Caption: Truer Words #4 – Cuck

“The new neighbor? Lucas? No I wasn’t gonna invite him, I know a cuck when I meet one. Told me not to use the word bitch when I talk about my wife, I’ll fucking call my wife whatever I want! These young millennials don’t have the fuckin’ balls anymore, just letting women walk all over them. Well I know what my wife likes, right?” Ryan laughed, and the rest of the guys from the neighborhood around the poker table laughed too. Only Ryan thought he heard someone say something in response, which was:

“Truer words were never spoken.”

Ryan got home from work the next day, tired and horny. He wasn’t quite sure if he wanted a fuck before dinner or after, but when he walked into the kitchen where his wife, Martha, was usually cooking his dinner, there was nothing. Not a pot on the stove, nothing at all. Confused, he went through the house, then upstairs, where he found her in the bathroom in a dress and putting makeup on, like she was planning on going out somewhere.

Before he could yell about there not being any dinner for him, he felt like something had kneaded him in the nuts, and he bent over in pain for a few moments. When it had passed, he opened up his slacks, looked down, and saw, to his horror, that a chastity cage had appeared around his cock and balls.

“I’m going out tonight,” Martha said to him, “Been needing a real dick lately, and I’m just tired of looking at your ugly mug everytime I’m home.”

“Yes dear,” Ryan heard himself say, and the words sounded so…weak. His voice a bit higher, with a little lisp he’d never had before.

“I’ll use the credit card on the hotel too. There’s dinner in the freezer, and I already went ahead and called the boys for you. I know how you like company when I go out for the night.”

Martha made him zip up her dress, hand her the keys to his mustang (he had been the only one who could drive it, but now it felt natural that she should have the keys, of course) and watched her go into town. He, meanwhile, went and found a frozen dinner to eat, and when he’d finished, he heard the doorbell. He opened it up, and there was Lucas, his new neighbor, with a leer plastered on his face. “There’s the cuck–come on, I wanted to be early, while you’re still a little tight. What the fuck are you doing still in your fucking clothes, you fucking loser?”

Ryan apologized, stripped as fast as he could, and followed Lucas upstairs into the guest bedroom–only Martha could have a guest in her bed, after all. Ryan was humiliated, showing off his caged cock to his new neighbor, who bent him over and fucked him right there on the bed–and he heard the sound of the front door opening regularly, as all of his neighborhood friends arrived for a turn at one of the cuck’s holes while his mistress was away, getting satisfied by a strange man in a hotel room on her cuck husband’s dime.

Caption: Truer Words #3 – Cocksucker

“Promote him? Sure he looks like a nice guy, but I heard he’s a cocksucker. We can’t have someone like that representing our company as a Vice President! Men like that only care about sex, fucking degenerate freaks is all they are,” the other executives at the club laughed along with Jerry as they smoked cigars, and the discussion moved on to other, straighter candidates for the position. Only Jerry heard the words on the air:

“Truer words were never spoken.”

Over the next while, Jerry found himself getting hungrier. There were the usual hors d’oeuvres available at the club, but none of them were particularly satisfying to this need growing in his gut. He ended up in a chair in the corner of the room, looking a bit sullen, sucking on his cigar, licking the end thoughtlessly, until it was nothing but a nub. Then he excused himself, got his coat from the check, and left.

He needed something to satisfy this, he was getting desperate. He didn’t go to his car, instead he found himself walking down the city streets, his feet guiding him somewhere. Perhaps he’d find a little restaurant still open at this time of night, that could give him what he needed. Instead, he found himself standing outside of a building that advertised itself as a bathhouse–he knew about these, and what those faggots did in there. He tried to walk away, but his stomach cramped, almost sending him to the sidewalk on his knees. Distressed, he followed his feet, went inside, purchased a year long membership without thinking about it, and got undressed in the locker room.

The first cock he saw, he knew what he needed. He tried to get down on his knees and suck the twink off, only for him to push him away and walk off, obviously not interested in him. Flustered, he wandered around, looking for someone willing to feed him, and finally passed by the gloryholes. His feet turned, he got on his knees in the booth, and it wasn’t long before the first cock slid through the hole, and Jerry swallowed it to the hilt, ravenous. After a few minutes, he was rewarded with a load of cum that he swallowed down eagerly, horrified at his shamelessness, unable to comprehend why he was doing this. He tried to get up, tried to run, get dressed and go home to his wife, but his legs refused to unbend. Another cock slid through the hole, and he sucked that one dry too, and the one after that, and the one after that.

