Caption: Long Distance Hypnomutt

Was it what he wanted? Banjo wasn’t quite sure he could really tell the difference anymore. He was humiliated, sure, when the message from his Master came through after his latest hypno spiral, telling him he needed to go get a sharpie, and mark himself with what he knows about himself to be true, now.

He didn’t really know what that meant, but he got himself a new sharpie, took off his shirt, and started writing on himself. When he was finished, he looked in the mirror, upper lip curled up, and gave a little snort.

“It is a dumb mutt…” he said, groping his cock, unable to stop himself from snorting as the words came of of his mouth. “It is a *grunt* sex toy.”

He couldn’t stop until he lost a load of cum right into the front of his underwear, and control returned to himself–mostly. He tried to take off his soiled underwear, but couldn’t seem to get them to peel away from his body–he was stuck with them on apparently, for the time being. He went in to message his master, the man who had been cementing control over him for months now, took a picture, and sent it to him, as he knew he needed to do.

“Good mutt–what a stupid fucking mutt, letting some stranger control you like this. Now, you know I live a long ways away, so it’ll be a while before I can use you myself, but I like sex toys like you well broken in. Go unlock your door, and wait on your knees, mutt.”

Banjo tried to message back, asking for an explanation, but before he could even reach the keyboard, he was standing and following his master’s directions, unlocking the door to his apartment, and getting down on his knees, and waiting.

He was there for almost an hour, cramping, uncomfortable on the hard floor, but he couldn’t move no matter how hard he tried. All he could really think about was the cold load of cum slowly drying in the front of his underwear. Then, he smelled…cigar smoke. He heard boots outside his door, it opened without a knock, and he found himself looking up at a grungy looking fellow sucking on a half finished cigar.

“You must be the mutt,” he said, stepped past him without another word like he owned the place, and Banjo tried to stand up–but couldn’t. All he could do was crawl after him, and the man took a seat in one of Banjo’s chairs like he owned the place, and gave a sigh.

“Fuck, what did he want me to say?” he said, and pulled out his phone. “Right–ok, ‘dumb mutt’, get over here you stupid, ‘sex toy’ and suck my dirty fuckin’ cock.”

Banjo gave a grunt at each utterance, felt his cock swell, and he found the rather repulsive fellow suddenly very…attractive. He crawled over, dug the man’s greasy cock out of the front of his unwashed jeans and started sucking him off. The man kept using the keywords, watching as Banjo grew more and more horny, his mind starting to fade out, and the man told him to turn around, got down, tore open the back of Banjo’s underwear and gave him a rough fuck. Banjo came again in the middle of it with a loud grunt and a moan, and that was enough for the strange to unload in him as well.

“Fuck, yer a weird fucker, but that was kinda hot,” he said. “Nice place too–gotta say. Nicer than my shithole.”

He pulled out his phone, took some pictures of Banjo’s ruined underwear and leaking hole, and sent them off, then texted for a bit.

“Good fuckin’ news, you dumb mutt,” he said. “Yer…Master or whatever says you’re gonna let me stay here for a while. You don’t mind, do you, sex toy?”

Banjo tried to object, but the man showed him a spiral on his phone that his master had sent, and soon enough, he was back in front of the computer, ready for another round of programming, and more than happy to host his new roommate, and give him whatever services he required from then on.

Caption: Daddy Issues #4 – Jace the Lout

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.

Jace’s father was a lout, in his opinion. He’d never really been able to hold down a job for longer than a year, preferring to milk unemployment and Jace’s grandparents for cash as much as he could. Jace had resolved to never be like him, and doubled down on his efforts in school, aiming for college, as an opportunity to get out from under his father. His intellect and drive only led his father to brand him a faggot, and when Jace found that he was gay, he didn’t dare breathe a word of his to his father, who could have a substantial rage when he was drunk, which was more and more these days.

