This is the first part of a caption story I did for patrons at the $5 tier and higher! If you want to see the second part, as well as all the other captions I post for them over on the discord, you can sign up on my page here!
Marvin had been going too fast. He was drunk, and he’d been going to fast, and now he’d gotten pulled over by some highway patrol fucker, and now…now he was going to get fucking arrested.
Maybe he wasn’t that drunk. Oh who the fuck was he kidding, he was way too fucking drunk to think he was going to get away with this. Maybe…maybe he could talk him down to a warning. He wasn’t like those other guys drinking and driving, he…fuck, Marvin thought, please God, I don’t ask for much, but please, don’t send me to jail tonight.
Oh Marvin, God can’t hear you. God can’t hear anyone anymore.
That…wasn’t his voice. The usual voice he heard in his head. It didn’t even seem to come from his head–but from a mouth, right beside his ear, like someone was in the car with him, behind him, leaning between the seats to whisper to him. He could almost feel the hot breath, but he couldn’t turn to look–his body was frozen.
God can’t hear you, but I can. I’m better than God even, I can grant little wishes like that, little selfish needs. Don’t worry, everything is going to be fine.
Marvin finally managed to spin around, but no one was in the car with him. Now he was drunk, and hallucinating–fuck!
There was a rapping on the window–the trooper was there now, and Marvin rolled down the window, and as he did, a voice came out of him–the same voice, and the things it said–he said, the most…horrifying, naughty, filthy things…it was only a matter of time before he had the trooper horny as hell, and then the handcuffs were on him, but he wasn’t going to jail–not this time.
The trooper took him home, took him down into the basement, and down there, the thing played with them. Twisted them, toyed with them, pitted them against each other and their own base natures. Marvin watched as the trooper became…someone else. The basement twisted into something new, full of smoke, and leather, and chains, and in the midst of it, Marvin was suspended in delight and terror, the demon (he was sure it must be a demon) and the trooper taunting him, fucking him, beating him…so many vicious, delightful things.
The next morning, the trooper dropped him back at his car, and Marvin sobbed. He hadn’t wanted that–he hadn’t wanted any of that to happen, and now…now what.
Don’t cry, Marvin. I’m here for you, I’ll always be here. Ask, and I’ll do anything for you, anything at all, I promise.
My great uncle is…well, he’s an eccentric, you might say. He likes to call himself an inventor, and judging by the massive house where he lives, and all the gadgets he has, I suppose it wouldn’t be too far off. He also never married, devoting all of his time to his work–whatever it is that he does. I was home from college, and he offered me a chance to keep an eye on his house while he was on vacation–but when I got there, he revealed that he had a more…peculiar offer in mind.
He wanted to switch bodies with me, for the length of his vacation! It sounded ridiculous and impossible, but he…did it, and changed us back right away, but fuck, it was trippy. He offered me…more money than I’d ever thought I could have in exchange for borrowing my body for a couple of weeks. I said yes, because why the fuck wouldn’t you? Besides, this house is a palace. I wish I could live here all the time, the place is amazing. I think I’ll go lounge around and watch TV, eat some junk–after all, his body is already going to shit, what does it matter really what I do to it?
It’s towards the end of the first week…and I think something weird is going on. I…I’m having a hard time focusing on things in the house, and it feels like I’m sleeping a lot. More than I should be, I guess. My great uncle told me that I might feel a bit weird, being in his body for so long–and he does feel old. His body aches like hell, even just sitting on the couch…but I feel like I lose hours in front of the TV, and I can’t even remember what I was watching. The one part of me that’s working just fine is my cock–I mean, my uncle’s cock. I’m jacking off all the damn time, it seems like, and I don’t know why I’m so damn horny.
Fuck, that was a sexy fucking video, love watching that old fuck get plowed by both of those boys at once. Makes me so fucking horny, I could blow all over again, just thinking about it. Can’t believe all of this nasty fucking porn my grandson has at his place, all of these old men getting fucked by boys like him, I wonder…wait, that’s…not right, I keep thinking that, but he’s in my body, right?
