A New Recruit at Precinct 27 (Sneak Peek)

Sorry for the long bout of silence! Things have been happening, mostly a lot of commissions, most of which are sizable (and some which are…not fit for public consumption). In any case, that should be changing soon, starting with a new story here. This is a Pigtown story, but it’s also not really about the bar this time around. A while back, riffing off a fellow who did some captions inspired by Pigtown on his tumblr, that turned it into more of a neighborhood, instead of just one bar, I did a little riff using the same idea in a couple of captions. I’ve used the idea in a few stories, but most are unfinished–but I’m pretty happy with this one, and thanks to the commissioner for the nice ideas and being willing to let me run with it! This is a sample of the story, I’ll post the full version publicly next week. If you want to read it sooner, you can find it on my Patreon, if you support me at the $5 level or higher.


When Jordan heard that he was being assigned to Precinct 27 after graduating from the academy, a couple of other trainees pulled him aside and asked what he’d done to get that assignment. From their tone, he couldn’t quite tell if it was a curse or a blessing. When he asked why they seemed surprised, none of them would really give him any details. The only hard fact he could get out of any of them was that the precinct was on the edge of a chunk of the city which was generally called Pigtown, which was a rather unsavory locale, where it was best not to be caught after dark. Jordan, having grown up in the suburbs of the city, hadn’t heard of it, which only seemed to surprise the fellows more. In any case, none of them had been there, or if they had, they weren’t talking about it, so they moved on to other conversation. Jordan learned what they meany by unsavory, however, when he pulled into a parking garage not far from the precinct house, and stumbled upon two guys fucking near the elevator.

He froze. The fellows looked over at him, from the shadows, and one of them was so bold as to beckon him over. Jordan didn’t join them, and if he’d been on duty, he would have hauled them in for public indecency. Instead, a bit rattled, he retreated down to street level, stepped out onto the sidewalk, and found it hard to believe he was still in the same city he’d always thought he’d known. The ground and storefronts were grungy and dirty, the air choked with smoke and exhaust, the streets narrow and full of alleys that seemed to weave around in directions that made no sense. The men passing him on the sidewalk (and it was only men, he realized after a few minutes) were all dressed in leather, denim, rubber, work gear, none of it clean, and some of it rather suggestive, but not as suggestive as what they catcalled him with as he passed by. 

He found his way to the precinct eventually, nearly getting lost in the process. He was certain, somehow, that the streets were moving around him, but that couldn’t be possible, right? In any case, he got there on time, climbed the steps and stepped inside, eager to find somewhere normal after such a strange start to his day, but he quickly discovered that there was a reason precinct 27 had…a reputation with the rest of the cops in the city. 

The building seemed tired. Whether it was because it was simply old, just uncared for, or something else, he couldn’t tell. The tiles of the floor were peeling up and scuffed. The walls had any number of stains on them. The chairs were falling apart, the officer manning the desk had his boots up on the desk in front of him, and he was flipping through a magazine that, Jordan realized as he came closer, looked to be a vintage gay porno rag. He cleared his throat, giving the officer the chance to put the magazine away, but he just looked over the top of it. “What’s up?” he said.

“Uh, hi. My name is Jordan Bethell, I’m a new recruit assigned here? I’m supposed to have a meeting with the commander today at ten.”

The man leered at him. Jordan had never really known what a leer was, until the moment this officer’s nose and lips turned up, upon the news that the precinct had a new recruit. “Sure thing man. His office is on the third floor. Elevator’s broke though, gonna have to climb,” the officer said, pointing to the stairs.

“They gonna fix it soon?”

The man just laughed, and returned to his magazine, groping the crotch of his uniform openly as he reached the centerfold. Jordan backed away, confused, and took the stairs up. He’d be sure to mention the officer’s rather inappropriate behavior when he spoke to the commander. The higher he climbed in the building, the hotter it became, adding ten, then maybe fifteen degrees of heat, despite it being a rather cool Spring day outside. He passed a few officers on the way up, and each of them were walking uniform violations–beards on almost all of them past regulation length, some men who were quite a bit too fat to pass the physical exam, illegal modifications to their uniforms–and he was certain that one of them smelled like alcohol as he passed, and another stank of piss. What kind of operation was the commander running here? He had met a few captains and commanders while he was at the academy, and all of them had seemed rather rigid and sticklers when it came to the rules of how an officer ought to present themselves. Whoever was leading this place–if this is what he let his officers get away with, how could he expect them to look up to him as a leader?

At the top floor, the temperature in the building had to be eighty degrees, and Jordan was already sweating through his undershirt and out onto the crisp, clean button down he’d worn, since he didn’t have his official uniform to change into yet. Those were stored at the precinct, and given to recruits when they arrived. He turned the corner at the top of the stairs, and at the end of the hall, he saw one officer had shoved another up against the wall, and was…making out with him? The other one had his hand down the other officer’s pants and was stroking the man’s cock, making him moan. “What…what the fuck are you two doing?” Jordan asked.

Both officers turned to him, surprised and annoyed at having been interrupted. “Who the fuck are you, askin’?” the larger one asked. He was big, one of the larger men that Jordan had ever seen, and he stalked towards him, footfalls reverberating through the floor, and Jordan stepped backwards, only to stumble into someone else. The officer stopped, stood up straight, and saluted, “Commander,” he said, and the other officer behind him pushed off the wall and saluted as well, “I was just inquiring as to what this…civilian was doing in our precinct.”

“I believe this civilian is Jordan Bethell, our new recruit out of the academy,” the voice behind him said. Jordan turned around, and found himself looking up at Commander Rumwell. He was a few inches taller than Jordan was, his body thickly packed with muscle. Unlike the other officers he’d seen, his uniform was at least worn as it ought to be, but that didn’t stop the older fellow’s musk from forming a thick cloud around him in the heat. Jordan’s nose wrinkled at the smell–it reminded him of the days back in high school after football practice, the air full of sex and hormones and sweat. He shuddered a bit, but wasn’t quite sure why. “We have a meeting, don’t we Jordan? Thank you for your promptness,” the commander said.


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Frat Daddy: Interlude #4 (Mike and the Pig)

This is another Frat Daddy commission, this time looking for a followup to Mike’s last interlude. If you’re interested in a commission like this, it’s $70 dollars for 3000 words, a $20 discount! You can find more details here.


Mike managed. That’s what his life became, after his weekend with Daddy. He managed the pig inside him, found himself weighing every urge, every thought, every fantasy, trying to separate what was him, from the pig that he was certain was growing inside of him at every moment. Was he hungry because he actually was hungry, or because the pig wanted him fatter? Better avoid the dining hall, just in case, but he’d find the hunger overwhelming him in the middle of the night instead, going downstairs into the kitchen, devouring a shake, and then another, desperate for something to fill him up. Was he exhausted and avoiding a workout because the pig wanted him lazy, or because he hadn’t slept well in days? Best to workout harder. Or did it want him to workout so he’d get sweaty and even more rank than he was? Best to avoid the gym altogether, go grab something to eat, sit at his desk trying to focus on school work. Did he want to hang out with the brothers in the house, or did the pig just want to smell them? They all smelled so different, so wonderful, but every sniff was a temptation he couldn’t afford. Best to be alone–but maybe the pig wanted him alone, wanted him isolated? Then he couldn’t avoid his own stink, and he’d find himself on his bed, arms up, snorting up his own musk, his cock hard and leaking, but he couldn’t cum without fucking, and fucking was too dangerous–far, far too dangerous. Dangerous because the other boys could never know about him, about what was wrong with him. If they knew–what would they think of him? What…what would they do with him if they knew? He could picture it, all of them gathered around him, nowhere for him to escape, forced to smell their pits, their crotches, their feet, their underwear. Drink their piss, drink their cum, eat out their asses, reduced to an animal, to a slave, to a fucking, nasty pig!

Coming back from that moment was always difficult. He’d be so lost in these fantasies, slipping between the boundary between nightmare, reality, and desire than when he found his way back to himself, he wasn’t quite the person he’d been before he’d gotten lost. A few pounds here and there, his nose suddenly turned up, his balls bigger and leaking cum all the time, his pits reeking more than before, bristly hair all over his shoulders and back. How on earth was he going to stop this? After a week, he went back to Daddy and begged him to fix him, but Daddy just shook his head.

He said to Mike, “You’re afraid, I understand that. But fear is your enemy here. What are you really afraid of? The pig, or something else?”

Mike had asked him what that meant, but Daddy just smiled, gave him a light tap on the cheek with his gloved hand, and smiled at him. “You’ll figure it out–you boys usually do in the end.”

Mike didn’t have the same reluctant faith in himself that Daddy did, but since he wasn’t giving him any real help, Mike turned somewhere else–his friend, and fellow frat brother, Jake.

Jake and Mike had been friends for a long time. They’d even gone to the same high school together, rushed at the same time, and were in the same major and most of the same classes. Jake, however, had always outclassed Mike, at least in terms of looks, athletics and girls. Jake was on the swim team, perfectly toned year round, while Mike had always had a bit of a paunch and bulk, thanks to his years on the football team. Jake could be a bit of a pompous asshole…but he was the only one that Mike felt he could trust with this. So one day after class, Mike pulled Jake aside before they got back to the house, and explained what had happened when he’d gone to stay with Daddy that weekend, and the current curse he was suffering from.

“Fuck man, that shit’s heavy,” Jake said, when Mike had finished his story, “I’d just assumed you were going queer like the rest of them, and that’s why you were acting so fucking strange the last few weeks.”

“I’m not gay!” Mike said, “I mean, I don’t…want to be. I don’t want to smell my pits either! But like today, I was so busy smelling them that I missed the shower, and–”

“Fuck bro, I don’t want the details!”

“I’m sorry, I just…who else can I talk to about this? Can…can you help me?”