And now, after a few months of bliss, away at school, he had to go back. He pulled into the driveway, and the first thing he noticed was that someone had mowed the lawn. Usually it was a mess of tall grass and tangled weed, but it was freshly shorn. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of it, in all honesty. He went in through the front door, and gasped–the whole fucking house was just like the lawn. It was clean.

Pictures were hung on the walls. The carpet was vacuumed and the tile was mopped. Lightbulbs were changed that had been out when he’d left for school in the fall. He had no idea what was happening, and when he went into the living room, he found his father sitting there and waiting for him, though it certainly wasn’t the father he recalled.

He beamed at Jace when he saw him, got up and gave him a hug, telling him he was so glad he was home, and when he did, Jace felt…something start to grow and curdle inside him, something he didn’t understand at first. His dad pulled him into the kitchen, told him he had dinner all ready for him, sat Jace down and started bringing him all of this food, and Jace, who had always been careful with his food and drink, found himself stuffing his face greedily, and when the six pack of beer appeared next to the place, he pulled one free without a second thought, and guzzled it down, letting some of it run down his chin.

When he’d finished, it was a different sort of Jace sitting there in the chair. Gut doubled in size, head shaven, tattoos appearing all up and down his arms and legs, piercings in his ears and face. He sneered at his dad and said, “Fuck, at least ya can still cook a good meal, for a old faggot. Go on then, I know what ya really want.”

His dad was on his knees, face between his son’s thighs sucking on his cock, and Jace smelled something, some musk rising up around him. His musk, of course. He raised an arm and took a whiff of his own pits, enjoying the scent, knowing that it would drive his horny father wild too. School was already fading from his mind–why the fuck would he leave a cushy gig like this? A horny father who took care of him day and night, who would do anything for a load of his son’s cum? What lout would turn that down?

“Been a while since I’ve had the boys over,” Jace said, “Ya wouldn’t mind cookin’ again, right? Ya know how much they all can eat. If you’re real good, we’ll all fuck that old hole of yours, how’s that sound?”

“Sounds amazing son,” his dad said, and went back to sucking on his cock. Yep, this was the life, and Jace wouldn’t trade it for anything, anymore.

Caption: Daddy Issues #3 – Evan the Roughneck

Evan wasn’t supposed to have even gone to college, if his dad had had his way. He grew up in the sticks in a small town. HIs dad, Gary, ran the only real construction crew in town, and made good money fixing up everything beyond what a handyman could handle, and he’d expected his son to be a proper man’s man, drop out of high school, learn the trade, and follow in his footsteps. Of course, Evan had ended up, in his father’s opinion, a total sissy. He’d given up on him really, and just to get out from under his father’s house, he’d taken on a bunch of loans to get to college in the big city, just as a chance to breathe. But now, he climbed into his car and got ready for the drive home, bracing himself for the culture shock he knew he’d feel after a few months in civilization, back under his dad’s roof.

It was a good four hour drive home, and Evan spent the whole time mulling over his father. He was so focused on it, really, that he didn’t notice as things started changing around him. The pack of gum in the console became a can of skoal, and without thinking about it, he popped it open, packed his upper and lower lips, and just let the spit drool out onto the shirt he was wearing, which had come a grungy looking t-shirt, his pants now ripped camo shorts. The radio switched over to the country station, and rather than change it, he found himself enjoying it. About an hour out from town, he pulled over to use the rest area, got out, but in the bathroom, despite having to piss like a racehorse, he just…couldn’t. He had to save it, didn’t he? He went back out to the lot, climbed into the sizable pickup that had replaced his little junker sedan, and sped off down the highway, eager to get home, finally.

He pulled into his dad’s driveway, hopped out, went inside, and sure enough, there was his lazy fucking father, passed out on the couch, wearing the coveralls for work that he pretty much never took off, even on the weekends.

Evan jumped up on the couch, boots on either side of his dad’s flabby body, and spit right in his face, making him jump. “Hey pig, open yer fuckin’ mouth, yer boy’s gotta fuckin’ piss.”

