to be anything else.

He looked up and saw his Master had changed–no longer simply a beast, he had reclaimed his some of his humanity, even as Barry had lost his own. His cock was still slimy and inhuman, but his face had lost its snout, now merely angular and hyper-masculine, with a grin full of sharp, pointed teeth, a body coated with hair, bulging with muscle without a single trace of fat anywhere. To Barry, he was simply a god, everything he wasn’t. Everything he could never be. The only life he could imagine was one serving this god, of providing the only services he could now–as a hole. As a dump.

“Max, get the fuck up–you’re fine. No son of mine is going to let a pig control him, right?” Barry could barely lift up his head to see Max, where he’d been lying on the ground, hole wrecked, begin forcing himself up at his father’s command. “No, you’re a real man, a true beast, like me. Show this pig what he deserves–I want to see you destroy him.”

The feral anger in the bully’s eyes no longer filled Barry with fear–only with a crude desire. He wanted this beast to abuse and wreck him, wanted it more than anything. Max forced him to roll over, his body expanding with bulk, his mind filling with cruelty as his father filled him up, and he hammered his cock into Barry’s disgusting hole, and Barry squealed with pleasure, his cock forever soft, but his new ass now incredibly loose and sensitive to even the smallest probing, his fatty folds shaking and shivering with pleasure, but Max didn’t last long–after a minute and a half, he finally spasmed and exploded deep inside the pig’s filthy bowels, and tried to pull out, but Barry wasn’t satisfied. Barry wanted…more, and with a sudden motion, he clamped down his ass on Max’s cock, locking him in, even as Max, in a bit of a panic, started yanking at it, clawing at the pig’s ass, but Barry wasn’t done yet–Barry needed…more. He needed everything Max could give him, and he was going to take it, whether he wanted to give it to him or not.

Dream Camp (Part 10)

Kyle was in a space–outdoors, but nondescript–a thick collar around his neck with spikes, attached to a heavy chain, attached to a post rooted in the floor. Barry was standing a few yards off, watching him struggle and fight against it, trying to get loose, but there was nowhere for him to go now, nowhere he could go to escape this anymore. But still, he was stubbornly resisting, his will bouncing off of him, but he’d anticipated this–and he had an idea for how to finally get Kyle to accept his dream.

Max appeared, looking around, confused, like he’d been somewhere else entirely a moment prior. He had the same collar on as his father, but was unchained, and seeing his father panicking and terrified, he knew what he needed. He flinched away from his son when he tried to come closer, and Max began chasing him around the post, until Barry began shortening the chain, giving Kyle less and less room to avoid him, until Max finally pinned him in place, and swallowed his cock into his hot throat. The initial pleasure overwhelmed him, Barry feeding his libido, encouraging him, convincing him to enjoy his son’s beastly throat. He came to his senses after a few moments and pushed his son away, but it was too late–he was weakening. His…cock. It wasn’t human anymore. It had gone into Max’s mouth human, and what emerged was…pink, inhuman, and slimy, with a sheath. Stunned, he allowed Max an opening to keep sucking, and the pleasure now was impossible for him to deny, and his instincts began to overwhelm him, making him grab hold of his son’s head and ramming his new cock down his throat, Barry watching as the rest of his body began changing as well.

His nails lengthened into claws, giving him a better hold on his son as he skull fucked, him, the rest of the changes radiating from his groin. Fur spread across his body, even as what little fat melted off him, his muscles bulging with power. Barry could see Kyle there still, in his eyes, both trying to understand what was happening to him and still trying to fight it, but as the fur grew over his whole body, it was obvious that he was growing weaker. Finally, his head and skull began to reshape, his snout pushing out, and there was nothing he could do to fight it any longer–or contain the anger he had always kept barely contained within his body. He threw his son off his now thirteen inch cock and mounted his ass, grunting, snorting and slobbering, licking his emerging tusks with his now long, prehensile tongue, hungry for pain, hungry to fuck, hungry to dominate. Barry saw what was happening, saw he was growing larger than he’d anticipated and tried to push him back, but his will was rebuffed–Kyle’s muscles swelling even larger, his bones and frame growing to support him, until he was at least seven feet tall, Max limp and whimpering beneath him like a ragdoll, simply trying to survive being pummelled by his beastly father’s now foot and a half long cock. He came with a thunderous roar, cum spewing with such force that it spurted out of Max’s now wrecked hole, forming a puddle around his body, his father removing his cock from him. Barry wondered if he was still alive–he didn’t seem to be moving.

