It was a dream, right? It had to be a dream. Garrett was in a house, a house that was…vaguely familiar, probably one of the ones he lived in when he was a kid, but his dad had been military, and they’d been shuffled around too much for any to stick. The whole house, though, was empty of all furnishings–just bare floors and white walls.
“Hello?” he said, and heard something…scamper, or skitter, or scuttle in another room. He looked around the corner and found the room empty aside from the stairs heading up. There was the sound of the thing above him. He shouldn’t…follow it, right? Dreams have their own logic, though, and unable to stop himself, he climbed the stairs, and found his way to one of the bedrooms. Here, there was something. A heaping pile of socks, for one thing, and beside them…some kind of creature.
A dream imp. Generally confined to the various regions of hell, on occasion, usually during October, when such feats are easier, one will slip through the ways and find themselves on the mortal plane. Usually, their nightmares don’t have much force, when delivered from hell–once the mortal wakes, any hold that might have lasted disappears in an instant. The few who do succumb to them, usually die of heart attacks in their sleep, their souls dragged down into hell where they dream the same nightmares over and over. But this demon had more in mind than simple heart attack–he was here to have some fun.
“Hello, Garrett,” the thing said, “I have a gift for you,” he said, motioning to the pile of socks beside him. “Or rather, a variety of gifts–all you have to do, is pick one.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Garrett said, “I…where the fuck am I?”
“Now Garrett, those questions aren’t important. Pick your gift,” the demon said.
Garrett was overwhelmed then, by the scent of the socks in front of him. He would have expected to be repulsed–after all, none of them were particularly clean. Instead, he found his mouth watering, and he dropped to hands and knees, crawled forward, and buried his face in them.
“Now now, don’t be greedy–you only get one, you little pervert,” the demon said with a cackle.
Garrett tried to get a hold of himself, but before he could extract his head, he smelled one, one ranker than the others, or maybe the acidic sweat of it just appealed to his mind more. He pulled it free in his mouth, chewing at it, sucking down as much of the filth as he could. He was naked now–had he been naked before? It didn’t matter, he was so horny, he started jacking off. The demon jumped with glee, and when Garrett came after a minute, he would have screamed in his bed, his cock pumping a load of cum into his sheets, but it was muffled by the sock still lodged in his mouth.
Where had it come from? He had no clue, but its allure hadn’t faded. He kept sucking on it, cumming again, but already it was beginning to fade away. But as the scent of the sock died off, he could smell something else. It was faint, but it was the same smell…but coming from outside the apartment. He went to the window, opened it, and sniffed the air. Faint…but he was out there, somewhere. The owner of this sock…and Garrett needed him more than anything. More than he’d needed anything ever before.
He left before dawn. He left everything in his apartment, didn’t even bother calling work. He drove all night until he was too exhausted to go any further, but the smell was a bit stronger. How far off was he? It took him three days, and five state lines, the demon taunting him in his dreams, teasing him with more filthy clothes, until at last, he pulled into a small town, rolled up to a garage, and there, drinking a beer, it was him.
Master. Garrett fell out of the car, crawled over, and shoved his face against the man’s boot, who didn’t look the least bit surprised. “Fuck, was wondering what was taking you so long, pig–been expecting ya for days. Gonna have tah punish ya for makin’ me wait.”
Garrett whimpered, and this close to him…he realized the truth. He needed this man, his stink. He’d never be able to leave him. The man hauled out his cock and christened his new pig in his piss, and Garrett came in his pants from the stink of it, his old life already fading away. After a good night’s sleep, after the demon went through his mind and burned away all of his old life in front of him, there was nothing left–just a stupid, grunting pig, aching for his master’s filth, and that’s all he’d be until the day he died.
Steve dragged the package in with him that was lying outside the apartment, so happy it was finally here. With the quarantine going on, all of the barbers and salons had shut down–not that Steve had really cared. He’d always just buzzed his own hair with an electric razor. But a few weeks into quarantine, the dang thing had broken down!
He’d gone online to buy a new one, but every single one on Amazon was sold out, and back ordered for at least a month, of not longer. Unable to believe it, he’d gone out and looked at a few stores, but sure enough, he hadn’t been able to find anything. In the end, he lucked out. A little store, by the name of Arctos, had an electric shaver on their site, and the price wasn’t bad either. He ordered it in, and here it was–and his hair wasn’t even that unruly, though the couple of weeks growth was more than he’d seen on his head in ages. He got the razor out, and was surprised to find that it was just the electric shaver–there were no guards to be found. He usually used the smallest one, but it was still odd that it wouldn’t have them.
In any case, it didn’t matter that much. He went into the bathroom, plugged it in, and started working on his head–but as he did, he started to feel a bit strange. A little light headed, maybe. Of course, what he hadn’t really noticed on the shaver, before using it on his head, was that there were some setting on the side he hadn’t bothered to check. A little dial with some words on the side. See the razor didn’t have any guards–Arctos was very keen on having you shave away your old self entirely, leaving you with a nice, clean scalp, and a nice clean new life to go with it. The setting Steve was currently using to trim his hair right down to his scalp, was “sadistic skinhead”.