He didn’t even wait for Gary to open up, just hauled out his cock, and unloaded all over him and the couch, his dad confused and sputtering for a moment, but once he smelled it, he sat up, opened wide, and drank down as much of his boy’s sweet piss as he could. Once he’d finished, the two of them looked at each other, trying to reconcile what they had expected with what they were looking at, but the smell of them both, and the piss all over them, only made them hornier.

“Fuck son, been waitin’ fer ya tah get home,” his stupid dad drawled, and shoved his face into his rank underwear, “All the guys on the crew been plowin’ mah hole, jus’ like ya told ‘em to, but it just ain’t the same as mah boy’s big ass fuckstick…”

“Don’t ya worry Daddy, yer boy ain’t gonna be goin’ away again anytime soon,” Evan said, “Now roll over pig, let me see if that slutty hole a yers is still a little tight.”

Caption: Daddy Issues #2 – Evan the Bully

James’s father, Paul, was a health freak. He went to the gym five days a week, ran each morning before work, prepared only the healthiest of food, and had used all of this to rule over James’s body like a tyrant. James’s body, on the other hand, had never taken to his father’s rule well, and he’d struggled all his life trying to conform to Paul’s expectations for how he should look, and what he should do to get there. There was always just a bit too much fat, not enough muscle, why couldn’t he work harder. The question of sexuality was complicated by the fact his father essentially demanded a family from James, something he had no intention of giving him, of course.

At college, finally free of his father’s strict hand, James had really let go, and already gained close to the Freshman 15 without even trying. He was terrified of what his father would say when he saw him, as he went up to the door and into the house, but his father wasn’t anywhere to be found. He eventually went up into the bedroom, after he heard someone grunting and groaning in there, and what he found made his jaw drop to the floor.

It was his dad, right? It had to be his dad. He could still see some of the resemblance there, but so much of it was…well, it was how fat he was, first of all. He was struggling where he was tied to the chair, and he was so heavy, he could hear the wood creaking under him, his father’s eyes horrified at what had happened to him. James felt a bit dizzy, and retreated from the room and into the bathroom, his body heating up, muscles cramping, after once the discomfort had subsided, he stood up, looked in the mirror, and was staring at a body just as unfamiliar to him as his father’s now was.

Fuck–he was…hot. He was really hot. He ran his hands over his muscled body, groped his bulge through the jockstrap he now had on, and gave a little smirk, before going back out to where his father was still tied up.

“Fuck dad, look at you, really let yourself go while I was at school, eh?” he said, walked up, and started groping and teasing his dad’s massive body. Paul squirmed and jiggled away as best he could, but James could see the confusion in his eyes, and with a little digging under his massive gut, he found out why–his dad was rock hard. “Fuck, is this turning you on old man? You fucking pig? Having your hot jock son play with your fat and tease you is getting you off?” He pulled his hand out, covered with his dad’s precum, took out his gag and fed it to him off his fingers.

“Please, I…I’m so fucking hungry, but I don’t know what’s wrong with us. Please son, we need to get help.”

“I’ll tell you what we need to get,” James said, picking his dad’s phone up off the counter. “We need five extra large pizzas here ASAP, and I’m going to feed every one of them to you. Then, when you’re good and stuffed, pig, I’m gonna bend you over and fuck that fat ass of yours. I have a feeling you’re gonna love it.”

Caption: Daddy Issues #1 – Conrad the Disciplinarian

Four freshmen in college met during a meeting of the college’s queer group, and quickly bonded over a common problem they shared–their fathers. It wasn’t uncommon for young gay guys to have daddy issues of course, but for them, coming out at home was still an impossibility. While each of their fathers was different, what tied them all together was their desire to control their son’s lives, and an unwillingness to accept anything other than the straightest of behavior from all of them. As they shared their woes, and prepared to go home for winter break, a mischievous little sprite was listening in on their discussion. It didn’t seem fair to the sprite, not at all. But magic always came with a cost. They could have fathers who were more agreeable, sure, but they too, would have to change as well.

