Interactive: A Pigtown Halloween (Part 5)

“I know you probably won’t appreciate this, pig, but let me tell you–from my own experience, it will be better this way,” the imp said, and jumped back up to the ceiling, pulled a lever, and a few moments later, the taste and consistency of the mash flowing into his mouth…changed. The taste was vile–musky and rank and dirty and…and delicious. He panicked, trying to keep from swallowing the filth, but the tube forced itself deeper into him, and he had to choice as it was pumped directly into his guts. 

“See, that first Halloween, no one…destroyed me. I had to survive here, my mind witnessing everything in this darkness, all year long. It was horrifying. No one should have to go through what I did. This is better. Better to just be what you’re going to be, don’t you think? Give in, never have to worry about that old life of yours? Just let yourself be the dirty, shameful, disgusting pig you were meant to be, from the moment you stepped in here.”

Ken was still struggling, but he could feel it. The filth was…warping him. He could distingish some of the flavors now–piss from the urinals, cum from the dumps, mud and muck from the floors washed down the drains, the tang of shit even, at the back of his throat. He wasn’t getting fatter, but something else was happening, he could…smell himself, and it was the same heady musky of the filth being pumped into him. He stank of a toilet, and a filthy sock, and a cumsoaked armpit, all at the same time, and…and he loved it. His mind was fading, shifting. He was oinking and squealing, his cock leaking all over the floor beneath him. The surface of his latex clad body was changing as well, the rubber growing…moist. Not with sweat, but with some vile, slick scum–a goo seeping ring out from his rubber pores and sliding down his skin and onto the floor under him.

“Don’t worry piggy–all you have to do is cum, and the hose will release you. The sooner you embrace it, the more of a mind you’ll have left–so I suggest you start working that piggy cock into that fat of yours quickly. I, however, have a party to leave–and a new lease on life. Enjoy it–maybe I’ll pay you a visit next year.”

The imp was gone, leaving the pig all alone in the cage, swallowing down the muck, grinding his cock mindlessly between his gut and the floor for a few minutes until he came, squealing in delight at the mess he was making, at the filthy mess he was. He wasn’t…the same, as he squeezed out of the cage. The muck he’d been dropping wasn’t just…coming from him, it was him, he was made of that same filth, his pig face slumping and drooling off him as he walked, reforming again as he lost bits of himself to the floor, in a trail of black slime as he crawled into the room, sniffing and snorting for filth he could devour, hungrier than he could have ever imagined being in his life.

“Hello? Hello!”

He looked up at the sound of a voice, as a young man, somehow still in his black attire from the party, stumbled around the corner. He was missing his clothes tag, took one look at the nightmarish rubber pig in front of him, and froze. Before he could do anything, however, Ken was on him, his gooey body sticking to the man’s flesh as he screamed, dragging him down, eating away at his clothes, while Ken’s cock, the last firm thing left on his body, starting probing for the man’s hole. He was screaming, so Ken covered his mouth in goo, the substance hardening quickly, the man’s mouth now covered by a patch of black rubber that melded seamlessly with his skin, only able to breathe through his nose.

“So…hungry…” Ken grunted in the man’s ear, as he fucked him, and as he did, his body began to lose…shape, flowing down around the man, engulfing him slowly into Ken’s own form. The man’s body, warped by the filth, was beginning to lose firmness as he was sucked into the pig, Ken’s cock drilling deeper and deeper until it forced it’s way out the other side of the man’s body, through his own cock, the man shuddering in something like an orgasm as he felt the monster’s filth begin to dissolve and eat away at his body, absorbing him into the pig as a new part of him, his mind locked away with Ken’s, forever trapped inside this monstrous, rubber beast eager to devour anything in sight.

Then, it was four o’clock, and the lights shut off. Trapped in the dark, with only the other monsters for company. Until next year at least–and by this, this pig would be starving.

–An Ending–

Alright, let’s go back and pick up the story somewhere else! Here’s some options. A few are new, and one is a popular path that didn’t get picked from this last little chunk. The bonus poll for Patrons is over here as well!