“What you need, man, is pussy. I’ve been slipping out at night, you know, heading over to Gamma Pi–those chicks know how to fuck. Come along tonight–we’ll sort you out.”

The thought of fucking a woman turned his stomach–and the thought of a woman seeing him like…like this…no, that wasn’t going to work. He shook his head. “No, come on, that’s not even the issue here!”

“Well, then you’re just going to have to man up then! Come on–I can think of something to try.”

They went home together, and down into the gym. Mike hadn’t been down here in a few weeks, not since he’d caught a whiff of himself on the bench press, and nearly dropped the bar on himself. It showed on his figure–the shakes were piling on the pounds, now that he’d stopped trying to work them off. “I…I can’t do this,” Mike said, “I’ll stink too much.”

“Pussy, get on the fucking bench–I’ll spot you.”

Mike shook his head.

Jake sighed. “Spot me then.”

Mike did, following Jake around while he did a quick circuit of a few machines, working up a good sweat–then he lifted up an arm, and shoved it in Mike’s face. Mike backed away as fast as he could, until he hit a wall, Jake following him. “What the fuck man? What are you doing?”

“If you lick my pit, you fucking pathetic faggot, I am going to bend you over that bench and fuck you–is that what you want?”

“No!”

“Then don’t do it.”

Mike tried as hard as he could to resist, but the pig shoved his face forward, and he sucked the fresh sweat from Jake’s pit–and his friend, shoved him over the bench, hauled the plug from his hole, and fucked him–hard. “I’m doing this because I want you to get better, bro,” Jake said as he plowed him, “So we’re gonna have to give you some negative reinforcement. Learned this one in psych class.”

And so, Mike found himself with a new kind of torment. Jake would invent all kinds of reasons to get him alone, confront him with some new stench, and if Mike gave in, Jake would fuck him and humiliate him for it. Mike always gave in. Worse still, Mike was beginning to wonder if he enjoyed the treatment. Worse than that, he was starting to think that Jake might be enjoying it most of all. He was straight, or so he said, but he’d always had a thing for ass–as Mike had found out one night in high school after they’d both gotten a bit too drunk. Jake had apologized…but had he meant it, really? Had Mike been asking for it, like Jake had said? 

The darkness was getting harder and harder to avoid, and his own perversions were growing more and more intense. He couldn’t bear to shower now, just like Daddy had said would happen. He’d gained so much weight he needed a new jockstrap, after the other one started cutting into his chubby hips. Sleep was impossible. The dreams were too intense, and the boys were asking too many questions about why he would wake up snorting and squealing and screaming in the night. So he’d retreat downstairs to the gym, enjoy the fading musk of the boys’ evening workout, usually with a pilfered shoe of Jake’s. He wouldn’t know, he was busy sneaking out every night fucking some pussy when…when he had a perfectly good pig to use here, right? Daddy found him like that, sitting on the floor, face shoved in his brother’s shoe, snorting and stoking on edge. 

“When’s the last time you came, boy?” Daddy asked.

Mike snorted in surprise, and fumbled the sneaker to the floor, face red with embarrassment. “Daddy, I wasn’t–”

“When’s the last time you came.”

He hadn’t been able to fuck anyone since he’d visited Daddy, and that was the only time they could cum, so… “Not…since that night, with you.”

“No wonder you’re so pent up.”

The tears were welling up before he could do anything about it, and he started sobbing there on the gym floor. “I’m…I’m scared, Daddy,” he said, “I don’t want to be a pig. I don’t want to want to be a pig. And Jake, he’s just making it all worse, and he’s supposed to be my friend, and I don’t know what to do anymore. I’m tired, Daddy, I’m so tired of fighting it.”

“Then don’t.”

Mike looked up at him.

“Stop fighting it. What’s the worst that can happen?”

Mike couldn’t believe Daddy would say something so cruel to him. He knew what could happen. He knew!

“I know you’re worried, boy. I know this is new for you, and scary. But it’s not the pig controlling you, it’s your fear.”

“I don’t…what are you talking about?”

“Tell you what,” Daddy said, and stood back up. “Come spend the night with me. Or, spend the night with that sneaker, again. Don’t think I haven’t heard you in here the last few nights with that thing already. I’m surprised you haven’t sucked all the stink out of it by now. It’s up to you–but you’ll only have a chance to cum with one of those options–and you know which one.”

Daddy turned around and walked back down the tunnel to his home. Mike sat there for a minute, looking from the tunnel to the shoe and back again. He could smell Daddy on the air now, fresher than the workout musk from earlier, and his mouth watered, his cock drooled. He got up, and followed Daddy down the tunnel, and found him in the dungeon on the other end, waiting for him. He was wearing just a pair of briefs, nothing else, and from where Mike was standing, he’d been wearing them for a few days–maybe…maybe a week. They stood there, facing one another, until Mike finally muttered, “Is…can I…” but the words died on his lips.

“Is there something you want, boy?” Daddy asked him. “Come and get it, or go back to the shoe–your choice.”

“I…but what if…I get stuck?”

“Stuck as what?”

“As a pig! What if…I don’t come back as me!”

“So what if you don’t?” Daddy said, and took a step forward, stretching his arms up and putting them behind his head, “So what if you end up as a filthy, fat, stinking pig down in my dungeon, locked in a cage heaped with my filthy clothing? So what if I only let you out in the evenings so you can crawl down the tunnel and go clean up all the good little boys after their workout? So what? What if you really do want that, boy? What if it isn’t the pig you’ve been hearing all this time? What if it’s just you?”

Mike stepped back, turned toward the tunnel, but before he could run Daddy grabbed hold of his wrist, tugged him back, and pulled his face into his pit, feeling Mike relax against him and start licking, sighing with relief, and Daddy pushed down on his shoulders, guiding him down his pecs and chest to his crotch, Mike burying his face in the stained briefs, snorting and grunting in heat, cock rock hard and aching. “Oh fuck Daddy, oh fuck you smell so fucking good Sir…”

“That’s it boy, you enjoy that,” Daddy said, and dropped the briefs to the floor. Mike grabbed then and shoved them to his face, snorting happily, while Daddy went to the wall of the dungeon, and came back with thicker collar than the boys usually wore. After taking off Mike’s thin one, He snatched the briefs from Mike’s hands, pulled them over his face, and secured the  bigger collar tight around his neck with the waistband tucked past it, pulling the briefs tight over his face, blinding and hooding him. 

Mike was terrified at first, tried to rip the briefs off his face, but Daddy grabbed his hands and held them behind his back, shushing in his ear, bringing him back down out of the terror. “That’s it boy, just relax, just let it all out. You’re so horny, aren’t you? Don’t you want to cum?” Daddy lifted one of Mike’s arms and sniffed his pit, and then licked it. “Oh, what a naughty pigboy–you’ve been skipping showers, haven’t you? And you’re getting so fat now–too nervous working out with your brothers? Worried their musk would distract you?” Daddy groped his gut, and Mike moaned and muttered something unintelligible. “Well, you don’t have to worry about that, boy. You just focus on this,” Daddy said, and tore open a hole large enough for Mike’s mouth in the seat of the briefs over his face. “You just worship Daddy, enjoy it.”

He guided his mouth down to his pit again, and Mike happily licked at them, lost in the pleasure of it now, hungry for more. Daddy guided him from one pit to the other, then down lower, having the boy worship his cock and crotch for a while, and then down to his feet. Once he was satisfied, Daddy rolled over, pushed his ass into Mike’s face–and the boy balked. “I…Daddy, I–”

“Boy–what are you?”

“I…I’m a pig, Daddy,” Mike said, surprised by how good the admission felt after so many weeks of denial.

“Then eat my ass like a good pig. Doesn’t it smell good and ripe?”

Mike gave it a tentative lick, and then dove it, probing Daddy’s hole with his tongue, giving the hairy crack long, loving licks from bottom to top, his own cock hard and aching in his hands, drooling precum all over the floor. “Please Daddy, please let me cum…” he muttered.

“Boys only get to cum in a hole, isn’t that right?”

Mike whimpered a bit–there was no one here for him to fuck…right? Had…had Daddy meant…should he…

“What are you, boy?”

“I’m a pig Daddy.”

“Are you a fucking pig, boy? A manly, burly, fat, hairy, stinking pig fucker?”

Mike was panting now, unable to take it. He raised up, felt with his hand, lined his cock up with Daddy’s loosened hole and drove it inside.

“Fuck yeah, you fucking pig! Give it to Daddy!”

“Fuck yeah, I’m a fucking pig!”

“That’s it boy, this is what you fucking wanted, isn’t it?”

“I’m a fucking pig, I’m a big, fat, stinking pig fucker!” Mike shouted, and his cock unloaded deep in Daddy’s hole. The orgasm felt like it lasted an hour, burst after burst of pleasure he’d resisted for so long overwhelming him, until he finally felt himself come down, exhausted and aching and happy and relaxed, and He slid free of Daddy’s hole. He came around, pulled his boy into a hug, and held him, Mike nuzzling into the base of Daddy’s neck, smelling his musk there, licking a bit, happier now than he could remember being…ever, perhaps. 

“That was great boy, you did great.”

“T-Thank you Daddy…”

“Come on, stand up now–I want you to see something.”

Daddy helped Mike up, and he was a bit unsteady for reasons he couldn’t quite figure out at first. He assumed he was just disoriented, from the briefs still pulled down over his head, but when Daddy pulled them free, Mike saw…something else, in the mirror in front of him. It was him–he recognized him, but he was…different. Taller and broader, more muscular across his back and shoulders. Below that, a thick gut stuck out, almost like a beach ball. He was coated with hair, matted in sweat, a thicker beard growing higher up his face than it had before, and his cock! It…fuck, it was bigger than Jake’s now, and Jake had always been quick to point out the difference before. 