Conrad’s father, Harry, was a cop, in just about every sense of the word. He worked on the police force of the city, but lived in the outlying suburbs. He was a real piece of work, and he’d ridden Conrad every moment of his life, trying to “man him up” and get him to follow in his footsteps, train him into what he considered to be a proper young man, and none of it had stuck. Now he was off to college and studying literature–what a waste in his opinion. He’d refused to pay for any of it, and Conrad was currently relying on loans to make it though. He couldn’t find somewhere to stay on break, and so, he resigned himself to going home for a few weeks. He arrived, stepped inside, and was greeted by a sight so strange, it took him a moment to understand what he was looking at.

It was his father, naked, wrestling with a leather harness that seemed to have a life of its own. “God damn it, what the fuck is this shit? Conrad, help!” he shouted when he saw his son, but Conrad just gawked, then looked around, and saw a box by the door addressed to his father. As he watched, something crawled out, scuttled across the floor, flew and shoved itself into Harry’s mouth, wrapping around his head–a ball gag and head harness. It distracted him long enough the harness could crawl onto him, followed by a pair of boots, and a butt plug with a curly black tail on the end, that flew into his father’s ass, making him howl as he crawled around, in distress.

Conrad took a step forward, only for more gear to crawl out of the box and start crawling across the floor towards him. He backed up, but before he could get out the front door, the arms of a rubber cat suit wrapped their way around his legs and pulled them out from under him. He fought them off as long as he could, but something…was wrong with them. He could hear something, hear a voice, soothing him, relaxing him, telling him all sorts of filthy, wicked thoughts.

He stood up after a few moments, fully clothed in his gear, and he felt different. Taller, more muscular. He walked past his father, still struggling on the floor with his gear, went to his humidor, took out a cigar and lit it for himself, before walking back, kicking him over and putting a boot on his father’s neck.

“There’s going to be some changes around here, piggy,” Conrad said, his usually meek voice now full of confidence. “Yeah…gonna…gonna train you into a proper little pig slut, yeah. You tried to make a man out of me, pig, well what do you think? Is this man enough for you?”

He pressed down, and saw his father go a little limp, aside from his cock, which was rock hard and leaking.

“I’m the man who’s gonna make a proper pig out of you, and I’ll love every second of it. You will too, soon enough. Now, I wanna hear you squeal.”

(Caption) Halloween Nightmares VII

October Caption Challenge (31/31)

Success! This caption uses a photo from @bowserpig over on twitter, and seemed a good one for Halloween proper.

It didn’t seem fair. Bowser had been working on this costume since last year, ordering the bits and pieces from various folks in the community, and now that his orc costume was all set and ready to go…there was nowhere to go, thanks to the pandemic. He sighed, looking at himself in the mirror. He did look good, and at least he could always show off some photos on the internet. Besides, there was always next year, right?

Well, the dream imp thought it was a shame too. It was a nice attempt, really, but the orcs he was familiar with, from some of the deeper regions of the hellscape, were rather rougher. He wondered what they might think of the costume, in fact. The imps time on the surface was coming to an end, it only had energy left for one last dream–and so, when Bowser went to sleep on Halloween night, the imp pulled him into a dream, and down deep into its own realm, where he found himself standing in a rather alien environment.

There was no sun, but there was light. Nothing was growing that he could seen, just dessert and stone as far as he could make out. Looking down at himself, he was somewhat surprised to find himself in the same costume he’d had on earlier. The ground shook, just slightly, and some massive, green skinned figures came around a pile of boulders, led by a little imp floating in the air.

“Look at this human I found, fellas–he thinks he’s an orc!” the imp said, and cackled.

