Author: wesleybracken8258

Recurring Dreams

He must have fallen asleep.

The sun was still high, Liam hoped that he wasn’t burnt. Looking around, he saw that the pool area of the resort was busy with people, but he was having a hard time pinning down the people moving around him. He was still sleepy, couldn’t quite focus. He rubbed his eyes and rolled onto his side, eyes drawn down the line of chaise lounges to the very fat man he saw near the other end of the pool, also on his side, belly flopping over the side of the chaise, fat pressed between the plastic strips. He was staring right at him, licking his lips.

Liam tried to roll back over, but he found himself unable to stop watching the man reach underneath his belly. He couldn’t see what was there, behind the man’s gut. Was the man actually naked? The belly was jiggling now, why was he still watching this happen? Couldn’t peel his eyes away. Time flowed uneasily about him, people streaming by as the man jiggled there, huffed a couple of times, pulled away his hand, something shimmering on his fingers in the sunlight.

The man sat up and rolled his legs over the side of the chaise then stood up, lumbering towards him. Liam had to get up he couldn’t still be here when the man got here he had to move but his body was so stiff and sleepy and how was it everyone was moving past him so quickly? The man was there, the man sat down on the chaise next to him, and he was naked, he could see the cum on the man’s hand, but he was finally up, standing up.

“I have to go I have to,” Liam said.

“Before you leave, you should probably wake up,” the man said to him.

***

He must have fallen asleep.

The sun was still high, Liam hoped that he wasn’t burnt. Looking around, he saw that the pool area of the resort was busy with people, but he was having a hard time pinning down the people moving around him. He was still sleepy, couldn’t quite focus. He rubbed his eyes and rolled onto his side, eyes drawn down the line of chaise lounges to the very fat man he saw near the other end of the pool, also on his side, belly flopping over the side of the chaise, fat pressed between the plastic strips. He was staring right at him, licking his lips.

Liam tried to roll back over, but he found himself unable to stop watching the man reach underneath his belly. He licked his lips too. He couldn’t see what was there, behind the man’s gut. Was the man actually naked? The belly was jiggling now, why was he still watching this happen? The shake of the belly was somehow entrancing. He was hard, wasn’t he? He reached down and gave his cock a squeeze through his board shorts. Couldn’t peel his eyes away. Never seen a man like him before. Never felt this way about a man before. Time flowed uneasily about him, people streaming by as the man jiggled there, huffed a couple of times, pulled away his hand, something shimmering on his fingers in the sunlight. Liam licked his lips again.

The man sat up and rolled his legs over the side of the chaise then stood up, lumbering towards him. Liam had to get up he couldn’t still be here when the man got here even if he wanted to be there he had to move but his body was so stiff and sleepy and how was it everyone was moving past him so quickly? The man was there, the man sat down on the chaise next to him, and he was naked, he could see the cum on the man’s hand, but he was finally up, standing up.

“You’re hard,” the man said, reached out and groped Liam’s bulge. “Smaller than I hoped.”

“I can’t, I’m not–”

“You should cum on me. Cum on my face.”

Liam’s shorts were gone, he must have lost them in the pool earlier. His dick was hard, sticking straight out in the sunlight. He wrapped one hand around it and started tugging on it, looking at the man’s huge, fat rolls, wondering how they might feel. He was cumming suddenly. He shot a load across the fat man’s face, he licked the load off his lips.

“I have to go I have to,” Liam said.

“Before you leave, you should probably wake up,” the man said to him.

***

He must have fallen asleep.

The sun was still high, Liam hoped that he wasn’t burnt. Looking around, he saw that the pool area of the resort was busy with people, but he was having a hard time pinning down the people moving around him. He was still sleepy, couldn’t quite focus. He rubbed his eyes and rolled onto his side, eyes drawn down the line of chaise lounges to the very fat man he saw near the other end of the pool, also on his side, belly flopping over the side of the chaise, fat pressed between the plastic strips. He was staring right at him, licking his lips.

