Interactive: New You Resolutions 2020 (Part 5)

Kevin and Alex had been together for a few years at this point. They had met in college, struck up a relationship, and after graduation had moved to the city together where they pursued their work–Kevin in finance, and Alex in tech. Both of them pulled in a staggering amount of money, and they enjoyed their life together–but the one thing that had just never clicked for them both was their sex life. 

It wasn’t that the sex was bad, or that the two young men weren’t attracted to one another. It was just that the sex was, well, boring. Neither of them had ever been much into kink, and given their focus on work, there wasn’t exactly much time for sex anyway. They would suck each other off a couple times of year, and that was about it. While neither of them felt particularly satisfied, with the arrangement, they were happy enough with the rest of the relationship that they generally agreed to just let it go.

However, they were about to discover that 2020 was going to be a year of sexual exploration for them both.

They woke up late on January First, both of them with fairly substantial hangovers from the New Year’s Party they had attended the night before, at Josh’s place. It had been…nice, sort of. Josh was gay, and a good friend of them both, but his parties tended to get wild, and not really in the way Kevin and Alex were comfortable with. When the clothes started coming off after midnight, they had made their excuses and left. Sure, everyone probably thought they were prudes, and maybe they were! There was nothing wrong with that, right?

Kevin went into the kitchen to make coffee, and Alex started piecing together something for breakfast, when they both noticed the odd, golden envelope sitting on the counter. Neither of them had any idea who it could be from, or how it had gotten there in the first place. Alex opened it up, and found the note inside was addressed to them both. He read it out loud:

Happy New Year, Kevin and Alex!

We here at New You Resolutions see that your relationship is, well, a bit stale. Now there’s nothing wrong with that, of course, but a new year, and a new decade, is a great time to finally stretch those limits and boundaries and try something new, and we’re here to help!

This year, we want to push your sexual boundaries, and take your relationship places that neither of you would imagine. Why don’t we start you two off with an easy one?

We resolve to have sex with each other twice every day.

Why don’t you two get going, and we can see what we’re starting with?

Alex was about to comment on how ridiculous that all sounded, when Kevin threw himself at Alex and started kissing him, and Kevin found himself compelled to kiss him back. Looking in each other eyes, they both seemed a bit terrified, and neither had complete control of their bodies as they tore off each other’s clothes, Alex got down, and started sucking Kevin off. He came after a few minutes, and they switched roles, Kevin blowing Alex until he came as well, and then the compulsion stopped, leaving the two men embarrassed and confused in the kitchen.

“What…the hell was that?” Kevin said.

“I have no fucking clue, did that note just…make us have sex?” Kevin said, looking around for the paper, but it was gone–however, a second sealed envelope had appeared…and with shaking hands, he opened that one too, and read it:

Well that was…

Let’s be honest, it was boring. We see the passion, but what you two are lacking is imagination. Here, why don’t we help you two out with a few new interests?

Kevin’s face went pale, when he saw the resolutions below that, and Alex came around, read them too, and shook his head in disbelief. They…couldn’t do that, could they? What sort of fetishes does New You Resolutions have in store for the young men?


Alright, use the poll below to vote on what kinds of fetishes are vanilla men are going to be testing out in the new year. You can choose up to three options from the eight below, so don’t leave votes on the table. Patrons have their usual bonus poll over here.

Interactive: New You Resolutions 2020 (Part 4)

Like the other envelopes, it was waiting for him downstairs, after breakfast. He was up to four pitchers of shake each morning now, and Jim found himself relishing it, enjoying how full he felt. It seemed impossible to believe how different he was now, but was this really worse than what he’d had? He didn’t have to worry about work, didn’t have to worry about other people. Just him, his videos, his fans, his massive cock and hairy body, and nothing else. What could the company possibly have in mind for him now? He tore open the envelope, and found out:

Looks like you’re coming along great Jim, but we’re worried that you’re…stalling, a bit. It isn’t your fault of course, but there’s only so far one man can take himself. So, here’s another resolution for you:

— I resolve to find a partner and encourager dedicated to worshiping me, and making me as fat as possible.

We’re sure a few of your fans would be more than happy to help out–maybe you should ask them?