Kyle, at least, turned to him. The collar was now comically tight around his neck, and with one hand, he reached up, grasped the leather, and ripped it apart, letting it fall behind him as he stalked towards Barry, eyes full of fury, his massive cock jutting out in front of him. He was taller than Barry was now, and Barry felt…something he hadn’t felt in days now–he felt fear. That same fear he’d always had, before all of this, the fear of this man, of Max, of what this brute might do to him, and too late, he felt the amulet feed off his fear, and Kyle grew larger and bulkier, looming over him now. Should he run? Should he fight? He was strong, sure, but was he that strong? He didn’t know, he didn’t know anymore.

He was losing control, just like he’d lost control the night before, in the tent with Christian, allowing his friend desires to warp him. He tried to hold on to himself, tried to focus on the power, on shrinking him down, on making him weaker, anything at all, but he couldn’t–he couldn’t do it because…because.

“Because you’re weak, pig.”

It was Kyle who’d said it, his voice impossibly deep, almost entirely a growl, but he understood it all the same.

“Because you’ve always been weak–but I should thank you,” he said, “I…I hadn’t realized, how strong I could be, but don’t worry piggy, we’re gonna have some fun. We have all night, right? In our dreams?” He took a step closer, and Barry tried to back up, but it was like his feet had been sucked into the earth, and all he could feel was terror, as the beast he’d created stalked toward him, licking it’s chops and stroking it’s gargantuan cock.

Dream Camp (Part 9)

“No…No! This can’t be real, this can’t be fucking real…” Kyle muttered, unable to believe how hard his own cock was, unable to believe that he…a part of him, a growing, part of him, wanted this.

“Oh, but it is real, and it’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of,” Barry growled in his ear, with one hand, he grabbed the back of Kyle’s pants, took hold of them, and ripped them apart, revealing his lightly haired ass, and with one grimy finger he started probing inside him, licking the side of Kyle’s neck, feeling him shiver at the invasion, and push back slightly. “That’s good, real good,” Barry said, “You know, I was a bit worried about you, you know, that you might not want to join in here, but maybe you just needed a bit more work than everyone else. Still, I think we’re gonna be spending the night together, but I’m not quite tired yet–why don’t we find a way to keep you occupied until then?”

Barry looked over his shoulder, and saw the knots the fatter scouts who’d stayed back at camp had been working on, and chuckled, “Who wants to earn their ropework merit badge? Mr. Hoffson…would like to be restrained–you scouts think you can work on that for a little while?”

The chubby scouts were more than happy to do anything their ScoutMaster wanted. They grabbed the rope and hurried over, collectively pinning down the still struggling Hoffson and working on binding him tight. Barry supervised, giving advice and encouragement to his loyal scouts, and when they were finished, after an hour, Kyle Hoffson wouldn’t be going anywhere, his arms and legs behind his back in a hogtie, his balls bound up and strung up to his ankles, his muscular body crisscrossed by rope, his mouth gagged. Barry picked him up by his bound hands and feet, like a basket, listening to him groan as he tugged on his bound balls, and carried him over to the middle of camp, where any number of scouts had given into their burgeoning desires, fucking and sucking and licking out in the open, no longer able to resist each other. The scouts who had remained behind seemed to have taken on their own qualities, all of them weighing at least five hundred pounds, after sucking down as much of Alex’s milk as they could drink. Some of the musky, hairy scouts immediately gravitated to them, fondling their fatty rolls, pushing them down and mounting them, others preferring to worship their fat bodies, the chubby young men shivering with pleasure.

Barry set Kyle down on his side, hearing him sigh when the tension on his balls is lessened, and then he called Max over from where the strange mutt was busy servicing Christian by one of the firepits. Max came bounding over, eager for anything his Master might desire–and Barry pointed him to his father. “Max, why don’t you entertain your dad here for a while? Suck his cock, finger his hole, lick him clean–but don’t fuck him. I do, however, want that ass of his nice and loose by nightfall, so make sure you at least work your fist in, got it?”