Liam tried to roll back over, but he found himself unable to stop watching the man reach underneath his belly. He licked his lips too. He couldn’t see what was there, behind the man’s gut. There was something beautiful for him in huge men jacking off. The belly was jiggling now, rolling back and forth in thick waves. The shake of the belly was somehow entrancing. He was hard. He reached down and gave his cock a squeeze through his board shorts. It was so big, so hard. Couldn’t peel his eyes away. Never seen a man like him before. Never felt this way about a man before. Time flowed uneasily about him, people streaming by as the man jiggled there, huffed a couple of times, pulled away his hand, something shimmering on his fingers in the sunlight. Liam licked his lips again.

The man sat up and rolled his legs over the side of the chaise then stood up, lumbering towards him. Liam had to get up he had to get up by the time the man got there had to stop him keep him from leaving he had to move but his body was so stiff and sleepy and how was it everyone was moving past him so quickly? The man was there, the man sat down on the chaise next to him, and he was naked, he could see the cum on the man’s hand, but he was finally up, standing up.

“You’re hard,” the man said, reached out and groped Liam’s bulge. “Nice big cock, very nice.”

“I want, I need–”

“You look hungry, boy.”

He was hungry, he’d skipped breakfast. The man held out his sticky, shiny hand and Liam sucked each finger dry, licked the palm clean.

“You should cum in me. Fuck my face.”

Liam’s shorts were gone, he must have lost them in the pool earlier. His dick was hard, sticking straight out in the sunlight. It slid easily down the man’s throat. He wrapped one hand around it and started tugging on it, looking at the man’s huge, fat rolls, wondering how they might feel. His cock slid easily down the man’s throat. He reached down, groping the man’s fat moobs, pressing his legs into the man’s belly. Warmer than he’d expected. He was cumming suddenly. He shot a load down the man’s throat, watching his fat neck swallow his seed down, and then pulled out. A strand of semen connected head of cock to bottom lip for what felt like an eternity, then snapped.

“I have to go I have to,” Liam said.

“Before you leave, you should probably wake up,” the man said to him.

***

Fuck, he must have fallen asleep.

The sun was still high, Liam hoped that he wasn’t burnt to shit. Cursing, he looked around, he saw that the pool area of the resort was busy with people, but he was having a hard time pinning down the people moving around him. He was still damn sleepy, couldn’t quite focus. He rubbed his eyes and rolled onto his side, eyes drawn down the line of chaise lounges to the fat pig he saw near the other end of the pool, also on his side, big ass belly flopping over the side of the chaise, fat pressed between the plastic strips. He was staring right at him, licking his lips.

Liam tried to roll back over, but he found himself unable to stop watching the man reach underneath his belly. He licked his lips too, feeling his piercings there. He couldn’t see what was there, behind the man’s gut, but he wanted to. There was something so fucking beautiful for him in huge men jacking off. The belly was jiggling now, rolling back and forth in thick waves. The shake of the belly was somehow entrancing. He was so damn hard. He reached down and gave his cock a squeeze through his board shorts, feeling the thick ring in the head. It was so big, so fucking hard. Couldn’t peel his damn eyes away. Never seen a man like him before. Never felt this way about a man before. Time flowed uneasily about him, people streaming by as the man jiggled there, huffed a couple of times, pulled away his hand, something shimmering on his fingers in the sunlight. Liam licked his pierced lips again.

The man sat up and rolled his legs over the side of the chaise then stood up, lumbering towards him. Liam had to get up he had to get up by the time the man got there had to stop him keep him from leaving he had to move but his body was so stiff and sleepy and how was it everyone was moving past him so quickly? The man was there, the man sat down on the chaise next to him, and he was naked, he could see the cum on the man’s hand, but he was finally up, standing up.

“You’re hard,” the man said, reached out and groped Liam’s bulge. “Nice big cock, very nice.”