Someone…else? Jim didn’t know what to think about that, in all honesty. He honestly couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen someone else in real life, and not on the other side of a computer screen. Had…had it really been his boss? Was that the last human face he’d seen since all of this had started? He hauled himself up to his office, sat down at his computer, and saw that one of his regular chat and cam buddies was around.

His name was Carl, and he was a massive fellow, though in a different sort of way than Jim was. He was a powerlifter, obsessed with getting as muscular and fat as he could, and he was obsessed with Jim’s body–almost to an unhealthy degree. But with that new resolution in mind…Jim found himself pushing, and suggesting that Carl, who only lived one state over, come and visit him for a weekend. They could make a couple of videos together, maybe, and Jim…was desperate to feel a real life fist in his loose hole. Dildos were great, but…but fuck, he did want someone inside him so bad.

Carl was ready and eager, and that next weekend he was there, and both of them had the time of their lives. Carl force feeding Jim his shakes before worshipping the older man’s massive cock and balls, then fisting Jim with his thick, muscular arms. The connection was undeniable, and all of Jim’s reluctance evaporated. Carl took a couple of weeks to wrap things up where he’d been living, and by the next month, he was living with Jim, and the two of them found it impossible to remember a time they’d been apart.

Carl wasn’t the cleanest fellow, Jim realized quickly, but much to his surprise, he didn’t mind all that much. If anything, catching a whiff of Carl’s musk after a few hours at the gym, or after a day working construction, was enough to make his massive cock start leaking precum all over his massive thighs. Carl, for his part, was more than happy to help Jim reach weights he could have never imagined before this–by December, he had crested 600. Standing and walking was difficult for him, not just because of the weight, but also because of his massive cock and balls making it even harder to swing his legs. Over Christmas, while Carl had a break from work, he forced Jim to stay in bed for two weeks, feeding and fisting and filming the entire thing for their growing fanbase online, and Jim was in heaven. On January first, the first time he’d stood up in weeks–something that he could barely manage in fact, with how atrophied his muscles had gotten over that time–he found one final envelope waiting for him from New You Resolutions:

Congrats!

You’ve done so well this past year, Jim, and we hope you’re as proud of the results as we are. We’ve given you a brand new life–here’s a little reminder of where you were, and where you are now.

There were two pictures in the card. The first was the old Jim, sitting at his desk in that office, pudgy and bored and exhausted with his life. In the second photo, it was a picture from the last week or so, his legs hoisted up in stirrups while Carl fisted his hole, most of his arm disappearing inside Jim, his face wracked with a powerful orgasm. He was a filthy, dirty, perverted old man, and he couldn’t imagine ever going back to that old life again. The card wasn’t quite finished, however:

One last thing–a gift for the new year:

— I resolve to gain until I’m completely immobile.

We here at New You Resolutions don’t think you’ll have any problem with that one, right?

Jim had to chuckle. He was one step ahead of them, in fact. He’d already broached the idea with Carl, and they’d agreed this was one of the last times he’d ever be up on his feet again. Jim knew he should be terrified, but where else would he want to be? And with his sexy powerlifter pig taking care of him, what did he even have to worry about? This was going to be the best year of his life–he could already tell.


Alright! That’s one set of resolutions down, who should our next target be do you think? You get two choices of the options below. Patrons have their bonus poll as well, over here!

Interactive: New You Resolutions 2020 (Part 3)

Jim went down stairs, his first cigarette of the day already half finished, and made himself breakfast. At this point, he was devouring two pitchers of gainer shake each morning, and even that wasn’t quite enough to have him feeling totally full anymore. He was sure it was only a matter of time before the company would increase it yet again.

As he set down the second pitcher and wiped his face, he saw the envelope on the counter, which had been empty before–he was certain. He could just…ignore it, couldn’t he? But his shaking hands reached out and picked it up anyway. Inside, was another note from New You Resolutions:

Happy four month mark!

We here at New You Resolutions are so proud of you, Jim, for sticking to your resolutions this year. We’re so impressed, in fact, that we’ve decided to reward you with some new ones! First things first:

— I resolve to make some changes to my appearance. I’m going to stop cutting my beard, grow more body hair, and make myself look 20 years older.

