Good Things – Part 2 (Patreon Commission)

Eddie found that his days at work were increasingly interrupted by a constant need to excuse himself to the bathroom in order to jack off. He knew, in his head, that he should try to moderate, that these changes were eventually going to cascade out of control, but it was so much easier to lock himself in a stall, whip out his cock, and blow a load, or two…or three. The changes tended to come in spurts–sometimes nothing would change at all. It was a few days since he’d bought the curse, and things had settled into something like a new normal–he loved his muscular physique. Every cum seemed to make him bigger, manlier, and hairier, and he relished it. He relished it so much in fact, sitting here on the toilet, that he might cum four times in a row this time.

He heard the door open, and he stifled his groans. Through the crack in the stall door, he saw that the person who’d come in was none other than Mr. Greely himself. He’d softened up to Eddie since the changes had begun, and was no longer threatening to fire him over his sales numbers, but Eddie still hated him. Hated him so much, he could just…just suck his cock. Fuck yeah, he could suck his fucking cock so fucking hard. With a shudder, he shot another load, this one splattering against the door, where his eye was pressed to the crack. Something had changed in the air, he could sense it.

“I can hear you in there, Eddie. If you want my cock, faggot, come on out, and you can get it.”

Was…was this really happening? Eddie tried to stop himself, but he flew out of the stall, his dress pants still around his ankles, and licked his lips. Mr. Greely shoved his cock down his throat, and came in less than a minute, Eddie somehow managing to shoot on the floor twice in the meantime. Mr. Greely tsked him, “You’re such a slob, Eddie. At least clean up after yourself.”

Eddie’s first thought was to just get down and lick it up, but he fought that desire off and grabbed some paper towels instead, while Mr. Greely left the room. In the mirror, he noticed that his hairline had started receding a bit…and was his body looking a bit softer? Fatter? He shook his head–it still wasn’t too much of a good thing.

By next week, Eddie had taken to eating his lunches in his truck. He didn’t remember when his car had turned into a truck, but he appreciated the fact that it offered a bit more room for him to spread out in. He’d tried eating at his desk, like usual, but lately he’d just spent his entire lunch hour in the bathroom gloryhole he’d drilled a few days earlier, sucking cock, that eating out here in the parking lot was easier. Besides, he was fucking hungry today–hell, he’d been fucking hungry all week.

He let out a belch, unwrapped another hamburger from the sack in the passenger seat, and went back to stroking his cock with this other hand, not noticing he’d smeared the shaft with grease and a bit of ketchup. It was a bit harder to jack off, with this new gut of his, but he kind of liked it. It made him look older, more mature and refined. Being a muscle bear had been nice, but now he really did look like a true man. The receding hairline had bothered him at first too, but once it had pushed back past the crown, it actually looked kind of good. The same thing with the beard, which had grown long enough to brush his fat chest, and was streaked with a bit of grey. It all just looked…good to him. Almost as good as the mechanics he was watching from his parking spot.

He fucking loved them–he could always tell when he was sucking a mechanic off in the bathroom, because they stank of sweat and grease. He’d usually blow a few loads by the time they came, which he’d lick up off the floor and stall wall, as he waited for the next person to come in for a blow job. He downed the hamburger in three huge bites, belched again, chased it with the rest of the cheap beer he’d bought, and then reached for another burger, but found the bag empty. He was still hungry, but that would keep him satisfied for a bit. He took a moment to light one of his fat cigars–he didn’t miss the cigarettes at all–and then rubbed his gut, smearing his grubby dress shirt with grease, enjoying the taut sphere jutting out in front of him, and saw Big Red slide out from under a car.

He came once just at the sight, and then kept stroking, getting ready to shoot again. No one called him Big Red but him–in fact, he was the shortest mechanic at the dealership–but his cock, fuck, it was fucking huge, and thick, with a tangled red bush. He shot again, and saw Big Red turn and stare right at him, lick his lips, and then grab the bulge in his coveralls. Nearly tripping over himself, Eddie got out of his truck, nearly forgetting to hike up his pants and zip himself up. Sure, he was a mess, but he had a date with a big red cock in the bathroom–he could never have too much of a good thing like that.

Good Things – Part 1 (Patreon Commission)

“You let him haggle you down to what?” Mr. Greery just stared at Eddie in his office, “I can’t run a dealership if you’re selling our cars at a loss.”

“I-It wasn’t at a loss, we got that car at auction for a couple thousand–”

“Don’t quote numbers at me Eddie!” Mr Greery shouted, “I could have sold that junker for eight thousand!”

Eddie doubted him, but he stayed silent, intimidated by his boss. Then again, Eddie was intimidated by everybody. Short, slim, blond haired–the picture of a twink. Mr, Greery was all man. He was a local competitor who’d bought the dealership out a few months prior, and he’d been gunning to fire Eddie the entire time for his “faggotry”. Eddie wasn’t the best salesman, sure, but he could move product. It wasn’t fucking fair, but he knew an outburst could get him forced even faster.

After the half hour tongue lashing, Mr. Greery left him with a warning that if his sales numbers failed to hit projection by the end of the month, he’d be gone. Thankfully, it was his weekend, and Eddie got out of there as soon as he could, and decided he could use a drink or five. He spent the afternoon at home, looking at porn. It didn’t help matters that Mr. Greery was totally his type–big, muscular, bearish, bearded, rough…He ended up fantasizing about his boss fucking him on his office desk, but too much alcohol had made his four inch cock depressingly soft. He couldn’t have anything good today.