The more hair that fell away, the sexier he looked, and the more he found himself thinking about the cruel shit he wanted to do to Aaron, his roommate. They’d been getting along alright up to this point, but Steve found himself fantasizing about pinning him down, soaking him down in his piss, humiliating him in the most depraved ways–fuck, his cock was rock hard. He pulled it out with his free hand, surprised by the PA in the head and the tattoos running up the shaft–but just for a moment. They’d always been there, hadn’t they? He finished his haircut, his old self gone, and admired the muscular, tattooed skinhead staring back at him in the mirror. He’d save his load for now though–Aaron would be home soon. He started fiddling with the dials on the shaver–he was due for a haircut as well.
Aaron came home, and it was the smell that alerted him something was off. It was cigarettes. But Steve and he both hated them, and the apartment was non-smoking anyway, so who would have been smoking in here? He followed the smell to the bathroom, and he found Steve sitting on the toilet, cigarette in his mouth, wearing…well, it wasn’t anything he’d seen Steve in before.
“There you are, Pig,” Steve said, and beckoned him closer with a gloved finger, “Time for your haircut piggy.”
Aaron tried to run, but Steve was vicious–he pinned him against the wall and took off a stripe of hair with the razor, and as he did, Aaron gave a snort of excitement. “Yeah, that’s it pig, just embrace it. We’ll get rid of all that hair, and you’ll be so much happier, trust me.”
A few more stripes, and Aaron was more turned on than he’d ever been in his life. Steve forced the collar around him, put him on his knees, and dragged him over to the toilet, where there was a dog bowl full of Steve’s cold piss in front of him. “Have a drink Pig, while I work on the back of your head.”
The setting that Steve had settled on for Aaron, after much deliberation, was “Daddybear Pigslave.” Sure enough, as more and more of Aaron’s hair fell away, Steve watched him get older, hairier and fatter, happily lapping at his young Master’s piss. When his head was perfectly bald, Steve dragged him out of the bathroom and fucked him in his bedroom, before showing his new slave to his proper home–the cage that had appeared in the dungeon, where Aaron’s room had been an hour ago. He added some more piss to his bowl, and Aaron happily drank it down, oblivious to the fact that he’d had any other life, beyond this one.
Warning: Contains some gay to straight content, and heavy humiliation
Intensify your sex life! Make your wildest fantasies your own reality! Anything is possible with method roleplay!
Anthony and Sam had always liked a little bit of roleplay in their sex, just to keep things exciting, but neither of them had ever felt like it was all that…immersive. They just had a hard time taking each other seriously for some reason, and half the time would end up in giggles by the end of it. When Anthony showed Sam the ad he’d seen on a porn site, he thought it would be good for a chuckle–besides, the file was free to listen to, what was the harm?
They listened, and while neither of them could really recall much of what it had said, when it was done, they were sure it was a joke–but Anthony had a scene he’d been wanting to try for a while, but he was a little afraid that Sam might think it’s too silly. “I want you to pretend you’re a married man, and I’m just a little whore you like you use when she won’t put out,” he finally confessed, and as he’d expected Sam laughed at him, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t intrigued by the idea. So Anthony dug through their closets to dress him up for the part, settling on a western shirt, some old jeans, cowboy boots, camo suspenders from an old halloween party at some bar, and as a joke, he stuck a toy cigar in the breast pocket as well.
“Alright, go down and get in your car, sike yourself up a bit. Door’s unlocked, I’ll be in the bedroom, like usual Daddy…”
Sam did as he was told, a little self conscious in his outfit, hoping the neighbors didn’t notice. He went down and got into his car, a little sedan–not very Daddy, but oh well–got in, and began talking himself up a bit.
“Fuckin’ bitch,” he started, “Go to work at the fuckin’ factory all damn day, and when I come home she has…has the fuckin’ nerve to tell me she’s too damn tired. Like hell she’s too damn tired, spends all fuckin’ day on that phone a hers, that I have to pay for, can’t even clean up the fuckin’ house.”
He groped the front of his jeans, not really noticing the grease stains that had appeared on them, or on his shirt, or the beard that had spread across his face.
“Oh well, at least the faggot knows better than to tell me no. Hole’s tighter too–even though I damn well know he’s had every fucker’s cock in it within fifty miles,” Sam said, sneered a bit, and got out of the car. He felt…confident. Horny. Ready to fuck for sure. He pulled his cigar out of his pocket, clipped it with the scissors he kept on his keychain, and lit it with his lighter as he climbed the stairs to the faggot’s apartment. The door was unlocked like usual. Inside, he slipped the suspenders down long enough to take off his shirt, and then pulled them back up. Faggot always liked having Daddy a little dressed up in the bedroom. He unzipped his fly and pulled his cock out the front, before heading down the hall to the faggot’s bedroom.