When he finally felt full, he stood up, stepped out and got dressed in his suit. It no longer fit correctly. Jerry had always been large, but his gut had swollen even more with all of this cum, arms and legs shrunken, now several inches shorter than he had been. He looked like a freak, like a degenerate, like a cumhungry pig. He left the building, horrified to realize it was already morning, and he only had a little time before he was due at the office. Still in the same suit he’d worn the night before, he rushed over, only to find himself in a meeting with the new VP of Operations–which had been his position, hadn’t it?

No, of course not. The new VP was more than happy to remind him of the fact that cum hungry pig faggots like him weren’t fit for this sort of work. Thankfully, there was a position open in the maintenance department, which would be more fitting for a cocksucker like him. He had to agree, and the new VP was even nice enough to feed him a load of cum, before he went down to the basement, exchanged his suit for a set of coveralls, and spent the day dunging out the bathrooms of the offices. That night, he found himself back at the bathhouse, back on the other side of the hole, no longer questioning his hunger. His hunger that never slept, so neither would he, from now on. By day, a janitor, and by night, a hungry mouth. There was nothing else that could matter for a cocksucker like him.

Caption: Truer Words #2 – Whale

Hey all! For the month of April, I’m taking a break from The Pigtown Chronicles, and will be posting some caption stories instead. We’ll have captions Monday through Thursday, and I’ll be posting some longer stories on Fridays. This week, we have a mysterious force punishing men for their cruel language. Whatever you might feel about others, be careful, they might just come true for yourself.

“I can’t believe they let whales like that even stay here, it’s so fucking disgusting. He could at least have the common decency and shame to put on a fucking shirt, so the rest of us don’t have to look at all of that fat. Probably gets off on it, flaunting it, knowing how much he’s grossing everyone else out. Goes back to his room and jacks off thinking about how much of a hairy slob he is.” Kevin groused a bit, looking at the chub who was sitting by the pool in one of the deck chairs, and then laid back on the chaise, ready to work on his tan. He wouldn’t let something like that ruin his vacation, at least. The last thing he heard before he drifted off to sleep was someone whispering, almost in his ear:

“Truer words were never spoken.”

Kevin woke up a little while later, and felt…a little strange, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on why, immediately. He hefted himself up a little, listening to the chaise underneath him creak slightly, but didn’t give it much thought. Thankfully he hadn’t slept too long, and wasn’t burnt to a crisp. He looked around, thankful that the fat pig from before was gone, and as he surveyed the crowd, he saw, well, one of the most handsome men he’d ever seen in his life.

Golden brown, heavily muscled, beautiful smile, tight ass bulging in those swim trunks. Kevin knew he had to say hello–he’d never been one to not shoot his shot, after all. He had…a little trouble getting up from where he’d been lying down, but couldn’t quite figure out why. He made his way over to his target, and only kind of noticed other people stepping out of his way, the looks he was getting from them, some disgust, some pity. He got to the object of his attraction, opened his mouth to say hello, only for the man to shoot him such a scowl that the words died on his lips, and the man passed him right by.

Not one to be deterred, he turned around, grabbed the guy’s wrist to pull him back, and saw the massive, hairy arm in disbelief, as the man whirled on him, and shook him off.

“Who the fuck said you could touch me, pig?” the man said.

“I…I just, I wanted to say–”

“Please, I know what you want. You fat fucks are all the fucking same, think that we’re all fucking chasers, that we want to be anywhere near your disgusting body,” he said, and jabbed a finger into Kevin’s gut–a gut he swore hadn’t been there before. “Well the only guys who want to fuck you pity you, and I doubt you even get laid that much anyway. Now get the fuck out of my sight.”