Interactive: A Pigtown Halloween (Part 4)

Ken pressed against the bars of the cage, trying to force the bars to grow back out, but they refused to budge. He was left with maybe a few inches of clearance on all sides of him, and there wasn’t a door to be seen anywhere, on any side of the bars. Ken squealed for help as best he could, but he couldn’t form words with his rubber pig face at all–and the imp just sat there, looking smug, like he was certain that he’d won.

“You might want to be a bit quieter piggy. I know you want someone to help you, but in this place, all you’re going to find is someone looking to fuck a hole like yours–and I can assure you, there are not many men around who you would want to fuck you right now, in your predicament. So why don’t you calm down, and just accept it? You lost, I won. Now I get what I want.”

It was the first words that the imp had spoken, that Ken had heard all night, and he was surprised the creature could even talk, especially as ugly and monstrous as it was. It’s voice was certainly ugly though–high pitched and screechy, though easy enough to understand. None of the other monsters he’d passed in the halls had seemed to have this much…presence of mind.

“Been two years. Two long fucking years, since a few of those monsters got hold of me one Halloween, and warped me into this fucking thing. Can’t tell you how fucking hard it’s been, holding onto myself all this fucking time here, don’t think I could make it another year. But I got lucky with you–caught you early enough to snag your tag. Now all I have to do is make sure you can’t make it back out to contest it–and I’m home free.”

Ken realized, at last, what the imp’s plan was all along. He wanted the tag…so he could leave. He was going to leave Ken here in this nightmare to rot, and this fucking imp was going to go out and claim Ken’s life as his own! Ken redoubled his efforts against the cage, angrily butting his head against it, swinging from side to side, but it refused to budge–all it did was exhaust him. 

“Now now, don’t worry, I’ll take good care of your body. You were so handsome, you know. Before…well, before you went all piggy. Maybe I’ll come back next year–I know my way around this place now, and check in on you. See if you managed to hold up as well as I have. I don’t think so, honestly–you seem pretty thick to me–though you could be thicker, couldn’t you?”

The imp laughed, and launched himself up to the ceiling. Ken looked up and saw a bunch of pipes up there around the ceiling, and the imp grabbed one, and dragged a hose back down with him. “Alright piggy–I don’t think you quite look the part yet, do you? Aren’t pigs supposed to be fatter?”

It was true–while the suit had warped his body, it hadn’t really changed his basic shape. Ken tried to shrink back into the cage, but there was nowhere to go–the imp pushed the hose against his mouth, and the thing came alive–forcing open Ken’s snout and filling his snout, latching on and refusing to come off. Something churned overhead and a thick slop started flowing down the hose–Ken’s only choice was to swallow as quickly as he could, or choke.

So he swallowed–and the more he swallowed, the easier it was to swallow, and as his belly grew more and more full, the…better he felt. The imp went around behind him, toying with his ass and his piggy cock, telling him what a good little piggy he was being, eating his slop. Slowly, weight began to show on his body–especially his gut, which began to distend–first firm, and then growing softer, his arms and legs losing definition and growing flabby, his ass growing wider too. He had two chins under his snout now, and he would have happily kept eating mindlessly if he hadn’t looked up at the wall, and seen the clock that told him it was almost three in the morning. He’d eaten the night away–he only had one hour left before he was trapped here forever. But he couldn’t stop eating–even after everything he’d eaten, he was hungry–so fucking hungry. 

“Well Pig, it’s been fun this evening, but I’d better be on my way,” the imp said. “Still, don’t think I don’t have one more surprise for you before I leave–consider it a token of my gratitude, for giving me your life.”


Here’s the choices for this branch! All of these are endings of various natures–after this, we’ll go back and pick up another thread. The patron only version is over here as well!

Interactive: A Pigtown Halloween (Part 3)

Ken struggled as the men surrounded him, held him down, and began forcing him into a latex suit–first his legs, and then they pulled it up over his shoulders and his arms, zipping him up in the back. It was then that Ken had the first sign of what was in store for him–the front of the suit, in big white letters, read “PIG”. 