Fuck, where’d that dildo go? I…never knew how good it could feel, getting fucked, until I got drunk that night, I think, and woke up with that thing inside me, but maybe it’s just this hole that does it. Makes my old cock so damn hard, starts me leaking like nothing else. I mean, nothing besides my grandson’s hot fucking cock. He gets home in a few days, and fuck, I hope he plows my old hole into the fucking ground.
“Yeah, you like that cock in your ass, don’t you you old nasty pervert?”
“Oh fuck boy, fuck! Yeah, fuck your granddaddy with that big cock of yours.”
“Yeah, it is my cock, isn’t it? Sure seems like I know how to use it better than you ever did, isn’t that right?”
“Whatever you say boy, just don’t stop…You’re making my old sloppy hole tingle…”
“Yeah, feels real nice–you like being an old pervert, don’t you?”
“Oh fuck, more than anything.”
“Tell me–it we could, say, swap bodies, would you even want to? Be young and hot again?”
“And never get fucked by my grandson’s cock again? Hell no! Now shut up and fuck me boy, you keep slowing down when you talk.”
This is another caption series I’m running over on my discord server for Patrons! This is just one possible ending for our hapless groomsman, out of four. If you’d like to support me, and get access to bonus content like this, then you can do so over on my Patron account here!
I knew I shouldn’t be hunting so close to family, but as soon as I saw Porter, posing for pictures with the rest of wedding party, I just couldn’t resist thinking about it. He was just so dang cute! A little chubby, a nice beard, and that little bit of smugness that I just find it so fun to toy with. But he was close to my nephew, one of his friends from college, and so at first, I really was just thinking about it, I promise. But it’s surprising how quickly thinking about things can slide to doing something about it rather quickly.
Maybe if he had been more social during the reception, instead of sitting off by himself at a table staring at his phone, I wouldn’t have kept thinking about it. Maybe if I hadn’t wrapped up another project a couple weeks ago, I wouldn’t have kept thinking about it. Maybe if he hadn’t gone under so damn easily, I wouldn’t have kept going. But it was so easy. I slid into the chair next to him, and we chatted easily–he was so trusting, I could feel him relaxing, begging me to relax him. I probably could have just talked him under with an hour, but in the open, I wanted to be quick. I showed him a spiral on my phone, kept talking, and five minutes later, he was gone, happy to talk to me about anything, happy to do anything I told him to do–but I couldn’t there, not so brazenly. Maybe if he’d had more strings–a girlfriend, roommates, anything at all–I wouldn’t have gotten scared off. As it was, I suggested he come by my hotel room later that night–without telling anyone–so we could continue our nice conversation, and he was more than happy to agree with me.
In my room, we slid under again right away. It was like he wanted to be under, like he wanted it even more than I did. We talked a little more, while he stripped for me. He told me that he’d always liked girls, but it wasn’t hard to convince him that he was mistaken, that it was men he’d always wanted, especially older men, men like me. By midnight, he was there willingly–I didn’t even need to have him under trance for him to be begging for my cock–and fuck, if he wasn’t so god damn sexy, and so damn easy.
Usually I like a challenge. I like wearing them down, I like finding ways to break them, to turn their own minds against themselves, but rarely do you find someone like this, like Porter, with a mind so easily bent that its like he wants you to do it to him. Maybe if he hadn’t just moved into the same town where I lived, things wouldn’t have gone any further, but as it was, he was due to start a new job next month–and was so eager to see me again. How could I resist? Flying back home, it was all I could think about–what I might do to him, who I might make him into. There were so many options, how could I even choose?
I do know what he wants, what he told me when he was so open and honest that he couldn’t help it–he isn’t happy with how he looks, with his gut, with his chubby face. I suppose I could help him with that. We could start off easy at first, get him a gym membership, fix his diet–just some small suggestions to help him feel like he’s making progress, little things that help make him trust me more and more, and he slides deeper and deeper under my control with every visit. But just giving him what he wants doesn’t do anything for me–and my needs…well, if he’s only enjoying himself, where’s the fun in that? He needs…to lose himself. Lose control. That’s what I want to see, that’s what gets me off.