Bowser took a couple of steps back, but came up against a sizable rock. The orcs he was staring at were…well, they weren’t unlike the images he’d seen in fairytales and stories, but they were decidedly more…intense. If they’d been standing upright, they’d have been close to nine feet tall, but they were hunched over, more like gorillas. Their skin was green, but a bit paler than he might have expected, and the teeth…massive tusks growing out and curling around. They came a bit closer, scowling at him and his mimicry, and he smelled them on the stale, quiet air. It was enough to make him gag, and go a bit weak at the knees.

“A human, dressed like an orc?” one of the beasts said, giving a snort.

“If he wants to be an orc so badly, we can help with that.”

“He’s all yours, if you want. All you have to do is take the deal I offered,” the imp said.

One of the orcs gave a derisive snort, but nodded. The imp gave a little aerial bow, and disappeared into the aether, leaving Bowser alone with the two orcs beneath the Earth.

“Mmm…I haven’t tasted human in ages,” one of them said, came close, and licked the side of Bowser’s face, “Are you sure we can’t just eat him?”

“The slightly larger one gave a grunt. “What do you think, little human? Do you want us to eat you, or would you like us to make you a proper orc?”

Bowser swallowed hard. “Orc…please…”

“Then you’d best eat up,” the orc said, grabbed hold of Bowser’s head in one passive palm, and shoved him under his hairy green gut. The cock waiting for him was studded up and down with bone–Bowser didn’t know if it was decorative or not, but all of it went down his throat, scraping the sides of his mouth and tongue, and the beast started fucking him, barely giving him space to breathe. With a little repositioning, the other orc hauled up Bowser’s legs and drove his own cock into his ass–pumping load after load of orc cum into Bowser’s belly.

He lost himself in the pain, which soon became pleasure, and rapture. With each load, he felt his belly begin to swell, his muscles growing stronger and brawnier, new teeth and tusks pushing out the fake ones he’d gotten for his costume. Already his human life was beginning to fade away, his memories of the surface. Once he’d grown large enough, he shoved the orcs off of him, climbed on top of one of them, and drove his own cock into the hole, while the other kissed him, their tusks grating against each other as they did. He gave a roar, and spilled what little remained of his humanity deep in his orc brother’s guts, and the three of them collapsed into a sweaty heap among the rocks.

Some nightmares, it seems, can become the wildest of dreams–depending on who dreams them.

(Caption) Mind the Return Policy

October Caption Challenge (30/31)

You couldn’t get into the best Halloween parties on campus without a costume, which was a challenge for Jeff, since he didn’t have much in the way of cash to spend on anything extravagant. Some guys he knew could pull together a decent costume with just some trash and duct tape, but he’d never been that creative. Looking on the internet for ideas, he saw a good one–go buy some clothes from a workwear store and go as a construction worker. The next day, you can just return them, and you aren’t out a dime–so long as they stay clean of course.

It seemed like an easy solution. There was a little workwear shop near campus, owned by a gruff looking older fellow, who, when Jeff checked out with the gear, just gave him a scowl, like he knew exactly what he was up to. “You need a copy of the return policy?” he asked. Jeff just shook his head, bundled everything up and left the store.

The party was great. Even more amazing, the clothes were good as new the next day, aside from their missing tags, of course. But that wouldn’t be an issue he was sure. He went back to the store with the clothes in hand, and told the older fellow he wanted to return them. He even had the receipt and everything.

The older fellow scoffed, and his sneer turned into a bit of a smile. “Sorry fella, I can’t take back gear that you’ve worked in,” he said.

Jeff started to object, but felt the world shift around him a bit, in a way he couldn’t quite explain. “What are you talking about?” he managed to say, “They’re good as new.”

“Buddy, look in the mirror, that shit is filthy.”

Jeff walked over and looked in the mirror hanging on the outside of the dressing room, and just stared at his reflection in confusion. For one thing, why was he wearing the clothes he’d bought? He’d…he’d had something else on, hadn’t he? From…school? Everything was fuzzy all of a sudden. It had been a costume, hadn’t it? But he hadn’t…done anything for Halloween, he was too tired from working all day at the site.

“No, what the hell, I…what the fuck did ya do to me?”