Max nodded eagerly, and Kyle tried to struggle away, calling to Max, telling him to stop, to not do this, that he was his father for Christ’s sake, but Max was too far gone now to even consider obeying him, his simple, near feral mind focused on his master’s and their commands. He slobbered all over his paw like hand and started rubbing it against his father’s backdoor, gently massaging it, Kyle trying to pull away, but unable to do so without yanking his nuts and making himself nauseous, and before too long one finger was inside, and Max rewarded him by sucking his cock. Kyle sobbed, unable to believe that he was somehow hard, but the stench of musk in the air was beginning to affect him, make it harder for him to think. He fought against feeding his own son that first load, begging him to stop when he felt his balls constrict, but Max wanted it, wanted to taste his dad’s cum, wanted to see if it was as delicious as he’d always imagined it might be. He fought less during his son’s second suck, and by the third, with his boy’s feral fist buried in his hole, drilling his prostate, he had begun to beg for it, plead for it, encourage his filthy animal of a son to suck him harder.

He realized that, at some point, it had become night. The young men in their patrols had eventually grown hungry and were busy cooking their dinners, though some of the fatter young men had decided they would rather feast at the tit for the evening, and were jockeying for position in front of a quivering, milk soaked, Alex. Eric was still focused on his newest addition to the harem, molding his strange form to better serve as his one of his whores, and Barry had finally found a moment to pull his son aside and mount him next to the fire, slowly and gently, enjoying their mutual musk in the night chill. It wasn’t too much longer after that, when the campers, exhausted from a busy day, began to go off in groups to their tents for one final romp before sleep, and Barry knew it was time. “Son, I think you’re gonna have to sleep without your daddy tonight–I got some other business to attend to.”

Christian objected loudly, but Barry stood firm, consoling him with the fact that Max would sleep with him, keeping him happy all night long, but Barry, well, Barry needed some time with Kyle. His son wasn’t happy about the arrangement but he knew better than to disobey his father–so he led Max off to his tent, and Barry again picked Kyle up off the ground and carried him over to his tent, set him inside, and started untying him, but left his hands bound in front of him, his ankles bound as well, and then pulled him close, sliding Kyle onto his cock, feeling the older man sob even as he enjoyed the wonderful fullness, the hot rod buried inside him, the musk of the ScoutMaster shrouding him, making it hard to think. Barry was fighting the heat of the amulet, trying to stay awake and relish the moment, but he finally succumbed to sleep as he worked his cock in to the hilt, started snoring, and immediately began to dream.

Dream Camp (Part 8)

They returned to the rest of the hiking group, pushing through the trees, the scout now sporting a full beard, a small gut, and a longer cock he couldn’t seem to keep his hands away from. Barry watched something pass through all of them, almost like a wave of some strange energy, the scouts all turning more…manly, all of them except Kyle Hoffson, who remained stubbornly unchanged…even when he saw his son Max, come lumbering out of the woods behind them, shorter, no longer wearing a uniform other than his neckerchief, soaked with sweat and cum, his paws glued to his thick, bestial cock.

“M-Max?” he said, mostly to himself, “What…I…”

Kyle couldn’t take his eyes away from the strange, disturbing beast. That…that couldn’t be his son. He would never…never, have a son like…like that, right? Max grinned up at him, baring his strange teeth in that inhuman snout, and then walked over and hefted a heavy pack onto his muscular back, and Kyle…Kyle felt something inside him, something he’d never felt before, grow tighter. It had been getting tighter all weekend, ever since he’d seen that obese monstrosity of a man in the parking lot dropping off his son, this strange sense that his hold on reality, it was becoming strained. He was trying to hold it together, trying to keep in mind what was real and what wasn’t, but increasingly he’d felt like he was living in some twisted, perverse dreamscape. First, Eric and Alex Mendel with their, freakish leaking chests. Then the disgusting perversity of Barry Brooke and his overgrown boy, and now…now his son? His own son? He couldn’t look like that! If…if Max looked like that, and if Max was his son, then…then what would that make him?