Why don’t you head into the bathroom and get started.

Jim just stared at the note, and fought the urge to cry, or scream, or anything really. Anything other than what he did, which was finish his cigarette in a couple long draws, put it out in his kitchen ashtray, and then head into the bathroom, where he found a good chunk of his grooming supplies had been replaced. This was one of the few aspects of his life that hadn’t been touched by the last set of resolutions, and even as he gained weight, and watched his cock, balls, and tits swell and stretch, at least he could still shave, still shower, still trim his hair down. But that was over now, he realized. First, a hair growth serum that he applied all over his body–even on his back with a special applicator. It made his skin tingle, but he didn’t see any results right away. The new shampoo on the other hand…one application, and when he rinsed it out, he was horrified to see that his hair was now flecked with grey–and that his hairline had receded a few millimeters as well. The serum was applied across his face as well, and by the time he left the bathroom, a thick five o’ clock shadow had appeared across his face and double chin. His tasks completed, he headed for his office, where yet another envelope was waiting for him:

You didn’t think that was all, did you? Here’s a few more:

— I resolve to smoke cigars instead of cigarettes from now on.

— I resolve to start injecting my cock and balls with silicone, and make them as large as possible.

You’ll find everything you need right here.

Sure enough, the usual packs of cigarettes that appeared next to his keyboard were gone, replaced with a wood humidor. He opened it up, pulled out a cigar, cut it, and lit it. He inhaled right away, and coughed–the rough cigar smoke a bit much for even his seasoned lungs, but his body refused to not suck down all the smoke it could. After that, he found the silicone. That was a more delicate operation, but after an hour or so, he was done–10 ccs of silicone in his cock, and 20 ccs in his ball sack. They were swollen and tender–so much so that he couldn’t pump his cock like usual. He couldn’t even touch it really. Worried about what he would do next, he saw another envelope appear.

With your new injections, you’ll need a new way to get off too, probably. It’s time you let some other people in on your new you too, Jim.

— I resolve to train my ass with dildos until I can one at least the size of a fist.

— I resolve to start live streaming my jack off sessions over the internet and posting them on the internet.

“No…No no no…” Jim muttered to himself, but he couldn’t stop it, he couldn’t stop any of it. There was a dildo there on his desk he hadn’t noticed. It seemed…large, to him, but then, he’d never had anything in his ass before. Everything would seem large to a newbie. He lubed it up and started working it into his hole, only noticing after a few minutes that a webcam was attached to his computer, already streaming his virgin fuck to the entire internet. 

Again, the months wore on, and Jim adjusted to his new commandments as best he could. The cigars were easy enough, once he got used to the stronger smoke. After a few more months, he barely recognized himself in the mirror anymore, however. The beard grew in impossibly quick with the help of the serum, and after four months, it reached the top of his substantial belly. The hair had filled in thick as well, and was just as grey as everything else. There was no doubt in his mind anymore that he was in his sixties. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d looked…young. Even the photo ID in his wallet that he’d checked a few weeks before bore his new image. His new age. His new weight, just a few pounds shy of 500 at this point, and his freakish cock and balls just looked like another misshapen blob of fat hanging off his body, until you got closer. There was so much silicone in them that he couldn’t get much sensation anymore–instead, he’d found that his ass was a much easier way to reach his orgasm requirement each day. The dildos he’d thought were so big at the beginning were now so small to him. After four months of daily training, he could take one a bit larger than his own fist without too much trouble, and riding it hard, he could bring himself to an anal orgasm easily enough. His fans…loved that. Seeing this obese, hairy, sweaty pig, chuffing on a cigar, screaming and groaning as his prostate siezed inside his ass while a massive dildo pounded into him…he hated how much he loved their attention. He was craving more though. He wanted…a real fist inside him. He wanted someone with him, he was so lonely.

Eight months into the year, there was another envelope, and Jim found that New You Resolutions had been thinking the same thing. It was time for Jim to resolve to find a partner–but who does he end up with?


Here’s the next poll! This one only has four options to it, and you can pick two of them. The public poll is below, and the patreon poll can be found over here!

Interactive: New You Resolutions 2020 (Part 2)

Jim opened up the second envelope, and pulled out the note inside:

Here’s your second resolution Jim:

— You resolve to stuff yourself every day and gain as much weight as you can.