It was dark inside. From the light of the hallway, he could see him there, lying face down on the bed, ass up, ready to get bred. Much to his surprise, the sight turned his stomach a bit, which almost threw Sam out of it. Why was the sight of him…of…Anthony, of his husband, suddenly turning him off so much? The thought answered him easily, with a natural logic. Because he was straight of course. Because what man, in their right mind, would let another guy violate his hole? You had to be real fucked up to do something like that. He wasn’t like that–he’d never let another guy use him like this. That was the difference between them. That’s why it was ok. He wasn’t a man, not really. Just a faggot, just a hole.
Without saying a word, he walked up and ran his fingers along the faggot’s crack. It was clean and already lubed. Sam closed his eyes, at a loss of what to focus on for a moment. He needed some inspiration to get it up, after all. He ended up thinking about Tammy, down at the strip club, with those big fuckin’ knockers in that little bikini, thinking about running his cock up and down between them while he ran it up and down the faggot’s crack.
“Oh fuck Daddy, yeah, fuck me…”
“Shut the fuck up! I’m not here tah listen tah ya faggot!” Sam barked at him, the intensity even surprising himself, and he shoved his cock into the faggot’s ass before he lost his hardon. Anthony gasped at the sudden thrust–Sam was usually much more gentle, but when he tried to crawl away, Sam grabbed hold of his hips, hard enough to hurt, and dragged him back down onto his cock. “Fuck, it’s too big, wait…”
“Hell yeah it’s big, that’s why you like it, right faggot?” Sam said, leering at him, chuffing cigar smoke around him as he worked his throbbing, growing cock in up to the root.
“Oh fuck!” Anthony cried. And tried to relax. What had gotten into Sam? He’d never taken a scene so earnestly before–had that site really worked? And why did he smell smoke? Whatever, it was hot, just roll with it. “Fuck Daddy, yeah, fuck my ass with that big fucking cock, I bet your wife never moans like I do for you…”
“Faggot, I said shut the fuck up!” he said, and pushed the faggot’s face into the mattress. “Yer as bad as a bitch, always wanting tah talk. You should count yourself lucky I’m willing to waste this prime Daddy load on an ugly fuckin’ worthless faggot pig like you. Ya think I don’t hear about you from the guys at the factory? About the fuckin’ whoremouth down at the fuckin’ truckstop, takin’anything from any guy? Ya make me fuckin’ sick, but a hole’s a fuckin’ hole!”
With that, Sam came deep in Anthony’s hole. Grunting and rutting for another couple of moments before pulling free. Anthony rolled over and looked at the burly middle aged roughneck pulling on a shirt, still smoking his cigar, and was…confused. Where did Sam go? But he also wasn’t quite sure who Sam was anymore. Sam headed for the door, and it took all of his courage for Anthony to say, “Wait, where are you going?”
“Where the fuck do you think I’m going? I’m going home.”
“But…But Sam, you live here…”
He laughed, “Why the fuck would I live with a fitlhy faggot like you?”
“But…but I love you.”
“No faggot, you love my cock. You love cock more than anything, that’s why we don’t run your old perverted ass out of town. Stick to what you’re good at–suckin’ cock and gettin’ fucked. Leave love to the real men like me.”
Sam left, and Anthony looked around, the apartment reforming into a filthy trailer, full of dirty laudry he’d stolen from truckers, used condoms, all sorts of filth. It wasn’t right. It…It wasn’t right. Sure, he was an old cocksucker, but he knew Sam loved him. Why else would he keep coming back? One day–Anthony would have that big, fat daddy cock all to himself, no matter what. But first, he was still horny. He’d go down to the truck stop for a bit, see if any of the guys hanging around needed to drop a load. But he’d always be thinking of that cock. That perfect Daddy cock, and how he could make it his forever.
It was a few weeks before Sam was desperate enough to go visit Anthony again. Whatever had happened the last time he was there, with the faggot trying to talk about how he loved him, it had grossed him out enough that when he got home, he’d sworn off that ass forever. From now on, he’d stick to pussy–either the one he was married to, or the strippers off the highway, or whoever else. But no more ass, no way no how.
For a while his resolve had worked. He was nice enough to his bitchy wife to get back in her pussy a few times the first week, but he couldn’t keep that up. He lost his patience, she started screaming again, and so that option disappeared. Bitches were just too fuckin’ tempermental! The best thing about that faggot was that no matter how Sam showed up, Anthony didn’t care–he just wanted Sam’s cock in his hole, nothing else mattered. The faggot had been messaging him off and on for the last week, asking about him, asking how his big daddy cock was doing, asking when he was going to come back by and fuck his ass again. Sam thought about blocking the number, but didn’t. He needed the ego boost, and he swore when he read the messages, his cock did feel a bit larger each time.
