Halloween at the Barnyard Part 3 – Chapters 1-3 | Wesley Bracken on Patreon

So it’s a week late, but here’s the first solid chunk of the third installment of Halloween at the Barnyard. This time around, we have some internal brothel politics, a cocky football player, and a few revenge plans that are all getting twisted up together. This is only the first half of the story, or so, and I hope to have the rest finished here in the next couple of months. Themes include: weight gain, musk, cow TF, cock shrink, milking, among other things.

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No One Else Will Want You Now (Part 1)

“Look, all I’m saying is that…if this is the path that you go down, these curses, it’ll fuck you up too. It’s not going to see you as a person getting revenge–hell, it won’t see you as a person at all, really. These curses have a target, and everyone else is just a tool it can use to bring about that target’s downfall.” Jack paused, and stared his client in the eye. “Look, why not just cast this curse, or something like it, on him and one of his lovers? Because trust me…I ended up getting sucked into one of these myself a little while ago, it isn’t…fun. And I can reverse the effects–mostly, but I still…nevermind, that’s not important. Here’s the point: you’re never going to be able to back out of this, if you make this choice.”

The older man, Walter, sitting across from him in the cafe nodded along, but Jack could see in his eyes that he wasn’t changing his mind, but Jack was still hesitant to give the man the curse he’d requested, in the manner he’d requested it. Fuck, he still couldn’t break himself of that fucking pig Clyde. No matter how hard he tried, he’d go back there every few weeks, rent that pig for a weekend, and…and go back to being that brute all over again. Jack shook his head, his cock rock hard in his pants, the need to see that fucker growing again at the thought of him, but he had other shit he needed to focus on.

Walter wanted a curse cast on his boyfriend, Donny. They’d been in a relationship for close to five years, and Walter had just found out that Donny had been seeing a variety of other men behind his back, despite his promise to be monogamous. This had especially hurt Walter, because, well, he’d always secretly suspected that Donny was with him more for his financial security than his looks. Walter was by no means bad looking–no, he’d met Donny at the local gym, shortly after Donny had moved to the city. Most men over fifty would kill to have a physique like Walter, and both he and Donny were muscular and built. Walter had done his best to keep himself looking attractive for his younger boyfriend, trying to keep up with a more modern styling–goodness knows, there had been plenty of time when he could have picked up an admiring young boy from the gym for an afternoon. But none of this made Walter’s case unusual. If anything, stories like this gave him the majority of his clients. No, what set Walter apart was that, while most people wanted to curse them and get them the fuck out of their lives, Walter was asking Jack to channel the curse through him.

This was no minor matter. If Jack did what Walter was asking, he would be cursed as well–or as he’d been trying to explain, the curse would be using him as it’s primary tool to do as much damage to Donny as it possibly could…and given how hurt Walter was, it meant that the curse would likely end up becoming quite powerful if it did use him. Whatever the result ended up being, they’d both be stuck–and he was trying to convince Walter that being stuck with one of his curses wasn’t something most people wanted to volunteer for.

Walter sighed, “I understand” –he didn’t, Jack thought– “but I…look, it’s hard to explain, but I want it to fucking ruin him. I want to be there when it happens. I want him to know that it was me.”

“This is going to sound mean, but you’re way too emotionally involved in this–”

“‘Emotionally involved’? He’s my fucking boyfriend? What did you fucking expect?”

“These curses feed off that, and if you put yourself in a room with him, with a curse guiding your hand, you will end up in a situation you’ll regret.”

“What if I don’t care?”

Jack sighed, “Maybe you should care? Why in the world would you want to ruin your life for the sake of his shitty behavior?”