“What do you think, boy? You make a pretty fine pig, don’t you think?”

“Fuck Daddy, I…I mean…”

“Just say yes, boy.”

Mike gulped. “Yes, Sir. Thank you Daddy, for letting me, uh…”

“Thank you for servicing my hole, fuck pig–I’d been wondering who the first boy would be to have the honor.”

Mike blushed with pride, and then he realized he was missing something–the fear…it was gone. It had evaporated, and all that remained was a deep relief, and he nearly collapsed from it, but Daddy caught him before he could hit the ground. “Come on boy, let’s get to bed.”

“Wait, I…Daddy, I have something to say,” he said, and turned to face him, head hung low. “I’m sorry for my behavior before. What I said–I allowed my…fear to control me, and I insulted you. You were right. And you were right, that one day I’d understand what to apologize for. I think…you’re probably right about everything.”

Daddy chuckled, “I wouldn’t go that far, boy–now come on.”

Mike nodded, and allowed Daddy to help him upstairs to his room, where they slept together, and Mike had the most peaceful night of sleep in ages.

The next day, when Mike returned to the house, after the communal shower, stinking of sweat and cum and sex, looking beefy and fat and hairy and rough, with a massive bulge in the pouch of his jock, no one knew what to say. Mike threw a wink at Carter across the room, who nodded, glad that he’d finally understood what Daddy could offer. And later, when Jack confronted him, accused him of giving in, of becoming a faggot, Mike didn’t have anything to say to him–he just threw him against the wall, hauled out his plug, and shoved his big pig cock up his brother’s hole. This one would get what was coming to him, Mike thought, sooner or later. But Mike didn’t have to worry about him anymore. He knew what he was now–he was a fuckpig. And this boy was just an asshole–and he knew just what to do with an asshole, didn’t he?

This interlude was a commission, and involves a bit of a time jump. Don’t worry, we’ll return and pick up Coach Mason’s tale another time. I’d also recommend reading the first interlude, which has the beginnings of Carter’s journey. If you’d like a commission like this one, you can find out more details here!


Fall was slowly shifting to Winter around the two houses. The leaves had fallen and been raked up by the boys, classes were gearing up for finals, some were eyeing the oncoming Winter break with a nervous glance, since it was unlikely that the Frat Daddy would simply allow the boys to return home to their families without some humiliating expectations of behavior to follow. But other boys were struggling for other reasons–and one of those boys was Carter. These last few months had been a whirlwind, from losing his hair, to finding himself under Daddy’s paddle and whip, finding himself beaten down and built back up again by Sarge on a regular basis in the dungeon. Some weeks, he felt like he could take on the world. Other weeks, he ached from the bruises, welts and cuts on his body, from his muscles and bones working through another growth spurt, and wondered how he could want this, if he was broken for wanting it at all. Other weeks, all he could do was stare at the other boys, frustrated that he couldn’t take his budding sadism out on them, as Daddy did to him. He’d look at himself in the mirror, miss his hair, no longer knowing what he wanted, or who he wanted to be. Just a mass of sensation, rudderless, no consistent identity from one day to the next. 

Maybe that was why it happened. Or maybe, it was the dreams that had been plaguing him most every night, the visions of being stripped and hung in Daddy’s dungeon, flesh and soul peeling away from him with every strike of the lash until there was nothing left of him, just a dull buzz of…something in the back of his mind, something trying to pull him together. Or maybe it was Daddy wishing for him to understand, to see what Daddy saw in him, consciously or unconsciously. But whatever the reason it happened, one Friday morning, wondering if he’d be able to spend another weekend with Daddy again, wondering if he wanted to spend another weekend with him, he found himself mostly thinking about his hair. He’d be lying, if he said he didn’t miss it. He understood, somewhat, why Daddy did it…but at this point, hadn’t he proven to him that he was more than just his hair? Couldn’t Daddy at least let him grow it out again, instead of keeping his scalp shaved down every single day? It didn’t help that his beard wasn’t growing in as thick as he would have liked. His blonde coloring just didn’t stand out enough, making it look like thin, long, peach fuzz.

He looked away from the mirror, and felt something familiar brush against the back of his neck. When he turned back around, he was shocked to see his hair! It was growing in again, faster and thicker than it had before, still that perfect golden blonde that so many girls had gone wild for in high school and college, before Daddy had taken over. He ran his hands through it and gave it a tug, but it was real. How was this even possible? Looking at himself, he noticed that his beard was also filling in and growing. It finally passed through that awkward fuzzy stage and became a thick, blonde beard that reached down to his chest.

“D-Daddy?” he asked, but the room was empty–most of the other boys in the house were eating downstairs or in class. He looked back at the mirror, and then down at himself. If Daddy hadn’t done this, then…had it been him? As a little test, he thought about being bigger–thicker and taller really, and he felt his body surge outwards and respond to him, packing on muscle, his harness growing tight against his body. As he ran his hands over himself, another boy, named Ryan, came up the stairs and into the communal bedroom–and froze when he saw Carter in front of him. “C-Carter?” he asked, “Your…hair, man, how…”

Could he…change others? “Ryan–get over here and bend over, I’m fucking horny,” Carter said with a grin, and watched as Ryan did exactly as he ordered, bending over the side of his bed, and allowing Carter to pull his plug out with a pop. Ryan almost never got fucked in the house–he was too careful, but Carter had gotten him a few times. But now, he’d just…given up! Given up, because Carter had ordered him to. The rush he felt then–the sensation of power and domination over another. He loved fucking Ryan’s hole then, but nothing compared to watching that boy obey him without a single question. “Feels good, doesn’t it Ryan? You want me inside you more often, don’t you? You want me inside you as much as you can get me, got it?” he said, and Ryan started moaning and panting louder, pushing back as Carter fucked him, until he came deep in his ass–but when he pulled out, Ryan turned around, cock hard in his jockstrap, and begged him for more, his eyes betraying a terror and frustration that his mouth couldn’t articulate, but Carter was so lost in the pleasure of control that he didn’t even notice it. “Come on Ryan, let’s go see how the boys downstairs are doing. Maybe if they get me horny enough, I’ll fuck you again, would you like that?”

“Yes Sir, more than anything,” Ryan said, following along meekly as Carter went downstairs, eager to have some fun with the boys before Daddy came over in the evening.


Ethan had finished his dinner, dressed himself in his gear, and selected a cigar. With one last look in the mirror to ensure he was holding himself to the same standard he held his boys to, he went downstairs to his dungeon and crossed through the tunnel between his own home and the frat house next door, mulling over his decision again. He’d had most of the boys over at least once at this point, sometimes one on one, and sometimes together, enough to have introduced them all to the specialized plans that Daddy had for their budding manhood. Carter though–he was the exception. While he hadn’t come over every weekend, Daddy had devoted a potentially unfair amount of attention to the budding masochist over the last few months. While he wanted him again this weekend, for his own selfish ends as well as for Carter’s growth, he had decided against it. Carter had hit a wall over the last couple of weeks, one that Daddy was familiar with. He was wrestling with himself, with what he wanted to be, and it was best to let him rest for some time, to sort it out in his own time. If he pushed him too hard, it wouldn’t help anything.

He came out of the tunnel in the gym under the frat house, and that was the first indication that something was amiss–there was no one down there working out. Usually, on a Friday night, many of the boys would be down here working off their dinner, some of them working out while they smoked to take the edge off their horniness without having to fuck–or for the couple of boys in chastity at the moment, because they couldn’t. But there was no one. Guarded, he climbed the stairwell that led up to the living room, and found himself looking at the entire house of boys, all of them clustered around Carter, who was sprawled on a chaise, every single boy in the house worshipping him, with Ryan on top, fucking himself on Carter’s cock, moaning in ecstasy.

“Boys, Line up!” Daddy called, and that was enough to jolt them to their senses. Most of the boys did as commanded, some of them looking a bit…confused or scared, like they’d been caught in the act of something wrong. Carter did not line up with them, but instead stepped forward, his long hair and beard soaked with sweat from the hour long orgy he’d instigated with the rest of the house–well, commanded, really. Carter had been waiting for this, hoping his Daddy would be proud of him, but what he saw in Daddy’s eyes wasn’t appreciation, it was the sort of scowl he reserved for the boys who truly misbehaved. “Carter, what is the meaning of this? Where the fuck did that hair come from? You know that is a violation of the house dress code.”

“I…I grew it, Daddy,” Carter said. “I…I thought it was you.”

“Tell me what happened boy,” Daddy said, and Carter did–told him about how he’d grown his hair, about the power he had over the rest of the boys, the same sort of power that Daddy had himself. 

“Can’t you see Daddy? I’m a man now! Like you said I would be one day, I’m…like you. I can help you!”

Daddy sighed. “Carter, come here–stand with me and look at the boys in the line.”

Carter did as he was told, but wasn’t sure what he was looking at.

“They’re scared, Carter. They’re scared of you.”

Carter looked again, and he understood then. None of them would meet his eyes. Some turned away, out of fear or shame, or perhaps both. “Well, they should be afraid of me,” Carter said. “They should be afraid of both of us.”

The slap shocked him. It wasn’t the first time Daddy had done so, usually when Carter mouthed off in the dungeon, but never publicly, and never quite that hard. “No–that is not what we do. That is not what I do. We do not use fear, not here, not between us. Power, yes, but never fear. Get downstairs, Carter–we have to figure out what’s going on here, and how to stop this…power of yours.”

“What? No!” Carter said, “I…I thought you would be proud of me.”

“Carter,” Daddy said, resting his hands on his shoulders, “You are still so young, and so new. Gifted, yes, but you are wading into waters far too deep for you to handle yet. I’m not angry–I understand, but you need to listen to me. We have to fix this, alright? I cannot allow what you have done here tonight to stand. Now come with me, and we will sort this out.”