It grew tighter, he didn’t feel like he belonged in this place anymore. He looked around at the scouts, his scouts, and realized he barely recognized any of them, anymore. All of them were suddenly hulking, hairy young men, stinking with musk, all of them obviously corrupted by that filth Barry Brooke put out from his disgusting body. The disgusting fucker, he revelled in it, in his…his power and authority. Look at him, his cock hanging out openly, all of the scouts staring at it, smelling it, smelling him and each other. He had to get out of here, he needed to get out of here, and with a sudden terror, he grabbed his pack and started off back on the trail, leaving the rest of them behind. He had to get back to camp, he had to escape, before whatever this insanity was overwhelmed him.

The rest of the scouts watched him leave, and then looked to Barry. He could…sense it now, Kyle’s hold on reality beginning to fray slightly. He wasn’t sure whether it was simply stubbornness or just a lack of imagination that made him so resistant, but now he knew he wouldn’t be able to resist his dream forever. “Well boys? What do you think? Should we get back to camp for the evening?”

His young men all nodded, and Barry led the way, Max behind him, carrying his scoutmaster’s pack along with his own, happy to serve as beast of burden, like always. The boys followed behind, enjoying the musky scent of their ScoutMaster leading the way, their bodies developing as they did, bodies growing hairy, beards filling in and growing long, their own bodies becoming sweatier, their cocks and balls growing, leaking in their uniforms. More than once, on the way back, one of them would begin to have doubts, begin to fear what was happening to them, and they would try to hang back, to get away, but Christian, following up at the end, was waiting for them. They would, spend a bit of quality time together, their faces buried in Christian’s reeking pits, our slurping at his engorged cock, until they no longer questioned what was happening, until the desired it, and then the two of them would double time and catch up to the main group.

Up at the front, Barry kept the pace quick, not necessarily because he wanted to make it back to camp quickly–if anything, he would have preferred a few more breaks, so he could see how his scouts were all developing behind him, wallowing in his cloud of perverse musk, but no–he was keeping his eyes ahead, to where he could see Kyle trudging along as quickly as he could, desperate to put as much space between himself and Barry as he could. Barry could smell him on the wind: his sweat, but also his terror and confusion. He saw him ditch his pack to the side of the trail, look over his shoulder at the band of scouts behind him, led by their massive, obese ScoutMaster, his eyes wide with the terror of prey, and he started running proper, with about two miles left before they reached camp. Barry let him pull away from them, keeping the pace steady. Kyle was strong, but he wasn’t that strong, to keep up a run like that for much longer than a mile. Still, Barry wanted him exhausted. Barry wanted him stinking, and scared, and too weak to fight him. Let him run, he thought, he can’t run from what’s been coming to him for years and years.

Kyle reached camp, and found himself staring at something just as disturbing, his fellow leader latched to Alex Mendel’s tit, now the fattest man he’d ever seen, his arms and legs beginning to wither and atrophy, all of their muscle now concentrating themselves in his neck and chest, his eyes becoming swallowed in fat, his ears growing smaller as he became more and more cut off from the world, now just a body made to suck and swallow. The man, hearing him coming, pulled away from Alex and looked over at him, his mouth toothless, just two swollen lips, a thick, grotesque tongue licking them clean of milk, before Alex guided his face back to sucking, which the man would be doing for the rest of his life. Alex smiled at Kyle, and beckoned him closer, squeezing out of his tits, spurting out a bit of his sweet milk, and Kyle…Kyle felt himself stretch to the brink. With a primal scream, he ran to his SUV and started clawing at the door, needing to get away from this nightmare, when a bod slammed up against him, pinning him to the side, a voice in his ear growling, “No Kyle, I don’t think you get to leave yet–what would the troop do without their favorite pig?”

Dream Camp (Part 7)

Is he dreaming now? The thought occurs to him too late to do him any good. One moment, he was certain he was awake, lounging with his son, the next, he is no longer certain of anything, the sky oversaturated with color, Max crawling towards them both across the ground. He seems scared, but his terror is no longer enough to keep him away from what he wants. He circles around them, keeping his distance, snorting and huffing, but Barry knows that if they just remain still, he’ll approach eventually. Each time Max reappears in his field of vision, something…changes. His nose flattens. His bottom incisors have grown out past his lips. His muscles have bulged out, especially his shoulders, collapsing the length of his neck. His hands aren’t hands, his feet aren’t feet. He’s making this…noise, a desperate whine, snout twitching with need, a dark red, almost purple tongue hanging from his mouth, glistening with spittle in the harsh light. His clothes have disappeared, revealing a body coated with hair including much of his face by a thick, but short, beard.

