Author: wesleybracken8258

Summer Status Update

Hey all! There have been a lot of changes for me over the last year, from moving twice, figuring out a new job in a new city, helping my husband with his job as well, tumblr collapsing, and so on and so forth. For the most part, all I’ve been trying to do is keep up with the general churn of content without falling too far behind on anything, and I feel like, for the most part, I succeeded. But with that year behind me now, with some time to think, and with a new site on a new platform, I want to talk about how my posting schedule is going to look going forward. To start with, though, I want to step back in time a bit to when I set up my Patreon, and what I was hoping for my writing at the time.

I work full time, but I love writing. At the time I set up the Patreon, things were a bit…easier. My husband was providing health insurance for us both through his work, and I hoped that as my Patreon scaled up, I would be able to reduce my own workload to some extent, and devote more time to writing instead–but things haven’t panned out like that at all over the years. Instead, my husband has struggled with a number of jobs, and at present I am tied to full time work both as a dependable source of income, and much more importantly, to provide health insurance for us both.

Anyway! What that means, is that the amount of time I have to work on my writing is fixed–there’s just no way for me to scale down my day job to provide more content, not as things will stand for the foreseeable future. This isn’t a huge problem–I still have enough time to produce content, and I’ve been working with essentially this load for years now–however, that’s not to say that there isn’t a crunch!

That crunch occurs between my longer form stories, and the shorter content I usually post on a daily basis, like interactive stories and captions. I just don’t have the time and energy to be able to produce reliable short form content, and at the same time, produce the long form stories that I have rolling around in my head. For a long time, I was able to make this work by posting long form stories as short form content–by breaking long stories into short chunks, and posting them serially, but the format was frustrating, and not something I want to return to, because I feel it disrupts the flow of the story too much. It was mostly a conceit designed for tumblr’s platform, but now that I’m hosting through wordpress, is makes even less sense to post long stories in short chunks, rather than by chapter, or in their entirety. However, I still want to provide some sort of regular content for everyone, especially because that’s something I’m somewhat known for! It’s a bit of a pickle, honestly.

Going forward, I’m going to be trying a new way to balance this out. Instead of trying to produce everything at once and trying to post both short content and long content and focusing on having something up every single day, I really need to be able to focus on one or the other, in order to get into a better workflow with less frustration. That means, when I’m working on longer pieces, there are, from now on, going to be fewer, but longer posts each week (Probably three to four) and when I take breaks between stories, I’ll post regular short captions and sketches instead (probably five to seven days a week, depending on various life circumstances). All in all, it adds up to the same amount of words each week–around 6000-7000, just delivered in different forms, depending on what I’m working on. I think it’s a better work life balance for me, and delivers a better quality of work for all of you, without completely sacrificing the regularity of my schedule. It has the bonus effect of making all of my writing easier to categorize, tag, and read as well.

I hope to switch modes with some regularity, hopefully every month to month and a half, to make sure content stays fresh, and to not keep people waiting for what they want for too long. The one constant feature I hope to run is the interactive stories. I’ve been enjoying those, and it seems like you all are as well, so those will be constant–with one or two updates a week, depending on workload at the moment. The other thing that won’t change at all is bonus Patreon content. Suggested stories, for example, will still happen each month, as they always have. 

Another benefit of this, is that it lets me structure months around commissions as well. I can open up for four or six weeks at a time for short commissions, and simply post them as I finish them, instead of trying to write them and keep up with the regular grind as well–hopefully, the first commission month will be soon, in the late summer or early fall.

I’m in the middle of a long story right now, so July is going to be long format, as I keep working on “Straight Town.” After that–well, we’ll see! I haven’t tried something like this before, so there will probably be some kinks as things go along. Thanks for your patience and your support over the years. If you have any questions, you can comment below, find me on Patreon, on twitter, on discord, email etc., and I’ll answer them all to the best of my ability. Thanks for reading!

Patreon Bonus: Father’s Day Tales

There’s a new set of short stories over on my Patreon page for supporters! If you’re already supporting me, you can go find all three of them here, and if you’d like to know more about what supporting me can get you, then you can take a look at my Patreon page! As a teaser, here’s the first story of three.