So Sam turned to strippers instead, but that was a dead end as well. None of the bitches could take him, they kept complaining about how he was too big. He thought that having a big dick was a good thing, but no! They just whined about how he kept going to fast, and needed more lube, and just let them give him a blow job. But Anthony was right, Sam hated blow jobs. He wanted to fuck, and fuck rough. Bitches couldn’t take it because he was too much of a man for them. And so, after a few days of nothing, with his balls ready to burst, he finally gave in and drove back to Anthony’s trailer. One more time, he told himself. One last time, and then he’d block his number and get his head on straight again.
The trailer was filthier than he’d remembered it from last time (or had it been an apartment? It was hard to remember all of a sudden) and there was too much dirty underwear around for it all to belong to Anthony, and he saw a little trove of used condoms on the table, some of them still with cum swilling in them–probably a snack for later. Sam’s stomach turned in disgust, but better to just get on with it. The sooner he planted his load, the sooner he’d be out of here. The lights were out in the tiny bedroom like before, the old faggot in his filthy clothes up on his hands nad knees on the bed. Sam pushed the head of his cock in, and it slid in so easily, he nearly moaned. He’d missed this. Had he really fucking missed this?
He started fucking, the faggot moaning, and he kept turning around to look at him over his shoulder, his eyes…hungry. It unnerved Sam, and he said, “Turn the fuck around, stop fuckin’ lookin’ at me.”
“Don’t like having people look at you when you fuck Daddy?”
“Shut up.”
“I know some people probably think you’re ugly, with the missing teeth, that busted nose, how fat you are. I don’t care though. You got the hottest cock in town, and that’s all I need. I don’t give a fuck how much of an ugly son of a bitch ya are.”
“Yeah, well, the only fuckin’ reason I’m here is cause yer the only hole in town that can take this cock without wining about it, so stop fuckin’ whinin’! If I want someone whinin’ at me, I’ll go home tah my wife,” Sam said, but the words came out a bit odd, due to the teeth missing in the front of his mouth all of a sudden.
“Ya still gonna play that game Daddy?”
“What the fuck you talkin’ about?”
“One of yer mates from the factory blabbed about you, after we were done fuckin’ the other day. Didn’t know you’d gotten a divorce last year.”
“Shut up, that ain’t true.”
“Found herself a real prince charming, didn’t she? Didn’t have to spend another day with a fat old ugly loser with a freakish dick anymore. Ain’t that what she said?”
Sam was feeling confused again. It wasn’t true, was it? It…It didn’t feel wrong, but it was so hard to focus.
“That’s ok Daddy. You don’t need her. You don’t need women at all. Sure, you might think they’re hot, but none of them can handle a man like you, and you know it. There’s only one ass in town that can take you, and you love it. The more you fuck it, the more you need it. The more you need it, the more you love it. Sure, it’s attached to a fat, perverted faggot like me, but that’s alright. You’ll take what you can get, won’t you?”
Sam was bucking faster, all twelve inches of his fat cock sliding in and out of Anthony’s hole now. With a few grunts, he slammed in deep and unloaded, filling the faggot’s hole with a massive load of cum.
“Fuck yeah Daddy! That’s it. You fucking love this ass, I want to hear you say it.”
“I…I fuckin’ love this ass…” Sam muttered, almost in a stupor as the orgasm washed over him, “I love this fuckin’ ass so fuckin’ much.”
“You worship this ass. It’s the only thing you’re attracted to from now on. You’re obsessed with it.”
“No…No, fuck, what the fuck are ya doin’ tah me?” he said, hauling his cock free. It slapped across his flabby thigh, thicker than it should have been, and he looked down at his hairy gut covered in white hair. That wasn’t right, none of this was right. “Ya…what the fuckin’ hell, ya fuckin’ faggot?”
“Come on Daddy, ya ain’t done,” Sam said, shaking his ass, swaying it, and Sam felt his eyes lock onto it, his cock tingling at the sight of that lovely, loose hole. “Come eat Daddy–you gotta clean it up now. It’s your favorite.”
Sam, whimpering a bit, got down on his knees and started licking Anthony’s crack, and the faggot pushed down, feeding his own massive load back to him from his ass, and Sam licked it all down, Sam urging him on, telling him how hungry he was, how he was addicted to cum from this hole, how he’d eat anything from it, that he craved it more than anything. When there was nothing left, and the crack was licked clean, Sam fell back on his ass, horrified, but hornier than he’d been in his life. Anthony got up, and came back in with the pile of used condoms. “Here Daddy, you’re still hungry aren’t you?”
Sam looked up at him, horrified, but he was…hungry. He sucked the cum out of the condoms, and licked the outside, tasting his favorite hole all over them, moaning and grunting and hard again already. Anthony laid him down on his back while he kept eating, and fucked himself on the old pig’s cock again, draining another load from his balls, squatted over his face and fed that to him as well, cementing Sam’s new life here with him, for good. He didn’t leave the trailer park much after that. Anthony would go out, fill up his ass with cum from strangers and more than a few condoms too, come home, and feed his Daddy his favorite meal before they fucked all night long. It wasn’t much of a life he supposed, but for an ass loving, ugly redneck Daddy like him, with a freakish cock–what could he really hope for, in the end?