He’ll start working out more and more, neglecting his other relationships, looking at himself in the mirror and feeling more and more…dissatisfied. He feels caught between his old self, his friends, his job, and this new…something. It’ll scare him. He’ll try to pull back, and pull away from it, from me, but there’s no way I can let that happen.
I’ll tell him what the injections are–growth hormones and steroids–and he’ll be horrified, but I’ll watch him inject them himself, unable to resist my orders–and then he’ll jack off while I fuck him, telling him what a monstrosity he is going to become. I’ll start reducing his intellect, wearing it down around the edges, making it harder and harder for him to do anything beyond lifting and counting. He’ll beg for his job, in the end, but it’s only getting in the way of lifting more and more–it has to go too, in the end. He wanted this body, I’ll tell him. He wanted this–all I’ve done is give it to him.
I wonder if I’ll let him remember any of it. Probably, on occasion. He’ll have glimpses, as he’s resting in the gym, thinking about the man he’d been–clever, funny, happy even. He had no idea it would be this much work, that being this big would be so exhausting, but when he sees himself in the mirror, fuck if it doesn’t make him horny–even if the drugs are shrinking his cock. Even if he can only get hard around fat older men. Even if all he really wants is to be abused and humiliated in this massive body by men like me, and all of my friends. Fuck, he’ll hate it, but he won’t be able to stop himself…still, there are other ideas too…
I did a collection of four of these captions, for different kinds of daddies available through Arctos. If you’d like to read the rest, or have suggestions for you own, you can submit them on my discord server, available to all patrons who support me at the $5 tier or higher, over on my Patreon here!
Not happy with your current daddy? Arctos has the perfect solution, no matter what sort of daddy you’re looking for, from our broad range of models, we can make sure you have the familial experience you’re looking for. Perhaps you’re more interested in a daddy who you could just sit down and crack open a beer with. Or twelve beers with. This daddy doesn’t care as long as you both have plenty.
This daddy doesn’t judge you. He doesn’t care if your aren’t working, he doesn’t care if you’re a failure, he just wants you to be happy. He wants you to be able to relax. He’ll help you sort out your priorities real quick, convincing you to quit overworking yourself, and instead, focus on the simple pleasures of life, cracking open a beer on the couch with your dad, watching some sports, or some porn, and just jacking each other off all afternoon, and all evening, and all night, and all morning too, while you’re at it.
After all, this daddy doesn’t want you to worry about work, or responsibilities, or anything at all–he just wants you to relax. Under his guidance, you can be sure that all of your worries will melt away and disappear–that job you hate, that school work, the other friends and commitments in your life. You won’t want to get up from the couch ever again, and this daddy will be more than happy to make sure that you don’t have to–that you won’t even be able to, eventually.
After all, he loves you just the way you are. All seven, or maybe eight, hundred pounds of you. The stench rolling off of you from where you’ve been sitting on the couch for months straight. The fact that you just shit and piss yourself constantly. The fact that your brain is so empty that you can barely even understand what’s happening on the TV anymore. He loves you so much, and he’ll do everything for you, so that you don’t have to, so you can just relax, and relax, and relax, for ever and ever and ever…
Backpacking is one of the few escapes that Marcus felt he could still rely on, in a world that felt like he was constantly connected to everything, whether he wanted to be or not. More than once, he had fantasized about leaving it all, finding some cabin in the wilderness, abandoning wifi and phones and data and electricity and everything else altogether. Maybe he’d be able to shake this anxiety and depression, maybe he’d feel connected to something that wasn’t a constant maelstrom of terror and death and impending doom. So he would take a couple weeks off in the summer, and do his best to disappear, trails or no trails, just…escaping. Just him, and nature, alone–except on this trip, he was beginning to suspect that he wasn’t particularly alone.
The trip had started off normal enough, on familiar territory. He decided to go off in a new direction, towards a rather secluded valley in the midst of the forest, and as he descended into it, he began to get the sensation that he was being watched. This in and of itself was not too uncommon–after all, just because there were no people, did not mean that he was in fact alone–he saw all sorts of wildlife during his trips, but largely had never had a problem with them, so long as he minded his food habits properly. However, this sense was something else entirely, and when he camped for the day, the sensation didn’t disappear like it usually did, but he saw no sign of anything, so he figured he was as safe as he could be.