His circling has become tighter now, and he finally stops at Barry’s side, sniffing him, his cock hardening, nose snuffling at his pit. Barry lifts his arm, and his own musk–it’s so much stronger suddenly, so strong even he can barely contain the lust that pulses through him when he smells himself, Max digging in, licking and slobbering, Christian, in his lap, groaning, rubbing his cock, his dad pulling him closer, into his stench. He can sense it spreading to him, encompassing them both like some strange cloud. Max is now licking his body mindlessly, but Barry and Christian are focused on their combined stench, their unwashed bodies, their greasy hair and tangled beards–

“Ummm…Mr…Mr. Brooke?”

The sun felt so good, so warm.

“Dad? We should get going–we still have five miles.”

Barry stretched on the ground, still against the tree. Max, whatever he was now, something between…well, he didn’t really know, really, but he was happily licking his grungy hiking boot, one strange paw like hand groping at his hard, strange looking, cock. He looked up and saw Christian standing already, pulling on his grimy, sweaty uniform. It was another scout who had come to find them, a guy in another patrol named John, eyes still wide at the scene he’d stumbled upon, but by the time Barry had stood up, everything seemed so…normal, suddenly. Barry pulled up his pants, soaked in his musky sweat, and buttoned them, but left his huge cock flopping out the front where it could air out a bit. “Thanks, must’ve fallen asleep there,” he said, walking past John, placing a hand on his shoulder, his stench making the young man tense up and spasm, as he spontaneously shot his load into his underwear. Barry chuckled. Fuck, he loved his boys. He leaned in and gave him a forceful kiss, one hand shoving its way into the young man’s pants, coating itself in cum before pulling out, feeling John moan into his mouth, hungry for his spit. Barry drew away and licked the cum from his fingers, and the scout leaned in, rubbing his face against his scoutmaster’s hairy chest.

Barry looked over, and saw Max was busy cleaning off his son’s cock, and now he could actually get a better look at what, exactly, he was. He was indeed something between a man, a pig and a dog, if he had to try and pin it down. He had a pig’s snout, definitely, with two short tusks pushing out on either side. His tongue was…very long, he saw, as he watched it lick Christian’s cock–it could stretch from head to root with no trouble at all. The rest of Max’s body, however, was a bit…harder to describe. He was coated with fur–not like a person, more like the pelt of an animal. His hands were closer to paws, but his feet were more like trotters, or hooves, and a short, bushy tail stuck out above his hairy ass. His body was substantially more muscular, but in a rather beastly fashion, and the muscle was covered with a thick layer of fat as well, giving him a firm and brawny physique. As he licked, he was busy rubbing his own cock, which was bright pink and…and definitely not human, with it’s odd slimy texture and narrow, pointed head. It was big, too–at least ten inches, which looked larger on him, because Max had shrunk considerably, down to about five feet tall, though his new posture didn’t help, hunched over like that.

The scout licking and chewing at his chest hair was getting him all riled up again, and he pushed him back gently, knowing that if he got started all over again, none of them would get back to camp before nightfall. But when he saw the young man’s face, he gave a bit of a start–his previously smooth face was now coated with dark stubble. Had he…done that? He couldn’t know for certain, but it looked good on him. Every boy looked better as a man, after all, and if he could, he’d make men out of all of them, he thought with a chuckle.

“Come on, ya’ll, let’s get back and get moving,” Barry said, “We’ve rested long enough, I think.”

Together, the four of them walked back to the troop. Barry led the way with Christian, the scout rubbing his stubbly face and wondering what had just happened to him, and Max following behind them, snorting and grunting happily, still stroking his cock with one paw, licking the palm clean of its slime on occasion, his old life now well and forever behind him.