“No! No you fucking, I am not going to be your fucking pig!” he screamed, and the Master of the Halls just laughed–and all of his minions laughed with him. 

“Not my pig, no, not unless you remain in the halls here tonight. Then you will be. For now though, by law, your fate is still yours for the moment.”

He screamed some more, and the men forced a mask over his head, and then pulled on some gloves and two rubber boots, before stepping away and allowing Ken to get up. He immediately tried to haul the mask off of him, but while he could feel it was rubber, it refused to budge–and his hands couldn’t quite seem to get enough purchase on the mask to even tug at it. The men were all laughing around him, and he stumbled over to a mirror on the wall, feeling like he was walking on his toes–and everything became more clear, and more horrifying.

His mask was a pig mask–but it wasn’t just a mask anymore. When he looked at himself in shock, he saw every bit of his new face move–from his eyes to his snout to his cheekbones. He could see a hint or two of flesh underneath, around his eyes especially, so his real face was still there, somewhere, but…he went to tug on the floppy ears again, but frozen when he saw his hands. The two gloves weren’t normal–they were designed like trotters, with two thick fingers and his thumb in a third that let him grip things, though poorly. The same with the boots on his feet–they were trotters as well, which explained why walking had felt so strange a moment before. He started tugging on those as well, but the rubber refused to come away from his flesh–the closer he looked, the harder it was to tell where the rubber ended and his flesh began–like everything had merged with his body instantly. The singlet, too, had merged with him, the zipper teeth knitting together, and the zipper itself had become a little rubber pigtail wiggling above his ass. The back was open, allowing access to his hole, but the front was all rubber…though something was happening to it, and to his cock underneath. It heated up, and he got…horny all of a sudden, and a new cock pushed its way out, jutting in front of him. It wasn’t human, and it wasn’t even flesh, really. It was rigid, but a bit supple like a dildo, and shaped like a pig’s cock. He touched it, and snorted–it was more sensitive than his last cock too.

He turned around to where the men were still laughing, tried to yell at them, but all that came out of his mouth was a series of oinks, grunts and squeals that sent this all into hysterics all over again, while Ken just got angrier and angrier, stalking towards the Master of the Halls, who was just grinning his same, sharp, smile. But as he got close, the lights cut out, and when they came back a moment later, they were all gone–and Ken was alone.

Well, almost alone.

The imp was in the doorway, watching again, and when Ken saw him, and the tag around the imp’s arm, he squealed and gave chase, the imp laughing back down the halls. Ken quickly lost track of where he was in the maze–it was clear the imp was on home turf, and also toying with him–but he had to get that tag back. If he didn’t, and the party ended before he could…well, it wouldn’t be good, that much was sure, especially in his new costume. He might even be trapped like this forever. He started to have the feeling that the imp was leading him somewhere, and he entered a large stone room. The imp was there, waiting, and then, before Ken could react, a cage dropped down from the ceiling and enclosed him. 

In a panic, he started shaking the bars and pacing the cell, but it started to shrink–forcing him down onto his hands and knees, the cell soon not even wide enough for him to turn around in. He was trapped, and the imp was rubbing his hands together with excitement. Obviously the imp had something up his sleeve, now that he’d lured the piggish Ken right into his trap, but what does he have in mind?


What sort of fate would you like to see for Ken the pig? Some of these options will end the story, and we can go back and select from some of the earlier options instead. The bonus patreon poll is over here as well!

Interactive: A Pigtown Halloween (Part 2)

The imp was laughing–cackling more like–the entire way down the hall, as Ken raced to keep up. For as small as the little monster was, he sure could run fast! Hurtled around a corner, and ran flatout into something solid. He bounced back and ended up on his ass, staring up at what he thought would be a wall–but in fact was a massive, hulking man.