A Pipe for Daddy

“It was a deal actually, if you buy them new, it usually costs a hundred or two hundred bucks.”

“Would he want one that somebody else has smoked out of? That seems weird to me.”

Parker shrugged. “I don’t think he’ll mind, honestly. If anything, it’s a bit easier, because you have to put a lot of work into a new pipe, making sure you smoke it right the first few times, or something like that. A used one is easier, assuming it’s in good condition.”

His roommate, Robert, just looked suspicious, as usual. Pipe smoking was sort of a dying trend, Parker supposed–he only knew so much about it because his father, now widowed, smoked them all the time, and was always looking for new ones to add to his collection. Parker smoked them on occasion as well, but not with the same regularity–it was a bond they shared though, and Parker was thankful for it. He might give this one a test drive later, when Roger left for his usual date on Saturday night with some of the other guys. 

Roger did think it was weird–smoking a pipe was for crotchety old men, right? Still, if that was the strangest thing about his roommate, then that wasn’t really much to complain about. As planned, Roger took off for the evening not long after that, and Parker settled out on the balcony of their apartment–where he could smoke according to the lease–packed the pipe with his usual blend, lit it, took a draw–and coughed. The tobacco didn’t taste right in it–not like the cheap blend he usually bought. Something richer, deeper, smoother. Parker took another draw, pulling the smoke deeper than he usually did, feeling the heat suffuse him, the smoke filled up crevices in him he hadn’t known existed. He didn’t cough once, just sighed out a huge plume and sat back, content with his pipe. Yes–his pipe. He couldn’t bear the thought of giving this one away, his…favorite pipe. No–why had he even entertained the idea? He kept smoking, his head growing foggy, floating, feeling the smoke slide deeper into him…but there was nothing wrong with that. Nothing wrong with anything.

He stretched out, unaware that his bones were snapping and growing longer and thicker, his body inflating with muscle and fat. The hair on his head began to recede, as a thick beard grew in across his face. There was a surge of horniness that made his cock spring to life–but he did have an inkling of modesty still. He…shouldn’t smoke in the apartment, but what did he care, really? He lumbered in, pulling off his too tight clothes as he did, and gripped his rock hard, eight inch cock, thinking about…about girls? No–not…not girls. His…his boy. Yeah, his son, where was the fucker? He’d gone out–fuck! He was just going to have to nurse this for a few hours until he got back–and then that fucker was going to get it.

Roger returned later that evening, frustrated and horny. He’d hit on a few girls, but none of them had been interested, which meant it was just going to be him and his hand tonight. Roger was strikingly handsome, but tended to be a bit crude and unruly–especially towards women–and so didn’t have much luck in that arena. He opened the door to the apartment, and immediately coughed, the thick smoke inside stinging his eyes and throat. Why was there so much of it? Parker only ever smoked on the balcony, but if the scent hadn’t been the sweet scent of Daddy’s pipe smoke, he would have thought something was on fire.

Wait, Daddy’s pipe smoke? Why had he thought that? He breathed the smoke in more, unaware that his breathing was calming down, his body relaxing.

“That you boy?” a voice called out from deeper in the apartment, “About fucking time you got home–thought I was gonna have to stay up smoking half the night.”

In the doorway to the kitchen a man appeared, smoking the pipe Parker had purchased earlier, but the man was not Parker. He was massive, easily six foot six, close to 275 or even 300 pounds and full of muscle, body covered in hair, with…with a huge cock erect, and pointing right at Roger–who couldn’t tear his eyes off his daddy’s cock. 

He fought as best he could, but Daddy bent him over the kitchen table, tore down his jeans, and forced his way inside him–fucking his boy rough, just how he liked it. How they both liked it. The smoke was making it hard to think, hard to think about anything other than how horny he was for his daddy, forgetting all about those women from earlier. The only man he wanted was daddy, after all. 