“Oh fuck daddy, please, your boy’s hole is so hungry for your big cock, please fuck me Daddy…”
This wasn’t right, this wasn’t how this was supposed to be happening. Jeremy flipped his way through the spell book again, trying not to think about his growing gut, the hair that was coating his face and body, the winking asshole of his boy, fuck he wanted to pound that ass so bad, but if he did, then they really would be fucked for good.
Jeremy had always had a thing for his dad. When he’d found the old tome of spells at the library, he thought he might be able to cobble together something that might make his dad a little more willing to have sex with him. Thinking he’d worked it out, he’d cast it earlier, and it had definitely worked, but not in the way he’d intended. His dad was looking younger and younger. In fact, as Jeremy stared at him, his beard was shrinking up into his face, his body slimming down, the hair pulling back in as he grew younger and younger. Jeremy on the other hand, was getting older and older, the hair on his body picking up silver. He let out a groan of frustration, ran a hand over his head and it came away with a clump. He didn’t know how to make it work! And if he didn’t figure it out, and he fucked his boy, then the spell would seal–he’d never be able to undo it, no matter what!
“Damn it Daddy, I’m tired of waiting. Put down the stupid book and fuck me!” his boy said, ripped the tome out of his hand, and climbed into his lap, naked, legs wrapped around his waist, groping Jeremy’s fattening chest, rubbing his now hairless crack against the head of Jeremy’s fat daddy cock through the shorts barely containing his new bulk.
“God damn it boy! I’m not gonna fuck you!” Jeremy said, and pushed him off, voice deeper and more commanding.
His boy was relentless, however, shoved his face into Jeremy’s crotch and started licking at the head, Jeremy moaning, leaking precum from his heavy balls. He grabbed the boy’s head in his hands and smothered him under his belly with a growl, trying hard to remember that he couldn’t fuck him he couldn’t, but a blowjob couldn’t hurt, right?
But no matter how hard his boy sucked on him, he couldn’t cum, and the horniness was driving him insane. Finally, unable to resist any longer, he threw his boy to the floor, climbed on him, and drove his cock into his hole. It was…amazing, better than he’d expected it to be in a million years, and in less than a minute, he came–and he felt the spell snap into place, their roles now forever reversed.
Still, there were worse things, right? He had a handsome boy willing to do anything to please him. The spell had left him wealthy enough that neither of them needed to work. All Jeremy had to do all day was drink his whiskey, smoke his cigars, and fuck his son’s hole whenever either of them got horny. After a few days, neither of them could recall a time things had been different. The book went back to the library, ready for someone else to find it, and try to work it’s magic in their favor.
I regularly post captions like this one over on my discord server, which all of my patrons at the $5 level and higher can access! They also get perks like RP sessions, access to the suggestion box, and bonus stories like this one, that I posted today. You can find out more info about becoming a patron here. Thanks as always for reading, and for the support!
“Please Coach, I’m still full from breakfast, can’t I work out some more?” Reggie said, rubbing his still full belly and letting off an uncomfortable belch. He was soaked in sweat, but he’d had a hard time lifting this morning, due to how full he was.
Coach just looked down at him, unimpressed. “You said you wanted to train with me, didn’t you?”
“Yes Coach,” Reggie muttered.
“And when I told you that I would train you, you remember what that meant right? That you would have to do everything I said. That if you wanted to be a bull like me, that was going to take some sacrifices. You’d have to do some things that you wouldn’t do otherwise.”
Reggie nodded.
“Besides, you are hungry, aren’t you?”
He was. He was still so full, but his lips were parched somehow. Coach tweaked one of his nipples, and a spurt of milk shot out of it and struck Reggie in the cheek. Unable to help himself, he scooped it up with a finger and sucked it clean.
“Now drink it up, and don’t question me again.”
Reggie stood up, and started sucking on one of coach’s teats, moaning as he did, his head going foggy and loopy like it always did when he drank down his milk. It wasn’t long before Reggie’s mind had shut down entirely, as he moved onto the other tit, grinding his cock and balls up against Coach’s body. Something…had been happening to them lately. The more of coach’s milk he drank, the larger his ball sack got, and the smaller his cock became, almost like his sack was absorbing it.
When he’d drained Coach’s teats, the older man pushed him away. “Now, what are you?”
“I’m a cow, Coach.”
“That’s good. And what are cows?”
“Cows are fat. Cows are stupid. Cows don’t have dicks, we just have udders full of milk for Master.”
“That’s good. You will remember that, you will know in your heart that you are a cow, but you will still think that you are here to become a bull like me. You still aren’t ready to know the truth of what you are, of what you want to be.”
Reggie nodded dumbly.
“Now turn around, time to fatten up that ass of yours.”