He went to close the porn window, but ended up clicking a pop-up that appeared unexpectedly. Cursing, he fought his way through a series of redirects and windows until only one remained, a site he’d never seen before–and it didn’t even look like porn. He tried to close it, but it kept popping right back up, three times, until there was suddenly a banner flashing spastically across the top:

EDDIE FUCKING LOOK AT MY SITE ALREADY

And so he looked, but this couldn’t be real, right? A website…run by a fucking wizard? Wizards didn’t exist! He closed it and the window came back with a new banner:

FUCK YOU EDDIE WE DO TOO

He was too drunk, this was crazy. It was probably just a virus, he’ll take care of it tomorrow. Scared to turn off his computer, he flipped off the monitor and went and watched TV for a bit, but kept sneaking glances at the black screen. What if it really was real…

He woke up in bed, head pounding. He knew better than to drink that much, but fuck if he wasn’t horny. He wrapped a hand around his cock and started stroking it, not really thinking about it, and after less than a minute he was cumming…and his cock. It writhed in his hand, suddenly growing a bit longer and thicker…and even harder. He stared at it, but his horniness hadn’t abated at all. He gave it a tentative stroke–it was even more sensitive than before, and ended up spending two hours in bed, stroking himself off over and over again, groaning and grunting, covering himself in cum, before he finally ripped his hand away, sat up on the edge of the bed, looked at himself in the mirror, and screamed.

What in the world had happened to him? It was him in the mirror, right? He waved his hand in the mirror, and then flexed his arm, watching his bicep bulge up, running his other hand past his firm pecs and down over his ridged, furry abs. Furry! He’d never had this much hair on his body before, it was insane. Hell, he’d gone from clean shaven the day before to a heavy, dark shadow across his cheeks and jaw. He’d somehow gone from short twink to muscle bear overnight…and he could only think of one way this might have happened.

He hurried over to the computer, and saw that a receipt email was in his inbox from that strange wizard’s porn site he’d stumbled on the night before:

Thank you for your purchase!

You purchased one item:

Curse (Target – Self): Too Much of a Good Thing…………$399.99

No refunds. If you have any questions or concerns, please contact spellsandcurses@mail.wiz.

A curse? This wasn’t a curse, this was the best thing that had ever happened to him! He leaned back in his chair, massaging his cock, and before long he was jacking off again, running his other hand all over his body until he blew another load all over himself, rubbing in the cum, and he kept going. He’d never felt like this, so fucking powerful, so fucking…horny! His arm was starting to hurt, but after he came again, he watched both of his arms bulge out with even more muscle, the fatigue drained away, and to celebrate he went ahead and came a third, and a fourth and fifth time, never moving from in front of the computer.

What convinced him to stop stroking himself off wasn’t exhaustion, but two other things. First, he was starving. Looking at the clock, it was nearly five in the evening–he’d spent the entire day jacking off. The second thing was this buzzing in his head, this…craving. His tongue felt like it was missing something, like…a flavor he needed but couldn’t quite put his finger on. Then he spied the ashtray next to the computer, stared at the cigarette butts snuffed out in it, and realized he needed a smoke. He rummaged around the room, surprised to find it as messy as it was. Papers which he usually kept perfectly organized were scattered everywhere. He found a pack in the pocket of a coat he’d left on the floor, tapped one out, found his lighter and got it lit, taking a long drag, and sighing out the smoke. Only then did he realize that he’d never smoked before in his entire life.

Where in the hell had these even come from? And the room had gone from clean to looking like a complete mess all while he’d sat around jacking off all day. Odder still, he didn’t mind much at all. He’d always been a bit of a clean freak, but if anything, the mess felt…comfortable. He ran his hand through his now inch long, thick brown beard, stroking it and smoking for a minute before he even considered the fact that he shouldn’t even have a beard. He looked at his bearish self in the mirror through a thin haze of smoke for a moment, and decided that it wasn’t too much good for him yet.

Open Patreon Commission Slot and Teaser

I just wanted to take a moment and thank everyone who has contributed to my Patreon over the last few months. My current total (after a few declined pledges this month) is 315 dollars. But onto the slightly bigger news! Like I mentioned earlier in an ask, I’m planning on expanding the number of commission slots available through Patreon next month. I already have someone waiting on a slot at the 50 dollar level, so I have no openings there, but I have opened one more slot at the 25 dollar level, for a 1000 word monthly commission of your choice. It’s first come first serve, so if you’d like it, head on over to https://www.patreon.com/wesleybracken and grab it before someone else does.

As always, I will have a new story for all of my patrons who have pledged five dollars or more, and I have a sneak peek below for everyone. This is a long one, so I’ll be posting half of it this month, and the second half next month over on Patreon. Enjoy!

Pipe Dreams

-Prologue-

“Are you certain you want to do this?” Professor Grimmel asked.

“You said it isn’t permanent right?”

“Well, you will be human again after the spell has done it’s work, but I can’t promise you’ll be the same person. Revenge…it changes everyone it touches. This isn’t something to take lightly.”

Jason Rutledge squirmed in his seat on the other side of the professor’s desk. He had grown closer to his advisor over the course of his Freshman year, but he hadn’t expected the older gentleman to open up to him as well. When Jason had told him about his homosexuality, and about his fears that his father might find out, and the emotional abuse he’d suffered, the professor had intimated something surprising–he was more than just a professor. He was also a wizard–and a powerful one at that.

The relationship that developed never reached the bedroom–Professor Grimmel said he refused to take advantage of his students, but when Jason came to him, and told him he couldn’t bear the thought of returning home to his father for the summer, especially now that he had begun opening up at school, and now that he’d found a real mentor in his professor. Jason was rather chubby, but sweet–Grimmel was certain that if he went home he would be miserable, but he refused all the same. In the end, after much pleading, he decided to offer Jason a spell that might give a chance to find peace with his father.

“I want to do this. I can’t…I can’t face him again. He–he deserves this, he’s horrible.”

Professor Grimmel frowned. He should say no. Jason was too angry…and yet, he also knew that his father deserved anything Jason might decide to give him. In the end, it had to be Jason’s choice–if he asked, he would cast the spell. “Did you bring everything you want to send to him?”

Jason unzipped his backpack, pulled out a shopping bag and put it on the desk. The professor stood up from the deck, and loosened his tie. “Well, if this is what you truly want,” he came around the desk, and stood in front of Jason, admiring him. He had hoped that he might be able to see him longer–he could have been such an adorable cub. He got down in front of Jason and undid the front of his slacks. Jason started to object, but the Professor looked up at him, and he stayed quiet. He pulled the front of his underwear down under Jason’s hard cock and balls, and then wrapped his mouth around the head of Jason’s cock, and inhaled.