“I want, I fuckin’ need–”

“You look hungry, freak.”

He was hungry, he’d skipped breakfast. The man held out his sticky, shiny hand and Liam sucked each finger dry, licked the palm clean.

“You should cum in me. Fuck my fat ass.”

Liam’s shorts were gone, he must have lost them in the pool earlier. His dick was hard, sticking straight out in the sunlight, PA glinting. He wrapped one hand around it and started tugging on it, looking at the man’s huge, fat rolls, wondering how they might feel. His cock slid easily into the man’s ass. He reached down, groping the man’s fatty sides, pressing his legs into the man’s thighs. Warmer than he’d expected. He was cumming suddenly. He shot a load deep into the man’s ass, watching his fat belly shudder as it took his seed, and then pulled out. A strand of semen connected head of cock to sloppy hole for what felt like an eternity, then snapped.

“I have to go I have to,” Liam said.

“Before you leave, you should probably wake up,” the man said to him.

Sal’s Sons

[Pictured: Top left – Jack. Top Right – Sal. Bottom – Sal’s twin sons.]

“It’s odd, I didn’t even know he was moving out.”

“Well, sometimes people just need a change, right?” The older man who’d introduced himself as Sal, when Jack had approached down the hall. They were standing outside the apartment across from his, while Sal’s twin sons tromped up and down the stairs, hauling boxes and furniture, dressed in identical jean shorts and white wife beaters. Neither of them had said anything, and Sal hadn’t offered him their names. Every time they passed them, Jack couldn’t help but notice that they moved at a very careful tandem. Once, he saw one twin about to drop a box, and the twin walking in front of him swooped around and helped steady him. They could be acrobats, Jack thought idly, Well, they could be acrobats if they weren’t so fucking fat.

Sal was short and plump and his glasses seemed perpetually ready to slip from his too short nose. Jack towered over him awkwardly. No fan of small talk, Sal had him conversationally cornered into details about how long he’d spent looking for an apartment with enough room for him and his sons, how he worked from home while they went to college nearby. Jack eventually managed to slip away with the excuse that he had an early morning the next day, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He could already tell he would have to do his best to avoid running into Sal if he could help it.

Over the next few weeks, however, their encounters seemed predestined. Either coming home from work or the gym, or when he was leaving with a date for the movies, he would invariably run into Sal outside the apartment or on the stairs, and the old man would forcibly engage him in conversation. It was so boring that Jack rarely remembered what the man was saying for long afterwards, but he managed to speak rapidly enough that Jack’s chances to slip away without insulting the man were few and far between. Before long, Jack would just say hi and keep walking, Sal sometimes pursuing him with his thoughts on the dinner his sons had cooked the night before, and other times just shout at him as he walked away about how he was disappointed that the apartment pool was going to be out of service until mid-summer.

Sal never seemed perturbed by this disinterest, and Jack assumed he was lonely. Three weeks later, he realized he still had no idea what the twins’ names were. He hadn’t even seen them nearly as often as Sal, and he assumed they spent much of their time at the college and away from their dad–he couldn’t blame them really, the guy was a bore even if he meant well. The worst encounter came one day when, somehow, Jack locked himself out of his apartment without his keys or his cell phone. Luckily, Sal was home to call a locksmith, but unluckily, he had to spend an hour waiting for the man to arrive in Sal’s apartment.

That something strange was going on between Sal and his son’s was dreadfully obvious, or rather, that there seemed to be something very strange going on between his sons. The twins never spoke, and Sal rarely acknowledged their existence, even as they bustled about, serving them coffee and some leftover cake. The twins moved fluidly, finishing each other’s actions, stopping and starting in perfect symmetry. Sal treated all of this as perfectly normal, and the few times Jack, attempted to engage them in the conversation, Sal interjected. “They’re very shy and don’t like speaking if they can help it, but I can answer that for you…” The locksmith finally arrived and Jack resolved to never go over there again if he could help it.