Dream Camp (Part 6)

The troop had planned a ten mile hike for that day, around the large lake that the campground was butting up against. The hike was technically optional–Eric and Alex were going to stick around camp and work on some badge requirements with any scouts who didn’t want to go, and several of them stayed–although they were less interested in learning about knots and more desperate to latch onto Alex’s tits and suck the young man dry when they got the chance. The other adult–Saul–stuck around as well. In fact, he’d been with Eric almost all morning, his mouth latched onto his tits, spasming every few minutes as another orgasm ripped through him, his flat stomach already forming a round gut. Poor guy was gonna be stuck in Eric’s harem if he kept that up–just one more obese, empty headed titsucker, like all the others Eric kept at his home. Barry shivered a bit, thinking about how…nice that would be, to just lay around, sucking down Eric’s delicious milk, not having to think about anything else ever again…but he had Christian to think of too. Maybe…maybe when he was older, and out on his own, then maybe Barry would take Eric up on his standing offer he would occasionally try to tempt him with.

That left Barry, Kyle, Christian and most of the older scouts to go on the hike. They all made their lunches, put together their day packs, and got to the trailhead around noon. The weather had turned clear, at least, thought it was still cold and a bit blustery. Barry was thankful for his new body, however–he felt so energetic! Usually he wouldn’t have gone on a hike like this at all, because he would have collapsed before the first mile. Now, however, even though he was still very fat, he also had a much longer stride and the endurance to fuck his cock hungry boy all night long. In fact, by the end of the first mile, he didn’t feel the least bit winded–though he had begun to sweat profusely, soaking his hairy body, the pits of his uniform shirt dark with sweat, and it was hard keeping his head clear when his stinking musk kept distracting him, and making him horny as hell. Christian wasn’t helping much either, walking in front of him, swinging his chubby ass right in his dad’s face. He’d started sweating too–Barry could smell–and see–the sweat collecting in his son’s crack especially, imagining how smelly it might be, thinking about how much he wanted to shove his face in there and eat out his filthy hole.

By the time they reached the five mile marker, where they had planned on eating lunch, both Barry and Christian had their uniforms soaked to the skin, their cocks fully erect and leaking, the scouts around them all trying to keep their own heads clear in the musk of them both. Max, in particular, was in heaven. He’d…always kind of liked how guys smelled, in the locker room after practice. He’d never dared tell his dad something like that–he’d assume his tough boy was some kind of fag–but even Max had never imagined anyone could smell as good as Barry or Christian did. He…he wanted them, there was no use denying it. He wanted their sweat coating his body, he wanted to lick them clean, to bathe in their musk and cum and…and what the hell was he thinking? He wasn’t some fucking fag! Sure, he’d always…kind of wondered, but he couldn’t. His dad would kill him, if he found out Max had even thought of something like that.

Kyle called a long break for lunch, and looked around, but Barry and Christian had already thrown their packs down to the ground and were storming off into the woods, hungry for each other, Barry shoving his son up against a tree, yanking down his pants and burying his bearded face in between Christian’s ass cheeks, tongue probing his loose hole, tasting his loads of cum from earlier still leaking their way free from his ass. Christian bore down and blew a wet fart right in his father’s face, the stench hitting him like a freight train, cock spurting in his uniform pants, driving him into a frenzy of eating and licking as Christian moaned, and farted again. Barry couldn’t wait anymore, he couldn’t resist anymore. He stood up, not even realizing he was growling, shoved down his pants and rammed his cock into Christian in a single thrust. Before, he’d been horny, but still conscious of himself. This fuck however–he felt like an animal. He pulled Christian close to him, raking his nails across his fat gut, slamming his cock in deep, biting down on his shoulder, sucking at the skin, licking at it, marking him. He was his, all his. His forever. He came, a load even more massive than earlier, but kept fucking, feeling it squelch out, dribbling to the forest floor below them, one hand reaching around and milking his boy’s cock until he too shot up and down the trunk of the tree. Only then did his mind return, and he was able to pull away, legs trembling, and they collapsed together–Barry sitting against the tree, Christian in his lap between his legs, his daddy hugging him close against his belly, and they saw Max behind a tree a few yards away, watching them, cock hanging from his pants, drooling.