The next day–Father’s day–Roger and his father, Parker, loaded themselves up into the truck together and drove across town to visit Parker’s brother–a fellow pipe smoker. He didn’t have any kids of his own, and usually got lonely–but thankfully, Roger loves his uncle’s cock as much as his daddies–or at least he would soon enough. He was surprised, at first, when the strange, massive man appeared on his doorstep with a young man, saying he was his brother, and this was his nephew–but as soon as he caught the first whiff of Parker’s smoke from the pipe, he started to…remember a bit better. Inside, the rooms full of smoke, he remembered better and better, until he was balls deep in his nephew’s hole, inhaling smoke from his brother’s mouth–it was the best father’s day the new family had had in ages.

Caption: Growing Rubber

Patreon supporters can find the second half of this caption story over on discord!

Just a jockstrap, at first. You’d always been interested in rubber, but the gear was expensive…and it was also a bit daunting, trying to know where to start. So you found a retailer online, and ordered one on a whim. It arrived a week later, and you tried it on–and immediately jacked off. It was the most sensual thing you have ever worn, and even after you came…you didn’t really want to take it off…so you didn’t.

You wore it all weekend, jacking off more than you could even remember, and come Monday, when it was time for work, you still couldn’t bring yourself to take it off–so you didn’t. Besides, who would even know? You put on your usual office attire and went to work like normal. You jacked off in the bathroom a few times, but beyond that, it was like everything was exactly the same. It never even occurred to you to try taking the rubber jock off again, because why would you want to?

You woke up that Saturday, however, and something was different. Now…it wasn’t just the jock you had on that was rubber. You usually slept naked–and this week, with just the jock, but when you woke up this time, you also had on a black rubber tank. You had no idea where it had come from, and you were so unnerved, you almost too it off…but you didn’t.

It felt so good, after all, as you rubbed your rubber stomach. You came, knew you should take everything off…but you didn’t, did you? You kept it on all weekend, and come Monday, again, you wore your rubber under your regular shirt and slacks to the office. Again, no one could notice, and you…liked it. More than you ever thought you would, and you start thinking about more, and when Friday night rolled around…you were wondering.

Sure enough, you woke up on Saturday, and there was more. The tank was now a full rubber shirt. The jock had become shorts, with an open ass–and something else. A plug. Small, easy to remove when you needed to, but having something in your ass felt so damn good…why would you stop? So…you didn’t.

But now…this was too much, right? Surely you needed to take it off now?

Interactive: Hypno Time! (Finale)

Here’s the final chapter of this interactive. I’m back from vacation, and getting back into the swing of things. Later this week, I’m going to post an update on some process stuff that will have an impact on posts around here–nothing too major, but more of a clarification. I’ll have a new start to an interactive up next week!

Max fought him at the end of the school year. Told him that all of this had gone to far, told Daddy Johnny that he didn’t realize that the gun was warping him as well. Johnny was insistent–he was only giving Max what he wanted after all, what they both wanted. Max tried to run, but he didn’t get far–not with the amount of control Johnny had over him. He tried to fight, even managing to give his daddy a fat lip, which only angered Johnny more. Finally, he begged–and that was the last thing Max remembered before the gun fired, and he felt time warp around his mind again–but unlike the last few times…he could almost feel the time passing. A weekend felt like a moment, but even a week had been…noticeably longer. This time, however, it felt like days–days lost in that yellow haze, unable to do anything, or think anything, or see what was happening to him outside of himself. He had time to be terrified. Had time to wonder if Johnny was ever going to wake him back up again. Had time to wonder if he had made a mistake, had time to doubt himself, and then doubt his doubts, and then back again. Distantly, if he focused, he could…hear himself speaking, or other people speaking at him, but it was always garbled. He could almost feel himself, feel sensations, but they were so quick, more like a flicker, that he barely had time to realize something had happened, before it had already passed him by. At long last, the yellow haze lifted from him, and he came back to himself, back to the present, but all he could do was roll around on the ground in pain and confusion, as his mind tried to reconstruct what had happened to him.