Jason let out a gasp and went rigid, feeling something happen in his body, the air sucked from the base of his lungs, through his groin, and out his cock. He tried to saw something to the professor, to ask him what was happening, but he couldn’t speak. In fact, he couldn’t even move. The professor took another breath through him, and this time Jason felt his mouth open wide, wider than should have been possible, air flowing freely through him. With one more inhale, Jason was now frozen stiff, his mouth open impossibly wide, and the professor pulled the student’s stiff body from the chair and laid him on the floor of the office. He picked up a large pouch from his desk, reached in and started pulling out fistfuls of dark leaf pipe tobacco, and packed it into Jason’s wide mouth tamping it down, and then, with a snap of his fingers, the bowl burst into flame, and he began drawing smoke through Jason’s rigid body.

Jason could feel everything happening to him, as his arms and legs began shrinking up into his torso. His skin became more than stiff, the upper half of him turning into a rough briar, and the lower part slimming down into a wooden neck and stem. After a few minutes, his body had become an oversized pipe, with a half bend and a deep brown briar bowl. Professor Grimmel kept smoking him down, shrinking him until he could hold him in his arms, and then smaller still, until Jason resembled a perfectly normal pipe, just in time for the bowl to burn completely to ash.

He emptied the bowl and repacked it with a different tobacco–this one his own blend, pitch black, and yet in a certain light, glimmers of orange and red, like it was already aflame, could be seen. Before lighting Jason again, he opened the shopping bag Jason had brought, looked inside, and laughed. No imagination at all. He threw them in the trash. The professor instead got a box he’d brought along, and began placing some items of his own choosing items on his desk instead. He lit Jason again, sucked in a deep lungful of smoke, and began exhaling thick plumes of dark smoke over the items he’d brought, watching the shiny rubber suck the smoke in, and by the time the professor had finished the bowl, the items were all covered with a fine coating of ash. He carefully packed everything back into the box, putting Jason in on top with a typed note, and then taped it up. The next day, he mailed it to the address Jason had given him. Jason’s father certainly was in for an extreme surprise–and by the end of the summer, Professor Grimmel would have everything he wanted as well.

Mr. Morris (Part 4)

The amulet. Grandpa’s amulet. He’d promised me that he’d give it to me, and there it was hanging around my brother’s neck. I was angry for a moment, but then he started talking to me in that same way Grandpa always talks to me…and I calmed down, but I still fought him. I told him that the amulet wasn’t his, that I knew he’d stolen it, that Grandpa had planned on giving it to me, and he laughed. He told me Grandpa had given it to him–that Grandpa had always planned on giving it to him. He said, “Why in the world would he give it to you? You know he thinks you’re just a stupid pig slut.”

And then, right then, there was a seed of doubt. I had these memories, but there were these other ones too, ones I couldn’t quite sort out. I could remember Mr. Morris, I could remember Grandpa how I’d always known him but there was also someone else, someone…very, very different. I refused to believe what my head was telling me, but I started to get dressed. I had to go see him, I had to talk to him and see for myself. My brother thought that was a fine idea–and suggested we both go over together. We snuck out of the house, and I drove us both over to the senior living, went up to Grandpa’s apartment.

The place was a filthy. Before, it had been spotless, but now…now the entire place was littered with trash, and there was a foul odor in the air…the same odor I’d smelled around Grandpa all my life. My old memories were retreating, these new ones were coming forward. I already knew what I’d find in the recliner, slouching in front of the television, but I had to see it for myself. He glowered at me when I entered the room–he’d always despised me, and I’d never known why. He loved my brother though–my slobby, failure of a brother–and why not? Grandpa was a drunk, a smoker, massively obese. He’d never taken care of himself all his life. His hair was matted with sweat, and I don’t think he ever showered, but the worst part was the diapers. He’d been incontinent for years now, and he never changed the ones he was wearing regularly, so he stank like an overflowing toilet all day.

I was furious. My brother had done this to him, to my Grandpa, he’d fucking ruined him, but instead of yelling, and getting angry, I was stripping off my clothes. I was getting down on my hands and knees in front of Grandpa, and he was laughing with that cigar stuck in his mouth, that cackle-wheeze, and my brother was behind me sliding a finger into my hole, telling me that he’d always hated me, hated me for the attention I got from our parents, hated me because everyone wanted my ass, hated me because I was smart and perfect, and that it was past time I’d taken my proper place in this family. I then I heard a dull thwack, and my brother crumpled to the ground, Grandpa standing up from his recliner with a lamp in has hand, huffing and puffing.

As quick as I could, I got the amulet off from my brother’s back. Grandpa told me how he’d attacked him that afternoon, stealing the amulet and fucking him into the filthy slob standing before me. But it hadn’t worked as well as my brother had thought it would, because the amulet can only be used to it’s fullest if it is given, not taken. And so grandpa gave it to me, and when my brother woke up…well…let’s just say I fucked him right in the head. He’s a dumb, stupid pig, but I wasn’t as cruel as the amulet would have liked. It has…quite the mind of its own, but as long as you’re ready for it, it isn’t too much of a problem. My brother spends his days now living at home, serving my father, and then he goes to the senior center and he serves the men there. All of them. He pays special attention to Grandpa of course, but his ass and mouth are available to anyone over the age of fifty-five, and I…well, I went off to college, the amulet still hanging around my neck. I did my best to help grandpa get back to how he was, but the amulet really doesn’t like reversing anything it’s already done. He still has to wear diapers, but he takes it in stride at least–though I think he might rub them in my brother’s face when I’m not around, as punishment. At least, I think that’s something the amulet might have snuck in while I was fucking my brother, but I never really felt like asking for details.

Grandpa made me promise that I wouldn’t use it while I was at school, and so far, after a month, I haven’t. That certainly doesn’t mean that I don’t want to. I have no problem getting cock, of course–pretty much anyone will drop their pants at a word, and all of my professors love me, and my mouth, and my ass, to bits. I just have a way with those older, burly bears, you know? But to be honest, I’m starting to think that what my grandpa doesn’t know, probably wouldn’t hurt him. And I have this guy on my floor–fuck, he’s so damn hot. Huge cock, and he lets me suck him off, but he’s a bit of an asshole, you know? I’m thinking he might need a bit of an attitude adjustment. Just some light conversation is all, nothing extreme. And maybe, if the feeling’s right…well, what’s the harm in one good fuck and a few changes to go with it? I’m sure I can keep everything under control just fine.