We’re here to help! Head into the kitchen. You’ll find everything you need to make yourself a nice, filling lunch.

Jim just stared at the note, reading it again, unable to believe what he was reading. This had to be some sort of joke, didn’t it? But then, he had just quit his job! Sure, it was something he’d wanted to do, for a very long time even…but he’d never actually thought he would do it, right? He went into the kitchen, and his gut gave a rather uncharacteristic rumble. Jim wasn’t exactly in great shape, but he’d never really liked food much. It had as much to do with his sedentary desk job as anything else. He expected a meal, in all honesty, but all he found was a new blender on the counter, and a canister of some sort of powder. He looked at it, and saw it was a mix to make a weight gain shake–all he needed was some heavy cream. He checked the fridge, and sure enough, the right amount of cream was there. He wasn’t going to do this though, was he? His gut growled again, more urgently, and he pulled the cream out of the fridge, dumped the powder in the blender, and started it up. The hunger was overwhelming. He didn’t even bother pouring the mix into a glass–he just tipped the pitcher of the blender back and chugged it straight down. He tried to stop himself, especially as his gut swelled and started to ache, but he couldn’t put the thing down until it was all inside him.

At last, it was done. He felt his gorge rise a bit, but resisted the urge to hurl. He had to keep it inside him. He had…he had to get fatter. He shook his head, trying to push the urge away, looked down, and saw another envelope next to his hand, that hadn’t been there a moment earlier, he was sure of it. He opened it up as well:

Now that you don’t have to worry about that pesky job anymore, why don’t we find something more fulfilling for you to do with your free time, Jim? Here’s a few more resolutions for you:

— I resolve to start smoking cigarettes, working up to two packs a day.

— I resolve to start pumping my cock, stretching my balls, and pumping my nipples on a daily basis.

— I resolve to begin collecting gay porn, and masturbate to it at least three times a day.

Why don’t you head up to your office and get started, Jim? Dinner will be ready in a few hours.

What?

Jim was straight, wasn’t he?

Sure, he’d…thought about it on occasion, and women always seemed…difficult, to him, and he’d never really managed with relationships, but…

But an hour later, he was in the thick of it. He had a metal stretcher secured around his balls  dragging them off the front of his office chair. His second cigarette from the pack he’d found next to the keyboard was lit, and he was happily inhaling off of it, eager to feel the addiction settle in. He had already worked out how the vacuum tubes worked, and had his tits inflating inside them, and now had his cock in the larger one, watching it swell and swell as he pulled the air out of the glass tube, more turned on than he could recall being in his life, as he started perusing sites for porn. When he couldn’t handle it anymore, he pulled the tube free, and started stroking his puffy cock. It was harder to cum when it was pumped, but he managed one load easily enough, before his gut grumbed again, and he went downstairs, where the ingredients for another shake like the first was set out for him, along with some assorted junk food, to get him through the evening. He made his shake and guzzled it, then carried the chips and candy upstairs with him, where he jacked off late into the night, lost in a haze of lust and smoke he couldn’t seem to control.

The days blurred together, after that. He would wake up in bed, or sometimes in his office, covered in ash and cum, and his gut would drag him downstairs for breakfast. The shakes started out small, but got larger and larger as he grew accustomed to them, and he could see an effect after just a couple of days. He would shower in the mornings on occasion, when he could resist the pull of his office for long enough, and then he would settle in for the day, light up a smoke, pump his cock, put on his stretchers, pump his nipples, and then start working on his collection, only coming down for meals and snacks as demanded by his gut.

Months passed. It was Spring now, and Jim barely recognized himself in the mirror. He’d left the house maybe twice since leaving work on January second. He smoked two packs of cigarettes a day, from the moment he woke up, to the moment he fell asleep. His cock was…different. It didn’t look right when it wasn’t pumped, and he couldn’t get hard at all unless he got it in his tube. A month ago, it had been upgraded to a larger size, and now, when he was done, it was around nine inches long, and as thick as a beer can. His balls hung quite low, another two inches or so, and his tits were always thick, and very sensitive. By far, the most drastic change was his weight. He had no idea what was in that powder, but it worked–he’d gone from 225 to 350 in a matter of months. His gut was covered in stretch marks from the rapid growth, and he couldn’t get used to navigating spaces with his new heft.