He was clad head to toe in a leather uniform, reflecting dimly the red light of the hallway. He had to be several inches over six foot, and while his eyes were shrouded in shadow, he grinned at Ken, his teeth…far, far too sharp for a normal man.

“Well hello there little one, what are you doing, running around in my hallways?” the man said. His voice was deep, but didn’t seem to be coming from the man’s mouth. He was still just…smiling, the teeth seeming to grow ever sharper. He could hear the voice coming from all around him, and when he looked around, he saw that they were not alone in the hall–in fact, there were another five men surrounding him there on the floor, all of them masked, so it was impossible to see much of their faces, especially in the dark.

“I…I was chasing…a little imp guy, he took my tag.”

The men around him all laughed at that. “Oh no, the little one lost his tag–and so soon! What do you think men, should we show the little one a good time tonight? Show him what happens when little ones lose their little tags?”

Before Ken could do anything, the men swarmed him, grabbing hold of his limbs as he tried to fight them off, and they hauled him off, away from where the imp had gone down a darker, downward sloping path that emptied out into a large sex dungeon. The men tore off his costume, including his mask, and then raped him, one after another, passing him around, filling him at both ends, coating him in their cum. Ken shouted and screamed for help the entire time, but no one came–and all the while, the hulking, leather clad figure just loomed over them all, watching, that sharp toothed grin never leaving his face, his eyes never emerging from the shadow of the brim of his cap. And the more that happened to him…the more Ken found himself enjoying it.

Soon, he was begging the men to fuck him, crawling across the cold stone floor to get to their drooling cocks, swallowing thier piss, his rational mind feeling like it was getting smaller and smaller, almost like it was being eaten away at. He looked over at the leader, at the Master of the Halls–as he…somehow knew he was called, and saw him lick his lips. It…was being eaten, wasn’t it? He could feel it, somehow, feel him crawling around inside his mind, warping him further and further towards depravity. He didn’t even know how to resist it–at last, with a cock in his ass, one one in his throat, Ken came, an explosive load adding to all of the cum and sweat and piss all over his body, and the men finally retreated away from him.

Ken was left as a quivering, sweating, sobbing mess. His mind…felt like it had been torn to pieces, he could barely manage to string words together at first, but finally managed to force something like a sentence out. “What…the fuck did do to me?” he said, looking up at him, “Why…why am I still so…so fucking horny…” he moaned, one hand reaching around to his well fucked ass, sliding three fingers in effortlessly, moaning as the men around him laughed. That was when the Master of the Halls stepped forward, putting one leather boot on Ken’s chest, and forcing him to the ground. “Men–it looks as though you have torn up this man’s costume! I know that we’re done with him, but we can’t allow him to roam the halls without one, right? It is Halloween after all.”

The men, laughing harder now, all ran to the walls of the room, and returned with arm loads of gear, fighting amongst themselves over who would get to dress Ken in his new costume. Finally, after a little deliberation, and a couple punches, it was settled, and the men forced the squirming, resistant Ken into his new clothing. As they were, he looked over, and saw the imp crouched in the doorway, watching him with glee, his clothes check tag hanging off the imp’s arm. He tried to crawl towards him, but the men dragged him back, still gearing him up. The imp laughed, and then took off again down the hall, back into the maze–and as the gear piled on, Ken wondered if he’d even have the will left to chase him down again.


Alright, what sort of gear does Ken end up in? Some of these below might be dead ends! You’ll never know until you pick them. Again, if we hit an ending, we’ll go back to one of the earlier branches, and carry on from there instead. The bonus patreon poll is over here too!


Interactive: A Pigtown Halloween (Part 1)

The invitation caught Ken by surprise that day, a couple of weeks before Halloween. These days, you never got stuff like this in the mail, after all, but there it was, in a clean white envelope, something that Ken had only ever assumed was rumour. An invitation to Pigtown’s Halloween Party.

Pigtown, of course, was the stuff of legend. It was a bar, that much Ken knew, but he’d heard so many different stories of the place from people, moving through the circles he did, and every story sounded a bit ridiculous to his ears. Still, people insisted the place actually existed–he’d even, on occasion, met a person of two brazen enough to claim that they themselves had gone through those doors and come out the other side to spin a tale of perversion and decadence and change unlike anything Ken had ever heard before.