“Look, best I can offer is an exchange. It’s no surprise ya wanna return them, I mean…I’m surprised ya even managed to squeeze into those to get here.”

The same sensation as before, but this time, it was centered on him, inside him. Looking down, Jeff watched as his body swelled larger and larger, packing on fat, the suspenders pushed to the side, his t-shirt riding up as a massive, hairy gut spilled out, the button at the top of his pants popping open.

“I…I mean…I don’t understand…” he stammered, gripping his gut in disbelief, but already the memory was fading, of being any other way.

“No worries Jeff,” the owner said, “You’re familiar with our return policy. Seems like ya come in here every month, after outgrowing the last set of clothes I sell you. It’s like you enjoy being a fat, hairy, stinking pig or something.”

Jeff grunted, as the hefty owner pushed up against him. “I…I uh…look, I’ll just…just take the clothes…”

“No, you’re gonna get in the dressing room, bend over like the horny asspig you are, and I’m gonna fuck that loose hole of yours. Then, we’ll get you dressed in something closer to your size eh? Don’t you want me to breed that hole of yours, you fat hog?”

Fuck, he did, didn’t he? That afternoon, Jeff was back at the site, in his new clothes. They were better, with a little room to grow at least, but that was just a challenge as far as he was concerned. In a few weeks, he’d be bursting out of these as well, and head on back to Wade’s shop to make a new exchange. He was so happy he’d found that shop–really, his return policy was the best in town.

(Caption) What is Lost, Can be Freely Claimed

October Caption Challenge (29/31)

“Come on Simon, magic? Really?”

“Sure Marty! Just fuckin’ trust me, alright? The plan’ll work. You wanna live in this shithole the rest a yer life?”

“Ya know I don’t.”

“Well then work with me here. So we lure a couple a rich guys from the city, one a those gay couples, and have them stay here for a week.”

“Here? Why the fuck would they wanna stay at a run down shithole like our place?”

“Easy–it’s called AirBnB.”

“Come on babe, doesn’t it look quaint?”

“It looks dirty.”

“I want to get out of the city though.”

“I know, I know, look, just book it, alright? But I reserve the right to demand a refund.”

“Alright, so they stay here–how’s that help us, Marty?”

“Well, they first they lose their luggage, you see…”

“It’s not the end of the world, the airline said they’ll have it to us by the end of the week.”

“We’ll be leaving by the end of the week, Gregory! What in the world am I supposed the wear? My plane clothes all week?”

“Well, you are the one who said that you wanted to get out of the city and into the country, maybe living a little simpler could help. I mean, did you really need two suitcases for a week here?”

“Yes! Of course I did!”

“Alright…”

“Only thing is, when you lose something, according to magic, that creates…an opening. Something else can slip in and replace it. If you don’t claim it, well, that means it’s up for grabs.”

“So…we just gotta give them something else? Like what?”

“We got all kinds a stuff, Simon! And with a little spell here and there, they won’t even miss their garbage luggage.”

“I can’t wear it anymore, Gregory–oh look! Someone didn’t clean out the closet. Oh, but it’s not the most…well…chiq, is it?”

“What, coveralls and rubber boots aren’t your style? Fuck, this place is a dump, I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.”

“Let me just…hmm…it fits pretty well, actually.”

“Oh my god, I have to get a picture of this. Chadwick, in coveralls–the guys back home are going to fucking freak out.”

“Oh haha, fine, you can get a picture, but only if you put on something too.”

“No fucking way.”

“Come on! It’s pretty comfy…”

“Oh fine, but I’m just trying it on, ok? Nothing more.”

“So they put on our stuff, and…then what?”

“Then we wait.”

“Fuck Greg, you…fuckin stink today.”

“Well yeah–why the fuck wouldn’t I?”

“No, I mean, you don’t…usually stink, do you?”

“Come on Chad, of course we fuckin’ stink.”

“No, I mean…fuck, what was I thinkin’ about?”