Kevin, horrified at what had happened to his body, retreated to his room at the resort, and stared at himself in the mirror, his fat, hairy physique, and he was horrified. The words from the man kept reverberating through him, and he…he started to feel horny, thinking about how he’d been demeaned and humiliated, right there in front of everyone. He was a pig, a horny, dirty piggy, and…

He started snorting, shoving his hand down the front of his trunks and rubbed out a load from his puny cock in a matter of moments, and with it went all sense of shame and decency. Yeah, he was a pig. A whale. He loved food, he loved showing off his gluttony. He went right back down to the pool, trunks still wet with cum, and ordered some food while he relaxed, excited to gorge himself in front of everyone, and show them just how big of a whale he could become.

Caption: Truer Words #1: Hick

“Fuck, I hate it here, I don’t know why we always have to come visit my uncle’s stupid fucking farm. Whole towns just full of a fat, stupid hicks, probably a bunch of incestuous fuckers too, judging by how ugly they all are,” Nick muttered to himself in the guest room of his uncle’s house, just wanting to be back home with his friends.

“Truer words were never spoken…”

Wait, what was that?” Nick said, and felt an odd shiver run down his spine. He could have sworn that something had spoken, but he was alone, wasn’t he? Whatever, he might as well take a selfie and post it to Instagram, do something to show everyone how lame it was out here. He went into the bathroom and gave a bored pose in the mirror, and only when he looked at the pictures after, did he realize he wasn’t wearing his usual clothes. He was wearing a set of overalls!

“What the fuck? I didn’t put this shit on,” he said, trying to get the clasps to unhook, but they wouldn’t budge. He didn’t even notice that he was beginning to grow cubbier, a beard filling in across his face, hairline receding as it turned from brown to grey. The room started to spin around him. He dropped his phone and tried to steady himself, and when the room finally stopped spinning, he looked around and he…wasn’t in the same bathroom as before.

This one was…grungier, and smaller. He hauled himself up with the lip of the counter, and found himself staring at a new face–a bulbous ugly nose, scrunched eyes, balding hair nearly white and pulled back into a ponytail. He got his feet underneath him and stood up, now six inches shorter than before.

“Where in fuckin’ hell, this ain’t Unc’s place!” he said, his voice deeper and raspier, with an obvious rural twang, “What the hell happened tah me? I ain’t…some old redneck fuck!”

“Nick, where the fuck are ya?” Came a voice from outside the room, one he didn’t recognize. A moment later, another chubby fellow poked his head into the bathroom, “Come on Nick, we’re gonna be late bro,” he said.

“Nick’s head started spinning again, but this time, it was also growing thicker, and slower. This…this was Billy, his little brother, right? He tried to tell himself that he didn’t have a little brother, but…but that wasn’t right, of course he did. “Sorry Billy, just got distracted I guess.”

“No worries bro, I know ya ain’t the smartest fucker, but yer one of the cutest pigs in town,” he said with a wink, and pulled Nick into a kiss–a full kiss, with tongue, that left him panting a bit, his stubby cock hard in the front of his overalls. Unable to stop himself, he dropped to his knees, hauled out Billy’s cock and blew him. It didn’t take long, Billy could cum ten times a day, but never lasted longer than a minute. Nick guzzled down his brother’s cum, licked his mustache clean, and got up.

By afternoon, all memories of his prior life were forgotten for good–aside from a little corner of his dim mind, where the old Nick was trapped, well aware that he was caught in his own worst nightmare, but no one would hear him ever again.

Caption: Rest Area Tales #4 – Busted

No one wanted the job of checking in on the rest areas along the highway and busting the cruising that tended to happen there, so it got passed around from patrol to patrol. Today, it fell on Officers Miller and Peters. Neither of them were happy about it, were firmly straight, and just wanted to get it over with as quickly as they could.

Things were largely uneventful at the first few they stopped at. Miller would take the bathrooms and various shelters, while Peters would go into the woods and see what he could flush out. The most they found were a couple of truckers fucking in the woods who scattered when the cops showed up, and neither of them really wanted to spend their time booking anyone in, so they let them go. Then, they arrived at what they hoped would be their last one of the day. This one was a bit more off the beaten path, which meant it had a bit more of a reputation. They’d probably find someone here, and take them back to book them, at least to show they were doing the work.

Miller headed for the rest rooms, and Peters went around with a flashlight in the woods. Much to his surprise, he didn’t find anyone fucking in the forest. He headed back for the patrol car, but Miller wasn’t there. He usually finished first and so he headed for the bathrooms to see if he needed back up.