He came down this morning, to discover something that terrified him–another envelope. Apparently, it was time for a few more resolutions. What does the envelope have in store for Jim now?


Here’s your next poll! Remember, you can select three of the options below, so don’t leave votes on the table. Patrons have their bonus poll over here as well.

Interactive: New You Resolutions 2020 (Part 1)

January 2nd. The holidays were officially over, and everyone was expected back in the office, and Jim, like always, was dressed and out the door right on time…but this year, he just wasn’t feeling that excited. Maybe it was the fact that he got passed over for a promotion again. Maybe it was because, despite the fact that his yearly review at the beginning of December was good, his bonus this year was smaller than the last–and smaller than a few other co-workers he chatted with about it. Maybe it was because he was turning 35 in a couple of months, and 35 was somehow worse to him than turning 30 had been. At 30, you start to think you have things figured out. At 30, you feel like you can start blazing, full speed ahead. But at 35, with all of those goals undone, still at the same job, just feeling fatter, balding more, without a girlfriend, living alone, working long hours for no real good reason. Jim wasn’t blazing at 35, he was in a rut.

Worse still, Jim didn’t see any real way out of it. He hated his job, but it was comfortable, even if he didn’t have much free time. He hated living alone, but every attempt at a relationship with anyone, seemed to stall out in a matter of weeks. He wasn’t happy with his body, but he also wasn’t particularly interested in doing anything to change it. He wanted to change, but he had no real idea of what that change could possibly look like. Thankfully, someone out there had more imagination than Jim, and is willing to do something about that.

Jim got in his car with a sigh, thankful that traffic was light at least, and got to the office a bit early, to get caught up on the status of some of his projects. He arrived at his desk, the first employee there, like usual, and found a golden envelope sitting on his keyboard, with the words “New You Resolutions” embossed on the front. Curious as to what this might be, he opened the envelope, pulled out the stationary inside, and read the note that had been left for him.

Dear Jim,

We here at New You Resolutions understand that change is hard. We make it easy. No need to struggle, trying to figure out what to do next–we take all the stress out of your New Year’s goals, and make sure, no matter what, you end this year an entirely new person, one you won’t even recognize!

Our team has crafted a resolution plan especially for you, which will be delivered to you in a matter of stages, as we see your response to your plan. Don’t worry if some of these seem a bit scary, or out of character for you. Change requires sacrifice, but we take all the worry out of the process without patented resolution drive technology. Our organization will also make sure you have everything you need to keep your resolutions fulfilled this year, so you can just focus on changing!

Now, we’re sure you’re curious. Here’s your first resolution:

Jim, you resolve to quit your job today.

Pack up your things, put in your notice, and we’ll see you at home, Jim, were we’ll get you on the road to a whole new you!

Jim read the strange note twice, and then looked around the office. Was it a prank? It had to be a prank, right? Someone telling him that he should quit, but…who? Feeling a bit disconcerted, he sat down, pulled open a drawer, and started pulling everything out of it that belonged to him, and setting it on the desktop. When one was finished, he opened another, and did the same. He stopped himself for a moment, asking himself what he was doing exactly, but he didn’t quite know. It occured to him, after a moment, that he needed a box. A box to put everything in! He emptied out a copy paper box, and kept loading all of his stuff into it, panic rising, as he realized he was doing it. He was getting ready to quit his job, and for some reason, there was nothing he could do to stop himself. 

But he needed this job! How would he pay rent? What about health insurance? He didn’t have contacts anywhere, he didn’t know where else he could work, he just kept loading up his stuff, and when he was finished, he sat and waited at his desk, until his boss wandered in late, and obviously still a bit hungover. Jim went straight to his office, handed him the resignation letter he’d drafted, effective immediately, turned in his badge, and he was out of there by eleven, his box of stuff in his arms, more terrified than he could ever recall being in his life.