“That’s it son, just take a few deep breaths, take your time. Daddy’s here for ya…”

He knew that voice. It was Johnny’s voice, more or less, but the drawl was deeper, and his breath reeked of cigars and beer even more than it had before. Or…or did it? He could remember other things now, remember…his daddy–his Pa–and…but wasn’t there something wrong with that? He hadn’t been his dad, he’d been his…his…

There was a blank there. That was new. His memory was just…gone. He could recognize the hole, he knew that there was some past there, something between him and Pa–before they were father and son…but…but that didn’t make any sense! Pa had always been his dad after all, hadn’t he? He could remember something then, remember…going somewhere familiar, a home somewhere, with a man and a woman, and Pa did something to them, made them forget Max, and…and then it was gone too. There was just Pa. Pa and…and his grandpappy, and Uncle Beau of course. They all lived here, on Pa’s farm. It had been grandpappy’s farm, but he was too old to do much with it now, so he’d given it to Pa, and Beau helped out on the farm too, of course.

He forced himself upright, or at least, he tried to. He was bigger than he should have been, bigger than he’d been before, and his physique was wildly different. Before, Pa had been…keeping him muscular, but the body he had now–while thick and strong from working on the farm all day long with Uncle Beau, was also massively fat–so fat, he had a massive, stinking apron hanging over his waist, down past his cock, even. Horrified, he hurried into the bathroom, looking at himself in the filthy mirror–his head shaved down still, scalp tanned a deep brown from hours and hours in the sun. He had even more tattoos now–tattoos everywhere, even on his face–that and a good number of piercings, including a massive, door knocker sized ring in his nose. His mouth gaped, and he saw he was missing most of his teeth now as well–whether they had rotted out, or been yanked out, he couldn’t remember clearly–but Pa…liked the feel of his boy’s gums around his cock more than teeth anyway, that he could recall.

He turned around and saw Pa clearly for the first time as well. The years–it had to have been years–had blown him up even larger, and older. He was easily over 500 pounds, with a thick, tangled beard, wearing nothing more than some filthy stained underwear around the house a size or two too small, leering at his boy and groping himself, enjoying the realization sweeping over his boy’s mind. “Decided five years oughta do it boy, get ya real good ‘n cemented in here. Wouldn’t be givin’ be anymore a that dumb talk about leavin’, like there’s anything wrong with this, right Piggy Boy?”

Something happened in his mind, when his dad said ‘Piggy Boy’. It…turned off, almost, or something else turned on. He grunted, fell onto all fours, and crawled over to him, shoving his face into his dad’s filthy groin, snuffling about for his cock, feeling his own harden in his own fat pad. Johnny just laughed, and watched his pig son start sucking on his dad’s cock, grunting like a sow in heat, and then turned around, bent over, and Max dove into his father’s nasty unwashed asscrack with the same fervor as he’d gone after his cock.

There were heavy footfalls, and a massive Beau stepped into the room from outside, sweating from the early summer heat. “Fuck bro–ya had tah pig him out right now? There’s work we gots tah do.”

“Oh shut up, Beau, and give the pig a fuck–he’ll come to his senses faster that way anyway.”

Beau nodded, unable to disobey his older brother, and started fucking the pig’s ass. Beau had been a problem that first summer, when he found out about the gun. He’d had this stupid idea that he ought to be in charge of the family–but Johnny had set his straight on that. Now he was just his stupid, muscular brother–good for farmwork, of course, but not so much for thinking. He did love the farm’s pig though, and whenever the pigboy got out of line, Beau was more than happy to get on his leathers, and give the pig a good round of punishment in the cellar.

Max came half an hour later, plugged at both ends by his father and uncle, and he was horrified at how he’d lost all control–but he also realized there was no way back for him–not now, not ever. And later that night, cleaning out his grandpa’s fat folds while the old man sat and watched TV, giggling like an idiot–he even found himself enjoying it. A week later, he couldn’t even remember much of anything else–and not only did he forget that life could be different, he didn’t want a life other than the one he had.

Caption: From Bully to Pig (Part 1)

The second half of this caption is available to patrons over on my discord! $5 or more a month gets you access. You can find out more here.

“Hey fatass, time to get up! I know you would rather sleep, you lazy fucking pig, but I don’t have all day, and I certainly don’t feel like wasting anymore energy on you than you already have.”

“Yeah, it’s me. That faggot from school–sure is. Well I think you’ll find out pretty fast that I’m not the only faggot around here anymore, Billy. Now come on, get the fuck up.”