It was when he went down to the river to refill his water, that he saw him, there in the brush.
Handsome did not really begin to describe him. Marcus was stricken with something more than lust, it was…compulsive. Animalistic. He dropped his pack without another thought, and walked towards the strange, eyeing him over his shoulder, and the man walked away, and Marcus followed. After a quarter mile, the man led Marcus to a cave, and pulled him inside, and in the dark…Marcus felt that something was wrong. Feeling the man, his cock, his body–it didn’t seem to match what he’d seen outside of the cave. There were too many limbs, and they were too thin, the skin wasn’t hairy, but smooth, and seemed to stick to him, if he didn’t pull away fast enough. His rational mind tried to rebel, but the desire overwhelmed him anyway, pulled him into the stink of him, the heady scent of musk, with a strange pang of carrion and rot all around it. The man, the thing, forced Marcus onto the floor of the cave and fucked him deep–deeper than a cock should have been able to go, seeded him hard, hard enough he could feel his gut expand, and them wrapped Marcus in his arms, and held him there, sticky and sweaty in the dark, deep, inhuman rattling breaths in his ear, long tongue wrapping around his neck, sharp teeth at an ear.
He tried to squirm away, but the thing would nip him–not hard enough to hurt him, but enough to draw blood. He held still instead, unsure of what to do, watching the dim light from the entrance to the cave dim as night came, unsure if the squirming in his guts was hunger, thirst…or perhaps something else entirely.
Why are you here? You’re here because you’re sick. Because you’re insane. At least, that’s what they tell you, when they even bother to speak to you, when the people who come to your cell can even speak.
How long has it been? There is no clock in here. There is no window. Food comes when it comes, but it doesn’t seem to come regularly. The pills, perhaps, are more regular, but they make time stretch and twist and bend and snap. More than a week, at least. Perhaps a month. Perhaps longer.
When can you leave? When you don’t want to leave anymore. After all, why would you want to leave this? You love this, don’t you? You love the feel of the rubber against your skin, how it feels to have your hands bound. You told them you didn’t, but the pills made you so horny, they refused to believe you. You made such a mess, in fact, cumming all over the floor, they had to pad you, and the constriction around your cock only makes you leak even more, all the time. But you don’t want to be here. You don’t want to be doing this, you don’t…right? But they say you do. They say you wanted to come here. They say you asked for this. They have your signature on paper, papers you don’t think you ever saw, but it’s enough, they say. Enough, that they can do anything they want to you, because that’s what you wanted, when you were sane, when you signed the papers, and now you are not sane, and so everything you say you think is wrong. So you cannot leave, until you want to stay, and if you ever want to leave again, it will only be another sign of your insanity returning, won’t it?
Out there, who the fuck would want to give you a second glance? Look at all of your fat rolls, tiny cock, big ears, that annoying voice of yours. Nobody wants you, but here, with grandpa? You know that you’re special.
You know grandpa loves how fat you are, loves how you moan, loves that little cock of yours and that hungry hole. You don’t need to go anywhere else to get what you need, you don’t need a woman, and you don’t need friends. You just need gramps is all. Feel his old hands on your belly, playing with your fat. His hot breath and bushy beard scraping against your tender skin. HIs weathered hands on your scalp as he pushed you down onto your knees, face to face with his big, stinking, uncut cock.
“Who’s my hungry piggy?” he’ll ask you, and you’ll hate it, hate that the answer is you, but…but if you didn’t have grandpa, who would you have at all? So you grunt for him, and suck him off, get his old cock hard, and he’ll turn you around and plow you, there in the garage, and it hurts still, but less than it did. You’re getting used to it. You’re starting to enjoy it. You’re starting to believe him.
You’re starting to see this pig in the mirror outside of the garage. You’re starting to think that he might be right. You don’t think you always looked like this, you thought it was some trick, some spell he’d cast on you, but maybe…maybe you were just being thick. “You gonna come for grandpa today, piggy? Is that short little cock gonna blow a load for me, all over the fucking cement?” You don’t want to give him the satisfaction, but with a grunt, you do, pumping a big load all over the floor, knowing that grandpa will make you lick it up, once he finishes inside you.