He drove home, trying not to think about what was happening to him. It had to be a dream, some fucked up nightmare he’d wake up from at any moment, but nothing he did seemed to work. He pulled into the garage of the small house he rented, went inside, and as promised, a second envelope was waiting for him right there, on the table by the door. With shaking hands, Jim tore it open, pulled out the note, and read it. As promised, there were more resolutions printed there–and Jim was going to find them all just as difficult to disobey as the first one. After all, change was hard–but Jim was going to be changing whether he wanted to or not.


Alright! I enjoyed this interactive last year, and thought I’d pull it out again for this year. We’ll follow a few different characters through the year, and see how their new resolutions treat them along the way–and they might pick up a few more as the year goes on. An important note! A lot of these might have more options than my usual polls! That usually means you get to select more options than the usual two. Make sure you’re voting for as many options as you can, or you’re leaving votes on the table! For this poll, you get three selections. Patrons have their bonus poll as well, over here.

Interactive: Three Word Difference (Part 12)

Sorry for the delay on this, Christmas week turned out to be a lot busier than I was planning.

WARNING: SCAT


Skip could do nothing as the genie twisted Jason’s words yet again:

“Please, I just wish we would get fuckin’ dumber!”

“God fuckin’ damnit! Shut yer trap!” Skip said again, feeling a slight sense of deja vu as it happened, looked over at the genie, who snapped his fingers, and Skip could almost feel the thoughts in his head slow down to a crawl. “Fuck…I…Fuckin’ feels so…so fuckin’ good,” Skip said, and gave a great guffaw as he pounded deeper into his son’s hole, “Don’t it feel good boy?”

“Fuck, I…I didn’t mean tah, why, I…why’s it so hard tah think?” Jason said, his hole finally adjusting a bit to his daddy’s cock, and the pleasure started to overwhelm him a bit as well. “Fuck…feels…better Daddy, feels good havin’ ya inside me.”

Skip didn’t reply, he didn’t have the mental processing power to fuck and talk at the same time. He was just grunting and snorting behind him, driving in faster and harder until he exploded inside his boy’s guts, an even larger load than the one he’d shot in the restroom just a few minutes before this…but had he even been there really? Everything seemed like a dream to him all of a sudden, and his simpler mind couldn’t really comprehend what was happening to him. He pulled his cock free of his boy’s hole, suddering a bit, and whirled on the genie where he floating in the corner of the filthy bedroom, and stomped over to him. “I might not be the smartest fucker, but I can tell when someone’s fuckin’ with me. What the fuck are ya doin’? Yer messin’ with the shit we say, ain’t ya?”

“I can assure you, Skip, that I am fully within the bounds of the contract of my service to you, that you consented to when you made your first wish with me.”

“Contract? What fuckin’ contract?”

The genie waved in the air, and a thick document appeared in his hands, written on rather ancient parchment. He handed it to Skip, who stared at it for a few moments, and shook his head. “I can’t read fuckin Arab or whatever this is!”

“Oh, I gave you a copy in English, Skip,” the genie said.

Skip stared at it again, and realized that his son’s wish had made him illiterate on top of everything else. He threw the document in the genie’s face, who made it disappear again before it got anywhere close to him. “Fuck you, I want ya tah change us back!”

“I only accept requests in the form of a wish,” the genie said, shrugging and smiling at Skip, who scowled at him, and turned back to where his son was lying on the bed, sweaty, fat stinking, trying to sort his own thoughts out. 

“Come on son, we gotta figure this out. If we put our heads together, we can figure out a wish that’ll fix this.”

Skip concentrated–or at least he tried to concentrate. His face turned a bit red, and just as a thought was coming to him, a loud fart escaped his ass, and distracted him. Jason thought that was a hoot, and laughed on the bed, his dad cracking a grin as he did. “Oh ya liked that, huh? Ya like yer dad’s smelly farts?”

“Fuck no Pa! Yers are the worst!”

Skip lifted a leg, gave it a shake, and let another one loose in Jason’s direction, before climbing up on his boy, already feeling a bit horny again, his worries about the genie pushed to the back of his mind where they disappeared.

“Fuck Pa! Git offa me,” Jason said, “I can’t breathe with yer stink in the damn air everywhere.”

“Hell boy, wish the stink a mah farts made ya as horny as hell.”