Ethan inflected that last sentence as an order,, with a sliver of will from the amulet around his neck, but he felt Carter shrug it off without much effort. “Let go of me,” Carter said in response, and the force of it caught Daddy off guard. He removed his hands, and Carter stepped back. “You’re weak. You were always weak. I’m stronger than you, I bet. Why don’t you get down on your knees and kiss my feet, Daddy? Maybe a few days servicing me will help you appreciate my power a little better.”

The young man was strong, but Ethan felt the command slide off him without him so much as flexing a knee. When he didn’t bend, he saw the kernel of fear that Carter had been hiding in his eyes grow a bit larger, and he took another step back. 

“I said kneel!” Carter said again, but again, Daddy was unbent, even as every boy in the line off to the side collapsed to their knees at the force of the command.

“This is not power, Carter, this is a tantrum. Get downstairs now, or I will drag you down there myself.”

Carter found that he had to flex all of the will he could muster just to shrug off Daddy’s command–he would lose if this kept up. He had to get out of here. He bolted for the front door, and was out and down the steps before Daddy could make it onto the porch. 

“God damn it boy, get your ass back in this house!” Daddy shouted at him. Carter felt the pull, but sprinted harder, dragging free of it. There, on the street, a motorcycle. Had it been there, or was this a wish of his own? He didn’t know how to ride it, but with a wish, he was dressed in leathers and a helmet, hopped on, and sped off down the street. He made it a few blocks before he had to pull over, rip the helmet off, and sob. He would show him, one day soon. He’d show Daddy just what kind of man he was. He’d be back, and when he did–Daddy would be the one kneeling before him, begging for forgiveness.


Ethan stood on the porch and watched Carter roar off down the road. He probably could have caught him, brought him back, but he decided not to–it was more important to tend to the boys and make sure they were ok, in any case. Back inside, the boys were rattled, but mostly resilient. Daddy canceled training that weekend, and spent the next couple of days with the boys, focusing more on making sure they felt cared for, smoking together, lying around with them, seeing to their course work, talking with them. Many asked about Carter, about what Daddy would do about him, but Daddy told them not to worry. Carter had needed space from him–but apparently, he’d needed more space than even Daddy had anticipated. One way or another, he would be back. All Daddy could hope, was that when he returned, he’d come back with a new understanding. Otherwise, there might not be a choice, other than to fight.

He sat with the amulet and meditated with it, trying to uncover how, or when, Carter had been given that strange power. In the end, nothing revealed itself which was troubling itself. If Ethan couldn’t understand how he had gifted Carter his power, then that meant he would have to be ready for it to happen again with the other boys. The weekend passed, and Carter didn’t return. Daddy spent the evenings out on the porch with a whiskey and a cigar, ready and waiting to see that motorcycle come back–but it didn’t come. After a week, Ethan began to wonder if he might be gone for good–or that perhaps something else had happened. In any case, there was nothing he could gain from worrying over it. In the end, he hung up the vigil, and things settled back down into a new normal.

Thanksgiving was coming closer, and Daddy and the boys were getting ready for the feast–none of them could return home to see their families, Daddy said, and while many were disappointed, they had found themselves growing closer to one another, and to Daddy–enough that to some of them, this felt more like their family than their old one ever had. It was Monday night andEthan had been out late shopping. Sure, he could just make the food appear if he wanted to, but he didn’t like to rely on it for the mundane. He believed it was better to retain a bit of humility, as a reminder. When he pulled up in front of the house, there was the bike. It had obviously been well travelled over the last few weeks, the wheels coated with dust and mud. Still, Carter wouldn’t have parked it here if he’d planned on jumping him. That either meant he’d come to his senses, or he’d grown powerful enough that he thought he could take Daddy without the element of surprise.

The door had been unlocked–not surprising, with Carter’s power. Daddy took a few minutes to put the food away, and just listened. He couldn’t hear much, but he could smell smoke wafting up from the dungeon below. Once the groceries were stashed away, Daddy took a cigar from his humidor, lit it, and went downstairs to meet his lost boy.

Carter was there, sitting in the bondage chair, a cigar in one hand, and a glass of whiskey balanced on the arm rest. He looked about as rough as the bike did–hair greasy and unwashed, longer than it had been in the house, reaching almost to the small of his back. His beard had grown out as well, down to his belly–or rather, a gut. Carter looked up at him as he entered, and Daddy saw that Carter was not the same boy that he’d been when he’d left. He was older–not as old as Daddy, but easily in his thirties. His skin weathered from hours riding under the sun. He shuffled his feet, and downed most of his glass of whiskey. “Hi…Daddy,” he said, finally.

“Welcome back, boy. I was worried about you,” Daddy said, and pulled over a chair to face Carter.

“You…didn’t come after me. If you were worried, why didn’t you look?”

“You needed space,” Daddy said. “Me chasing you wouldn’t have made you stop running, and it wouldn’t have helped the rest of the boys either. They needed me here more than you needed me coming after you.”

Carter looked a bit pained, like the reason was so obvious now, and the fact that he hadn’t seen it only made him feel worse. “Are…they all ok?”

“Yes, for the most part. I don’t know if they’ll be happy to see you, but they’re ok.”

“I came…I mean…I tried, I really did,” Carter said, and the first of the tears fell then. Daddy held back–but it was painful to watch all the same. “All I wanted was to be like you. To be strong like you are. I thought…if I could do it to others, then I must be, but god, I fucked up, I fucked up…”

“You did.”

“Not just the house, out there. I thought it was complicated here, but out there–fuck.”

Daddy nodded. 

“You were right. I wasn’t ready. I’m just a kid, but the more I felt that way, the older I got, and I…I don’t know if I can go back, it won’t let me go back.”

“You can’t go back, Carter. There’s no erasing what you did. All you can do is go forward.”

“Please, I want to be a boy again. Help me try again, I’ll be better, I’ll listen this time.”

Daddy chuckled, and took a drag off his cigar, “But if you went back, you won’t know why you needed to listen, would you?”

Carter’s head sank. “So…I’m stuck? Like this? For good?”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” Daddy said, and stood up. “I can try something, I think–but you have to trust me, like you did that first day–can you do that? You have to want this to be right, more than you want to feel ashamed, and guilty, and depressed. You have to believe that I can offer you something else.”

Daddy walked over, and started fastening Carter’s wrists and ankles to the arms and legs of the bondage chair, then slipped a blindfold over his eyes. He went to the wall, took down a pair of scissors, and bundled up Carter’s hair into his fist. “What do you want me to do, boy?”

“Please Daddy–cut my hair. I…I haven’t earned the right to wear it yet.”

“I will boy–but listen to me. When I cut this hair from you, I will sever you from your power–this power. Concentrate on that. It will be sealed away inside you, until you are allowed to grow this again, properly. And when that power is sealed, you will be renewed, do you understand? You will be a boy again–you will be my boy again.”

“Yes Sir, I understand Sir.”

Ethan cut through the hair–but it was harder than the first time. The grease didn’t help, but the power was resisting as well. He had to draw on his own, push it down into the blades of the shears, but they finally cut through, and Carter let out a sob of relief. Daddy kept cutting, working around the strap of the blindfold, and when he’d clipped as close as he could, he shaved Carter bald once again–but he left the beard. A token, perhaps, but in all honesty, it was vanity. It looked good–and the boy would need something to remind him of this.

He removed the restraints, led Carter in front of the mirror, and took off the blindfold–and Carter gasped in relief. He was young again. Himself again. He collapsed to his knees, and kissed Daddy’s boots, thanking him for another chance. Daddy got down with him, and pulled him close, giving him a kiss, running his fingers through his still grungy beard. “I’m proud of you,” Daddy said.

Carter didn’t say anything back–he clearly didn’t understand how Daddy could be proud of him, after what he’d done.

“You came back, boy. You came back–but more than that, you were man enough to admit that you’d been wrong. You surrendered to me not because you had to, but because you want to. And that shows that you are stronger than nearly every man I have ever met–and you’re still just a boy, for now. But one day, I can already tell, you’re going to make a great Daddy yourself. Maybe even a Frat Daddy like me.”

“I…Thank you Sir, I’d…be honored.”

“But first, there’s the small matter of your punishment, I believe.”

“I’ll take whatever you deem necessary Sir.”

“Oh, you’ll take a beating from me, yes. But first, I think the other boys have a right to first crack at you. Get up–you’re going on that cross. Every boy in the house is getting a flogging lesson tonight–and you’re the meat–got it?”

Carter gulped, but they both saw his cock jump at the thought. And once all the boys in the house had gotten a chance to take a little bit of their frustration and shame out on the now powerless Carter, they were all more than happy to take him back into the fold. And for Thanksgiving, they were all thankful for Daddy–but none more so that Carter, at Daddy’s right hand. He knew what he was now, without a doubt. It would take time, and training, and practice, and diligence, but he’d be a Daddy too, one day–it was the only thing he wanted to be. The only thing he could be. But he’d do it right, and he knew that with Daddy guiding him, he’d grow to be the best man he could possibly be.

Featured

Summer Commissions are Open!

Hey everyone! Due to a number of unfortunate financial incidents over the last month, I’m going to be opening up for commissions through the summer and into the fall. Most of the details are the same as the last time I was open last winter (you know, a lifetime ago at this point) but you can find all the details below, if you have questions!

— What kinds of commissions am I offering?

I will be offering three kinds of commissions while I am open.