The amulet was warm against his hair, just like the sun, but he still had enough energy to beckon Max closer. He could see the need on his face, the reluctance, the fear and the desire. He kept stroking, Barry leaned forward and licked the side of his son’s neck, biting at his earlobe gently, never taking his eyes from Max, even as his own eyelids began to droop. He was so tired, all of a sudden, but he was coming closer, coming to them. Yeah, come on boy, come to me, come to us, where you know you belong…

Dream Camp (Part 5)

Barry had to fuck his boy twice–he couldn’t help it, it was like he was on autopilot. As he woke up and realized what must have happened, that the wrong dream had come true, he tried to stop himself, but he simply couldn’t. His boy needed a good, proper loving after all, and Barry was the only one who could give it to him. Even though they had woken up ahead of the rest of the troop, they were some of the last people out of the tent, Barry having to get used to his new size…but he only realized just how large he’d become once he stepped outside, standing to his new height of eight feet for the first time.

Everyone around them treated him like normal, but he felt like a freak, wearing this adult uniform bulging with his fat body, his cock shoved down one leg of his pants…still leaking. Everyone….everyone just seemed so damn small, all of a sudden. Christian followed after him, and his boy was shorter than him as well, but still taller than all of the other scouts–even Max and Mr. Hoffson. “Thanks dad–I’ll see you after breakfast? Before the hike?” Christian asked.

“Huh?” Barry growled, “Oh, of course–you know how I get when I don’t give my boy a good fuck every few hours.” He grinned, but he wanted to scream. The words were falling out so naturally. Christian looked happy as could be, and went off to join the rest of his patrol in cooking breakfast. Barry took a step or two to follow him, but realized that he didn’t belong there, not anymore. No…he was a leader now. In fact, he was the assistant scoutmaster, second to Mr. Hoffson, though he knew all the scouts liked him better.

He looked over and saw the adults had congregated around their own set up–a much nicer one, he’d always noticed, and were busy cooking their own meal, or rather, Eric was cooking–he was the best at it, and enjoyed it the most. Barry lumbered over, poured himself a big mug of coffee, and tried to sit at the picnic bench, but he couldn’t bend his legs under the table. He ended up turning around and sitting backwards on the bench instead, though his knees still came uncomfortably high, the wood groaning loudly under his weight. He had no idea how heavy he might be–even at his new height and build he had a substantial apron of fat hanging off of him. If he had to guess, he was probably somewhere around 600 pounds.

“Need some cream in there?” Eric asked, taking a break from cooking to come around in front of him, his uniform shirt hiked up over his lower set of tits. Barry grunted, but put his cup under a nipple, letting Alex shoot a bit of his milk into his coffee. He swirled it a bit and gave it a sip–immediately his cock was hard, his skin felt flushed. Fuck, if that’s what a real man’s milk could do, no wonder Eric was careful about not letting just anyone drink straight from the tap. He could almost feel Mr. Hoffson’s scowl (or rather Kyle Hoffson–he had always just been Kyle to Barry now) drilling into the back of his neck. It was much, much easier to shrug off the disapproval, now that he knew how much bigger he was than him, and Kyle knew it too. Barry looked over his shoulder and met his now fellow leader’s gaze for a moment, until Kyle looked away, cheeks reddening slightly, and he could…smell something, coming off him. Something else that was making him a bit horny all of a sudden, though not as much as Eric’s cream, of course. He took another sip, enjoying the jolt now that he could anticipate it, and looked over at the patrols getting ready for the rest of the day, the amulet heavy around his neck. Was he…happy about this? What about his own dad and mom? What about his old life? He didn’t know how to be an adult–hell, he barely knew how to be a teenager. It did feel good though, and looking at his boy over there…fuck, he was handsome. Best thing in his whole damn life. He didn’t want to go back–then what would Christian do without him? The amulet seemed to be pretty good at sorting things out, so he’d just have to wait and see.