What choice did he have? He had to go and see it for himself, of course.

He didn’t tell his friends what he was doing–the invitation had explicitly said not to bring guests–that the invitation was for one, and one only. Anyone bringing a guest along would not be allowed in, due to capacity concerns, allegedly. The other interesting note was that costumes would be provided, apparently–there was a mandatory clothes check, and costumes would be distributed at the door. Ken didn’t know what that might mean–maybe everyone was going to be wearing something similar? That did sound kind of hot–and thankfully he hadn’t spent anything on a costume for this year yet.

The day of the party arrived at last. He bailed on his prior commitments, blaming an alleged illness, and then made his way to the bar. There wasn’t an address, oddly enough–just a series of cryptic directions, most of them relying on landmarks, rather than street names. He got started on the trail early, not wanting to be late, but was rather confounded all afternoon–it wasn’t until dusk arrived, and the streets got dark, that the path started to make sense, weaving in and out of alleyways, into places of the city that Ken had never laid eyes on before, street names he no longer recognized. There were…people here, poking their way out from the dark, some of them human, others…well, they had to be human too, but something else was there as well, something hungry. Ken hesitated, turned around to go back, but found himself lost almost immediately, the men in the dark closing in on him, and he fled back, tracing the rest of the path to Pigtown. Apparently, once started, you had to see it to the conclusion.

There was a line at the door, but it moved quickly. The anteroom of the club was a locker room, all manners of men stripping down to nothing, packing their clothes into bags, and handing them off the employees at the club, getting numbers in return. When Ken handed his clothes off, the employee stressed that he make sure he hold onto his number–clothes were not returned without a valid number.

With that, they disappeared, and returned with a second bag, apparently with his costume. The bag was sealed, and had his name on the side, printed. Men weren’t allowed to change into their costumes there, however, for the sake of surprise–past the ante room, there was a hall with changing rooms on both sides. Men never reemerged from them, the sign on the door would just flip from red to green again. Ken entered one, heart pounding, and opened up his bag to find his costume on the inside–but was a bit disappointed. A black tanktop. A pair of tight black shorts. Socks and boots in his size. A small mask for his face, more like a masquerade than something frightening. There was no pocket for the clothes check tag, but he found that it was attached to a bracelet, like he’d gotten at bat houses before, that kept it secure around his upper arm. He pulled on the clothes, and then a second door opened, and he found himself in a throbbing room, full of men dancing–and sure enough, all of them were in the same dress as him, a sea of men in black tanks and shirts, masked, booted–it was quite the sight, actually…but was this really all? He’d expected…more, he supposed, from the stories, than just a nice rave. Still, the night was young.

He walked around the room, and saw a cluster of people around one end of the room. He jostled his way over there, and saw a wide doorway leading deeper into the complex, with caution tape strung across it. There was also a sign posted with a warning.

WARNING:

This is Halloween, after all, and Pigtown has some…well, some things only come out that this time of year, but isn’t that why you’re here? Some of what you might find deeper in the club will shock you, frighten you, or perhaps be something dredged from your deep nightmares. Of course, no harm can come to you forever, so long as you keep your clothes check tag! Don’t lose it in the dark–or you might never get back out…The party ends at four–if you aren’t back into your own clothes by then…well, some parties never end.

It was a good gag, he supposed. People were trickling in little by little, but he noticed no one seemed to be coming out–then again, it was early. He passed by the sign without paying it much heed, but he did check to make sure his tag was still on his arm. Beyond the sign though…things immediately got a bit…strange as he went deeper into the dark hallway. A wider variety of costumes for one thing, guys in leather and rubber, small and large, all of them moving through the dark–but it was the masks that caught him off guard. They had to be masks, right? No one could really look that…horrifying in person, of course not. He hurried through the hallway as quickly as he could, but was caught off guard when someone came up behind him, grabbed his tag, and yanked it down his arm and off him in one movement. 