He went in, and froze–there sure as hell was some activity going on, and that activity was Miller on his knees in front of a burly bear of a man, smoking a cigar, one hand wrapped around Miller’s head while he happily sucked on the big man’s cock. “Miller, what the fuck are you doing!” he said, but before he could reach for his gun, the man blew a thick plume of cigar smoke in his face, which made Peters cough, his head spinning.

“There’s the other one, always travel in pairs,” the bear said, “Just means double the fun, right boy? Now, what to do with the two of you…I already got most of the cops coming through here addicted to cock, but you two look so cute together, I think I know what to do…”

He took a long drag off his cigar, and pushed a massive plume of smoke out, enough to fog up the room. When the air cleared a bit, Jamie Peters looked over and saw…saw his son on his knees blowing the hell of that sexy cigar bear’s cock.

“Yeah, pull out your dick Daddy, watch this boy of yours blow my big cock,” the bear said, “I know you’ve been a regular here for decades, sneaking out behind your wife’s back until she found out. Never expected your boy here to start following you though, did ya? Turns out cock sucking runs in the family. Two muscular, straight acting guys like you spending all your free time on your knees, worshiping cock–and now, ya can do it together. Come on Daddy, I know what you really want…”

Jamie stepped forward, almost in a daze, and fell on his knees next to his son, and together they worshiped the bear’s massive cock, who rewarded the father son tag team with a load sprayed across them both. Pleased with the result, the bear left, and the father and son licked the cum from each other’s faces, their old lives already fading with the smoke around them. A couple more truckers came in, and they were happy to be of service, and when their bellies were full, they headed home, together, happy as could be.

Caption: Rest Area Tales #3 – The Woodsmen

Nate was heading home from a trip, and stopped at a rest area he hadn’t been to before. He wasn’t much for cruising usually, but he’d been feeling pretty horny, and when he saw the note scrawled on the side of the bathroom stall that said, “Cum join the Woodsmen” he figured that most of the action must take place in the rather dense woods around the rest stop. It couldn’t hurt to look around, so he found a little narrow trail running off away from the parking lot, and followed it.

The deeper he went, the more he felt a strange sensation that he was being watched, but he didn’t see anyone else around him. A little unnerved, he was going to turn back and continue on when he caught sight of someone not too far off. He wasn’t his usual type of guy, looked like he was a trucker probably. Chubby, thick white beard, dick out and hard. Nate wasn’t looking to bottom so he kept going, and too late, noticed that the bear was following him. The older fellow shoved Nate up against a tree, tugged down the athletic shorts he had on, got down and started eating him out voraciously, snorting and grunting like some wild animal.

He managed to tear himself away from the man after a few moments, hiking up his pants, looked around and saw that he was no longer alone. Rather, he was surrounded by men of all shapes and sizes, though almost all of them were furry–some so thickly that it did more to cover them than the shredded clothes clinging to their bodies. Horrified, he took off in the direction of the trail, or at least, where he thought the trail was, but the parking lot never materialized. He tumbled down a little ravine and landed in a muddy stream at the bottom, struggled his way out, only for another woodman to tackle him from above, pinning him down in the muck, more and more coming now, swarming around him. He could smell them now, a strange spicy musk, almost floral. It was invading his mind as the man’s cock slid into his hole, and Nate too began snorting and grunting in excitement, his rational mind trying to fight back, but he could tell it was too late.

He was a woodsman now too, just like the rest of him, and when the orgy that followed was finished, he thought about trying to find his way back out…but the voices in his mind, the scents of the woods, they drew him deeper in, and no one saw Nate again, aside from the men who wandered into the woods themselves, of course.

Caption: Rest Area Tales #2 – A Helping Hand

CW: Raunch and scat, read at your own risk.

“Hey bud, think ya could help a fellow out?”

“The door? Who the hell knows, these rest areas are all beat to shit.”

“See, the problem is, I really gotta piss, real fuckin’ bad, but I’m also hard as a damn rock–so hard I can’t get this big fuckin’ cock in the bowl. Come here, think ya could help me out?”

