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?

Patreon Exclusive: Orcish Recon – Rescuing the Monk

There’s a new bonus branch up for everyone who is a patron! We’re still following the other option of the story, where Avoy went to save the monk, instead of going for the dagger. You can find the story here.

Also, there is an update up for patrons, letting you all know that I’ve made some changes to how you can access both the patron archive of old stuff, and the patron draft folder, for stuff that is in process/hiatus/etc. You can find that update over here. Thanks, as always, for your support!

Winter Commissions Open!

Hey everyone! Now that work is settling down a bit after the holidays, I’m going to be opening up for commissions for the next couple of months. For this round, I will be opening up for sketch commissions, and short story commissions. Here are all the details!

What kinds of commissions am I offering?

I will be offering two 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.

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 March. 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 will be finishing off New You Resolutions over the next couple of weeks, and then will be taking a few weeks off from running an interactive. I will continue posting two or three captions or sketches a week, and will post commissions as I finish them.

–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.

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!

Caption: Bathhouse Music

*Thump* *Thump* *Thump* *Thump*

Did they have to have that music on all the time? It seemed like, no matter when Lance went to the gym these days, the bass from that damn place next door leaked through the walls. Even when he had his headphones in, it was like he could still feel it in his bones.

That place, was the bathhouse that had somehow managed to open up right next door. No one had expected it. It had been under construction for a few months, and no one had any idea what it was going to be, and then, when it opened, the guys at the gym were disgusted to discover that they were going to be sharing their parking lot with a bunch of fags going in to get their rocks off. They’d tried complaining, but there wasn’t anything they could do about it, so they settled into a bit of a truce. The only thing breaking that line between them was the music coming from the bathhouse.

It could be worse though, right? Lance pulled off his shirt, dropped his gym shorts, and admired himself in the mirror, pleased with his progress lately. He snapped a photo, and then put his phone back in his bag, and kept admiring himself.

The nipple piercings he’d gotten a few weeks ago were still a bit tender, but fuck, they were hot as hell. He’d never really thought about it before–if anything, he might have thought getting his tits pierced was a little…well, gay. It felt so good though, and it definitely made him look hotter in his opinion. Hell, just looking at himself, he was getting a bit hard already. 

He groped his cock and balls through his grungy jock, and noticed it was wet again. He kept leaking at the gym lately, usually enough to soak his jock and stain the front of his shorts. It…was embarrassing, but also kind of hot for some reason, but it was hard to explain why. He was about to stroke off, when he realized he wasn’t alone–an older, chubby fellow was on a bench not twenty feet away, dripping dry with a towel over his shoulder. He must have been in the shower while Lance was checking himself out.

The older man leered at Lance, pulled the towel away, and revealed his own cock, rock hard, and he started stroking it while Lance stared at it.

*Thump* *Thump* *Thump* *Thump*

Ten minutes later, Lance left the door, not even aware of the load of cum plastered across his bearded face. As he headed for his truck, he saw a familiar car pull up with some guys who worked out at the gym, but instead of going in there, they all went right into the bathhouse instead. Lance was a bit…unnerved by it, and wondered how he’d never realized any of them were fags this whole time. He certainly would never be going in there, of course. No…never. Sure, he had that one dream once, and…but no. Not even if he was curious. He wouldn’t cross that line.