“Hey!” Ken shouted at the short man, who turned around for a moment, laughing–his face like some deformed imp, or other nightmarish something. Then, the fellow raced off, deeper into the complex, and Ken hurried after him. The hallways kept branching, and he could hear…screams around him, or was that just people fucking and yelling in glee? It was unnerving in any case, but he had no choice but to find that little fucker and get his tag back. He passed a clock on the wall that said it was 11 pm–he had five hours to find that fuck and get out, before…well, he was suddenly thinking that the warning sign might have been a little more accurate than he wanted to think. He picked a path and drove deeper, only to find himself somewhere new.


Alright, so here’s how this one is going to work. Ken is going to be chasing the little demon through the complex, changing all the while, and trying to avoid getting caught inside Pigtown when the party is over. There are, of course, a wide variety of ways that Ken’s story can end–most of them not particularly good for Ken. I’m aiming for more of a horror vibe with this one, so some of the content might get weird along the way–fair warning. Each time we hit an ending of some sort, rather than start a new story, I’ll go back to previous branches that had been popular, and continue Ken’s story from there instead. Here’s the first poll! The patron bonus poll is over here as well!

The House Made Me Gay (Finale)

Phil went to the door and unlocked it, and in came a young man, probably in his mid twenties. He was…well, he didn’t look particularly clean, for one thing. He was chubby and greasy, his clothes covered in food stains–and probably more than a few cumstains, from the shape and placement. The young man ran over to where Ethan was strapped to the chair, cigar lodged in his mouth, and he looked extremely pleased. “Fuck man, he looks so fucking good! I knew you could do it.”

“I know it can’t really replace what you lost, but I think he’ll do you just fine.”

“No way man, I think he’s even better.”

The young man’s name was Josh, and since he was eighteen, he had been in love with his father. He’d learned how to be a dirty pervert from him, sitting around all day, jacking off, swapping cum and spit and piss–and sometimes, if they got a bit drunk, even more than that. But tragically, Josh’s father had passed away–a heart attack–the year before, though he’d left his son a sizable life insurance policy. A good chunk of that was now invested in Ethan–who was going to be Josh’s replacement slobby father.

Josh ran his hands over Ethan’s massive cock, watching the older man shudder, his eyes fearful, and Josh…felt bad for a moment, but he was so turned on by the man Phil had created–and he knew that, before too long, his new daddy would love him just as much as his old one had. He went around and gave him a sniff–and wrinkled his nose. “He smells too clean still.”

“I was going to wait on that until you got here. He still needs a few more tatts before he’s really done,” Phil said, “But first–you still want those rings we talked about?”

“Oh hell yeah!” Josh said, “That sounded so hot.”

“Alright–then let’s get those in you both first.”

Phil worked quickly. With a box of matched rings, he quickly pierced both of them in the septum, in both their nipples. “That’s all we need to start, I think,” Phil said, “Why don’t you climb on and give daddy’s cock a ride boy? Then we can see how those work while I finish daddy up.”

Ethan struggled as Josh climbed up, and started lowering his ass down onto his massive cock. Josh’s first daddy had always loved opening up his son’s hole over the course of an afternoon, before sliding in his fists–but his cock had always been too small to really fuck his son. This new daddy though–he was going to be perfect in every way. Josh groaned as he felt his hole open around Ethan’s massive cock, taking it slow–but Ethan’s cum was the perfect lube now, helping stretch the boy’s hole. When he was halfway on, Phil took the cigar from Ethan’s mouth, and Josh leaned forward–Ethan heard the click of their septum piercings–and Josh kissed him, the boy’s rank mouth tasting of beer and cigarettes. He tried to pull away, but felt a tug on his nose when he did–their piercings had…merged. Josh leaned in closer, pressing their chests together, and their nipples stuck in the same way–Josh was now impaled on his cock, and latched to him, slowly sliding lower onto his massive cock, as Ethan panicked.