Too late, he realized he’d just made a wish. The genie twisted things around, and what came out the second time chilled Skip to the bone:

“Hell boy, wish the stink a mah farts made ya hungry as hell fer shit.”

Skip saw the swirl of color in his son’s eyes, and Jason liked his lips, his stomach growling. “Fuck Pa…ya…ya got a load fer yer toilet boy yet? Sure smells like ya do.”

Skip shook his head, and looked over at the genie, “Ya fucker! What the fuck?”

“Come on Pa, yer boy’s so damn hungry, feed me yer shit.”

“Fuck no, git a hold a yerself, that ain’t…I mean, we’re dirty fellas, but that’s just gross.”

“I wish Pa loved feedin’ me shit,” Jason said, as Skip looked at him in horror, and it only got worse after the genie twisted it:

“I wish Pa loved feedin’ on shit with me.”

Skip felt his stomach give a great big growl, and the smell of his farts on the air was…enticing. “Fuck…fuck, you sick son of a bitch…”

“Come on Pa, feed yer dirty fuckin’ pig boy.”

Unable to stop himself, Skip got on the bed, squatting over his son’s face, and bore down, licking his own lips as he did, smelling his own shit, hoping his boy saved him some…but then, his boy loved feeding him too…didn’t he? Yeah, of course he did. Why wouldn’t he?

***

The next morning, they awoke to the sound of an alarm on one of their phones, still in the pocket of their pants, and Skip and Jason untangled their filthy bodies from one another, still in the bed. Shit was…everywhere, but then, when wasn’t it, when they got down to business? “Fuck boy, we’re gonna be late fer fuckin’ work,” Skip said, checking the clock on his phone. Gotta…gotta make ourselves a least a bit…presentable…”

Skip went into the bathroom to wipe some of the worst shit off his face, and Jason rolled out of bed, licking the dried shit off his lips. “Fuck Pa, I don’t wanna go tah work.”

“Gotta pay the bills son, come on.”

The genie was still there in the corner of the room, and that was when Jason had the idea. A great idea. An idea that could fix everything, right?”

“I wish we got paid just tah eat shit.”

The genie’s smile grew wider than Jason had ever seen it:

“I wish we got paid just tah eat trucker’s shit ‘n piss.”

Skip didn’t hear his son’s wish over the running tap, and after they threw on some clothes, they got in the truck, and headed down the interstate to a little truckstop owned by a friend of Skips–one who understood the special sort of needs a father and son like this could have. There, they took up their place in the back of the trucker’s showers, ready to take whatever the trucker’s passing by wanted to give them–piss, shit, cum–they had no limits. They were infamous really, and they truckstop was always busy with all sorts of nasty fuckers off the interstates, but Skip and Jason were happy. They had a job perfect for a couple of illiterate, filthy shit-scarfing rednecks like them, and the genie left them there, certain they would manage well enough on their own from here on out.

Where did the genie go next? We’ll have to find out some other time–but needless to say, be careful what you wish for.

Interactive: Three Word Difference (Part 11)

“I wish we were big, filthy rednecks!” Skip said, full of enthusiasm, but he realized, a moment after the words came out of his mouth, that they were not quite the words he had meant to say. “Wait, what? I–”

It was too late to take anything back though–the genie snapped his fingers, and both Skip and Jason shuddered as the changes swept through them, and both of them began to grow. Taller, first–neither of them had been very tall to begin with, Jason coming to around five foot ten, and Skip a couple inches shorter than that. Their bones swelled, and both of them were soon pushing six foot three, and the rest of their bodies were growing as well. Thick with muscle first, but it wasn’t long before a layer of fat started to cover that up. It was more pronounced on Skip, who was older. He ended up with a sizable beer gut hanging out over his waist, making him lean back a bit just to keep it well balanced. Jason had a gut of his own, but broader shoulders and hips to carry it a bit better, giving him the general shape of a barrel. 