“Ohh, are you having a little trouble there? Don’t worry, you’ll get used to being a fat ass soon enough–because from now on, that’s the only fucking thing you’re going to be. You spent all of high school bullying me and my friends, thinking you were better than us because you were a jock, and all muscle. You thought you could fuck off to college, play football? No fucking way–you don’t fucking deserve it. Go on, have a look in the mirror.”

“Scream all you want. Curse all you’d like–but that’s you now–almost 400 pounds of you, to be exact. Didn’t think you’d be able to put that much on overnight, right? Well, I know a few shortcuts now–and trust me, this isn’t the only thing around here that’s changed. Fuck–I can see how fucking angry you are–wish you could hit me, don’t you? Well, you can’t. You won’t even be able to tell anyone about what changed–I made sure of that too. Now get down on your hands and knees, I’ve been nursing this hardon all night long, and I think it’s time you took care of that for me.”

“Fuck yeah, struggling against it just makes me even harder–trust me. If you don’t want to suck on it, how about I fuck that hole of yours? Actually, that sounds like a good fucking idea, turn the fuck around, piggy.”

“Aww, fuck. Feels fucking good–at least for me. Looks like you’re not really used to it though–that hurt a bit, piggy? Looks like it hurts. You know, I could have made you enjoy this–could have made you aching to be fucked, but where’s the fun in that? I’d rather see it hurt on your face–every fucking time. Yeah, this is the tightest hole in the city–feels fucking great for us, but you…well, maybe you’ll figure out how to loosen up one day. Fuck–gonna blow quick, keep this short… fuck!”

“Fuck yeah–now gotta get that lead of yours–come on pig, we should go say hi to your dad downstairs. He just got home from the gym a few minutes ago, and he loves having some fun with his pig after his workout.”

Interactive: Hypno Time! (Part 5)

The longer Max was in his trance, the more difficult it was to recall what had happened, right away, when he came out of it. The memories didn’t come back in a real orderly fashion, and it was hard for his mind to sort out what came first, and what came later–all of it was just…there, in his mind, from what seemed like to him, one instant to the next. It was only worse when he came out of his Spring Break trance–nine days of memories to try and grapple with in a few moments–all it did was give him a headache, and he clutched his head, trying to make sense of it.

“You doing alright, son?” a deep voice said, a voice he knew, a voice that…sounded like Johnny’s, but was gravellier, with a thicker drawl. He was afraid to look, afraid to remember what his daddy had put him through over the last week or so, but as the headache subsided, he could begin to remember pieces.

Most of what he was remembering was a farm. Johnny hadn’t told him where they were spending their vacation, just that he was looking to get out of the city, and he’d found somewhere cheap for them to reside for a week. Apparently, it was cheap because Johnny had offered Max as a workhorse for the week, at a little farm outside of town. He had seemed…straight to him in some of his memories, but then he could also recall the taste of the old man’s cock, and his ass, and…and had Johnny hypnotized him too?

He looked up at Johnny, taking him in, as he was now, as he had changed over the course of the week. He was smoking one of his cigars, as he did now nearly all the time, but his more casual western gear he’d been wearing ever since they’d started hanging out with Beau had been replaced with grubby overalls, and no shirt–showing off this thick chest and shoulders covered in greying hair. He looked to be even older now, easily in his mid fifties if not a bit more than that, and there was something else, something…he could taste, and smell, but whether it was his memories, or something in the room, he didn’t know–at least until Johnny got down and helped him sit back up–and he caught a whiff of him.

Johnny hadn’t showered all week long–or even longer than that. His usual scent of soap was gone, replaced by a rank musk that Max was not expecting–nor was he expecting his body’s reaction to it, which was to lunge into Johnny’s pit and start sniffing at him, feeling his own cock starting to swell in desire at the scent. “Yeah, that’s it son–the scent of daddy’s bringing some of those memories back?”