“Go get me another beer man, I just wanna relax before we gotta go back tah work on Monday.”

“But we’re supposed tah leave in two days, right Greg?”

“Leave where?”

“I…I thought…”

“Dumbass, what are you fuckin’ thinkin’ for?”

“I dunno.”

“Get me that beer, then get yer ass over here, I’m fuckin’ horny as hell this mornin’.”

“We wait?”

“Yeah, we wait.”

“For what?”

“For the magic to work, stupid!”

“Don’t yell at me Simon.”

“Look, they forget who they are, they take our place, and then they renounce their old lives, which means we can have them! We take their stuff, and bang–brand new lives.”

“Why the fuck would they give up their good lives for our shitty one?”

“Look. I promise it’ll work, just trust me.”

“What the fuck ya want?”

“Just some lost luggage from the airport…for a Gregory Morse and a Chadwick Anderson?”

“Ain’t no one here by those names. Ya must have the wrong address.”

“Oh–so you’re renouncing your right to these worldly goods?”

“What the fuck ya sayin’? Yeah, sure, whatever. Get the fuck off mah property.”

“Yes sir, have a good day Sir.”

…….

“Who was that Greg?”

“No one important. Come here, Daddy’s fuckin’ horny boy…”

“Oh fuck Daddy, you fuckin’ reek tahday.”

“Yeah I do you fucker–come on, one more day a vacation, then it’s back tah fuckin’ work. I wanna spend it fuckin’–outside.”

“What?”

“Yeah, gonna throw ya around a mud puddle, get ya real fuckin nasty, then plow that hole a yers.”

“Oh fuck Daddy, that sounds fuckin’ hot.”

Well go on then boy, let’s get started.”

(Caption) Five Lost to Pigtown

October Caption Challenge (28/31)

Something had changed in the city lately, Matt thought. It was seedier, he kept seeing these sorry, dirty looking guys roaming around the junkyard where he worked. He thought they were derelicts at first, but that didn’t seem quite accurate. They only seemed to come out in the dark, for one thing, and more than once, he saw a manhole cover slide back into place as he passed by an alley. Were they living in the sewers? He didn’t really want to know, but it creeped him out all the same.

All day long now, he felt like someone was watching him as he kept the bits and pieces of cars and trucks organized, and helped folks find the bits they were looking for. One evening, he lost track of time while he was out in the tire storage area, and didn’t notice the sun setting until he shuddered from the chill. He closed up and went to leave, when he heard a rustling inside–had someone gotten in behind him?

He opened back up, poked around, and towards the back, sheltered by a stack of old tires, he found one of the grungy fellows there, sitting in some filthy work gear, cock hanging out, smoking a cigar. Matt yelled at him, and the guy startled and jumped behind the stack, almost like an animal, like he was terrified. Confused, Matt came closer, to where the cigar was still smoking on the ground, trying to figure out what was going on. He caught a whiff of the smoke, and coughed–it was…strong, to say the least. It made his eyes water, his head swim. He sat down where the man had been, trying to clear his head, but before he could, the fellow had slipped back out, picked up the cigar, and pushed it into Matt’s mouth.

That first inhale was a punch to the gut. Coupled with the stink rolling off the man in front of him, all he could do was gag–but the cigar refused to fall from his mouth, for some reason. He…he needed it, didn’t he? He took another inhale–that one wasn’t so bad. The greasy fellow got down in front of him, pulled out Matt’s cock, and started sucking on it. Matt looked down at himself, at his clothes, at his…filthy, nasty clothes. They hadn’t been that dirty, had they? A moment ago? He took another draw on the cigar, looked at the cinder on the end. Almost reading his mind, the man opened his mouth, and Matt knocked the ash off into the man’s mouth. He went back to sucking, and Matt moaned from the sensation of ashy grit on his member, and took another suck on the cigar.