“That’s it, just give it some good strokes, just like that–but I really gotta go quick, maybe ya could, ya know, suck on it?”

“Come on, it won’t make ya gay or nothin, yer just helpin’ a bud out! Real quick, ya don’t even gotta swallow.”

“Yeah, see? Fer a guy who says he doesn’t like it, ya sure can take this big dick of mine real easy down that throat of yours.”

“Sorry ‘bout the smell–already dropped a few logs. That’s what got me so damn hard tah begin with, somethin’ ‘bout the smell of mah shit always drives me a bit wild. Judgin’ from the bulge down in those jeans of yers, looks like I ain’t the only one. Go one, haul it out, jack it off–I won’t tell no one.”

“Yeah, fuck, gettin’ real close, here it fuckin’ comes!”

“Fuck!”

“Fuck, sorry bud, hosed you down with my piss too, didn’t mean to. But that’s what you get for pullin’ off. Don’t look like ya mind too much, look at how hard that cock a yers is. Anyway, thanks man, that’s real helpful, but maybe…ya could help me out with one more thing? Mind given my ass a wipe for me?”

“I know the toilet paper’s right there, but that single ply shit is so scratchy–I was thinkin’ somethin’ a little more wet, ‘n soft…”

“Yeah, that’s the ticket, really dig on up in there, ya fuckin’ pig. Fuck yeah, I can hear ya snortin’ back there, ya like my rank fuckin’ ass man? Sure sounds like it, bet yer gonna blow yer load all across the fuckin’ toilet, ain’t ya?”

“Fuck bud, my crack’s ain’t been that clean in months! Much appreciated–yer a real helper. Say, how about riding with me for a while? I could use a good toilet pig like you in my cab, wouldn’t have tah stop in run down places like this if I could just use that dirty mouth of yours.”

“On vacation? Family? Ya don’t look like the sort of fucker who’d deal with that shit–have a look in the mirror. Yeah–look at you, grungy, ugly, old pig like that, ya’d love tah help a guy like me out, now what do ya say?”

“I thought so–now come on, I got some cold bottles of piss for ya in the cab.”

“Oh, I forgot to flush? Alright, but scarf that shit down quick, I don’t got all evenin’. We got a load tah deliver.”

Caption: Rest Area Tales #1 – The Hitchhiker Swap

Brett pulled into the rest area, needing a piss on his way home, climbed out of his car, and saw a guy heading in his direction. He was scruffy and shirtless, and when he got close, there was a real pungent musk rolling off him that almost made Brett climb back into his cab and drive another 40 miles to avoid him.

“Hey man, any chance I could get a ride from ya? I’m heading in your direction.”

Brett shook his head, “Sorry man, I don’t give rides.”

The guy thanked him and walked on, Brett holding his breath until he’d passed, and then went to the bathroom. On his way back though, his pocket felt light, and he realized he didn’t have his keys! He retraced his steps into the bathroom, but they weren’t in there. He didn’t understand how he could have lost them–it wasn’t like he dropped his pants or anything. He realized, with a sinking feeling, he might have locked them in his car. He headed back, but found something strange–the hitchhiker from before was sitting in the driver’s seat of his car. When he got closer, Brett could see that the man had his keys lying in his lap.

“Hey! That’s my car, get the fuck out!” Brett said, went to reach for the keys, only for the guy to grab his wrist and pull him into the car window, closer to his musky body. Brett gagged, but this time, it wasn’t as offensive as it had seemed before, and it made his head feel a bit…cloudy.

“Buddy, this is my car. I think you’re mistaken.”

“No, I…those are my keys, and–”

“Buddy, if you’re lookin’ to cruise, all you gotta do is ask, you don’t have to just reach in for my cock,” the stranger said, unzipped his jeans, and hauled out his cock. It…smelled different than the rest of him, and Brett found himself wanting to get closer, wanting to know how it smelled, intimately. The stranger popped open the door, the keys were…right there. He should grab them, but…but he went to town on the stranger’s cock instead, the musk driving deeper and deeper into his mind.

Of course this wasn’t his car, he didn’t have a car. He was just a hitchhiker of course. A horny, cock hungry hitchhiker. A horny, cock hungry hitchhiker who loved dirty men like this guy, loved worshiping their stinking bodies, doing anything they told him to do. The man came down his throat, and Brett swallowed it all down of course.