Sketch story commissions – A sketch story is around 1000 words long, and generally isn’t a fully fleshed out story. Think of it as a writer’s version of an artist’s sketch. The cost for a sketch commission is a flat $25 fee. Other ideas that can be turned into sketches rather easily would include:

  • A TF scene you would like me to write, which doesn’t necessarily warrant a full story.
  • A caption for a photo or two that you would like to see.
  • A branch you would like to see continued over on CYOC with a new chapter.
  • An alternate branch on an interactive story I have written, if you’d wanted to see a different sort of outcome.
  • A short fanfic story, though if I have to research a show or video game I don’t know, it will cost an extra $10 dollars.

Frat Daddy interlude commissions – This is a limited offer for the summer season! Have you been enjoying my Frat Daddy story? Is there a scenario or a fetish that you’d like the see Daddy inflict on one of his boys in the house? These will be a 3000 word commission, offered at a flat rate of $70 dollars–which is a $20 discount off the usual price of this length of story.

Short story commissions – I define a short story as anything shorter than 5000 words. The rate for a short story is 3 cents a word, or 30 dollars per 1000 words written. A short story comes with more restrictions on content.

  • No fan fiction.
  • Stories involving your fursona or OC characters may require further consultation. This isn’t to say that furry stories aren’t allowed–but some ideas may be better suited to the sketch category above, than a full fledged story.

— How does my commission process work?

I do not work with a queue system–I’ve found it tends to make it harder for me to get through more pieces if I have to finish them in a particular order. Instead, I use what I call the pot system. It works like this:

  1. You ask me for a commission, and we chat about your idea. If it sounds like something I can write for you, then I will send you a rough synopsis of the story, as I plan on writing it. Once you agree to that outline, I will put your commission ‘into the pot’.
  2. There are two pots. There is the priority pot, reserved for patrons, and a general pot, for non-patrons. The pots will be publicly posted so you will know how many people are waiting. Sketch and story commissions share the same pots. 
  3. I will select stories from the pot to commit to writing, and then ask for the down payment before I begin the story. A sketch story requires the entire $25 payment before I begin, and a short story requires a $30 down payment. I will select commissions from the priority pot first, and then, once the priority pot is empty, I will begin taking general commissions from the pot, and working on those in turn.
  4. Once I finish a story, I will send you a link to the first draft, and discuss any edits you would like to make. Small detail edits are free–if I have to substantially rework the story, that will incur an additional fee. The balance on a short story commission is due before edits will be done, and the story polished.
  5. I will do my best to work through all of the commissions in both pots as quickly as I can. However, I can’t guarantee that I will finish every commission I put in the pot–this is why I take the down payment before I begin writing, not immediately after the consultation. 

— How do I accept payments?

I prefer accepting payments over cash app or paypal.

— How long will I remain open for commissions?

I plan on remaining open through the end of August, and perhaps longer, depending on demand. When I reach a point that I feel like I cannot reasonably accept more commissions and finish them all in the time I have given myself, I will close the pots–but continue finishing the stories in them. I generally plan to finish all of the stories in both pots–however, life happens. I will only guarantee a story will be written once I have accepted a down payment from you.

What sort of content will I be posting during this time?

I generally put most of my energy into commissions when I am open, so depending on demand, Frat Daddy may be put on hold for the time being. I will still have the suggestion box open through July and August, however.

–Can you get more than one short story commission? Can you commission sequels?

You sure can! However, I only work on one commission from each individual at a time, so you can’t commission 10,000 words all at once. If you would like another commission from me, you’re more than welcome to do so, however, all repeat customers go to the back of the queue automatically, to make sure a few people aren’t hogging my time. In the case of sequels, or multiple stories in the same larger arc, I am generally willing to do so. However, if the story is rather involved, I may charge a 3.5 cent per word rate for sequels.

— How do I contact you?

You can use the following ways to contact me regarding a commission. If you send me a message in some other fashion (say, over on tumblr) I can’t guarantee I’ll receive it. Patrons should message me either through discord, or send me a message through Patreon.

Email – wesley.bracken@gmail.com

Telegram – username @brackenous

Twitter – Send me a DM, my profile is @wesleybracken

Discord: username Wesley Bracken#4835

Thanks for your support as always! Get in touch if you’re interested in a commission!

Interactive: Frat Daddy (Part 1)

Ethan went strolling down the sidewalk, fondling the amulet around his neck. It still seemed too good to be true–an amulet that would allow him to warp people’s minds to his own desires, an amulet that could change bodies and even warp reality around him. He’d tested it on a few small things, but now, it was time for the real show. He came to a stop in front of a large victorian style house in a nice neighborhood beside a college campus, and looked up at the house. “I wish this was my house, that I owned it, and that no one will ever take it away from me, no matter what happens.”

He watched as the car parked outside on the driveway disappeared, the various decorations in the yard vanished–whoever had lived here before no longer did–where they had gone was not Ethan’s problem, they had merely been in the way. He strode up the walkway and found the key to the house on his keychain. Inside, he found all of the furniture from his apartment across town inside–it wasn’t nearly enough to fill the large house, but that could wait. It was his. His house. But more important, was the fact that he now lived next door to Phi Beta Alpha–one of the hottest fraternities on campus, and a constant obsession of Ethan’s.

Ethan was a pervert. He had a perfectly normal life, or he had had one before the amulet had made such a thing unnecessary. Working in an office as a manager, nothing particularly impressive about him, aging more or less gracefully into his forties with a bit of a pot belly, and more hair on his body than on his head. Ethan was gay, but had never really found much success in relationships. What he’d always wanted was in the realm of fantasy, in any case. He’d always loved jocks. Back in college, he’d…gotten in a bit of trouble for spying on a fraternity then, as well, thinking about all the naughty things he wanted to do to those young men. The desires had only intensified for him as he’d grown older, imagining more and more perversities to visit on their youthful bodies, minds, and souls. And now, with the amulet in hand, he could finally make his fantasies reality.

He’d spied on this frat often enough to know the major players. The term had just started not too long ago, and the new Freshmen pledges had been inducted and were getting settled. He’d chosen today, of course, because Phi Beta Alpha was throwing their first major post-rush party. It was the perfect time to introduce all of the young men to their new Frat Daddy, who would be living next door, and taking control of their organization from now on. His cock was rock hard in his khakis at the thought, a dark spot growing where he was leaking. He wanted to jack off, but he could wait–it would be better, so much better, to wait, now that he was so close. Instead, he walked through his new home, filling in the rooms here and there, giving extra care to the extensive dungeon in the basement. Before he knew, it was night, and he could hear the party next door picking up plenty of steam. It was time for the new frat daddy to make his first appearance.

“I wish that I had the new title of frat daddy, for Phi Beta Alpha. As frat daddy, I can dictate all of the rules of the frat, and all members of the frat, as well as anyone in the frat house, is compelled to obey me without question. The members of the frat do not know any of this yet, but when they learn of it, they will all accept it without question.”

With that, the amulet glowed a bit, as it did for the larger wishes, and then fell dark again. Satisfied, Ethan left his new home, went next door, and let himself into the frat house. No one noticed him at first, between the loud music, the conversation, and all of the beer being drunk. The first young man to notice him as a fish out of water was Tyler, a sophomore, who was sitting with his girlfriend Natasha on the couch. “Hey! Who the fuck are you?” he said as Ethan looked around the living room.

“I’m your frat daddy, Tyler,” Ethan said, knowing everyone about the young man as soon as he saw him. It was natural, after all, for the frat daddy to know everything about his subjects. “You know that, don’t you?”

Tyler blinked, confused for a moment, and then nodded slowly, while Natasha just looked at him, wondering what was going on. “Of course Sir, sorry, I…didn’t recognize you, I guess.”

“That’s good boy, but who is this now?”

“This…this is Natasha. My girlfriend.”

“Now Tyler, you know it’s forbidden for members of PBA to fraternize with women. You’ll have to break up with her immediately.”

“But…but we…”

“Who makes the rules of the frat, Tyler?”

“You do, Daddy,” Tyler said, and turned to Natasha, looking a bit sheepish. “Sorry babe, we gotta break up.”

Natasha was dumbstruck, and waited for someone to tell her it was a joke. It never came. “You…you can’t just break up with me! What the fuck?”

“Natasha, leave his house. When you step outside, you will forget you were ever in a relationship with Tyler, and you will never return here. Now go.”

Natasha looked like she wanted to bite his head off, but instead she grabbed her things and left, without looking back.

“I’m sorry Daddy,” Tyler said, “I forgot that was a rule, I guess.”

“That’s alright Tyler,” Ethan said, sitting down on the couch next to the hot jock, “Now give Daddy a kiss.”

Tyler balked, but couldn’t refuse. He tried to lean in for a little peck, only for Ethan to wrap one hairy forearm around his neck, pull him in, and force his tongue into Tyler’s mouth in the middle of the party, kissing him for most of a minute before pulling away. Tyler was horrified, and tried to get up from the couch, but Ethan pulled him back down. “Say thank you.”

“T-Thank you Daddy, for the kiss…”

“Good. Now take that shirt off, and dance for me.”

Tyler did as Daddy asked, and started gyrating to the techno playing around them, shaking his ass for Ethan while he groped himself, telling Tyler what a good boy he was, until several other members of the frat noticed what was going on, and music stopped. Tyler stopped as well, and retreated away before Daddy could say anything else to him.

“What the fuck are you doing Tyler? Who’s the pervert?”

“It’s…he’s the frat daddy! He asked me to dance for him…”

Ethan watched as the looks of confusion all turned to realization in a matter of moments. Ethan stood up and looked around the now quiet room. “I see too many women here–you boys know women are forbidden from the grounds. All of you girls leave, forget you were ever here, and do not return.”

The girlfriends and dates of the frat brothers all swarmed out of the house, leaving just the brothers and their new frat daddy in the living room. The fraternity president, Jameson, stepped forward then, and cleared his throat. “Daddy, I don’t think that most of the guys here appreciate you sending the girls away.”