Mr. Morris (Part 3)

But I did it. I logged all my community service at the last minute. I finished all my classes with straight B’s for blow job. I got up on that stage, naked underneath my gown, my father’s cum leaking down my thighs. He’d wanted to congratulate me with a fuck in the locker room before the ceremony, and I wasn’t about to deny him that. He actually seemed to be…kind of proud of me. I could dimly remember, before I’d been fucked by Mr. Morris, that my older brother had been a bit of a screw up, that I’d been the better kid, the one with the potential. Now I was just a fat faggot whore, but at least I graduated from high school right? And college! I was going to college.

You have to understand–I’d always felt a bit stifled under my parents roof. My brother, well, he’d started drinking and smoking pot in high school, and they’d sent him to rehab. All my life, I’d had strict curfews, rules, order–and while I never really resented it, I always just wanted to be free, right? And college was the goal. If I could just get to college, if I could just get somewhere else, across the country if possible, I could finally figure out who in the hell I am, away from my family. And even after, I still felt that way. As much as I enjoyed being my dad’s and brother’s fat whore faggot, I knew there had to be more for me out there. More cocks to suck, more old men to fuck my holes. It was a different kind of thirst, I suppose, but it was still there.

And now, now I was almost there. I was graduated. As soon as I could get away, I hurried over to the senior center and found Mr. Morris waiting for me. I could sense that he was excited too, and I tried to get him to tell me what he was planning, but all he told me was that he’d like to fuck me again, and this time would be different. I didn’t care–all I really wanted was his cock in my fat ass. I got that, and more than I even thought possible.

This time, when his cock was inside me, everything was still all swirling around and changing, but this time I could sense that he was in control of it. I, however, still couldn’t make heads or tails of what was going on–I was in a stupor just like before, unable to move, while he plowed my hole. But this time, when he came, it’s wasn’t just Mr. Morris cumming in my ass–it was my Grandpa. He’d made me his real grandson, and I was so happy, I couldn’t keep myself from crying.

He hugged me, and I felt that hug reverberate through so many hugs he’d given me in the past, hugs I hadn’t even remembered until now, from when I was a kid, and everything I felt for him just grew even larger. He wasn’t just my lover, he was family. Once we could speak–I was shocked, he was exhausted–he told me that he’d done his best to try and fix some of what he’d done before. The amulet–it doesn’t like to reverse changes, but he’d managed to temper them slightly. He told me it should make for a slightly better summer for me. In fact, it was the best summer of my life.

My dad was proud of me again…though it was different. My brother was still the fat slob screw up that he’d always been and he treated me like shit, but now my dad fucked us both. I could tell he loved me more, because when my dad fucked my brother, it was to punish him, but when dad fucked my hot cubhole, I knew it was because he couldn’t fucking my hot ass. No one could. Hell, I could stare down any old man in the street and give them a tent in their slacks, and I found that most of them, even if I just half-hinted, would happily feed me their cum down some dark alleyway. I loved it. I loved the attention, I loved the sex, I loved my family, all of my family.

Now, all of us would go see grandpa, and usually all of us would end up fucking around all night long. As the summer wore on, I began to notice something else–my brother seemed to be growing kind of distant. He’d always been a bit jealous of the attention I’d gotten, and with me about to go to college on a full ride, so soon after he dropped out after flunking all of his classes–I could tell he was angry at me. He fucked angry too, and more than once he actually hurt me a bit, but I just shrugged it off. I was going to college, and he was just a jealous, failure drop out, and he knew it. Dad and grandpa were so proud of me, and sure, I was going to miss them, but they knew how important this was for me. The summer flew by, and my brother just grew angrier, and angrier, until the night before I was set to leave, when he let himself into my room that evening, something shimmering around his neck, and a nasty looking grin on his fat face.

Mr. Morris (Part 2)

He got up, and he was at least easy on me. He had some lube, and he greased up his fingers, sliding them in, getting me used to the feeling. He was impatient though. I kept asking him to slow down, but he kept pushing me on, two fingers, and then three. I felt so..full, and it kind of hurt. But I wanted it. I’d always wanted it, from the first time I saw him, he’d known how much I wanted his cock in my ass. Reality kept shifting, and it was true. I had wanted him from the first moment I’d seen him. And I wanted him now. I was scared, but I started pushing back, begging him for it. He was breathing heavy now, and I felt the slick head of his cock press against my hole, and then he was inside me again, but this time…this time it was terrifying.

He told me later that he’d lost control of himself, and apologized. I still…still don’t quite remember everything that happened. It was just…there was so much. Like I was caught in a whirlpool of thoughts and emotions and history, some of which was mine, some of which was his, some of which had happened, and a whole lot that hadn’t. It lasted the whole time he fucked me, and I was just in a stupor, face planted in the pillows, while he pounded my ass like a wild man, screaming shit, calling me a fat slut, a whore, his cub bitch. Still, he…did apologize, right? But he said after that there wasn’t much he could do about what might have happened. He couldn’t take it back you see? I forgave him–I loved him too much.

I loved him because…because he was the first man who’d fucked me and treated me like a person, you know?

I did stay the night. He spooned me in bed, and I didn’t really want to leave in the morning. I…didn’t really want to go home, though I couldn’t quite figure out why. I drove home, and I was surprised that my mom wasn’t there…and then I realized that my mom and dad had divorced when I was just a kid, and left me and my brother to live with my dad. And I thought of my dad, and my brother. My big brother, who’d just gotten home from college, and my gut tensed up. I went inside, and tried to get to my room without either of them noticing, but my dad was waiting. He was…different. Fatter, for one. Much, much fatter. And meaner, and drunker. My brother joined him, and he was also chubby, and also drunk, even though it was morning. I told them I was tired, and didn’t really feel like doing anything, but they said that they didn’t care how I felt–they were horny, and I had chores to do.