Walter didn’t reply, but the answer was there, in his eyes. He still loved the fuck. More than that even–he still wanted to be with him, but more than that, he wanted to bring him to heel. Feeling the emotions swirling in Walter, Jack could feel the curse beginning to form inside him, taking shape, responding to the emotions between them. It was too late now, in a sense. Whatever curse Jack ended up making, it was going to be tainted with this emotion. Walter would probably end up pulled into the vortex no matter what he did–still, that was no reason to put him at the eye of the storm…or maybe, that was the exact reason to put him there. If this is what he fucking wanted, why not just give it to him? He wasn’t sure he would have protested this much in the past, before he’d been sucked into one of these himself. He knew what it was like, how much power you felt like you had, even though everything was out of control. Fuck, he needed to fuck that pig–he had a feeling he should cancel his appointments this weekend, and reserve his usual 72 hour rental. It wasn’t the pig he wanted–it was that sensation of…as that brute, Jack was in complete control, but no longer able to choose for himself. Power without responsibility. That’s what Walter was searching for, he realized. That’s what he needed, and if Jack could give that to him…who was he to deny him, when he himself couldn’t seem to kick the habit himself?

“Fine,” Jack said, “I get it. But I warned you. It’s going to be a rush, but there will be a moment when that well runs dry, and you’re going to realize what’s happened to you both. That this curse is what you both will have to live with for the rest of your life.”

Dirty Daddies (2 of 2)

WARNING – SCAT

Here’s to my five years with the dirtiest daddies in the whole world. You know, I never thought I might be this lucky, to find two daddies like this–of course, it’s taken a lot of work to get them here, but I’m so much more powerful now than when I was a kid. Sure, that first year was rough. They both fought, hard, trying to get control of their relationship back, trying to get control over me, but I’m the one who does the controlling–I’m always in control. They realized that, eventually. Marty first, but he was always easier–weaker, easier to bend. Fuck, I had him begging for my cock the first day we were alone together, and Bill never had a clue–not until I wanted him to know.

But it took a lot of work, getting them here–helping them both become the perfect dirty daddies for their perfect dirty boy. Neither of them liked the facial hair at first, or the cigars, or the booze I made them drink all the time, but I want daddies who are fuzzy, who reek like an ashtray. I want daddies who are so stupid they piss themselves half the time, and laugh their asses off when they realize what they just did. I want daddies fighting for the privilege to eat out their boy’s nasty hole–fuck, can you imagine any expression of love deeper than that? Than begging to be your son’s toilet paper? I let them take turns, usually, but Bill’s the real toilet around the house.

See, Marty was easy enough, but Bill was a fighter. I had to break him pretty badly in the end, to keep him from hurting someone, but he learned his place eventually, right there at the moment, slurping at Marty’s greasy hole, begging for a load of shit while I piss all over them both. This anniversary party’s just getting started, of course–I have some pretty amazing gifts planned for my daddies.

See, Bill can’t work anymore–not after he shit himself in the office a few months back, and started eating it in front of his boss at an important meeting. Martin’s not too smart either, anymore–I tend to have that effect on daddies when they’re under my control for too long. They just can’t quite remember how to think for themselves anymore. So my daddies are getting two new lives this weekend. Bill’s gonna be a brand new trash collector on Monday morning, and Martin’s gonna be a delivery driver. Sure, we’ll have to sell the house and move into a double wide outside of town, but who needs money when you have the perfect family?

Dirty Daddies (1 of 2)

It’s hard, trying to figure out what to do, when you’re gay and want kids. Do you adopt? Do you mentor teens? Do you do the whole thing from start to finish with a surrogate? Martin and I had been together for almost a decade at this point, and we’d both talked about wanting kids in some form, but both of us were closing in on fifty, and watching my kid college graduation in my 70’s seemed strange, so we decided the best option for us would to be a foster home. For the first few years, everything went surprisingly smooth. You hear all of these horror stories in the media, but all these kids usually want is some stability. It helps that our two jobs in business keep us with plenty of money, so if a kid is stubborn, gifts and money can help grease the wheels of the relationship a bit, but then, along came Terry.

Placing Terry with us was a bit of a no-brainer I suppose. Two gay guys fostering a gay teen seemed like a good match, especially for a young guy who’d been through as much shit as he had. The caseworker couldn’t give out details, but it was pretty clear some strange abuse had happened in his past. He was really excited, when he found out Martin and I were married and together–he’d never thought he’d get a chance to be a part of a family with two real daddies. I thought it was cute, the way he put it, even if it was a bit childish–but once we’d been living with us for a while, I started to realize that there was something sinister under the surface.