After that, jack was caught up in a wave of problems that drove any concern about Sal and his son’s to the side. Missing clothing. Items found in places where he would have never put them. He asked the landlord to change the locks on his apartment, afraid that someone had gotten his keys and copied them somehow, but without any real evidence, the lazy owners did nothing. Even if Jack was uninterested in him, Sal was omnipresent, talking at him every day in the hallways and stairwells. Laundry day was the worst, when Sal would corner him in the building’s basement for the entirely of both cycles. It was on one such day that Jack, trying to be polite, accidentally accepted an offer for an afternoon snack in Sal’s apartment. It was another awkward hour with the mysterious twins serving them coffee too sweet and creamy, and he idly wondered how Sal could speak at such a clip for so long about everything so trite. He finally escaped, returned to his apartment, and two hours later was shivering with a fever of one hundred and five, his stomach vomited empty.

Unable to sleep because of his body burning from the inside, he could only manage intermittent dreams of varying lucidity. He thought, once or twice, of calling work but the thought of first finding and then using his phone filled him with such nausea he abandoned the idea. He hallucinated that he wasn’t alone, that he was surrounded by strange beings pinning him down, ripping away his covers and examining him. Aliens? Spirits? He entered a period of weightlessness, a sensation that he was hovering through the air on a pillar of wind, a cloud, a couch. He became aware of voices in his head, or perhaps one voice and an immediate echo. The burning subsided into a perpetual, full body ache stuttered with spasms and cramps. He screamed, not as often as before. He was aware that they sounded only in his head, or perhaps he simply couldn’t hear his own voice any longer.

He woke to the sunshine on his body and it didn’t burn. He was human again, but not unchanged. He felt heavier, weaker. The voices that had been dampened by sickness hadn’t disappeared but had only gained clarity. His mind felt thick and undone. The voices told him to get up from the bed. He didn’t believe that he had the strength, and found himself caught between the echoing voices and his failure of a body. He spent hours rising, first rolling to the edge of the bed, swinging his legs over (such heavy, thick legs) and pushing himself up to sitting. It felt like there was no room in his head for any thoughts of his own. Looking up, he saw a mirrored closet door, and the sight of himself–fat, short, hairy, the spitting image of one of Sal’s sons, could not raise any reaction in him because he had no room to consider it in comparison to anything else. He was no longer certain he’d ever looked different. He was no longer sure what different might mean. He had to stand up. He had to stand up and go out into the living room.

His body was recovering, but his mind continued to dissolve. His past and history was melting down and the voices reclaimed their space. He finally stood on shaky legs, adjusting naturally to the heavy gut in front of him, and slid his his feet out of the bedroom and down the hall of Sal’s apartment, father’s apartment, his apartment, to where his two brothers sat on the couch. Having fulfilled his task, his mind went quiet, allowing Jack a moment to surge back, far weaker than he should have been, he’d lost so much of himself already.

His words, he had no words for anything any longer. Before he could even mutter, the voices commanded him to never speak or else father will punish us, and his lips sealed themselves forever. Father is out, he learned. Father wants us to train today, and tonight we must be ready. His brothers began masturbating each other on the sofa, and the pleasure surged into Jack’s mind, overwhelming him once more. His own cock was as hard as theirs, and he stroked it in rhythm for a few minutes until his brother’s stood up and approached him. In a circle, they jerked each other off, their pleasures uniting as one for the sake of their father, and Jack receded further until he merged entirely into the triplet mind.

That evening, Sal returned to find his three sons patiently waiting for his return. As one, they undressed him, and he led them into his bedroom. They served him for hours, each taking their turn nursing at their father’s small cock, abusing and degrading themselves and each other for his amusement, their biological nature able to anticipate their sire’s needs and desires before he could even voice them. The youngest of them was, by now, indistinguishable from the other two in both body and mind. After his final climax, one son’s tongue buried deep in his father’s ass, while Sal sucked another’s cock and the third sucked his father, they disentangled.