Suck my dad’s cock. Clean my brother’s feet. Suck my brother’s cock. Get them new beers. Get them more snacks. They didn’t want those snacks, go to the store and get different ones. Clean the kitchen. Make dinner. Go get in the bedroom and lube up. Suck my brother’s cock while my dad fucks my fat asshole. Go to bed. Wake up in the middle of the night. Let my brother fuck my hole. Go back to sleep. Get up. Make breakfast. Suck my dad’s and brother’s cocks while they eat breakfast. Clean up my filthy mess of cum that I’d shot on the kitchen floor like a complete faggot.

I couldn’t get out of there fast enough that afternoon and back to my volunteer work, but mostly back to Mr. Morris. I told him everything. I told him that it didn’t seem right, but I couldn’t stop myself. It just felt…so normal to me. And worse…I liked it. I liked the way my dad and brother had treated me, it had made me feel so hot, and I’d jacked off more in the past day than I could remember–though I made sure to never do it in front of them. Neither of them wanted to see me touch my short faggot cock with them around. As I was telling Mr. Morris all of this, I realized I had my hand down my pants in the common room, stroking my hard cock, and I pulled it out quickly. He seemed embarrassed and worried, but he apologized again and consoled me and I leaned on his shoulder while he stroked my hair. He sucked me off again, and told me that all I had to do was get through the next few weeks, get to graduation, and then he’d have a present for me. A present he he hoped would make things better.

I really did like it, though, and so the next few weeks weren’t nearly as difficult as I had expected them to be. However, I was surprised by just how many men had become accustomed to receiving my services! My school schedule had shifted around, so that I suddenly had all of my classes with the beefiest, chubbiest, oldest male teachers, and I was serving every single one of them. No wonder I had such good grades! I never had time for school work with all of my chore duties at home, so this was really the only way I could hope to get to college. College! I had nearly forgotten. I hurried home, and found that one thing that hadn’t changed was my full ride, thankfully. At least I could get through this summer, and get away from my family then. Well, I’d have to leave Mr. Morris too, and that did make me sad.

And so I spent the last two weeks of my high school career on my knees. Sucking off teachers. Sucking off coaches. Sucking off beefy students. Sucking off my fat dad and brother almost constantly. And sucking off Mr. Morris of course. I kept asking him to fuck me again, but he said that we had to wait. He’d lost control last time–the amulet had…well, he never really explained what exactly had happened when he’d fucked me. All he told me was that he wanted to make damn sure that he got it right next time.

Mr. Morris (Pt. 1)

I procrastinated, I know. One month until I was supposed to graduate from high school, and I still needed fifty hours of community service. I pleaded with my principal to just waive the requirement, but she said her hands were tied–if I didn’t finish, I wouldn’t be able to walk, and I might not even get to go to college in the fall. So there I was–four weeks, fifty hours, twenty hours a week. Luckily, the service coordinator at my school had a suggestion. I wasn’t the first student to put it all off, and a local senior living center liked to have students come in during the evenings and weekends to keep people company. It meant that I would have to volunteer six days of the week, every week, but I’d be able to finish. I thought I’d lucked out–how easy could this be? All I had to do was sit around for a few hours and listen to old people talk. It was going to be so easy.

For a few days, it was easy. Really easy. The staff would pair us up with someone living in the center, and we would join them for dinner (which was free for us) and then have us sit with them for a couple hours after, and then send us home. In fact, some of the people were pretty cool. Then I got paired up with Mr. Morris. He was a bit on the short side, and rather fat with a short, full beard. He seemed a bit younger than most of the people who lived there, and it was a pleasant change from the usual sort of awkward conversation I was used to. I mean, I can’t quite remember what we talked about for the most part, though I do remember his showing me this amulet of his during dinner. He said it had been in his family for generations, but that since he hadn’t had any kids, there was no one he could give it to. It was a rather stunning piece of jewelry, coated with gold and with a number of jewels encrusted in it. Gaudy, maybe, but the way it caught the light…He left it out on top of his shirt all evening, and I just couldn’t quite bear to look away.

I was paired up with Mr. Morris every night after that. The staff just treated it like it had always been that way, even though they had made a point of saying before that they liked to rotate people around as much as possible to keep the experience fresh for everyone. I didn’t mind though–I loved being paired with Mr. Morris. By the end of the second week, I had realized something else–I loved Mr. Morris.

Now this was a bit strange for me. On one hand, I could remember being completely straight, and having a girlfriend, but it was like no one else could remember any of it. When I told Amber that we had dated, she laughed at me, and I did feel a bit foolish. I had come out to here my Freshman year, and we’d been best friends ever since, grading boys, the whole thing. She knew my tastes ran a lot older though, and bit more heavyset than people might find normal. Most of my crushes were on faculty, not on students. The strange feeling only lasted a few days though, and then it was perfectly normal for me, though I found myself acting different around Mr. Morris, my heart fluttering a bit when he put his hand on my knee, and whenever I jacked off, I kept having fantasies about him, only him.

Finally, I couldn’t bear it anymore, and I confessed that I not only loved him, but that…that I wanted him to be my first. I wanted him to be the one to take my virginity. I expected him to be disgusted, but instead he smiled like he’d known all along, the amulet glinting, and he suggested that I tell my parents that I would be staying overnight with a friend on Friday night. Amber covered for me, though when I told her why she was a bit disgusted. My parents knew I was gay of course, so staying over with Amber wasn’t a problem at all for them. In fact…they seemed almost…too ok with the whole thing. Regardless, I joined Mr. Morris for dinner that night, and he was dressed so handsomely, I swooned a bit. He was a perfect gentleman, but with how he kept pawing at my crotch under the dinner table, I knew he wanted it as much as I did. When the staff told us it was time to go, no one said anything when I joined hands with Mr. Morris and followed him to the elevator, and up to his apartment.

Once we were inside, I had no idea what I was doing, but he was gentle, and he kissed me, and…and he was everything I’d ever wanted in a man. He helped me out of my clothes, I helped him out of his. I was scared of sucking his cock, but he said he’d like to suck mine first. I agreed, happily, and he told me to get on the bed. I noticed that even though he was naked, he hadn’t taken off the amulet, and it seemed…excited as well. Like it was catching too much light in the dim apartment lighting.