They looked for Matt for a few days, but he never turned up for work. He hadn’t even clocked out, the day he disappeared. However, the owner did see someone that looked…a bit like him, in a mass of filthy bodies down an alley. Those damn derelicts–where the hell are they all coming from? It seems like they’re breeding around here, or something.

(Caption) Halloween Nightmares VI

October Caption Challenge (27/31)

Nicholas liked order. He’d been a wild kid, ended up enlisting in the army, and getting shipped out to the Middle East. The experience had sucked, but it had given him the sense of discipline and consequence that he’d been missing, and when his tour of duty ended, he proceeded to get his life on the right track. Now, he was doing good. Engaged with a wedding planned for the next year, just bought a house, a solid job and good savings. He even made time to go visit the gym on a regular basis, and was in better shape now than he’d been, even in his army days.

The dream imp, however, looked at this and found itself a bit disgusted. It followed Nicholas home from the gym that evening, poking and prodding around in his head, looking for all of his quirks and weaknesses, crafting just the sort of nightmare that would break him properly, and send him back to his dirty, wild ways from before.

Nicholas fell asleep that night, and found himself in a room he didn’t recognize. A basement, probably, since there was no light or windows that he could see. He was…naked as well, which was rather embarrassing, but all of the clothes littered around the room were a bit…well, he didn’t know what half the shit was, in all honesty. There was a lot of leather, and rubber, and…fuck, what kind of faggot shit was this, anyway?

“Don’t worry about that stuff, Nick–come here, we can help.”

“Yeah Nick, let us help, come on.”

The voices didn’t sound quite human. They almost seemed to be coming from his own mind. He followed them anyway, and found himself looking at some of the filthiest clothes he’d ever seen, dropped in the corner of the room.

“Hi Nick, don’t you want to wear us?”

“Come on Nick, it’ll feel so good…”

“No one has worn us in so long.”

Nick took a few steps back, “What the fuck is this?” he said, looking around the room, wondering what the hell kind of dream this was, when he felt something slither around his ankle, and grip him tight. Looking down, it was a leg of some coveralls that had slithered out of the pile–and the other filthy laundry was coming closer as well.

He tried to pull his ankle away, but the coveralls tugged back harder, and pulling him to the floor–and everything swarmed over him. Some filthy briefs crawled up his legs, a nasty t-shirt squirmed over his head and down onto his body, and the coveralls swallowed everything up. He stood up, feeling almost light headed, and the words, the voices, they were so loud, they were drowning out his own mind.

“That’s it Nick, isn’t it good to be dirty again?”

“Such a loser Nick, you were always a loser. You never stood a chance.”

“You stupid fucking faggot, nothing but a dirty, filthy, faggot pig, that’s all you are.”

He felt his cock release a stream of piss into the coveralls, and the clothes squirmed like they were orgasming–they were orgasming, actually, and it felt like he was as well. After that, he just relaxed, and let the clothes drink him dry, sucking down his muscles, sucking down his mind, sucking down his cum and piss and sweat, and when he finally woke up, it wasn’t in his bed.

He was on a toilet.

He didn’t know where this toilet was. He didn’t know how he’d gotten the dirty workwear he was wearing. He didn’t know…anything, really. The dream had drained so much of him, that all that was left was a nasty minded pig. A pig with a name at least. Nick. He was called Nick–no last name. He didn’t need one. He…had a job too, didn’t he? He thought hard, tried to focus, and pissed his pants by accident, feeling it pool around the seat of his pants and dribble off onto the floor.

He would have gotten down to lick it up like a good pig, when the door to the bathroom opened. Later, then. He had work to do, after all. A greasy looking roughneck rounded the corner, ready to use the toilet, and found the pig there, with a surprised look on his face. But one whiff of him, and he knew what he needed to do. A full service toilet pig, just waiting for him. It was his lucky day, apparently.

Nick kept trying to leave, when he remembered there was a door outside the stall where he’d woken up. But whenever he tried, he woke up right back on the toilet. After all, he still had work to do, didn’t he? So much work to do.