“Time for dinner boys,” Sal said, “And while you’re cooking, I’ll start looking for another genetic match. I’ve always wanted to have quadruplets.”

Reunions (Part 5)

[Pictured: Zach, the morning after his first night staying in Brent’s apartment.]

The reunion lasted a month that year. At the end of it, Aaron separated Brent from his uncle Mick–a harder task than he’d expected, piled Brent into the pickup and drove him back across the state. Brent, eyes glazed, kept nosing over and licking at his Cousin Aaron’s spent cock through the filthy, cumstiff denim of his overalls, until they arrived in front of a rundown apartment building where Aaron had arranged a room for Brent to live in. He was family after all, and Brent was a man now. It was time he had a place of his own, not a life in a college dorm. Aaron carried him upstairs and inside, where he gave him a bath, one last fuck, and laid him down to sleep it off. He left a couple thousand dollars and a note on the nightstand, then climbed back into the truck and sped off again.

Brent slept for nearly two days straight, and when he finally did wake up, it was with the sensation that the past month must have been a dream, but the knowledge that it most certainly wasn’t. He saw the note and cash next to him, and puzzled over what was written there. The words were all in his head still, but he had to search for them.

Money for bills. If this is what you want, keep at it, but you’ll always have a home with us. See you next summer.

Love,

Master Mitch, Cousin Aaron and Dad

There was some lasting damage. Brent’s hair never did grow back in, his scalp now smooth for life. Over the summer, he grew out a goatee, preferring to have some hair on his face than none at all. He’d gained close to one hundred pounds that month, and couldn’t shed it for the life of him. Some of the piercings would come out but the septum ring was impossible to remove–it was jointless, and nothing he tried could cut it away. The tattoos faded over time, but his memories didn’t. He’d lost his assistantship after going missing for a month, but he returned to class in the fall, desperate to pick up where he’d left off, trying not to think about the reunion, trying not to think about Aaron, and Mitch, and his Dad’s thick, raunchy cock.

The horniness was, at times, unbearable. Money kept arriving from his family, which allowed him to live alone in the apartment with a substantial amount left over for him to spend as he wanted. He splurged on food, and gained another twenty pounds by December, the 250 on his short frame giving him a firm beach ball that he waddled in front of him everywhere he went. On the worst nights, he was reduced to climbing into the bathtub and soaking himself down with his own piss, grunting and snorting, fucking himself with the largest dildos he could buy, cumming over and over again, but he held out. This life grew to something close to normal for him. The urges grew less intense over time–he found that if he skipped showering his normal musk would keep his lust satisfied enough that he would only go whole hog every couple of months.

The spring of his junior year came and went, and after his finals Aaron arrived to take him to the reunion. Brent didn’t resist–he was all too happy to be back in his leather gear, Master Mick leading him around the camp on his leash, drinking down his uncles’ and cousins’ piss, fucked at both ends, stuffed with food all the time, everyone’s favorite pig on the compound. A month later, it was back to his life, but now he found himself missing his family. It was lonely here, without them. He told himself that this was for the best, that he had to make something of himself, but he couldn’t escape his family anymore. He would be dragged back in every year whether he liked it or not, so why keep at it? Why make something of himself that he couldn’t be?

He slipped badly, that fall. There was construction happening all over campus, and this one roughneck, fuck, he had Brent drooling, and Brent’s attention drew them together, even though the worker insisted to himself that he was still straight, even while he had his cock buried in Brent’s ass. He fucked the pig back behind the student union building by the dumpsters every day, and the pig was all too happy to clean off his scummy cock afterwards. Brent found his fantasies overwhelming them both, before long. Zach, his new master, stopped showering and moved into Aaron’s apartment. He quit his job and they became staples at the city’s leather and biker bars. The entire apartment was soon trashed, as they fucked day and night. Brent tried to end it a few times, but he’d already ceded too much will and control to this stranger in a desperate bid to end the loneliness. He stopped pretending in January, and refused to enroll for his final semester.