Reggie turned around and bent over the weight bench, and Coach fucked his tight hole, both of them mooing and lowing, Reggie’s smaller cock spewing milk all over the floor with each thrust of Coach’s massive cock into his ass. Give him another week, and then Coach would tell him the truth. He’d never come here because he wanted to be a bull–after all, there was only room for one bull in the herd. No, Reggie would join his brothers down in the basement, stuffing themselves, getting milked all day long, and help fuel Coach’s growing protein shake business instead. Then, Coach would find another wannabe, and show they that they would be happier as a stupid cow too.
I mentioned this on twitter a few days ago, but I started a little series of caption stories over on my discord server, on the theme of quarantine. It’s been fun having something silly to work on between how stressful work has been and commissions, and for anyone who’s a patron, they’re welcome to suggest stories or ideas for future installments. Here’s one of the captions I’ve done so far–if you want to see the other couple, you’ll have to support me and join my discord channel! You can find more details here.
The quarantine didn’t mean much to Barry, since he spent most of his life in his apartment anyway. Barry was…eccentric, by any real measure. He’d lived in the old apartment building longer than anyone really knew, including the staff who worked there. Oddly though, he didn’t look a day over 40 or 50, but the secret of his longevity and good looks wasn’t something he shared with anyone. He worked from home–or at least, that’s what he told people, but other times he was known to disappear from the building for weeks, if not months at a time, only to appear later like nothing had happened. Barry, you see, was a sorcerer, with a rather specific focus. He loved sex, and he loved nothing more than using his magical ability to corrupt other men until they loved it just as much as he did. In his apartment, he would refine his spells and enchantments, and then when they were ready for real world testing, he would choose a different city somewhere in the world, and, well, binge. He’d fuck men for days on end, warping them all in the process, and only when he was fully spent did he return home to relax, recharge, and prepare a new collection of ideas for his next journey.
But this couldn’t have fallen at a worse time. Barry had just prepared all of his travel arrangements, only for everything to be cancelled, every international city shut down entirely, and now he was here in his apartment, spells and enchantments at the ready, with no one to use them on. He gave a great huff and settled deeper into his leather couch, and looked over at the window–now what in the world was he supposed to do?
Above him, he heard the creak of bed springs–the young couple who had moved in there earlier this month were obviously occupying themselves well enough. Barry scowled–not only was he literally cockblocked by a virus, he had to be taunted by the constant noise of sex all around him in the building–that he owned, in fact. He went over to his scrying pool out of curiosity, and summoned an image of the couple above him–and was surprised that it was a gay couple, in fact. Now this was more interesting. Still, it didn’t do much for him…but then, what if he…
He looked over at the collection of enchanted items, spell scrolls, curses and the like in his luggage. He never used his spells at home–it was too risky. But he was so damn horny…why not just this once, spread his goods around to his neighbors here? He smiled, and started unpacking his goods and services. It was dangerous, but he was horny enough that he didn’t care. Pretty soon, the apartment building would be a lot more interesting, when he was done with it.
***
The couple above Barry had no idea what the sorcerer below them was plotting–they had found that quarantine had done wonders for their physical intimacy, because what else were they going to do with their time? Before this, Ian and Francis had spent most of their free time organizing parties with their other friends (parties they called them, but really, orgies was more precise) or going out to the various gay bars around the city. Without that to occupy them, and with both of their jobs scaling back work, they found that the easiest way to pass the time was to fuck.
With a groan, Ian blew a load of cum into his boyfriend’s hole, and collapsed on top of him, huffing a bit. He rolled off, and Francis rolled over, cuddling with him for a bit in bed. “Fuck, I miss the gym,” Francis said, and Ian chuckled.
“Just a few more weeks, right?”
“The news said it might be months.”
“Fuck, seriously?”
“I don’t know. I never thought that the most social thing going on in my life was going to be going to the grocery store.”
“Gonna have to work out here just so we don’t look like a couple of flabs when we get out of here finally,” Ian said, and then he noticed an odd smell. Looking over, he saw Francis holding a cigar in his hands. He was about to ask his boyfriend where that had come from, when he brought his own cigar up to his lips, and took a drag off of it, the sudden nicotine rush pushing the confusion from his mind.
The two twinks got up from bed, still smoking their new cigars, and went to go watch some TV. On the couch, with Ian sitting on it, and Francis sitting on the floor between his legs, they kept smoking, the cigars never getting smaller, and changes starting to appear on their bodies. Both of them were getting hairier, and over the course of half an hour, Francis went from having a smooth face incapable of growing a beard, to the somewhat thick, salty beard across his face.
The smoke was filling the apartment, turning into a thick fog–and everything it touched began to shift and change. The couch grew older and more threadbare. The stylish art hung on the walls became pictures of cowboys and rednecks in various states of undress. It drifted into the closet, and their suits began to contort and shift into flannel, jeans, and leather gear.
It wasn’t long before the two new cigar daddies were making out on the floor, feeding each other smoke, holding their cinders to each other cocks, balls and nips, smearing each other with their ash. But then, just as the cigars had appeared before, they disappeared from their hands, leaving Ian and Francis lying in a dirty heap, wondering what had come over them.