Now, like I said, both Martin and I are in business, but while I work in the city, Martin freelances from home, running his own consulting company. That meant, Martin got to spend a whole lot more time with Terry than I did on a regular basis, and I began to notice that when I got home, Martin would look a bit…confused and out of sorts, but when I tried to ask him about it, he wouldn’t tell me anything. The one thing I did notice was that he was a whole lot more frisky all of a sudden, making out with me as soon as I got home, still in our suits, wanting to have sex every single night. Look, it happens, right? You get married, you settle down, the sex drops off…but he was fucking insatiable, and while I appreciated the attention, it seemed a bit odd–and then, one night while he was fucking me, I realized our door was cracked open, and there, masturbating, was Terry.

I tried to get Martin to stop, but he wouldn’t–and I couldn’t either. I realized I didn’t have any control over my own body, as Terry looked me in the eye, grinned, opened the door, and walked over to me. “Two daddies, just for me,” he said. “You want my dick daddy? My real daddy didn’t want my dick anymore, so he blew his brains out, but you like dick for sure, so I think you want it, right?”

I tried to tell him no, that this wasn’t right, but I felt my mouth get forced open, and Terry shoved his cock right down my throat. Martin sobbed behind me, still plowing my ass, and Terry sighed. “Two daddies, all my own. Two dirty daddies. We’re going to have so much fun, as a family, don’t you think?”

The Muse of Fantasy (Part 4)

Nick felt it, the heat of it, burning and searing in his guts, and he screamed. The bull was still cumming, emptying his balls deep inside, and while some cum was dribbling back out, much of it remained within, bloating Nick’s slim belly–but even as the bull’s flow slowed, the bloat kept growing. “Oh god, oh god it hurts so much…” Nick said, panting with exertion, his skin sweaty and clammy as the heat expanded through him. It swallowed his groin, his balls and cock on fire, down his thighs and ass which began to expand, the bones swelling and cracking into new positions, and up his chest, filling out with muscle and more and more fat. “Oh god, what…what am I becoming?” he moaned to himself.

Oliver wasn’t quite sure–he hadn’t been that specific in his fantasy, and he was as eager to find out as any of them in the room. He checked under Nick, and saw his cock, now covered by a sheath, lose it’s human shape even as it grew, balls purging the remaining humanity from them even as they swelled with monstrous seed of their own. It looked like, as it grew, the shaft was twisting, almost as a corkscrew. “It would seem you’re going to be a very handsome piggy.”

“No–No no no!” Nick said, “No, I’m not going to be some fat fucking pig-*Groink*!” he squealed, as a shirt tail erupted above his ass, slightly curled and whipping too and fro. “No, please, you have to help me.”

“There’s no helping you Nick. In a few minutes, you aren’t even going to exist anymore–you’ll just be another dumb, mindless animal, like your boyfriend back there.” Oliver could see the changes becoming clearer, Nick’s skin becoming rough as large patched darkened to a deep brown, leaving him with a clear piebald pattern on his skin. His haunches had filled out as his legs shortened–still thick, but certainly no longer capable of holding up his mass on two legs. His hands changed less–the finger’s shortening, his palms coated it hand black bone to keep from ripping up as he crawled about on them. All that remained of Nick was his head, but even that was losing the battle–his hair falling out in clumps, ears growing larger and floppy as they shifted to the top of his head, breathing more and more labored as his mouth and nose twisted and pushed out into a stubby snout. Nick tried to speak, tried to plead, but he could no longer make recognizable words, just grunts and squeals.

“Hush now, piggy, I know what you need,” Oliver said, pressing the tip of his cock to Nick’s snout, watching the drool form immediately, the pig’s tongue licking the head, hungry for it, even as Nick fought against the beast destroying his mind. His resistance didn’t last long, and the beast crawled forward, the still fucking bull inching ahead with him, to swallow Oliver’s cock, hungry for cum, and cum at all. “Look at me–fucking look at me!” Oliver shouted, and the pig looked up as it slobbered all over his cock–he wanted to look into it’s eyes, watch the awareness dull as the last shreds of humanity left them, and when all traces of Nick were gone–he pushed deep into the pig’s mouth and fed it a load of cum, listening to it gulp everything down. Only then did he step away, and realize from the moans in the room that Amoredie had been enjoying the display as well, and they stood up, crossing the room to Oliver, pressing into him, kissing him, and the desire he felt at that moment–it was indescribable.

