Author: wesleybracken8258

Sometimes Rudy hated the subway at night. He was a member at a twenty-four hour gym, and with his work schedule it was just easier to work out late at night or in the early morning. On occasion it was wonderful–an empty car maybe, or just a couple other people, being quiet or reading a book. At worst, in was a group of young hooligans or creepy homeless guys, or old faggots leering at him–and tonight that was what he was dealing with. Some old retired guy–saggy body, wrinkled skin–sitting across from him on the subway, just eyeing him up and down as they rode. Rudy did his best to ignore him, but there was one thing he couldn’t seem to ignore–the light on the guy’s phone kept blinking like a strobe light, and he couldn’t…quite seem to look away…it was getting hard…to…

***

What was he doing here?

“Just give me one more moment, you stud–I’m almost up and ready.”

He looked around at the shabby old apartment he was in, and then looked down, and realized he was naked. “What…what the fuck?” he shouted, and a moment later, the old man from the train came through the doorway, his cock the only thing solid about him.

“Oh, a strong willed one, eh? Don’t worry, we have all night to wear you down,” the old man said, and then his phone was blinking again…he tried to look…away but couldn’t…

***

Why did his ass hurt? What was happening?

“Say it–say you’re a whore for old man cock!”

“No…” Rudy managed to squeak out, but why was he so weak? The light…just look at the light…so…

***

Rudy moaned and rolled over in the bed, and found himself looking at one of the hottest geezers he’s seen in his life. The saggy skin, the wrinkles, the lecherous smile–everything was just right. The man was standing up at the side of the bed, his cock hard as a rock, and Rudy licked his lips.

“Hungry, boy?”

“You know it, daddy.”

“Then get over here and suck me off. And make it quick, I have five more old guys coming over who want to fuck you, so that hole of yours had better be ready slut.”

The man reached over and started probing Rudy’s tight hole, and he groaned. God, he was such a whore for old man cock, and he fucking loved it. Riding the subway can be the fucking best.

When he moved to a new city, Nate was happy to discover a gym was within running distance. He’d always loved lifting, but usually hated working out at big gyms, because there were too many amateurs fucking around while he wanted to get his workouts finished. This gym was independently owned though, and looked like it was made for serious guys looking for serious workouts. He joined up the next day, but the more he went, well, the more he just felt kind of out of place. He’d always been able to resist sizing himself up against his fellow gymrats, but the guys here were…well…massive. They must have been on steroids or something, but he never dared ask–not that he had a chance. The place was one giant clique, and he was on the outside of it, the other lifters always looking at him and laughing, which just made him feel self conscious.

It didn’t help that the lifters all looked like they had popped out of the same mold. Shaved heads, furry bodies, tattoos all over, usually working out shirtless. Nate wasn’t ashamed of his body, but he just didn’t fit in. Still, the owner of the gym was nice enough, and so one day he broached the topic.

“Hey,” Nate asked, “What’s the deal with all those guys?”

“Oh, they’re all Gold members is all–they take themselves pretty seriously.”

“Gold membership?”

“Oh, for serious lifters–you have to be sponsored by two other Gold members though to qualify,” the owner said, and then left, and Nate shrugged and went to leave, but then thought better of it, and walked over to the Gold members and decided to try and make some friends. Much to his surprise, they weren’t too mean at all, and they invited him out for drinks that evening. Of course, when the roofied him, and he woke up tied to a bed with a dildo up his ass, he realized they had other plans.

“So you want to be a Gold member?” the owner said, looming over him and laughing, “We don’t have any openings except for one–our club sex pig. Still you got everyone to sponsor you, so congrats! How about we start with the fattening, boys?”

The guys cheered and hooked the tube up to Nate’s mouth, and his new training regimen started. Still, he was a great success–he was a permanent fixture in the Gold Member’s Locker Room three months later, ready to serve.

Commissions are Closed (mostly)

Well, October was a busy month. On top of finding a new place to live, where my husband and I will be moving on December, during the height of holiday season, I also picked up a new full-time job on top of everything else. The commissions have been enough to tide me over bill wise for the last few months, but I really need to pay down some debt, and the job is actually decent, so I couldn’t pass it up.

That said, I now have a whole lot less time to write. This isn’t to say that I’m going to cut back on content here, merely that I am going to have to pick and choose what I am going to spend my time writing, and with a job (and a hefty backlog of commissions I’ve already promised to people) I’m going to stop taking commissions, both long and short ones, until further notice. If you have already paid me for a commission, don’t worry, you’re still on the list, which is as follows:

  • Karwood #1
  • Karwood #2
  • Gunderian
  • Gaynerpig
  • Boreas
  • Rossc and boyn2changes (hiatus)
  • Keto (that last part)
  • Scot158f (the long thing)

If you’re not on that list, sorry, I’m not taking your commission. I’m going to be working through my backlog, and then I actually want to get around to writing some stuff of my own, that I’ve had on the backburner for way, way too long (City of Bears especially). So, sorry to disappoint. I’m sure that in the new year I’ll open up some slots again as I feel like it, but until then, you’ll just have to enjoy what I have to offer.

That said, there are two kinds of commissions I will still be taking. I will still be open for caption expansions, and CYOC chapters (limit of five at a time on those however). So, have a happy Halloween everybody. 

Does he at least do any leather/bear transformations until the most recent chapter? After the fourth it seems he’s just doing feminization stuff.

It’s a lot of musserfags throughout. The best chapters for bear and muscle are:

Or at least those are the ones I like returning to. Onix’s stories and mine definitely aren’t on the same fetish wavelength–the reason I recommend his is because he’s a smart writer, and does muscle growth TF’s better than anyone else I’ve read. That said, he, like everyone else (including me) has his favorite TF’s that recur. Don’t hold it against the guy for the femmy musclemen, in the same way it would piss me off if you held it against me that half my stories ended up with someone shitting themselves. Appreciate his larger story, his world, and his characters (melodramatic though they may be at times) because that’s what his stuff is really amazing at. 