Now, I suppose I haven’t said too much about myself up until now. I suppose part of the reason is that I was pretty average. Average build, not too muscular, but certainly not fat. Maybe a bit tall and gangly, but what teenager isn’t a little bit? I was smart. I’d gotten into every school I applied to, with even a full ride from one, which was good, because my parents weren’t very well off at all. And there I was, naked, mostly hairless, sitting on Mr. Morris’ bed, and this bear of a man climbed up on all fours, amulet hanging from his neck and shining and all I can think is how lucky I am. Then, he swallows my rock hard cock and…and I can’t even describe it. I’d always felt a connection to Mr. Morris, ever since I’d first met him. But with our first sexual contact…I could feel him…inside me. I swear the amulet was glowing now, but that probably was just my imagination, but Mr. Morris, he was in my body, or exploring my body, or something, and then things started happening. I noticed my stomach start to gurgle, and all of a sudden my flattish stomach was bulging out into a gut, pushing up and out. I…I freaked out, and scrambled away from his mouth, and as soon as his mouth was off my cock, the feeling was gone.

He could see that I was scared, and I asked him what had just happened. He told me…mostly everything. How the amulet could change things, if he wanted them to change. That the closer he got to something, the more he could change them. The whole time, he was rubbing my gut, and I had to admit, it felt really good. Then again, I’d always…kinda wanted to be fat, you know? It seemed natural, after all. I was attracted to fat guys, right? So why wouldn’t I want to be fat too? And maybe…maybe a bit hairier. A proper bear cub. At least…at least, that was how Mr. Morris explained it to me, and it made so much sense. He told me that he could make it happen. That he could make me fat, and no one would know the difference. I was nervous, but how could I say no to him?

I sat back on the bed, heart beating fast, but this is what I wanted, right? I just…couldn’t quite remember it being what I wanted, was the problem. He wrapped his mouth around my cock again, and he was inside me, and my gut was growing, and soon enough it didn’t matter. The gut became too big to really be a gut anymore, and my chest was filling out into fat moobs. I touched my fattening nipples, and they were so sensitive! I could feel cum leaking from my cock like a faucet, but I held off as best I could. I could see my thighs growing wide, my ass spreading out underneath me. My chin was a bit scratchy, and I felt a short beard there. I’d never been able to grow a beard! And there was hair on my chest! I ran my fingers through it, and it was too much for me. I shot my load, and he swallowed it all down, nursing on the head for a moment, before releasing me. I laid back, surrounded by fat, and sighed. I felt like…me. Like a me I hadn’t even known could exist. Like a me that shouldn’t exist. Mr. Morris was looking at me…fuck, he wanted me. I could see it in his eyes, and in his huge, fat, hard cock. I remember what he said next. “Roll over.” It wasn’t a request, he wasn’t asking for permission. I tried to stop myself, I was scared, I didn’t think I could handle anything in my ass, but my body was listening to him, not to me.

Our Demons (Part 4)

He wiggled his toes. He hadn’t been able to do that in a while. His finger uncurled from their fists reluctantly, trying to remember how to work. They felt strange, like they had too much weight to them. The rubber pulled back further, along his arms and legs, and there were some sensations Rich was expecting, but that didn’t happen. He…couldn’t feel any air against his cock, even though the rubber was no longer covering it. It was still buried in…something warm and soft. Without the rubber holding it back, he felt his gut spill out, followed by his chest. He must be fatter, but how much fatter? He wanted to touch himself, he wanted to feel himself, but Master had ordered him to stay still, sitting back on his knees, hands on the floor. Now only the hood was left. Two rough hands…rough. How long since he’d felt skin against his skin? Skin besides the feeling of a hand or a foot in his ass, besides a cock down his throat, or a filthy ass puckered against his tongue? He shivered. His skin got chills after being trapped in the suit for so long, and his entire body felt slimy and clammy with sweat.

The hands pulled the hood free in one movement, and the light was blinding. He hadn’t seen anything since the hood had gone on…days ago? Weeks? He’d been unable to keep track of time. He’d tried to count cigars, he’d tried to count fucks and loads and so many other things to keep his mind busy, but he’d just…sunk in. Accepted it, enjoyed it even. He blinked a few times, and realized he was kneeling in front of a mirror. There was some kind of white blob in the reflection–was that him?

It was him. What in the world was he, even? Fat. He was fat. No wonder he couldn’t feel his cock–it was buried beneath his huge fat apron, between two thighs larger than anything he’d ever seen before. He couldn’t look at it. It was disgusting. He looked up, and caught his own eyes, but his face, even his face was wrong. His mouth seemed too wide, the nose too big, eyes too small. He no longer had anything resembling a neck–his head just dissolved into folds of fatty jowls and chins which cascaded down onto his chest, where two huge moobs shook with every labored breath. His hair was gone–all of it. His entire body was completely smooth, his head, his face, his belly. His skin had lightened to a ghostly, sickly white, and the sheen of sweat all over him only made it worse.

He looked away. He couldn’t look at that. He looked over and down and saw a pair of leather boots, followed them up, and found a massive, six and a half foot tall brute looming over him. Derrick–no, not Derrick was gone, or dead. This no longer even looked like him. His entire body was covered with leather, a crisp, shiny uniform, up to his neck. The face, though. Beneath the thick beard he could see a sharp jawline too angled to be human. In fact, the entire face looked like a crystal with flesh stretched so tight over it it might rip at any moment. He was smiling. He was smiling, and it’s eyes were red, and it’s teeth were sharp, and there were bones pushing through the skin above his eyebrows, blood dribbling from two of the wounds, unnoticed by it.

He needed a cigar. He couldn’t think about any of this. Almost as if he was anticipating him, the brute, the demon, took a thick cigar down, shoved it in Rich’s mouth, and lit it to life. He sucked in the smoke…and realized too late that he had made the final mistake. There was something else in this cigar, something…another it. Another thing like whatever it was in Derrick’s body. He coughed and hacked, trying to force it from his lungs, but his body felt so…heavy all of a sudden. Leaden. It was just so much effort. He slumped to one side, tried to catch himself, but ended up crashing to the floor on his fat side, wheezing.