They’d arrived at the farm, and Johnny had hypnotized the old man, worked on him too, over the week, and before too long, the two of them were sitting on the porch, smoking and drinking while Max did the heavy work around the farm, servicing his…his daddy, and granddaddy whenever they needed it. Showers were skipped, and soon, all three of them were reveling in each other’s muskiness–and…and all of it was too damn much. He pushed past his daddy, with all the will he could muster, and ran for the bathroom. He wanted to get clean. He had to get clean, he needed to wash these memories off, wanted to…to be normal again! But when he turned on the faucet, and the water started flowing, he wasn’t ready for the fear and panic that sank into him at the sight of it, and he shut it off right away. Trying to control his breathing, he looked at himself in the mirror, and his jaw dropped at the sight of himself–naked at the moment, and he remembered what had happened a few nights before.

Johnny had gotten him his first tattoos. On one shoulder was a heart with the word daddy written inside it, in script, with an arrow through it, and across his back–he could feel it, and remember it, were the words “Daddy’s Boy.” He was hyperventilating now, and daddy came it, gave him a tight hug, his musk swallowing Max up, as he breathed in more and more, and he could feel himself…settling down.

“That’s a good boy, just relax, son. Everything is fine…” Johnny cooed in his ear, and he felt…so safe, with his daddy,  and he kissed him, and he licked him, and his daddy fucked him, and it was too late to realize he was even supposed to be in class by that afternoon, he was too focused on daddy’s needs to really care. He did make it to class the next day, but his own wardrobe had been replaced as well–now it was only overalls, and sleeveless shirts, exposing his new tattoo for all to see, daddy enjoying his embarrassment over his new mark, and told Johnny he had plans for some more over the coming weekend.

But this had gone too far, surely. He pleaded with his daddy, told him that this was too much, but daddy just scoffed at him, dragged him into the bedroom, and gave his boy a good beating for even suggesting that his daddy didn’t know what was best for him. Now, summer was approaching, and Max knew he had to try and get out before Daddy could trance him out for the entire summer–because he was worried that if that happened, there wouldn’t be a way back for either of them, ever. But summer came early–Daddy was growing restless in the city. He hated it here, wanted to be back in the country, and he wanted his son to be with him. Max begged, but Johnny put him under, and told him that, come fall, he could come back out for a while–but until then, Daddy had some work to do.

This next chunk is going to be the finale! Below, in the polls, you can see some ideas for how the ending might end up shaped. I’ll use three or four, depending on how well they all work together–some are mutually exclusive to some extent, but I’ll figure out how to work in what people want to see! You can vote for three options in the poll, and the patron bonus poll is over here as well!



Caption: I Only Fuck Dads

It was just supposed to be some harmless roleplay, or so Henry thought. The young guy was one of the hottest fuckers he’d seen in a while, and one who was available for a fuck, but when he’d looked at Henry’s page, he’d almost turned him down, telling him he was more into dads–whatever that meant. Still, he’d been open to playing, but told Henry that they’d probably have to roleplay a bit, to get him into the mood. If that meant the guy called him daddy, while Henry fucked him, then he could get behind that, he supposed–he’d been with stranger guys than that. But things…well, this is not what he’d expected, at all.

“Come on daddy, what do you want–tell me what you want!”

“I want you fuck my ass already, boy, fuck it hard–do whatever the fuck you want, just fucking change me the fuck back!” Henry felt himself say, horrified, but he couldn’t moderate the words coming out of his mouth–just like he hadn’t been able to stop the young man from…changing him. He was up on the bed on all fours, and this body–he was fat! He was fat, and hairy, and his hairline was receding, and…and the young fellow was just circling him, thinking about him, and Henry didn’t know why he didn’t just fuck him already!

“Hmm…just not quite…what I’m feeling like today. I think I know what would be hot though…tell me daddy, tell me again what you want.”

“Aww jeepers boy, I sure would like it if you would just put your big tool up in daddy’s hole back there ya know?”

That wasn’t his voice–what the fuck had happened to his voice? It was…nasally, and sounded like he was from the midwest.

“Fuck yeah–that’s better, getting me hard daddy, listening to you ask me all polite like that. That how you talk to your wife daddy? When you want to have sex with her?”

He didn’t have a wife–but…but there were these new memories, of a woman. His age–his new age, and he could…remember everything about her, fuck!

“I wonder what she would say, if she knew her polite, buttoned down, conservative husband never went bowling on Thursdays like he says, but he comes here to get fucked by my hot young cock–because that’s what he really wants. Hell, I bet you two don’t even fuck much, not with that puny thing of yours.”