“Come on then, my new cigar daddies–let’s have some fun, eh?”
They looked over, and there was Barry on the couch, smoking a massive cigar in his leather gear, and the two old men crawled over and started servicing him–Ian worshiping his cock, and Francis his leather boots, both of them taking turns eating their downstairs neighbor’s ash, the curse tightening around them both, squeezing out the old Francis and Ian, and replacing them entirely, with a couple of old cowboy queers living in the city, working in construction, smoking cigars from the moment they woke up until they went to bed. After a day, Barry was spent, and returned home–deeply satisfied with the result.
This is the first half of a caption story for $5 patrons and higher suggested by a supporter! You can find the whole story over on my discord server. If you want more details, you can head over to my patreon page, and sign up!
When he’d signed up, this wasn’t quite what he’d expected. It was one of those monthly gift box services, but the gimmick for this one was that each month, the company would send you a gift box centered around a different fetish each month. It seemed like a weird gimmick, but Allen had always had a little bit of a wild side when it came to sex–but nothing too wild, he supposed. He had some leather gear, he’d had a few BDSM sessions with a local dom, things like that. The minimum order for the company was three months, and the price wasn’t terrible. He’d signed up, and figured he’d get a laugh out of it if nothing else.
It was a week later when the box arrived. He’d found it waiting in his apartment mailbox, and while not small, he had no trouble hauling it upstairs to where he lived. He opened it up, and inside, all he found was a note, a bottle of pills, and a set of goggles–like swim goggles, but with the lenses blacked out somehow.
He looked at the note, but the thing looked like gibberish to him–just swirly patterns all over the paper. The only text he could make out told him to put on the goggles, and then he’d be able to read the rest of the note. He did as the note said, pulled the goggles on–and that was the last thing he remembered clearly, beyond a sudden flash of swirling colored light.
When he could finally manage to pull the goggles off, he looked at the clock, and saw it was close to ten at night–he’d been staring at…at whatever that was for the entire afternoon and evening. The message on the paper was readable now, somehow–and he saw that the first fetish he’d received was…gaining.
It couldn’t be serious, right? But the hypnosis in the goggles would make it impossible for him to go long without eating, and the feeling of a full gut would be profoundly erotic. The pills, taken over the next month, would permanently alter his metabolism, and make sure he never could be thin again. Allen wasn’t it great shape, but he certainly wasn’t fat–he’d never wanted to be fat a day in his life! But then his stomach growled, and he found himself drawn into the kitchen, where he stuffed himself silly for the next several hours. Lying on the couch, surrounded by wrappers, groping his swollen belly and stroking his cock off, he was horrified, and yet more aroused than he could ever recall being in his life. He fought it, but he took a pill, downed it with another soda, and then shot another load, wondering just how large he might be at the end of the month.
Raury and his father had never really seen eye to eye–and that had only gotten worse once Raury had come out of the closet a few weeks earlier, before he’d gone off to college. His father had exploded, which had caught Raury off guard, but apparently, his father’s tolerance stopped at his own son being gay. But Raury, as brilliant as he was, didn’t let little problems like this stop him, when his father had threatened to cut off funding for Raury in college–he’d decided his dad would be the perfect little guinea pig for the nanochip he’d been working on in secret for a few years in the basement.
It was mostly for mental health research, but Raury had found it excellent for a few other issues as well. After implanting it in his father’s sleep, he’d tested it the next day, and found his father perfectly open to Raury’s suggestion that he not only pay for his son’s tuition in full, but also provide him with a weekly stipend to help him with living expenses. The best part was that Raury could see the confusion in his father’s eyes as the chip overrode his own judgement, the words falling out of his mouth faster than he could even understand what he was saying.
And now, his father was visiting him for a long weekend, and Raury was going to be throwing a party–an orgy really–with an open invitation across any gay hookup app he could sign up on–and his father was going to be one of the main attractions.
“Alright Dad, do you have your uniform on for the party?” Raury asked.
His dad came out of the room, beaming a smile–but his eyes looked panicked all the same. He was completely naked aside from a black bowtie around his neck. “Yes son, I’m ready.”
“Now, for the entire party, you won’t be calling me son, will you? You’ll be calling me Master.”
“Yes…Master…” Raury could see his father fighting him–but there was no way he’d beat the chip. The struggle made it all the hotter, really.
“Now, once people arrive, you’re going to be making sure all of their needs are met, isn’t that right? Like a host.”
“You mean…serving drinks, Master?”
“That, but also, if anyone wants to use your holes–your mouth or your ass–you’re going to be more than happy to allow them to fuck you.”
The look in his father’s eyes was one of horror, but all he could say was, “Yes Master,” through half gritted teeth.