“Oh Rich, I think you dropped something,” it said, bent down and picked up the cigar and this time jammed it so far down his throat where he lay that he knew he had no choice but to inhale. “Oh Sloth, Mr. Sloth. Do come play with me. I’ve enjoyed the mortal, I truly have, but oh how I long for a filthy, filthy Sloth…”

Rich was trying to fight, trying to rationalize with whatever it was inside of him, but while Derrick had at least been able to reason with the Wrath now inhabiting him, Sloth was unreason. Rich would plead, but pleading was too much effort, wasn’t it? In fact, why think at all? Why bother with a mind? It was mindless, it was acidic. Every effort he made against it simply dissolved. It was irrelevant. Useless. The ego is useless. He was useless. Yes…why even exist at all? That was the question he suddenly had to face. Why exist?

Rich was too exhausted to answer. There was no answer, really. He could see that now. It would be easier, really. So much easier to just stop fighting. He sighed, and let the demon inside of him run amok. His memories dissolved, his desires fled. What was he even? A voice? A will? What was a will in the face of utter sloth?

Wrath watched eagerly, as the cigar burnt down. He could see the light in Rich’s eyes dimming, the iris’ and whites dimming to greys and then to deep tar black, without any reflection at all. The cigar burned to ash, and the mouth hungrily chomped it to bits and swallowed it down. “Wrath….Wrath……Fuck…hole…….” the blob managed to say, with a voice something between a whisper and a gargle.

“Oh you piece of filth, I know what you want,” Wrath said, and rolled it over. It was so heavy suddenly! But he found the hole, sucking and hungry at the rear, drooling some foul smelling filth down the crack, and shoved his fist in as deep as he could with a deep howl.

Our Demons (Part 3)

“Swallow it,” the voice said, the first he’d heard in hours, and without questioning it, he started chewing the butt into a paste and swallowed it down. “This one too,” the voice said, and a second hot butt dropped into his mouth. A bit bigger, and he had a harder time choking it down. There was a pressure on his chest, his master straddling him again, and a hot, bitter liquid started flowing into his mouth. “Drink it all.” He did, and it helped wash down the butt as well. A few gulps in, he realized it must be master’s piss, but he couldn’t stop now, he couldn’t stop ever. As soon as he’d swallowed it all, another cigar was shoved into the mouth ring, but Rich didn’t need orders this time–he craved it already. Needed it. It was wrong, and yet already he knew he’d lost. What was he becoming? He realized he couldn’t quite bring himself to care–and when master went back to stretching his pig hole, all the concerns melted away all over again.

“Don’t resist. Move only how I direct you to move.”

He felt the restraints on his arms and legs being removed, and then two hands helped him roll over onto his back. Every order gave him another surge of pleasure–it was hard to keep himself focused on the fact that he shouldn’t be obeying, that he should try to get away. But get away how? He couldn’t see. He couldn’t hear. He didn’t know where to go. It was easier to just obey. So much easier to obey everything Master said.

His arms were again pulled up and secured to the top of the bed, but his legs were stretched up to the ceiling in wide split, his ass exposed and hanging slightly off the edge of the bed. He could feel that the rubber had covered his entire ass, however–did that mean he was going to be spared his fisting? Then he realized that the fist shaped dildo was still lodged in his ass, sealed in by the rubber, and he started to squirm.

“Calm down.”

He did. Nothing happened for a few moments, or rather, he wasn’t aware of anything happening. He still couldn’t see or hear, all he could do was breathe through his mouth, and lie there on the bed, legs thrown up in the air. Then, he felt something shove it’s way into the hole. It wasn’t a gag–if anything, the end felt dry and tasted somewhat bitter on his tongue. Breathing was suddenly like trying to get all of his air through a straw–possible, but it took much more effort than he would have liked.

He felt something by the side of his head, and he could hear again, but only on one side. It spoke to him again, “There, isn’t that better for all of us? I’m sure you’ll be much more agreeable from now on, in that nice suit of yours. And I haven’t forgotten my promise earlier, but before I start fisting your ass into a crater, how about we light you up, piggy?” Rich heard a lighter flick to life, and suddenly he was inhaling smoke. He tried to cough, but with no where for the air to go, he found himself choking in the rubber. “Calm down,” it said, “Inhale. Breathe in deep, and it’ll be just like breathing air for you soon enough.”

Rich didn’t exactly have much of a choice, but he did as the voice said, and did his best to breathe normally. After a minute, he was feeling a bit lightheaded, but otherwise it seemed normal–and that worried him more than anything else.

“Good job little pig. We’re gonna fill you up with so much smoke that you won’t even recognize yourself pretty soon. But don’t worry, I’m not gonna fuck around with that little head of yours just yet. Derrick’s already dying off you know. Pretty soon it’ll just be the two of us. Think of all the fucking fun we’re gonna have, pig! Now I’m gonna close your ear back up–all I want you to focus on is smoking that fat cigar, and how good it’s gonna feel having my forearm buried in that fat ass of yours.”

He felt the rubber seal itself up again, and once more, there was silence. He tried to force the cigar out of his mouth, but it had been lodged in so tight he couldn’t budge it. Besides, that would be bad. Master had wanted him to smoke it. Focus on smoking and how good it’s gonna feel to be fisted. The rubber parted down his ass crack–he could feel the air on his sweaty crack–and the dildo slid out of his hole easily, and almost immediately, he felt three or four fingers worm his way into his ass. He was feeling so hot, all of a sudden, and he could feel himself sweating inside the suit. Hot and…and horny. The smoke was getting to his head, he couldn’t quite get enough air. In the darkness, he felt his head spinning from the lack of oxygen, but Derrick’s fist breaking past his sphincter refocused him and…and it felt good. It felt so fucking good. He moaned around the cigar in his mouth, and Master must have heard him, because he shoved his hand in deeper.