The filth came next. Their uniforms went from relatively clean to looking like they hadn’t been washed in weeks–the fronts of both were covered in food stains, oil, dirt, grime, and who knew what else from all of their tasks around campus. Skip caught a whiff of himself and gagged a bit, before he found himself growing more accustomed to it. He swung around and looked at himself in the mirror over the sink, at the hair growing down the back of his head (he’d had a mullet ever since high school after all, and Skip wasn’t really one to change something that worked), the yellowed, crooked teeth (he’d never taken good care of them after all, and all the cigarettes he smoked had, well, his boy didn’t seem to mind the taste of his mouth at least) and the scraggly beard around the rest of his face (why cut it? It just grew back anyway!). He shook his head, pushing the rationalizations away as best he could, and looked over at his son, sweaty, his own bearded face covered with acne, smelling just about as rank as his father did in all honesty. “Fuck Pa, what the fuckin’ hell happened tah us?” Jason asked, looking down at himself, running his big, grimy hands over the front of his soiled uniform, “Why the hell’d ya make us a couple a filthy rednecks?”

“I didn’t, I mean, it ain’t what I wanted tah wish fer!” he said, and turned to the genie, “Ya’ve been fuckin’ with me, haven’t ya? Messin’ with what I was tryin’ ta say!”

The genie just shrugged, “My powers allow me a small amount of leeway, to ensure that my Master’s wishes are fulfilled in ways that are most amenable to reality, and to me.”

“Ya fuckin’ piece a shit, change us back right the fuck now!”

The genie smirked, “Would you care to phrase that as a wish, Master?”

Skip scowled at him, not really willing to risk it. He didn’t know how the genie was messing with him exactly, and so he couldn’t try and reverse this.

“Pa, who ya talkin’ to?” Jason asked, and Skip looked at his boy, wide eyed and a bit terrified, obviously, to see his father talking to air.

“Fuck, would ya just show ‘em?” Skip said, and the genie nodded, and appeared for Jason as well, who’s jaw just about dropped to the floor. “That’s…that’s how ya been doin’ it? There’s a fuckin’ genie! Fuck you, you…you fuck!”

“Now son, calm down,” Skip said, “We gotta think about this.”

“Fuck you! Genie, I fuckin’ wish this fucker had never run intah me!”

The genie smiled, and Jason felt the odd sensation of time running backwards, his words knitting themselves together into new patterns, and what came out instead was:

“I fuckin’ wish this fucker would always piss intah me.”

“As you wish, Master,” the genie said, and snapped his fingers, both of their eyes clouding over for a moment.

“Get down on yer knees son, Daddy’s gotta piss after ya sucked the cum outta me,” he said, and Jason found himself unable to resist. He got down, took his Pa’s cock in his mouth, and Skip pissed right down Jason’s throat, while the genie just laughed and smiled at them both. When Skip was finished, Jason sprang back up, stormed over at the genie, tried to punch him, but his fist went right through him.

“Now now, Master, I can only grant you what you desire,” the genie said, and Jason punched at him again. 

“Fuck you, ya fuckin’, if I could hit ya, I’d…fuckin’ hell!”

“Jason! Calm down!” Skip said, but it was clear Jason wasn’t going to calm down anytime soon.

“I wish I was back tah normal!” Jason shouted at the genie, but again, the words twisted, and out came:

“I wish we was back home fuckin’!”

“As you wish, Master,” the genie said, and with a snap, the smoke engulfed them both, and when it cleared a moment later, they weren’t in the bathroom anymore–they were home. Or rather, they were in the single wide trailer the two of them now called home. The place was a sty, with dirty laundry, empty take out bags and containers, and beer cans strewn about everywhere. They were in the bedroom, Jason on the bed, naked, his father behind him, and without any warning, Skip found his cock thrust into his son’s hole, making Jason holler in pain.

“Fuckin’ shut up, you dumb fuckin’ shithead!” Skip shouted at him, unable to stop his body from forcing his cock in deeper. 

“Fuck it fuckin’ hurts! Stop!”

“I can’t stop boy! It’s what ya fuckin’ wished for!”

“But it fuckin’ hurts!”

“Take it like a fuckin’ man, I’ll be done in a few minutes.”

Jason started blubbering a bit, and even though he knew it wouldn’t do any good, he said, “Please, I just wish you would stop fuckin’ me!”

“God fuckin’ damnit! Shut yer damn trap!” Skip said, but it was too late–the genie was already warping his next wish, and giving Jason exactly what he asked for next.


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