The patrols finished their breakfast, and while they were cleaning up, Barry felt the need rising up in him again, pulled his boy into their tent and gave him another deep fuck. Everyone knew what they were doing, but for whatever reason it didn’t faze them in the slightest–the only person who seemed to recognize anything strange about the whole thing was Kyle, but even he couldn’t put his finger on what, exactly, was the matter. Barry could sense his resistance, but he wasn’t too concerned about it. Still, something was gonna have to be done about him–just like Barry had always planned, but had a feeling it wouldn’t be as easy as he’d thought. The amulet…it didn’t give him a good feeling–when he was near him, it turned cold. Still, Kyle wouldn’t be a problem for too long, he figured, and Barry unloaded another massive load into his son’s hungry hole with a growl heard throughout the campsite. A growl which made more than a few scouts unexpectedly horny, even though few were willing to admit it to themselves. There was one scout who had remained focused on the tent the entire time, however–Max, Kyle’s buff son, had been staring and licking his lips, trying to understand the raging hardon he had and the…the musky smell in the air. He…he needed something, he needed it bad. He caught his dad staring at him staring at the tent, and he looked away, embarrassed, but he had the strangest feeling in his gut, that something was going to happen. It might be good or bad, but either way, he wanted it, and he wanted it bad–whatever it was.

Dream Camp (Part 4)

For a long while, nothing. Barry is there, and yet he isn’t, because you can’t be nowhere. He can sense this nowhere is his space, that nothing will happen tonight, that he will just sleep, but something is coming. He can feel it, drawing closer, the sensation of two universes colliding, and then they do. He is now somewhere, but he doesn’t know where. It feel alien. He feels like an intruder. This isn’t his, he knows that, but doesn’t know what it means.

A voice, someone crying. He looks up, and Christian comes through a doorway, eyes red.

“Have you seen my daddy?”

Something is wrong. He shouldn’t be here. Barry can’t move, but his lips are moving, he is speaking.

“I don’t know where he went.”

Christian is close now, no longer crying.

“That’s ok, you’re here. You can be my daddy now.”

Barry tries to tell him that he can’t, but he can’t respond. He can, however, feel himself changing. Growing taller, growing older. He is naked suddenly. He sees his gut sprouting hair, first brown, like his, then changing black, matching Christian’s hair, then sprinkled with white. He feels so strong, but also so out of proportion.

“You’ll be the biggest daddy, the manliest daddy. You’ll never leave me.”

More hair is filling in, so thick down the center of his gut that he can’t see the skin, tingling all over his back and down to his ass. His cock is growing, now close to a foot long, his balls heavy and churning with cum. He’s growing taller as well, the room growing with him, but Christian is small. Small, so small, he needs to be taken care of, his son, he needs to care for his son.

“You love me daddy. You love me so much, more than anyone else, ever.”

Care for him. Love him. Make love to him. Kiss him. Kiss his son, taste him, make him feel safe, make him feel good. He loses track of what happens, but his boy is with him, and his boy is safe. He loves him, he loves him so much, he’ll love him forever…

Barry wasn’t sure what time it was–from inside the tent, it looked like morning twilight, but Barry couldn’t hear anyone outside, which meant, thankfully, that it wasn’t quite time to get up yet, and he rolled over, finding his son in the sleeping bag next to him, and pulled him close. He knew that it was wrong, that whatever had happened in their dreams, that he needed to try and fight this, but why would he? he loved Christian, he loved him more than anything…but he felt…small, though his son didn’t stay that way for long. As Barry embraced him, he felt his son start expanding–becoming taller, thicker, hairier. Still not as big or hairy as his dad, but he had most of puberty left to get through, after all. Slowly, gently, he pressed the head of his huge cock to his boy’s pucker, slipping it inside, his son accustomed to taking his dad’s massive girth–hell, Christian was the only man Barry had ever fucked to the hilt, who’d had enough practice to take all fourteen inches of his cock, but that was only because the two of them fucked day and night. Neither of them could help it–their heavy, brimming balls demanded it.

Barry reached around, stroking his son’s eight inch cock, feeling him stir as his dad penetrated him, groaning and grunting, pushing back, eager to feel his dad stuff him full, and Barry leaned in, next to his son’s ear, gave him a deep growl, and said “Good morning, son–I love you,” in a voice much, much deeper than he’d ever imagined coming from his throat.

“Oh…daddy…” Christian moaned, but he only really could focus on his father’s cock in his hole, how much he needed it, how happy he was to finally have a daddy who would never leave him–who would love him forever, no matter what.