Rich tried to tell himself that this was all wrong, tried to fight past the sensation and the orders and the sheer pleasure he was feeling, but after a few minutes he relaxed back, and just let Master pummel his hole. The first orgasm came over him like a soft wave, the rubber sucking the cum from him, and minutes later, there was another one just as intense. Master had grown bored, or simply satisfied with how loose the pig’s hole had become, and started punch fucking him, and then worked both fists in. Rich suddenly felt the cigar butt give way into cinders–he had smoked it to the root. It was hot and burned his tongue, but he couldn’t get it out–he doused it with saliva, cooling it as quickly as he could.

Our Demons (Part 2)

“Look, I’ll just be gone for a few hours, nothing to worry about, really.”

“Please, just untie me, just let me go.”

Derrick looked at Rich with a bit of pity, but also fear, “I would, but it wouldn’t want me to. Besides, you’re helping me out so much! Really, you are.”

“Derrick, this isn’t you, you have to stop smoking those things. Can’t you see what they’re doing to you? You’re becoming a freak, man? A fucking faggot.”

“I’m not a fucking faggot!” Derrick yelled, “You’re the fucking faggot here, you fucking bitch, just for that, when I get back, I’m gonna shove my whole fucking fist in that hole of yours, got it? I’m gonna make you scream like a fucking whore.”

Rich just shook his head, but Derrick grabbed the cock shaped gag on the bed pillow, shoved it back in his mouth, and strapped it around the back of his head. After fucking his face for what felt like hours on the couch, Derrick had dragged Rich into the bedroom, and bound him belly down and spread eagled on the bed. He went over, grabbed the biggest dildo from the collection that had appeared on the dresser. It was shaped like a fist, not a cock, and Rich pleaded with him through the gag.

“Sorry, I’m sorry, but it’ll help. I’m gonna fist you when I get back, and this will get you a bit looser,” Derrick said, and then his voice hardened, “No lube though–I’m gonna shove it in raw, so you can get used to the pain, piggy.” Derrick had already spent most of the afternoon fucking him repeatedly, but the fist was something else. He screamed into the gag, but as soon as he did, he felt a searing pain in the small of his back, as Derrick smashed the butt of his burning cigar into his flesh, “You know how I feel about screaming, fucker! Shut your fucking trap.” Rich bit down and sucked on the gag in his mouth, anything to distract from the pain of his stretched hole, and then Derrick stood back up. “You should make sure that stays in there. I don’t know what it might do to you if it falls out by the time I get back. I’ll try to hurry, I promise. I just gotta get some more cigars, and maybe…maybe some other stuff, is all. I’ll be back soon.”

Soon ended up being four hours later. Thankfully, Rich got used to the pain rather quickly, but the sheer boredom of his position wore on him more than anything. He tried calling for help, he tried wrenching at the handcuffs holding him to the bed, but nothing budged. Instead, all he could do was think about what in the world was happening to Derrick. He’d already been trapped here for over a day–no one had heard them, no one had come to check on them. Rich lived alone and worked from home–it would be days before anyone realized he was missing, and who knew what might happen before then? At first, he just thought Derrick was going crazy–he kept referring to an “it,” like there was something else inside of him–but as the day had worn on, he was growing more and more sure it was those new cigars of his. Rich thought it was that other voice, the cruel voice, the abuser. Whatever it was, it scared Rich to death–and Derrick was scared of it too. He tried to sleep for a bit, but whenever he did, he could feel his body start pushing the dildo out, so he stayed awake, forcing himself to clench his ass down on the dildo–or clench it as best he could. As terrified as he was of whatever might come next, he was still happy to hear the door open, and the heavy trod of Derrick’s boots.

“Hey, piggy,” he said when he came into the bedroom–but this was a new voice. It was closer to Derrick’s, but tough, raspier, “Fuck, I needed that. I feel so much fucking better, you know? Turns out, those first cigars were just meant to get me started. The guy gave me these new ones, and fuck! They pack such a kick. I can’t wait to get my fist in that hole of yours, it’s gonna be fucking amazing. You’re such a good piggy friend, you know that? What the fuck would I do without you?” Derrick sat down on the bed looking down at Rich’s spread eagle body. “I told him about you, you know? He thinks you’re such a good friend, helping me out like this, that he had a present for you. You see, I told him that you’re still fighting a bit, and he suggested that what I really needed was a better way to keep you under control, and I fucking agreed, you know? If you just did what I fucking told you, then all this would go so much smoother. Thankfully, he had just the fucking thing for you. But here’s the thing. I have to take out your gag, so remember,” and here his voice shifted, and it came back, that deep snarl, “If you scream or shout, I will choke the fucking life from your lungs.”

Derrick pulled something black from the bag–Rich had no idea what it was. He unlatched the gag from his head and pulled it out. To scream or not to scream? He was caught in a moment of indecision, while Derrick fiddled with the black object. A mask? A hood? Before he could get anything out, his friend pulled the hood over his head. He couldn’t see, he couldn’t breathe. The rubber pressed against his nose and mouth, tight, as he sucked against it, trying to get air, and just when he thought he might faint, the rubber opened up, pushed into his mouth, and hardened, forcing him to keep his jaw wide spread. He felt it with his tongue–a hard, inch wide, rubber ring had appeared out of nowhere, then he noticed something else–he could feel something running down his neck and onto his chest. He wanted to see what was happening, but he couldn’t see anything. He realized he couldn’t hear anything either, until Derrick spoke. The voice was almost too loud–like it was coming from inside his own head.

“Just relax. Let the rubber cover you.”

He felt his body slump down into the bed. It was rubber then. He could feel it running up his arms now, reaching his hands, but instead of forming gloves, the rubber massed around his hands, forcing them to form fists that he couldn’t open no matter how hard he tried. The rubber kept going down his body, covered his cock and balls in a mass of rubber so thick he didn’t think he’d be able to feel anything, and then down his legs to his feet, which formed into thick, rubber soled boots. He felt two fingers shove their way into his mouth, followed by a single word in his mind, “Lick.” He did, unable to stop himself, and felt the area around his cock start pulsing and sucking on his cock and balls, sending bolts of pleasure through him. Then a cock, another brutal face fuck, and now there was nothing Rich could do. He’d been turned into a hole. He hadn’t imagined that this could get any worse–but now he realized that this might just be only the beginning.