“Calm down now,” Phil said, as he got his tattoo needle ready again, “They come apart once you both cum. Just enjoy being close to your son, Ethan.”

“He’s not my son!” Ethan shouted through Josh’s mouth, and Phil just smiled, and got started on his arm, quickly sketching out a classic heart with “My Son” in the middle–and an arrow through it–or a cock, really, a cock spewing cum and piss down the rest of his arm. Josh could…feel this ink differently. Each little prick seemed to shift something in his mind, and as it took form…he found he could remember Josh–because Josh was…his son. His real son, and he…he loved him so much, didn’t he? Josh moaned, his ass now resting on the base of Ethan’s massive cock. “Fuck son, dadd’s so fuckin’ proud of you!” he said into Jason’s mouth between kisses. “Ride daddy’s big tool boy–I wanna see that hole gape.”

“Oh daddy…I…I missed you so much,” Josh moaned, and started sliding up and down on his new daddy’s cock, both of them kissing more passionately and Phil kept working, moving over to his other arm now. First, some lettering at the top of the shoulder– “Months Since Daddy’s Last Shower:”–and then below it, Phil started making hash marks, and after each one, Ethan started getting dirtier, and dirtier, and dirtier, as his memories of showers, of any hygiene really, faded further and further into the past. It…His son had wanted him to stop bathing, he said he wanted to see just how nasty his daddy could be. So they’d agreed on a tattoo to…to keep track. But that had been…months, no a year, no two years, no…no almost five years ago now, right? The hash marks ran down the outside of his arm, almost to his wrist–marking off four and a half years since his last shower–and Ethan stank to high heaven of musk, and smoke, and cum, and piss–but it was only driving Josh into a frenzy. With a roar, Ethan came, flooding his boy’s hole with his massive load of cum, feeling it drain out around his cock and into his lap–and that was enough for Josh to cum as well, shooting a much smaller load all over his daddy’s belly. They kept kissing for a moment, and then pulled apart–their rings separating again like magic.

“Fuck man, you…really outdid yourself. He’s fucking perfect,” Josh said to Phil, cum running down the inside of his legs. “Really…I know…I paid, but I…”

“It’s ok–what you had was special, and I’m happy I could give it to you again.”

“T-Thanks…we talked about some other stuff, can we…”

Phil laughed. It’s been a long day for your dad in that chair–why don’t you take him home for a while? When he comes in next month for his update–we can talk then, alright? I might even do those pro bono–you two are fucking hot to watch.”

Josh beamed, went over, and undid the straps holding his father to the chair, and Ethan stumbled up out of it, trying to figure out what, and who he was. Josh got him dressed in some of his filthy whities and a scummy tanktop crispy with cum, and then pulled his daddy out of the shop and to their little truck. By the time they got home to their little stinking trailer, Ethan was feeling almost normal again–that, and he was already horny as hell for his son’s hole. Josh was only too happy to ride his dad’s massive cock again of course–and by morning, neither of them could remember that their lives had ever been different from this.

Interactive: The House Made Me Gay! (Part 12)

“Please, why…why are you doing this? I…just…just change me back, I didn’t want to be some…old fuck!” Ethan said.

“Well, in all honesty, it isn’t quite my thing either, though I think it does suit you quite well,” Phil said, as he fiddled with his stations. “But this is what the client asked for, and so, that’s what the client gets.”

“The…client? What?”

“Oh yes–the client. I’m making you for someone, you see? They were quite specific about what they were looking for.”

“What the fuck does that fucking Mr. Woodrow want,” Ethan said, “I knew that fuck was creepy, fucking hell.”

“Oh he isn’t the client–I merely contract with him to secure raw materials. In exchange, I give him a few tools of my own for the men he has living in that house of his. Really, you should be thankful–a few months in that place, and what I’m doing to you will seem like nothing. He’s the real freak.” Phil said, and then pulled some tubing down from where it was hanging above the chair. “That’s enough of a chat for now–the client will be here soon, and you’ll see for yourself what they want. For now though, we have a few more changes to make.”