“But it’s time for the ceremony, Jameson. After rush, at the first big party, the fraternity president bends over right here, and gets fucked by the frat daddy while the rest of your brother’s watch. You recall that, don’t you?”

“I…I mean, of course, but…”

“But what?”

“But I’m…straight, Daddy.”

“Why should that matter to me? Bend the fuck over. Daddy’s horny as fuckin’ hell.”

Jameson gulped, and bent over the back of the couch. Ethan pulled down his athletic shorts and boxers, pushed the head of his rock hard cock against his hole, and said, “Beg.”

“What Daddy?”

“Beg me to fuck you. You’re straight as an arrow, but you want me inside you more than anything else in the whole world. You want all of your brothers to watch me fuck you. You want them all to feel jealous that I fucked you first, that you earned that right as president. You know it will hurt, but you don’t care, you want me inside you more. Now beg.”

“Please Daddy! Please fuck my ass, make it hurt, please, fuck me, your fucking hot jock boy, I’ve worked on my ass so much for you, I want you to enjoy it, I want to be so tight for you, I want you to ruin my hole, Daddy, I want you to rape me, please, fuck me!” The words spilled out of Jameson’s mouth faster than he could really process them, and at the end of it, Daddy did as he’d asked, and pushed the head of his sizable cock into his hole, making Jameson hollar in pain, but he pushed back, eager to feel the whole thing inside him, hungry for it, aching for it.

The rest of the boys watched, unable to look away, as Ethan started fucking Jameson in earnest. “All of you,” Ethan said as he fucked, “Strip, and start jacking off. You’re all going to fantasize about how much you wish it was you over this couch, getting fucked by the frat daddy. You’re all going to cum into your hands, and you will feed your loads to Jameson, who will thank you for each and every one of them, and lick your hands clean afterward.”

One by one, the jocks all came in their hands, thinking about how much they too desired Daddy’s cock. They walked forward and fed their loads to Jameson, who thanked them and licked their hands clean afterward. Ethan watched in glee, fucking hard, completely in control of his orgasm thanks to an earlier wish. When all of the boys had fed Jameson their cum, he came as well, pushing in deep, and pumping a massive load into Jameson’s ass. 

No one really remembered what happened after that. It was a flurry of sex and deabuchery, with plenty of beer helping to lube up the boys’ inhibitions. They woke the next morning in a pile of bodies, aching and sore, humiliated and shamed at what they had done. The only person who wasn’t was Ethan, fully dressed again, with a mug of coffee in his hand, sitting on a chair in front of the fireplace.

“Come on boys, time to wake up. We have some new house rules to discuss. Take your seats and listen closely–you will all be expected to obey all of these rules to the letter from now on.”


Hey everyone! I’m going to be trying something a little different with this interactive. There will probably be just one, maybe two entries a week, but they will be a bit more substantial than usual. The polls are also going to be different! I’m trying a different program here, which allows for the ranked choice voting I prefer, and also allows me to ask multiple questions! There are four questions below. Everyone will be able to provide answers to two of them, but for the other two, those will only be available for patrons. Patrons can find their extended survey over here. Everyone else, you can answer the questions below! Just click and drag the possible answers around, and rank them from top to bottom.

Interactive: Time Travel Takeover (Part 2)

After a few necessary precautions, Edwin fired up the machine again, and took control of Josh not too long after their first encounter on the day he moved in. He had one month, then, to set Josh on a more interesting, and in his mind, fulfilling path, than what Josh had in mind for himself.

He spent the first couple of days getting acclimated to his host. While his level of direct control was substantial, he noticed that Josh’s mind tended to push back on anything he did directly. It was more efficient, then, to work behind the scenes–send lots of little thoughts that would grow into big ones, until Josh made the desired decision all on his own–or at least, he thought he did. Edwin decided to start with a big one, just to measure the scope of his power–he was going to get Josh to drop out of school.

It ended up being easier than he’d expected. Josh wasn’t particularly good at school, and he didn’t exactly enjoy it. He mostly did it so he could play sports, so Edwin worked on that against him. It wasn’t easy. Josh had been playing baseball all of his life–it was about as close to a cornerstone of his identity as he could get. Of course, that meant that when it crumbled, every thing that came after would be much, much easier. It took a week. The greatest tool that Edwin had was doubt. He got Josh to start questioning his ability as a student easily, and after that, his skill as an athlete. With a solid dose of imposter syndrome brewing, all it took was a few hard pushes, and Josh went to the dean’s office and dropped out after one week of classes.

Of course, that wasn’t all Edwin had been up to in the course of the week. He’d already decided what sort of person he was going to turn Josh into, if he could. Josh liked his porn, mostly women, but with a few pushes, and some direct control, he had Edwin discovering an interest in a different kind of person entirely–fat men, the more obese the better. After a week, almost all of Edwin’s fantasies were about being an encourager. Feeding fat men, making them larger and larger, servicing them, worshiping them, every part of their bodies. It helped that Edwin himself wasn’t exactly small–he had Josh finding all sorts of excuses to get with Edwin–and during that first week, he discovered something groundbreaking–he could leap from person to person, in the past.

He could convince Edwin to start sucking his cock, and then leap to his own body, and make Josh worship his gut, cherish it, tell him that he loves fat old men like him, that they know how to make him happy. Then, he’d jump back to Josh when they were finished, and cement all of that praise in his ego. It was amazing, knowing that he’d mindfucked his hot, muscular tenant so easily–but they had another task before them, and now that he knew he could hop between people easily enough, that made the next task rather easy. See, Josh needed to find a new job, and it just so happened that not too far from the house was a fast food joint. Josh took an application in, and with a little hop over to the manager’s mind, he was hired on the spot.

Josh loved his new job much more than he’d expected to–mostly, he loved waiting on all of the obese men who came through. He got hard every time he got to upgrade their meals, thinking about how much fatter they were going to get with him feeding them here. He would take regular breaks to the bathroom at work to jack off, fantasizing about his favorite customers, wondering how many of them wouldn’t mind a personal feeding sometime. Edwin took the opportunity to plant the suggestion in quite a few of them, and it wasn’t long before Josh would take the leftover goods at the end of the night on a round of deliveries, stopping by at all of his regulars houses, stuffing them full all over again, and sucking down their cum as a reward.

Of course, Josh didn’t quite look the part of greasy fry cook yet, so Edwin made thoughts of hygiene start slipping from his mind. He had to keep his face shaved, but he would let the stubble grow in over the weekend. His hair grew out, sticky with grease from the grill and deep fryers. His skin started breaking out, and towards the end of the month, his manager actually had to pull him aside to talk about his BO–but Edwin made a little round of his coworker’s minds, and made sure that concern wouldn’t be an issue anymore for them. Towards the end of the month, Edwin’s work was done–where there had been a hotshot jock, there was now a greasy, hairy fry cook, obsessed with feeding fat men, spending all of his free time either delivering meals to his favorite customers, or sitting in his room at his computer, jacking off, and thinking about how much larger he was going to make them all. It was enough to make a pervert proud. With that, Edwin killed the stream and returned to the present, eager to see how the rest of the year had treated his tenant.

The headache was much more severe this time, and Edwin actually had to make his way to the bathroom to vomit. He’d spent all night in the basement and it was now mid-morning. Once he was sure his head wasn’t going to explode from the sudden onslaught, he got up, saw himself in the mirror, and grinned a bit. He shouldn’t have been surprised, he supposed, but Edwin had apparently become one of Josh’s favorite customers himself. He didn’t have a scale to weigh himself, but he had to be at least fifty pounds heavier than he remembered. He didn’t mind it, in all honesty–after all, it meant that everything had worked exactly as he’d hoped. He went upstairs and peeked into Josh’s room, where his tenant was sitting in front of his computer, masturbating as usual–and fuck, all of the fast food and feeding had rubbed off on him as well. He wasn’t the lean muscled man Edwin could half recall–he was easily 250 pounds, sitting in a pair of grungy, cumsoaked briefs, panting and grunting at a massive pig on the screen, totally absorbed in his fetish.

“If you want a real pig to worship, why not me,” Edwin said, and Josh spun around in his chair, leered at his landlord, and dragged him onto his bed, where Josh happily licked every inch of Edwin’s larger body clean, snorting and grunting the whole time like a pig himself. He drank down Edwin’s load at the end of it, and then had to throw on his unwashed uniform and get to work, leaving Edwin alone in the house, amazed at what he’d managed to accomplish with a month of control. Now that he’d gotten a taste of it, all Edwin wanted now, was more.

But who next? Edwin wasn’t close to many people, so he wasn’t quite sure. One option stood out to him though–his neighbor Jerry. A nice enough fellow, forty years old, married, no kids. Boring as dirt though. He and his wife were both teachers at the local high school, but didn’t do much beyond that. They had been married for twenty years though–Edwin recalled Jerry telling him they’d gotten married when they were twenty. He knew, now, what a year could do–but twenty years? Why not go back to the day before their wedding, break it off, and send Jerry on a life changing bender that would warp him for the rest of his days? Fuck, just thinking about it had Edwin hard as a rock…but he needed a rest. He’d take a few days to come up with a plan, and maybe get spy on Jerry’s life a bit–then he’d take a ride through Jerry’s past and wreak havoc.


Here’s the next poll! Same deal as before. Everyone can pick two options in the public poll below. Patrons have their bonus poll as well, and they get to choose four of the options. The bonus poll can be found over here.

Patreon Exclusives: “Stud Service” & “Arctos: Scents #1 and #2”

Got a couple new stories up for Patrons this week! The first one is currently in early access, which means that it’ll get posted publicly in a week or so. I’ve had it sitting around for a while and never got around to posting it. It’s got some good old fashioned weird shit–anthro, furry, feral, cock swapping, fairy tale oddities etc. You can find it here, or you can hang on for a while and catch it here in a bit.