“Aww no, don’t go and shrink my ding-a-ling too!” Henry said, but it was too late–his eight inch cock shrank down to three inches, buried up in his fat.

“Well, it works well enough to give you a few kids, right? You can’t be a daddy without a few boys running around, right? How old are they?”

“They’re…they’re uh, twelve, fourteen, and seventeen…oh my goodness gracious how do I even know that?”

“Oh, that’s too young…” the man said, and Henry felt his body changing again, adding another decade of life, more hair falling out and turning grey, glasses appearing on his face as his eyesight gets worse, his cock shrivelling up further, no longer able to get hard. “Yeah, your boys are 22, 24, and 27–I bet they’re handsome fuckers, aren’t they? I bet you think about them a lot, about how much you want your boys to fuck you like I fuck you.”

“Oh please boy, please put that horn stick in mah hole, you’re gettin me all riled up, ya know, talking about my boys like that…”

The man fucked him then–fucked him hard, just how Henry liked it, and he fantasized that it was his oldest son, working construction right now, that was fucking his own father, and when the boy was finished, he was a sweaty, heaving mess.

“Alright boy, you had your fun, now change me back, alright?” Henry said.

“And lose my favorite Thursday night hookup? No way! Now go on and get dressed daddy–you should get home before your wife starts to worry about you any more than she already does.”

His old life fading in his mind to a faint shadow, Henry put on his bowling shirt and slacks, and headed down to his sedan, his bowling ball, unused in years now, sitting in the passenger seat beside him. He looked at himself in the mirror, at his jowls, his glasses, his grey mustache…all the lies he’d told over the years to keep his marriage together. What other choice did he have? At least…he had this, once a week. Maybe that would be enough–or maybe the boy up there was only getting started on his new project.

Interactive: Hypno Time! (Part 4)

This was a fairly close race between the redneck road trip and the leather dom, so I decided to just combine them a bit!

Max had gotten used to living his weekends as memory over the last few weeks. Johnny would get ready to put him into his trance on Friday evening, and then in one burst of light, it would be Monday, and for a few minutes, he would recall the last weekend on fast forward–seeing who he had serviced, what Johnny had made him do–but this long weekend, as he came out of his trance, he remembered that, right away, things had gone differently. Before this, Johnny had always kept their activities to themselves in the apartment–this time, however, as soon as he was under, Johnny had told him to go get in the car.

They drove for a little while, heading out of town on the highway, but ended up pulling off outside of the suburbs, and found their way to a sizable farmhouse outside of the city, nestled in some woods with plenty of privacy. Johnny told him to stay put, and he got out of the car alone, went up to the door, and gave it a knock.

Max couldn’t see who was at the door immediately, and it felt like a little time passed before Johnny returned, told him to get out, and he saw who lived in the farm house. He was an older fellow, easily in his late fifties or early sixties, with a thick bushy beard, sucking on a massive cigar. While his skin looked like he had worked outdoors for most of his life, his western shirt and jeans were well tailored, and didn’t look particularly dirty–he appeared to be retired, and somewhat wealthy.

The man was obviously in disbelief that Max was really hypnotized. He put him through a few paces, once Johnny had given him the ability to command Max as well, and it was clear, from the sizable bulge in his pants, that he was…excited. He offered Johnny a cigar inside, and they went in–and so the weekend began.

The man, by the name of Beau, but who Max simply referred to as Master, had retrofitted the house’s old root cellar into a sizable sex dungeon–and beginning that night, Master put Max–and Johnny, to some extent, through a crash course in leather, bondage, and service. It was clear that Johnny was rather…infatuated with Beau as well, and taking a submissive role of his own–when Johnny didn’t do as Master ordered, he would often get punished himself–though never as severely as Max was, over the course of the weekend. During the daytime, Max was put to work outside around the farmhouse, which was a bit more rundown than it had seemed in the night. He only wore boots–and in retrospect, he was horrifically embarrassed for himself, naked and out in the open, completely oblivious to anyone who might have seen him–but as far as he knew, no one had.