They spiralled deeper down, and six months later, when Aaron arrived, he found Brent sucking Zach’s cock in the filthy living room. He was covered with tattoos now, his piggy cock locked up in chastity. Without any stimulation, his brain was turning to mush, but he didn’t need to think. His family could think for him. Zach, shaped by wild fantasies, was now six and a half feet tall, over 400 pounds of bulk, and stank like an outhouse. He smoked cigars and chewed tobacco at a near constant rate, Brent serving as both ashtray and spittoon. “You must be a long lost cousin of mine,” Aaron said to Zach.

“Am I? I don’ remember, fuck pig, suck it–fuck yeah…”

Aaron led Zach and Brent down to the truck, Aaron riding in the bed in a kennel bought for him before they left town, Zach next to Aaron, who filled him in on his new life, and Brent felt the cool air of the highway blow the last remnants of himself apart.

Reunions (Part 4)

[Pictured: Uncle Mitch training his nephew in the garage.]

A few miles away from the family compound, Brent finally spoke up.

“What did they do to you?”

“They didn’t do anythin’ to me. I did it to myself.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Fuck you, you…you know what Brent? Fuck you. You don’t want anyone to be happy, and you can’t be happy for anyone. You’re such a whiny fuckin’ faggot.”

“Then why in the fuck did you come get me! I didn’t want to fucking come anyway.”

“Cause we’re family—”

“We aren’t fucking family, you just…I mean, you can’t just, make up family.”

“I’m not making it up, fucker. Yer such an asshole, you know that?”

Brent sulked for a moment, still clutching his bag and not at all sure what he was going to do now. They drove down the gravel drive and Aaron parked next to the trucks already there, and Brent saw Jed and Butch were hanging out, watching people arrive.

“Hey Jed! How’s it hangin’ man?” Aaron shouted as he stepped out of the truck, and Brent looked back in time to see Aaron grab his uncle’s crotch in one hand, shove their big bellies together and lock lips, and he looked on, horrified. Jed was caught completely off guard, but he didn’t push Aaron away—in fact he blushed, and leaned in a bit, so that when Aaron pulled back abruptly Jed fell forward a step to keep his balance and licked his lips.

“Brent, get the fuck out of the truck, come over here and say hello to your uncle.”

Brent was frozen now. He couldn’t get out there, he didn’t know what was going on, he just wanted to go home. Aaron waited a moment for him, and then tromped around the truck, opened the passenger door and dragged him out onto the ground. “Ya little shithead, show some fuckin’ respect for family for once in your goddamn life.”

“Aww, leave the faggot alone,” Jed said, coming around to Aaron and giving his belly a rub, “He just doesn’t get it, and he never will. Now come on Aaron, how about you and I…you know…”

“Latter Jed, promise, but I gotta get this fucker situated before he runs off and hides in the barn like usual.”

Aaron dragged him and his bag over to the pasture proper, Aaron explaining along the way that Trent and him had decided it was high time that Brent joined the rest of the Taylor men, and quit sleeping with the boys like a damn coward. Brent asked if he was going to be sleeping with Aaron, and he laughed. Aaron was bunking with Brent’s dad in the farmhouse—Brent was going to be sleeping with Mitch—his second or third cousin twice removed, who Brent met shortly, a short, thin and very musky redneck at least fifteen years his senior, already reeking of whisky, and he pulled Brent into an uncomfortable hug which lasted several beats too long. Brent immediately decided he would never be sleeping here, even if that meant he stayed awake all week long.