The others are a pair of suggested stories based off ideas from Patrons. Folks liked the first one I did last week, and so I did a follow up with a different scent I’d mentioned. I’ll go ahead and post the first one in full–if you enjoy it, you can find the second one here.

As always, if you haven’t signed up for my Patreon, I’d recommend it! You get early access to full stories, as well as access to the suggestion box, all of the stories I write based on those suggestions, and the occasional freebie too. You can find more details here!


Blake didn’t know what the package was when it showed up in his mailbox, nor did he recognize the company on the label–some place called Arctos Industries. He took it inside with the rest of his mail, opened it up, and three little canisters fell out, along with a note:

“Blake,

You’re a man of discerning scent. We here at Arctos are offering you a sample pack of our new personal scents–Mechanic, Dungeoneer, and Truckstop. Now you too can smell like an Arctos man. The full strength formulas can be found at our website, once you’ve settled on your favorite. Happy scenting.”

“Fucking weird ass marketing campaigns these days,” Blake said, and looked at the three aerosol cans. They must be some kind of deodorant or body spray. Out of curiosity, he popped the top off one, labeled Mechanic, and gave it a little spray in the air.

Grease. Motor oil. Sweat. New car smell. Metal shavings. Battery acid. 

It was…strong. If this wasn’t full strength, he didn’t want to know what the real thing smelled like. But the smell was lingering in his nose, he couldn’t quite seem to shake it, somehow. Something…something was off. He realized then that he’d taken his shirt off at some point, but when? He tried to move away from where he’d sprayed it, but it followed him–he lifted an arm up, gave a sniff, and realized it was on him–he’d sprayed himself with it, but when? Looking at the clock, he’d lost…fifteen minutes? He was feeling woozy again, woozy, and…horny. That was the last thing he remembered clearly, until he found himself lying in his bed.

With a moan, he stood up, and looked around. What time was it? He looked for his phone, but it was nowhere to be seen. He got up and went into the kitchen, and discovered it was…morning. He turned on his computer, and found out it was morning…two days later. He’d just lost around 36 hours of time, and he had no way of accounting for it at all. He heard the buzz of his phone, back in his bedroom, and he found it in the pocket of some filthy coveralls he had never seen before in his life, coated with grease and motor oil. He couldn’t imagine wearing something like that ever–but then why were they here, with his phone in the pocket? The buzz had been a message from some stranger he didn’t even know, asking why he wasn’t at the shop–probably a wrong number.

Other stuff was off though. He went to make himself some breakfast, and found leftover take out from some fast food place in the fridge–shit he would have never ordered in his life. He threw it out. His hands were filthy, with grease under the nails from who knew what. He drank his coffee, and noticed the canister of deodorant was still on the counter. Mechanic–that was the last thing he’d done before blacking out. Did that have something to do with all of this? He didn’t want to test the theory–he just chucked it in the trash with the fast food, and wondered if he should call the doctor. 

In the end, he felt fine though–he watched TV for the rest of the morning and early afternoon, only for his show to be interrupted by someone knocking on the door. Wondering who it could be, he opened it, and found himself looking at a stocky guy wearing some grungy looking coveralls. He looked surprised, and then confused. “Oh, hey. Is Blake here?”

“Uh…yeah, I’m Blake.”

“No, I mean…big guy, roommate?”

“I live here alone, no other Blake as far as I…what are you doing?” Blake asked, as the shorter guy started sniffing the air. 

“I…I smell him, he’s here somewhere,” he said, and pushed past Blake into the apartment.

“Hey! What the hell are you doing?” The guy made a beeline for the trash can, and pulled out the canister, then came back and sniffed Blake. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Get out of my apartment.”

Blake tried to shove him back out into the hallway, but before he could, the guy pulled off the top of the canister and sprayed Blake with the Mechanic scent again. As soon as he smelled it, he blanked out again for a second, and when he came to…he was…different. 

“Fuck, I knew you had to be here, I had to smell you again,” the guy said, his face shoved into Blake’s armpit. He…He was naked, mostly naked. But something was off. He was bigger, hairier. He tried to push the stranger away, but ended up using his hand to shove him harder into his armpit. Things began to swim, losing more clarity, and then, he wasn’t in his apartment.

He was in a bathroom. Not the cleanest bathroom he’d ever seen. It was obviously a business bathroom, single occupancy, lock on the door. Blake looked around him, totally disoriented, and saw himself in the mirror, face coated in grime, wearing the coveralls he’d found in the apartment, the nametag patch on them said Blake. They fit…poorly. They pooled around the work boots he had on, which were also too small, and hung off him, like they were made for a guy at least a hundred pounds heavier. What in the world was happening to him? He found his phone in his pocket, but couldn’t unlock it–someone had changed the pin on him to something he didn’t know. He could see the date though–he’d lost…five days this time! How was that even possible?

He left the bathroom, and found himself in the lobby of a mechanic’s garage. One of the customer’s waiting did a double take when he came out, then buried his face back in the magazine he was reading. Blake, red in the face, left the lobby and looked for his car, but it wasn’t anywhere that he could see. He was still wandering about when the guy who had shown up at his apartment before came jogging over to him.

“You! Where…where the hell am I? What did you do to me?”

“Hey, easy now, calm down, I can explain,” he said, but he just pulled the canister from his pocket and shot it all over Blake’s body, “I was hoping a smaller dose would be ok, since we’re running low, but the full strength spray should arrive today–it’s all going to be fine.”

Blake choked and gasped, and he…he could feel it. Feel his body growing larger, his gut filling out the front of his coveralls, hair receding and filling in with grey, a bushy beard across his face, and the stench! Fuck, he smelled fucking good, made his fat cock get hard and start leaking in the front of his favorite coveralls…but what was he doing out here in the parking lot? Last thing he remembered, he’d needed to take a piss, and his boy wasn’t around to drink it for him. “What the hell, I fergot some shit again…” he muttered, embarrassed. That had been happening lately, just…losing time without any explanation. 

“Don’t worry Daddy, your medication will get here today–you’ll be feeling better soon enough,” Sam said, and gave the massive, smelly mechanic a hug, taking a deep inhale of his scent, his own cock going crazy. “It’s lunch time Daddy, why don’t we hit the drive through, and we can both get fed,” he said, and groped Blake’s crotch.

“Fuck boy, sounds like a plan tah me,” Blake growled to him. They hopped in the used truck they’d bought a few days before–he didn’t know what he’d been thinking, buying a little car he could barely fit into, but this was so much more comfy. They headed for the drive through–Blake would get his usual massive meal, and while he ate, his boy would get a load of mechanic cum for his troubles.

Caption: Lunch With My Uncle

I post captions somewhat regularly over on my discord channel, which is reserved for patrons! There’s a sizable archive at this point, and new ones posted each month. You can find out more information here.


My uncle had always been hard on me. No, that’s an understatement. He always hated me, I think, or something, because he spent most of my youth criticizing me for anything, really. My dad always told me not to take it to heart, that he was family and still loved me, but when I came out, well, my uncle had a few choice words to say about that as well. Needless to say, as soon as my parents didn’t force me to see him anymore, I didn’t speak to him for years–but things change, sometimes. 

A few months ago, I decided to reconnect with him. He’d been through two divorces by this point and didn’t have any kids of his own–not really surprising to me, and he was lonely. So I decided to start having lunch with him on a regular basis. I’d moved back to town where both my parents and my uncle lived after college, and so we started meeting for lunch–first once a week, but after awhile, we were meeting every day–I can be pretty insistent, you see.

“Go on Unc,” I said, Dig in,” I said, when the waiter brought our food out.

He just sat there, looking at the three entrees I’d ordered for him, looking a bit sick to his stomach. He’d been meeting for lunch for most of a year now, and my uncle was looking a little, well, chubby. Hell, I eventually made him tell me how much he’d gained, and he was over 300 pounds at this point. 

“Please…please, I’m sorry,” he said to me, quiet enough no one around us could hear. He’d started doing this lately, trying to apologize, and it was getting a bit tiresome.

“Your food’s getting cold, go on now,” I said, and picked at the salad I’d ordered for myself.

“I don’t…wanna eat anymore. Please, I…I’m so full already, and–”

“If I wanted to hear your excuses, I’d be your therapist, now eat up, pig.”

There was a flash in my eyes, and he picked up his fork and started shovelling bites into his mouth, faster than he could really chew.

“There we go, that feels better, doesn’t it? Filling all that emptiness inside your soul with food, because you never bothered to fill it with anything else. Makes that dick of yours hard too–go on, give it a rub, pig.”

With one hand still stuffing his face, the other reached into his lap, under his gut, and started groping his cock, right there in the busy restaurant.

“You know, I’m getting really tired of your complaining all the time when we have lunch together. I’m being rather civil, you know that, right? I could have you tear off all your clothes, right here, shove your face in that bowl, devour everything until you cum, squealing and grunting like an animal. Right in front of these normal families, enjoying your lunch. Is that what you want me to do pig? Is that what you want to do?”

I could tell by the shudder that my teasing had gotten the expected reaction–he’d shot his load right into his underwear. We ate the rest of the meal in silence, and when dessert came, he was a good pig and ordered a triple helping, all by himself.

While we waited for it to arrive, I decided to ask him something that had been on my mind, as I’d been watching him pack on all these pounds. “So, what does Martha think of your new look?” Martha was my aunt–not quite as cruel as he was, but she’d had her moments too.

He clearly didn’t want to talk about it, but with a little nudge, he spilled the truth. “She hates it. She complains about it all the time, calls me all sorts of disgusting names. She won’t even sleep with me–I’ve been sleeping on the couch for a month now. She says I can come back to bed with her when the springs don’t squeak when I lay down.”

“When’s the last time you had sex with her?”