“So what do you think, good enough to give me a ride?” Brett asked with a smirk, wiping a bit of cum from his lips and sucking it off his finger.

“Sorry man, I don’t give rides, but I got a little time. I know a cozy little spot not far off in the woods, where you can lick my body clean, and when you get my cock hard again, I’ll give ya proper fucking, how about that?

Brett thought that sounded just fine to him. An hour later, they emerged from the woods, cum running down the inside of Brett’s legs, and he watched the stranger climb into his car and drive off. There was a moment of panic inside him, but it calmed down in a moment. He started over on the trucker side, and it wasn’t long before he found a ride with one of them, going nowhere in particular. As long as they wanted to use his holes, he didn’t care where he ended up, anymore.

Caption: Work From Home Weight

Avery and Kent had made the decision to move in together just as the first lockdowns were beginning, and they soon found themselves stuck in a small apartment, both working from home. There had been some friction early on, that Avery could vaguely recall. It had seemed so important at the time, but now, a year later, he was finding it harder and harder to imagine a life without Kent with him. In particular, without the food that Kent fed him.

Avery had always been on the chubby side, and he’d never particularly liked it about himself. But working from home, he found that there wasn’t much else to do other than, well, eat, and Kent was more than happy to keep him fed from the moment he woke up to the moment they laid down, and Kent usually fucked Avery’s ass, both of them collapsing in a sweaty heap by the end of it. Still, it wasn’t…that much weight, was it? No, it was all perfectly normal, Avery told himself again, but then, why was he sweating so much, and so nervous about the email he’d just gotten?

The pandemic was tapering off, the bosses wanted folks back in the office, at least on a limited basis. Avery had asked to be given a remote position full time, but had just gotten a reply that he would need to be in the office at least three days a week. Kent came in, saw that Avery was looking upset, and asked him what the matter was, but Avery struggled to explain what, exactly, it was that had him so flustered.

“Ah, you know, I think I know what the matter is. Lift up the veil, little piggy.”

Avery gave a little grunt, and it was like he was seeing the world differently, remembering everything that felt so blurry before. How Kent had used the lockdown to try and force him to get bigger, while Avery had struggled against it, until…until Kent had done something to him, hypnotized him, and…and well, here he was. Over 400 pounds in about a year, it should have been impossible, but then, Kent had been working every trick in the book to get Avery as heavy as he could.

“You…no! How could you! I–” Avery said, but Kent walked over, shoved up his shirt, and started kneading his gut, making Avery moan in delight.

“How could I turn you into one of the most beautiful men I’ve ever seen?” Kent said, “Fuck, look at how fucking massive you are, and so sensitive…”

“No, I…why…of fuck, that feels so fucking good…” Avery muttered.

“Of course it does. You’re a fat fucking pig, Avery. You love being fat. You love how it feels, you love how you look. You couldn’t be happier with all of this. And now, next week, you’re going to the office, and all of those people are going to see you, Avery. They’re going to know that you’re a fat, greedy, gluttonous little piggy, and they’re gonna whisper about it, and all of that? It’s just going to make you hornier.”

Avery was grunting and snorting now, lost in the fantasy Kent was feeding him, and when he hauled him up and bent him over the desk and fucked him, Avery found himself pushing back, loving how his gut swayed and shuddered, how labored his breathing was, until he came first, right into his gunt. Kent filled him up soon after, and put him back in his chair. “That’s a good piggy. Now, drop the veil, little piggy.”

Avery’s eyes clouded over again, he gave Kent a kiss, feeling better after his chat with him, and got back to work on the computer. Kent gave a contented sigh, and left the room–he was almost there, just a little more conditioning to go. Then he could lift the veil for good, and he’d have the perfect gainer pig he’d always wanted.

Captions: Owned / Dirtier

Since I missed yesterday’s post, here’s a double feature!

Owned

“How long has it been since you were here, slave?”

“A…a month.”

“A month, Master,” he said, and gave the rubber clad man a smack on the ass, and left it there, running his fingers between his thighs, tracing the chastity cage locked on the outside of the rubber catsuit. “I will not have a slave disrespect me in public. We are lax at home on occasion, but I know you know your manners well.”