“Each time someone fucks you tonight, or feeds you a load of cum, or makes you drink their piss, you’re going to find yourself thinking less and less about women, and more and more about men. This is going to humiliate you, but soon, you’ll be hard as a rock, and unable to do anything about it. However, if anyone offers to suck you off, or to let you fuck them, you will refuse, and demand that you service them instead.”
His father was speechless. Raury just smiled, and said, “Let’s practice. Slave, get on your knees and suck me off.”
His father’s face turned bright red, but he did as he was commanded, and started sucking on his son’s cock. Raury sighed, knowing this would be a great party–and that by the end of the weekend, he’d have reduced his father to a meek, submissive cocksucking pig–one who would be begging his son for his cock forever more.
Trey was the high school hot shot, and he knew it. A senior, star of the football and wrestling team, he was cocky, sexy, and also known to be quite the fag basher around school. If he so much as caught a whiff that someone might be a cocksucker, as he preferred to call them, he would hunt them down in the halls and beat the queer out of them, just to be safe. I was one of those he hunted down a couple of times, so it isn’t surprising that when I saw what was going on in the locker room that afternoon, my jaw nearly hit the floor.
I’d forgotten something in my gym locker, so I stopped by after school to retrieve it, when I saw coach Stevens and Trey over by the showers, and both of them were totally naked.
“That’s right, cocksucker, everytime I call you that, the deeper into trance you fall.”
Trey nodded.
“Get down on your knees.”
Trey did as he was ordered, and then he sucked the coach off, eyes closed, totally oblivious to what he was doing. The coach kept talking to him, telling him how much he was enjoying this, that he secretly loved sucking cocks, but he couldn’t even be honest with himself about his desires. I realized that coach had, somehow, hypnotized the school hotshot, and was turning him…gay.
The coach finished, had Trey drink down his cum, and then started waking him up–and that’s how I learned what the code phrase was. When Trey heard the words “Go to sleep cocksucker,” he would fall into trance again, while “Wake up cocksucker” would bring him back out. I left the locker room before either of them could see me, my heart pounding…but I waited down the hall anyway. Would it really work?
I knew it would either work, or I’d get my face beat in, but I risked it. As Trey passed me in the hall, I said, “Go to sleep cocksucker,” and he immediately went into a trance–and I dragged him into the nearby bathroom, and fucked his ass for fun. Trey didn’t know it, but he was about to become the personal cocksucker of every guy he’d ever picked on at school, and I had a feeling that by the time he graduated, he’d love every second of it.
“Yeah, look at that little piggy cock. We can go ahead and shrink those balls right on up there too, because we both know a hog like you won’t have much use for those anymore, isn’t that right?”
“No! Please–” Jack shouted, but it turned into a squeal as the man’s hand started crushing his sack, squeezing his nuts tighter and tighter until he released them, and all the evidence that remained of them were two grape sized protrusions right under his inch long cock. The man started smacking them, and Jack found them to be just as sensitive, even if they were smaller, and he started grunting in pain, struggling against the ropes tying him to the bed, trying to look over the belly he’d sprouted not too long ago to see what the man had done to him.
“Yeah, I like hearing you grunt, Hog, that’s real sexy. You like being Daddy’s hogboy, don’t you?”
Jack shook his head weakly, soaked in sweat. It wasn’t supposed to be like this! He’d just wanted a little roleplay, a little dirty talk, but this had gone too far, way, way too far. “Please, change me back, I *snort* don’t wanna be a hog, please…”
“You sure boy?” the man said, slipped his fingers a bit lower, and he pressed them against Jack’s hole. He squealed, but the man forced his way inside him, one finger and then two, and it felt…fuck, it felt so damn good, Jack couldn’t even really explain it. The man fingered him for a while, and Jack found himself getting closer and closer to climax without even touching his cock, until he exploded–or at least, it felt like an explosion to him. His cock dribbled a little cum, but Jack was squealing and moaning and grunting on the bed, his mind assaulted by pleasure the likes of which he had never experienced before.
When the orgasm began to wane, Jack just stared dumbly at the man, trying to put his head together, but all of his thoughts seemed to be running slower than before. “You…what did you do to me?”
“Hog, you’re drooling like an idiot. Looks like you blew those brains of yours apart a bit with that one–can’t wait to see what happens when you cum while I’m fucking you–probably won’t even be able to speak after that one.”
Jack shook his head, but the man untied his arms and legs. Jack went to run, but he was too weak and sluggish, and the man pinned him down again. “Hog, you’re gonna take my cock–you can either take it looking like this, or I can blow you up so big you’ll never leave this bed again. It’s your choice.”
Jack whimpered, but he got up on the bed, his belly spreading out underneath him, while the man lubed up his cock. He…he could take it. He just wouldn’t cum, that would be easy, right? Turns out, the man was a better fucker than Jack even knew–and within ten minutes, he’d brought Jack to three more anal orgasms, each one tearing his mind apart more and more, until by the end, Jack wasn’t even there anymore. It was just the man’s stupid, drooling, obedient Hogboy now–and that’s all he’d ever be now.
Bracken's Corner 