Back in the house, you look in the mirror. You look like you remember, like before–mostly. But you…can see it, you know the truth. One day, you’ll look in the mirror, and grandpa’s pig is all you’ll see. The thought makes you hard, and you get in the shower, run the water ice cold, but the thought won’t go away. It’s still there, eating away at you, no matter how hard you try and deny it, and one day, it’ll all be gone for good.
Here’s the first in a pair of captions I posted over on my discord recently–again, if you want the second half, the only way to get it is to support me over on Patreon with a pledge of $5 or more!
“Is he there or not, Max?”
“Kev, just fucking drop it, alright? What the fuck are you even doing, calling me.”
“I just want to know where Ryan is–is he with you or not?”
As a matter of fact, Ryan was with him. Max was lying on his bed, propped up on the headboard, talking on the phone to his friend Kev, while Ryan–Kev’s boyfriend, was kissing and rubbing up against Max’s stomach like a fucking whore. He didn’t know how Kev had cottoned onto their little arrangement, but he supposed revealing the game at this point wasn’t going to cost him anything–after all, he had Ryan, whatever happened.
“Yeah, he’s fucking here, Kev, you’re loss. He’s gonna be sucking my cock here soon too, in case you were wondering what we were doing together.”
“Oh, I knew what you were doing, I just wanted to be sure he was there, before I released him.”
“Wait, what?” Max asked, but he didn’t get a reply–Kev just hung up on him after a little chuckle. “What the fuck ever,” Max said, and tossed his phone onto the nightstand, and focused on guiding Ryan down towards his cock, when Ryan suddenly shuddered, like an electric shock had gone through him, and he fell back off the bed in surprise.
“Hey, you alright? Max asked him.
“Y-Yeah, I…I fuck, I don’t feel so good, all of a sudden,” Ryan groaned, and then stood up, his legs shaking a bit, and he headed for the bathroom, shutting the door behind him, and leaving Max wondering what in the world was even going on around here. Was this…were the two of them playing him, or something?
Max could here Ryan groaning and moaning in pain behind the door, but the more sound he made, the…stranger he sounded. His voice was getting deeper, and raspier, and…distinctly un-Ryan. “Are…you alright in there?”
“Shut the fuck up, I’m…It’s fuckin’ fine, boy!” the voice hollered back at him. That–was definitely not Ryan. Max went to leave, but the door opened, revealing a short, hairy, old piggy looking fucker, big nose and greasy skin, everything that was not Max’s type, sucking on a short, foul smelling cigar. “That’s fuckin’ better,” the stranger said, “Now boy, where the fuck were we? Get down on yer knees, ‘n get suckin.”
Max tried to say no, tried to run, but his legs betrayed him. He fell to his knees, and started sucking on the ugly bear’s short, thick cock–unwashed and uncut cock, too, he soon found out.
“That’s a good boy–we’re gonna have a real good night together, aren’t we,” the bear said, with a chuckle, “yeah–yer gonna love it, trust me.”
This is the first of four linked captions that are available for patrons over on my discord channel! Supporting me at the five dollar a month tier gets you access to these, the rest of the discord, all of my other captions, and exclusive stories on my Patreon page! If you want more details, you can find them here. If you support me at the five dollar level, but don’t know how to access the discord channel, send me a message, and I’ll walk you through how you can link your patreon and discord accounts together.
Some people don’t deserve their authority, and one of those people was Simon. He was nearly fifty, but he still behaved like he was in a frat in college. Despite his antics, he had already failed up through most of the levels of his father’s company, and now held the title of vice president of such-and-such–what it was didn’t really matter, at this point, even his own father knew that giving Simon any more authority would be a disaster. So Simon could do pretty much whatever he wanted. It didn’t matter if he didn’t show up to work, it didn’t matter if he was hungover, if he smelled like pot, if he brought a hooker. More than once, the hookers had gotten pregnant. Abortions had been arranged in most cases, all aside from one–Simon had one son who was now of college age, but without a real role model in his life, he wasn’t going to amount to anything either. It was clear though, to the faeries, that it was time for Simon to learn some responsibility–it was time for him to learn what it was like at the bottom of the totem pole.