He pushed a tube against Ethan’s mouth, who shut it tight against him–but the rubber tube came to live, forced its way into Ethan’s mouth and down his throat, settling in his stomach. Aa thick solution, almost like gruel, started to flow and he could feel it settling in his gut, making him feel…heavy, and full. Then, Phil brought down a second tube–enclosing the first–and the end of this one was a breathing mask, which he secured around Ethan’s nose, mouth, and most of his beard. Once that was in place, he could smell the smoke flooding the air–reeking of cheap tobacco, and he coughed, but soon it was all he could breathe, and he started to feel light headed, and laid back in the chair, while Phil went to work on his cock and balls.

Phil gave him some stimulation, and Ethan’s cock got hard–it was sizable, a good six inches and fairly thick, but not large enough for the client’s needs. He took a syringe, full of his enchanted silicone, and injected it into Ethan’s cock–along with a bit of will–and watched the shaft start to swell, the skin stretching to accommodate the new solution, Ethan groaning in pain, feeling his skin stretch around his cock uncomfortably. It took a few injections before it was large enough–thirteen inches long, as thick as a two liter soda bottle. The silicone maintained the sensitivity of the skin much better–and also stayed rigid–Ethan was going to have a permanent hard on for the rest of his life. Once he was satisfied with the size, he started adding the bling–making small incisions in the surface and sliding the various metal balls and bits underneath, giving the surface a brand new sort of texture, more like a living dildo than a real cock. He finished it off with a massive PA that could fit around a normal man’s wrist, and then worked on his balls–filling them with a similar solution, until the sack was about the size of a bowling ball, the freakish head already drooling precum from the stimulation.

Once finished with that, he took a little break–the feeding was going well, but wasn’t finished yet. Ethan would force his head up on occasion, and see he was, indeed, getting fatter at an impossible rate. Whatever he was being fed with, it was just as magical as the injections that had warped his cock into the monstrosity jutting from his crotch. His gut was getting most of the growth, but his chest was now sporting two sizable moobs, and his ass wasn’t quite as comfortable in the chair as it had been. Phil, at some point, decided he was ready, got out the tattoo needle, and went to work.

The tattoos weren’t painless, but they seemed to heal instantly. In fact, as Phil worked on one after another, the ones he did first seemed to almost fade–and after a few minutes, they looked to be years old. He started on his belly, quickly sketching and filling in the face of a cartoon pig on the top of his belly, giving a wink and smoking a thick cigar. Underneath his belly button were the words, “Smoke Pig”. From the cigar’s tip, Phil quickly filled in clouds of smoke across Ethan’s chest, which seemed to move and twist as his chest heaved and filled with more and more fat from the tube. 

After checking that the piercings had healed on his cock, he tattooed that as well–on the top, were inch markings from head to base, and then on one side, the words Daddy’s fuck stick–on the other, the image of a cigar, the head filled in red and orange and yellow like the burning tip. Satisfied with his work, he pulled the mask free from Ethan’s mouth, allowing him to cough and breathe freely for a moment. Around the mask, all of Ethan’s grey hair had been stained a dingy yellow from the prolonged smoke–as had his teeth, like a man who’d been smoking cigars for fifty years. Then, out came the feeding tube as well–leaving Ethan at his new weight of 425 pounds. 

“Fucking hell, you fucking…piece of shit,” Ethan said, his voice raspy and deep from the hours of smoke. Already, he could feel the withdrawl setting in–but Phil was ready, pulling out a sizable cigar, cutting it, lighting it, and pushing it into Ethan’s mouth, who inhaled it eagerly. 

As he did, there was a knock on the door–and Phil went to the door of his little shop, where he allowed someone in–it was the client who had commissioned Ethan’s new body, but who was it, and what is Ethan’s final form going to be?


The next part is probably going to be the finale of this story! I’ll start a new, Halloween themed one next week probably. Patrons have their bonus poll over here! You get two votes–choose wisely!