“I don’t know. Months ago.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. It’s not easy to be a man, horny all the time because of how monstrously fat you’ve become, and your wife won’t even touch you. That just makes you even hornier too, since knowing how disgusting she thinks you are is so humiliating, right?”

He was crying now. I almost had him to sobs, but I held back, because we were in public. “Well, I think you deserve a reward, for being such a good piggy, and gaining so much weight. I have someone who would love to help you out–but you need to eat all of your dessert,” I said, as the three plates arrived, “but then I stole the spoon that came with them. “You need to eat them all with your hands.”

He blanched, but with a little cajoling, he gave in. He was horny, and he hadn’t had someone else touch him in so long, and the looks of everyone else in the restaurant as he stuffed his face with his fat paws was too good. Of course, I didn’t tell him the important details. I had a muscle bound friend of mine with an eight inch dick waiting back at my place. I was helping him out with a few problems of his own, and he’d agreed to fuck my fat uncle for me–provided he could do him rough and raw. I had no problem with that of course–and my uncle would deal with it. He wasn’t going to have a choice, after all.

Orcish Recon: 1.2.1.1 – An Inside Job

This is one ending of Avoy’s story! I hope you enjoyed the chapters. i’m still working on a little twine adventure based on this one, that I hope to release in a week or two, depending on how fast I can work, and how cooperative twine is. I wrote an alternate storyline as well for patrons, which I concluded yesterday–you can find that post here. I’ll see about getting another interactive started, or something else, next week!


It was the dagger. Avoy stared at it, lying there in the top of his pack, trying to recall how it had gotten in there. He couldn’t recall taking it–he’d…no, he had taken it, but then he’d gotten captured, and then…and then something else, something that was right on the tip of thought, about to crash over him–and he remembered the medallion.

That light, that sweet green light washing over him, over his mind, back when he’d been an orc–no, a half-orc…right? He…he hadn’t been an orc before, he’d been human.

No, this is a disguise–remember…

A disguise? He pulled out the mirror from his pack again and looked at himself. It wasn’t right. That wasn’t what he was supposed to look like, but what was he supposed to look like? Why had he lost his face?

Remember the sigils. They will give you back your true self. 

Symbols swam to the front of his mind. He wasn’t sure what they meant, at first, until he looked down and saw the dagger in his hand–but he wasn’t changing. He had changed before, hadn’t he? He’d changed because he wasn’t an orc, but if he wasn’t changing now, that meant…

You are an orc. Meant to be an orc. An orc in disguise. Reveal yourself, destroy them all, as you know you can.

Avoy tried to stop himself, but the dagger traced it’s way along his flesh, digging in, the magic pouring into him. He could feel it warping him, re…returning him to his true form, yes, his rightful form. A trick! He was no human at all, the clever shaman, he was an orc, had always been an orc. He carved faster, marking the sigils on his skin, the marks of a great warrior, and he could feel the magic coursing through him. He finished, and collapsed onto the floor, wounds scarring over already, his body twisting and changing, Avoy knotting up his mouth to keep from screaming and alerting everyone in the monastery. He had to change. Return to himself–then…then one last thing, and he could…begin.

It was the dead of night when he felt the magic ease away, and Avoy stood up–he was back, a true orcish warrior, as he ought to be. Now, the attack, yet…yet there was something else. He picked up the dagger in his hand, and slammed it into the stone floor. The glass blade shattered into shards of crystal all over the surface–Avoy picked one up, pressed it to the skin of his scrotum, and slit it open. He pushed the crystal shard inside, feeling the magic heat up his massive orc sack, an aching horniness overwhelming him, shimmering green precum leaking from the tip of his cock. He dug in the pack and found the medallion there as well–now, it was time.

He found the abbot first, sleeping in his bed. Avoy raped the old man–he was far too weak to put up much of a fight, though he tried to scream and bite through Avoy’s massive paw as he held it over his mouth. He didn’t have to for long–as Avoy’s enchanted cum made it’s way into the abbot’s guts, he began to change, skin turning green, tusks growing from his mouth, and Avoy began swinging the medallion in front of his face, telling the old pig about his new position in the clan as the collective fuck pig for all of the warriors to use whenever they desired. By the time he finished, there was no one left aside from a mindfucked, fat, cockhungry orc, and together they made their way to the other monk’s bedrooms, corrupting them as they went.

A few days later, travelers came to the monastery, but found it empty of life. There were signs of a struggle, but not a single body found anywhere inside the building. It was considered a mystery–at least until the orc horde stormed down from the mountains a few months later, raiding settlements, turning unsuspecting men into new grunts for the massive army, and Avoy was among them, humanity long forgotten, happily raping and pillaging for the rest of his days.

Interactive: Orcish Recon 1.2.1 – Captured by Orcs

“There he is!”

The cry was in orcish–Avoy went for his pack where the dagger was stashed, but an arrow landed right where his hand would have been if he’d been a bit quicker. Avoy froze–he’d been in worse situations before, but not many. He wasn’t going to be able to run his way out of this one, and whatever the dagger had done to him, his body wasn’t ready to fight its way out either. 

The orcs crashed their way down into the ravine and pinned him down in the mud, grabbing his sack and digging through it until they found the dagger and hollered in celebration. “Thief,” one of the orcs muttered in Avoy’s ear, “Don’t worry, we’ll take you back and put you to good use…” Avoy’s stomach turned a bit when he realize the thing poking against the small of his back wasn’t a weapon–but the orc’s cock hardening as he bound Avoy’s wrists behind him with twine.

Of course, that wouldn’t be a first either. Avoy tried to make a deal with the orcs–he’d happily be their little pig down in the ravine, if they wanted that, provided they let him go. They could have the dagger, he didn’t care one bit about what happened between them and the monastery, so long as he could keep his life, and a bit of his dignity. The orcs just laughed at him, and then hauled him back up the steep slope. Pushing him along, and returning to the camp.

And so, Avoy found himself right back where he’d started, in a large tent full of pens, really–clearly designed to hold a much larger number of prisoners than it currently possessed–which was two. Avoy in one cell, and in one a short distance away, an orc. The guards left, and Avoy moved over to try and talk to the orc–only to discover that it wasn’t an orc, not really. He was talking to the monk that he had seen in the ritual the night before–apparently, getting cut apart by that dagger hadn’t been as fatal as Avoy assumed. Instead, he had…changed. Changed in the same way Avoy had, with his short contact with the dagger–although obviously changed…further. As far as he could tell, the young man was a full grown orc–though from his speech, his mind was still intact, though…he was terrified of…something. He kept babbling about some medallion–talking about what had happened to the knights that had been captured with him, how…how they were gone. Avoy didn’t know what to make of it, but he didn’t have to wait long to find out.

The guards returned, and with them, was the shaman–but no chief. If that wasn’t a sure enough sign of who was really in charge around here, then nothing would be. “Ah, the little thief,” the shaman said, “I was wondering how long until those filthy humans down in their little castle would come poking their noses around here, and try and see what the fates have in store for them soon enough.”

“Look, it was just a job, alright? I don’t have a stake in any of this–if you have a better offer, I’ll tell you anything you want to know,” Avoy said, “Hell, just…just fix me, and I’ll do anything you want.”

“Oh, I know far more than you ever could about what’s going on here,” the shaman said, and came close to his cage, “Those little monks down there–for years, they’ve been stealing our young men, twisting them, turning them into their little slaves with their so called white magic. Well no more,” the shaman said, and pulled the medallion off his head. Avoy found himself following the stone, green like the dagger, but…not quite the same. The shaman laughed, and Avoy pulled his eyes away from it–obviously, some sort of mind magic of his own.

“Pity, it only works on orcs,” the shaman said, “and half orcs. But good enough for our use here,” the shaman turned to the other cell, where the monk was, and the new orc’s gaze was drawn right to it. Avoy told him to look away, but it was too late–the shaman began whispering something to him, the medallion growing brighter, the monk’s eyes filled with a green glow, and when it ceased–they released him from the cage. He greeted the orcs with a traditional greeting, and was taken by one of them out into the camp–just another warrior now, ready to demolish the human monastery below, and take revenge for what they had done.

“Now, that brings us to you. Shouldn’t have touched the dagger–you know. Not good to play with things you don’t understand. Still, this is a fine opportunity for us, in a way. The curse on you will lift in in a few more hours–and I’ve been meaning to…experiment a bit. Now, be a good little orc and keep your eye on the stone, right where it belongs.”

Avoy tried to resist–he could feel the human side of him trying to pull away, while the orcish part of him drawn deep into the crystal, into the shaman’s words, absorbed. The human side couldn’t fight the pull, and found itself sucked away as well. It was like…falling asleep, almost. He could…hear the shaman, planting something in his mind, something he couldn’t quite hear, couldn’t quite know. Then, the voice was gone, but he was still asleep. Then, he was awake–but he wasn’t in the cell anymore–he was in the forest.

He tried to recall what had happened to him, but everything was slipping through his fingers faster than he could hold onto anything. He’d…escaped, right? Yes–he’d fled and…and the monastery wasn’t far from here. But he…he couldn’t go back there, could he? Not looking like…like… He pulled a mirror he used for sneaking through tight hallways out of his pack, and was relieved to see his face looking back at him. His real face–a human face. It had to have been a dream, of course. He…he would go back, and he would report what he saw. And then…and then he would know what to do, after that, something told him, in the back of his head. He would…do what needed to be done.

That night in his room, he opens up his pack, and there, he finds the dagger. As soon as he sees it, he knows what he has to do–what he was sent here to do. A new mission. A better mission. For the clan. This–this is not his body. Not his true body. Merely…a disguise! Yes, it…it’s time to return to…to his true form. He runs the dagger along his arm, tracing the lines he knows, feeling the daggers power flowing into him.


Here’s the next poll! What happens next?