“Yes Master.”

“A month since you went home with me. Remember what a confident little shithead you were? Talking about how you were all top, never gonna bottom in your life? Now look at you. That big cock of yours locked away, hole loose and ready,” he said, and slid two of his fingers through the slit in the back of the rubber suit, pressing up against the slave’s hole, feeling him shudder at the touch. “You’re owned now, and once we go in there, everyone is going to know it. Everyone you’ve fucked. Everyone who wanted to fuck you. They’re gonna know that you’re my property. How does that make you feel?”

The slave didn’t respond right away, just let out a little moan.

“It makes you excited, doesn’t it?”

Another little moan, followed by, “Yes Master, it does.”

“How many men do you think I should let use your holes tonight?”

“As many as you want, Master.”

“Good, slave, you do learn quickly. The last slave I had, I couldn’t take him out in public for three months. I know you’re going to serve me well in there tonight, won’t you?”

“Yes Master.”

“And remember–always pride. Be proud that you realized who you are. Most of those men in there are too scared to accept it. But you are right where you want to be, isn’t that right?”

The slave nodded, and he followed his Master into the bar to begin his new life.

Dirtier

You hadn’t taken that old bitch seriously, of course. Who would have, really? Ranting and raving about some curse or something, while security was dragging her out of the bank where you worked, saying something about how if all you cared about was dirty money, then you might as well just keep getting dirtier.

But for the next week or so, you kept noticing things. Dirt kept appearing under your fingernails, no matter how well you cleaned them at night, and it wasn’t like you were doing anything to make them dirty in the first place. Then you noticed that, after you showered, you always still had a lingering musk around you. It wasn’t too bad at first, but by the next week, you got a couple of comments at work. You tried all of these different soaps and shampoos, but nothing helped, and by then, the dirt was starting to spread as well.

Then, it wasn’t just you, either. You went to bed in a set of clean sheets, and when you woke up the next morning, they were filthy. Stained, reeking of sweat and cum and piss, and worst of all, you didn’t mind it. It smelled good to you all of a sudden, and you couldn’t resist rolling over, grinding your cock into the sheets and adding another load to them. You showered after, of course, but it didn’t help. You could smell it lingering around you, that same grungy scent, and the more you noticed it, the hornier you were getting.

You tried to find that woman, but there was no sign of her anywhere, all of her bank records had just vanished. Your boss called you into his office, raked you over the coals for your slovenly appearance. You didn’t know where that beard had come from, or how your hair had gotten so long so quickly. You went home early, tried to shave it off and cut it away, but it would grow back faster than you could remove it, thicker and thicker each time. That day, you went to put on a suit, dreading going in to work again, but all of your suits had disappeared, replaced with grungy looking hi vis workwear and nothing else.

But then, what else would you wear? In a stupor, you pulled on some of the filthy garments and went to work–but not at the bank. You were a construction worker, right? You spent the day trying to convince yourself otherwise, but couldn’t manage it. This just…felt right. You were scared, and too tired to fight it. Maybe if you just let it happen, it would stop. This wasn’t so bad, right? And for a while, your body didn’t get worse, at least, but your mind started growing filthier instead. Working around all of those other musky, masculine men, you found yourself caught in fantasy after fantasy, about how they would use your dirty body–and as you concocted each scenario, they came true.

The foreman pissing on you in the portpotty. A father and son tag teaming your holes in the back of their pickup. Timmy, the fattest guy on the crew, sitting his grungy ass on your face while you jacked off your rank cock. You didn’t live in that nice house anymore. You lived in a studio apartment, never cleaned, never cared for. Sometimes, you would fight, try and remember who you’d been, but when you did, it would get worse somehow, always worse, but now, why can’t you find your way home?

You usually walked home, sometimes sucking cock in the alleys on your way to and from the construction site, but now, you just couldn’t find it. You ended up in an alley, and slept there, interrupted by a couple of cops walking their beat, who took a little break to fuck your nasty hole in the middle of the night. Come morning, you went back to the construction site, but you didn’t work there anymore. That didn’t stop all the men from using you of course, but you were too filthy even for that work now. You made your way back to your alley, still so damn horny, but things, at least, couldn’t get worse than this, right?