And now, it was Tuesday morning. He looked up and saw that Johnny had changed again–some of Master Beau’s more rural sensibilities had worn off on him. He had traded in the cigarettes for a fat cigar–a bit smaller than Beau’s, but still…handsome all the same, and he was wearing jeans and a western shirt like him as well. His hair had been clipped a bit short, and he now was sporting a thick goatee, and when he spoke, he even had a hint of a drawl, as he told Max that there were going to be some changes for him around here from now on.

In private, Max no longer called Johnny by name–he was only Master to him. He was now a boy in his service–which meant that when he wasn’t in school, he was charged with the domestics around the apartment–cooking, cleaning, laundry–everything, and of course, if he served well, then Master would…reward him. Max didn’t know if Beau had given the gear to Max, or if it had simply materialized while they were away that weekend, but there was now a sling in the bedroom, and for play, Johnny preferred wearing leather–preferred that they both wore leather, in fact. Furthermore, cigarettes disappeared from the house–Max now smoked cigars like his two masters–in addition to serving as the ashtray, at their discretion.

After the first week, Max was exhausted–it felt like he was working from dawn until night, between school, the gym and all of the new tasks Master Johnny had given him after their weekend with Master Beau. The cigars didn’t help, and were making him a bit nauseous, even after his cigarette habit. He was also…worried. Worried about Johnny, and worried about what the gun was doing to him, as well as to Max. Was…this just what Johnny wanted, or was there something else going on behind the scenes? Furthermore, Spring Break was looking–a nine day stretch, and he already knew that Johnny was going to insist he be kept in a trance all week long. Sure enough, that’s exactly what Johnny proposed, and he wished that he wasn’t so horny thinking about it.

I thought about coming up with more specific ideas for this, but I decided to go with something a bit more general instead. Below are some keywords for possible story lines I’ve had in mind, and I’ll combine the more popular ones as best I can! You get three votes–so pick wisely. Here’s the bonus patron poll as well.



Caption: A Demon’s Help (Part 1)

This is the first part of a caption story I did for patrons at the $5 tier and higher! If you want to see the second part, as well as all the other captions I post for them over on the discord, you can sign up on my page here!

Marvin had been going too fast. He was drunk, and he’d been going to fast, and now he’d gotten pulled over by some highway patrol fucker, and now…now he was going to get fucking arrested.

Maybe he wasn’t that drunk. Oh who the fuck was he kidding, he was way too fucking drunk to think he was going to get away with this. Maybe…maybe he could talk him down to a warning. He wasn’t like those other guys drinking and driving, he…fuck, Marvin thought, please God, I don’t ask for much, but please, don’t send me to jail tonight.

Oh Marvin, God can’t hear you. God can’t hear anyone anymore.

That…wasn’t his voice. The usual voice he heard in his head. It didn’t even seem to come from his head–but from a mouth, right beside his ear, like someone was in the car with him, behind him, leaning between the seats to whisper to him. He could almost feel the hot breath, but he couldn’t turn to look–his body was frozen.

God can’t hear you, but I can. I’m better than God even, I can grant little wishes like that, little selfish needs. Don’t worry, everything is going to be fine.

Marvin finally managed to spin around, but no one was in the car with him. Now he was drunk, and hallucinating–fuck!

There was a rapping on the window–the trooper was there now, and Marvin rolled down the window, and as he did, a voice came out of him–the same voice, and the things it said–he said, the most…horrifying, naughty, filthy things…it was only a matter of time before he had the trooper horny as hell, and then the handcuffs were on him, but he wasn’t going to jail–not this time.

The trooper took him home, took him down into the basement, and down there, the thing played with them. Twisted them, toyed with them, pitted them against each other and their own base natures. Marvin watched as the trooper became…someone else. The basement twisted into something new, full of smoke, and leather, and chains, and in the midst of it, Marvin was suspended in delight and terror, the demon (he was sure it must be a demon) and the trooper taunting him, fucking him, beating him…so many vicious, delightful things.

The next morning, the trooper dropped him back at his car, and Marvin sobbed. He hadn’t wanted that–he hadn’t wanted any of that to happen, and now…now what.

Don’t cry, Marvin. I’m here for you, I’ll always be here. Ask, and I’ll do anything for you, anything at all, I promise.