The day started like any other day, though. He woke up, somewhere between drunk and hungover, dismissed the whore in bed with him, and got into the shower. He didn’t really feel like going into work today–it was a Monday, and usually he just skipped them entirely, but something…told him that he needed to go in today, but he didn’t quite know why. He put on a shirt and slacks, but no tie–he hated wearing a tie–and then he went downstairs, where his slacker son was in the living room, bong on the table, playing video games. On a different sort of morning, Simon might have joined him for a hit or two and some shooter of some sort, but instead he got in one of his several cars, and drove off to the office. He had…a meeting with his dad today, one he couldn’t quite recall making, but it was…important.
His father was an older gentleman, almost seventy now, but he had staved off retirement, because even he knew that passing the reins of the company to his son Simon would be a disaster. Simon headed for his father’s office, but as soon as he passed through the door and the secretary shut it behind him…he could sense that something was off.
“There you are, late as usual, I see.”
The criticism wasn’t new, but the disgust, and disappointment–the utter contempt in his father’s voice–that was new. Simon stammered for a reply, unsure what was happening, and that’s when he noticed that his father…wasn’t wearing his slacks, sitting at his desk.
“Well, get the fuck under here boy–you know I’m the fucking boss around here, right? And what does that make you?”
“The…the…s-slave sir.”
“That’s right–now suck your daddy’s cock like a good boy.”
Simon tried to fight it, but he crawled under his father’s desk, and started sucking his cock. To his horror, people kept coming into the office for meetings, and Simon stayed there, his father’s cock in his mouth, while his dad went about the company business, keeping Simon under there for almost an hour before finally cumming in his mouth, and dismissing him with barely a word, Simon scrambling out of his father’s sight, confused and horrified at what he’d just done, and he hurried to the bathroom, to sort himself out.
I wouldn’t say that he was lazy, exactly, but I would say that “town work” as he would call it had never suited my brother. While I was happy enough working at the diner as a busboy and dishwasher over the summer, before my senior year, Rex–a couple years my senior–was busy working at a nearby cattle ranch instead. We made about the same money–I could beat him when my tips were good–but I began to notice that something about Rex was…well, off. He’d always been big–bigger than me, though I was hardly out of shape–but that summer, he got…well, massive.
My brother in the bed of the truck, and me on the ground, at the beginning of the summer.
He also was behaving weird. He’d stare off into space a lot, and wouldn’t talk much at all, and when he would, he…well, he sounded dumb, honestly. He’d never been a brainiac, neither of us were, but now, he didn’t even seem to know what basic words meant. My parents didn’t really give a shit–he was old enough that he’d just moved out on his own anyway, so they didn’t see most of it, but I was getting, well, worried, honestly. So one day, on my day off, I decided to check out the farm, mostly out of curiosity, but also concern.
Well, I shouldn’t have poked my nose around there, that was for sure. I found my brother and the older farmer in the barn, my brother mooing like a fucking steer, while the farmer plowed his ass, and when they saw me, he sicced my own brother on me! He didn’t even seem to recognize me, and he knocked me out…and ever since, I…I’m not right.
I can’t talk about it with anyone, for one thing. I moved in with my brother, and dropped out of school, not because I wanted to, but because something told me I…I had to, but it’s what’s happening between me and my brother that has me really terrified. He…he smells so fucking good. So…dominant, and I must smell really good to him too, because he comes home, gets one whiff of me, and he…plows me. I…go with him to the farm, but I don’t work there. I don’t know what I do there, I just…black out, everytime, but my body is different–fatter, for one thing, and my balls are so…big. My cock isn’t working right either, it leaks all the time now, and it feels so good…milking it, milking it like…like a good little cow, yeah…milk my slutty little udder real…real nice…while my bull fucks my cunt…
What…what was I saying? Fuck, I hope Rex gets home soon, I’m so horny, I…fuck, that’s his truck, gonna…gonna fuck me real good, like a proper bull should.
Bracken's Corner 