Let’s just say that, since I came out at the age of sixteen, my relationship with my dad has been a bit rocky. Hell, rocky, that’s a joke really, and my coming out to him was more like him discovering my porn stash on the computer and then throwing me out onto the street that same night, after a massive argument. I ended up living with my Grandmother (on my mom’s side) until I was eighteen and could legally do whatever I wanted, and while I’ve spoken to my dad on occasion, I’ve never forgiven him for throwing me out, and he’s never forgiven me for being a fag.

Still, life goes on, right? I managed to scrape through college with a combination of massive loans and a few scholarships, with one year paid by my grandma. She’s always had a sweet spot for me, ever since my mom had passed away when I was ten, and she was the only relative left connected to my mom. She’d always tell me that she had something else to give me, but she wasn’t particularly rich, so I never knew what she meant, until she was diagnosed with cancer and moved into hospice, and she gave me the wish powder. “It can do whatever you want it to do, but only three times in your life. Use it wisely–use it justly.”

Those were her last words to me, now in my mid 40’s. What was I going to do with it? I didn’t know until my father didn’t even bother to show up for the funeral, and then I knew what my first wish had to be. By then, my father and I could speak and even be in the same room, so long as nothing unsavory came up. I paid him a visit, powder in hand, and sprinkled a bit of it into his pipe while he was out of the room for a few moments, and then sat back and watched.

So, what do you think of my new pipe slave? He’s a sexy one, isn’t he? Pretty kinky too. Sure, he still remembers his old life, and goodness, when we’re alone and I give him permission to speak, he’s generally livid, but I don’t let him vent for long. After all, I’d rather see his smoke a pipe, or suck my cock–justice sure can be sweet sometimes, eh?

Stressed didn’t even begin to cover it. Cade was trying to freelance with three different websites, each of them looking for several articles a week. His girlfriend was threatening to break it off with him if they weren’t engaged by the end of the month. One of his bosses still hadn’t cut him a check for his last article, and he needed that to make sure the bills were paid. So yeah, stressed didn’t even begin to cover it, and he wasn’t entirely sure how he was going to work his way out of the corner he found himself in. Hell, he’d even started smoking just to keep away the terror and crying spells he’d drifted into over the course of the week.

Then he heard the knock at the door to his apartment, and nearly jumped out of his chair. Who in the hell could that be? He walked over to the door and opened it up, and he found a large squat box sitting outside his apartment wrapped in plain brown paper, and no one else in the hallway who might have delivered it. He brought it inside and unwrapped it, revealing a large box with two beautiful leather boots inside.

He pulled them out, the leather cool and soft against his hand, he felt himself calm down immediately. The voices and shouts of his bosses and girlfriends disappeared from his mind, and he heard the silence in the room, and let out a sigh. He slipped off his shoes and started to pull one of the boots on, but stopped himself. These weren’t meant for him to wear, he realized, they were meant for him to receive sure…but…but not to wear. He set them down on the coffee table, but as soon as they left his hands the voices came back, and he grabbed them again, but it wasn’t enough.

There had to be someone to fill these boots, he realized. Someone who could make all of this go away. Someone he…someone he could serve. Someone who could care for him and give him peace. Then, he was licking the leather and shuddering as he came in his pants for the first time of many in the night, and the next night, he brought the boots with him to a leather bar and set them on a stool, and kneeled in front of them, head bowed. He’d sold his things and abandoned his lease. He’d given away his clothes and opted for a set of leather gear and a collar, and so he waited. Waited for someone worthy of his service to step into them. All he had to do was wait.

“Oh goodness, that does sound serious,” Mr. Habberton said, looking at Mr. and Mrs. Gremmory over the top of his spectacles, “And how long has this behavior been going on?”

“Years now. It started small, you know, just being obstinante! All teenagers are like that a little bit. We assumed it would just be a phase, but it’s only gotten worse! And now they want to throw him in jail!” Mrs. Grammory said, and then burst into tears and her husband held her while she sobbed.

“Please Mr. Habberton, if there’s anything you can do–we’re desperate,” he said, looking down at his wife.

“Well, selling drugs and stealing cars is a pretty difficult case, but I’ll take it. Bring him to this address tomorrow morning,” Mr. Habberton said, and handed them his card, “I’ll get the boy sorted out, trust me.”

The parents thanked him profusely, and Mr. Habberton went back to his large mansion, where one his many boys helped him undress and provided him with his evening blowjob, and he looked over young Dennis “Den Man” Grammony’s file, looking at the rough, unkempt man in the photos, smoking a cigarette, scowling towards the lens. All he really needed, like the rest of his boys needed, was some proper discipline–still, young Dennis would probably require a month in sensory deprivation before he’d be pliable enough to conform to the house rules. Even then, he’d probably have to be leashed to Mr. Habberton and tightly caged, to ensure proper compliance. Still, his methods were extreme, but he did have a one hundred percent success rate. And all of his boys were plenty satisfied living in his spacious mansion, or at least until they got too old. Then he’d sell them off for a handsome profit. Still, he was going to enjoy breaking this one–but then again, he did always enjoy breaking in the violent ones.

I’ve been reading the Damien’s spellbook recently, and I’m honestly shocked by the incredible amounts of edgy misanthropic emo mary sue bullshit in that story, at first it was bareable because the transformations were hot, but after the thing with Mark it got really bad. Does it get any better later on?

I don’t mind it so much, but it never loses the emo sensibility. I find the plots have gotten stale myself. The entire structure is too episodic and sitcomish, but it’s still one of the best stories out there.