Unlike previous years, the reunion hit full capacity early—the pasture seething with barechested, heavy gutted men by the first day. It was a particularly hot summer, the stench of redneck was overwhelming, but every time Brent tried to worm away from the throng, Aaron was there dragging him back into the thick of it. He fought him at first, but after a particularly fierce backhand broke his nose and left him streaming blood all over his shirt, he relented—allowing Aaron to ply him with other things instead. Against his will, Aaron and three other cousins forced him into a kegstand—he wound up blackout drunk, and woke in his tent in the early morning, wrapped in the arms of Mitch, the older man’s hard cock leaking against Brent’s bare leg, his ass raw and aching. This did not disturb him. For a moment, he pushed back into the smell of his cousin, until he woke up and realized what must have happened.

Disgusted and terrified, he struggled out of Mitch’s grasp and scrambled out into the camp, totally naked, and found himself surrounded by the sounds of sex in every direction. Aaron was up and waiting for him, also naked, hard and starring Brent down across the camp, but he made no effort to approach him—he only wanted to remind him who was really in change here. Brent looked down and realized he was hard too—and still quite drunk from the evening, and he wrapped his hand around the shaft, Aaron grinning at him.

The terror and panic overwhelmed him again. He spun and raced out of the camp, unable to let go of his cock, away from Aaron, hearing men surge out of their tents after him, his old friend leading the charge, and they caught hold of him before he could reach the wooded edge of the clearing, dragging him back, kicking and shouting and screaming and dumping him at Aaron’s feet.

“Please—please stop, why are you doing this to me?”

“Shut the fuck up, faggot, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“With me? What about all of you? You’ve all gone insane!”

Aaron bent down and picked the struggling Brent up under the armpits, kicking and writhing, and pulled him into a tight hug.

“I love you, you stupid faggot, I fuckin’ love you to shit,” Aaron said in his ear, and then started kissing Brent, sucking on his unwilling face, and Brent felt that same sloth he’d felt in the tent. He was still drunk, he was tired and exhausted, and Aaron was warm and sweaty, almost the same temperature as the night air, and he was hard and horny, grinding his cock into Aaron’s gut mindlessly now, kissing back, when without warning Aaron dropped him to the ground.

“Better. Now how about you and Mitch finish getting acquainted? I think he’s going to have to keep you on a shorter lead though, since you have a tendency to run off.”

Brent got up, wiping Aaron’s slobber from his face and tromped off. He knew where to go, but had no idea where he was going. The men watched him round the farmhouse and head towards the side door of the garage, and they all returned to their earlier fucking, now simply coalescing into a large orgy at the center of the pasture, Aaron in the center, his cock buried down Jed’s throat.

As soon as the door shut behind him, Brent felt his mind clear. He turned to leave, to run as far away as he could but a leather hood came down over his entire face, blinding him. He struggled with his attacker, hearing Mitch laugh as he dragged him into the middle of the garage. sawhorses had become slings, wrenches and hammers were now paddles and dildos. “Gonna break you in real good, yeah,” Mitch panted, “Gonna break you in piggy, gonna make me a hot fuckin’ piggy by the end of the week, yeah…”

His mind was clouded again. He fought against it, but he couldn’t get enough air in through the small holes near his nose. The collar Mick forced onto him, while only supple leather, was so heavy Brent collapsed to his knees, and when Mick tugged the leash he felt compelled to crawl after him. A zipper releasing his mouth, something pressed to his lips—something gritty, the toe of a boot. Lick the boot, lick it all, lick it for Aaron, for Mitch, for Dad lick it, lick it good like a good little piggy…

***

Follow me on twitter! @wesleybracken

holy crap, was not expecting to see jack L chalker’s name pop up on your blog. let me double the recommendation. i read a lot of his stuff pre-high school and recently reread a couple books (the “Dancing Gods” trilogy, which i recommend). he’s definitely straight; most of the transformation stuff is pretty hetero in subtext (in the Dancing Gods books, the male protag becomes a barbarian power fantasy and the female protag becomes a nympho fairy) but it’s well-developed & he has some novel ideas

Well the next time I’m looking for something to read, I’ll keep it in mind.