“You are the mortal I have spent millennia searching for,” they moaned into his ear, and Oliver wanted them. To fuck them, to be fucked by them, to imagine with them, and when they slipped away, out of his grasp like water, he was only left with an indescribable need, but they had moved over to Oliver’s creations, the two beast still fucking, as the bull had found a second wind, the pig mindlessly thrusting back, eager for more. They touched them, explored them, examined them, and suddenly, they began to dissipate, and in a few seconds they were gone.

“Where did they go?” Oliver asked.

“Oh, I’ve sent them to a pocket of forest. Far enough from civilization that they won’t be slaughtered, but close enough to encourage..legends, and the growth of the herd. Don’t worry–if you would ever like to visit, we can arrange that, but don’t consider joining them–after all, I can’t lose my greatest artist in generations to his own work quite yet.”

They approached him again, sliding back into Oliver’s embrace, and he felt a fantasy of his own filling him. He lost a couple of decades, his body filling in with muscle, his cock growing larger. “Consider it a reward,” they said. “Now, your muse has needs, my artist. You have other clients, don’t you?”

Oliver did indeed–and quite a few wouldn’t object to an unexpected appearance by their favorite makeup artist and fantasy enabler. But he was done with their silly, idle desires. No–Oliver had a new mission for himself, and his muse. From now on, he would be enabling his own fantasies–and he had so many stored away, he was neither sure where to begin, or whether he could ever plumb the depths entirely.

“Calm yourself, my eager artist,” Amoredie said, “Bed with me first, my love, and then we shall see about improving this dull world of yours with your best dreams and nightmares.”

The Muse of Fantasy (Part 3)

“I still don’t think I quite understand what’s going on.”

“It’s really rather simple, Oliver. I want your help,” they said, and with a snap of their fingers, Kyle’s dull fantasy began to fall away from the room around them, and Nick was back on the bed, moaning for the “bull” to fuck him harder, while Kyle, in makeup, paid him little attention. “I want you to show me what’s in your mind, and in return, I want to help you make your dreams real. Make them true lovers, make them strange beasts, whatever you want them to be. Make them do whatever you want them to do. This is your fantasy now–show me what you can do with these basic bores,” They tittered a moment, and then one slender finger touched Oliver’s forehead–and it was like the world opened up around him, and he looked over at the two young men, smiled, and got up from his chair.

He could…see all of these possibilities, layered on top of them. Forms, acts, perversions–there was so much–but he walked over to Kyle, touched him, and felt him enter into the young man’s fantasy again. He waved away the celebrity skien from Nick, revealing him, and Kyle looked down, confused. “Don’t worry about him,” Oliver said, feeling him, “Think about what you want to be, about what a brute you could be. About how rough you could be.”

Kyle looked at Oliver, as though he was trying to understand why he was imagining Oliver standing beside him, but Oliver put a finger to his lips before he could say a word.

“Don’t talk. We all know beasts don’t talk–and you really, really want to be a beast, don’t you?”

Kyle moaned, his eyes flickering slightly. The makeup appeared on his fantasy form, and he started fucking Nick a bit more rough, making his boyfriend grunt with pleasure. “Yeah, good. That’s good, but it’s not enough, is it?”

Kyle shook his head.

“It’s not good enough, because it’s not real. You want it to be real, more than anything.”

Kyle shuddered, trying to fight the strange desires welling up inside him, but the edges of the latex were already starting to disappear, the short snout Oliver had designed growing longer and wider, like a true bull, the ring at the end punching a true hole through Kyle’s nose, making him snort, and buck harder. Parts of his face untouched by the makeup were beginning to change as well–his hair diminishing and becoming short fur which spread down over his forehead, cheeks and down onto his neck, which had become thick and corded with muscle as his skull grew heavier, his eyes dimmer.

“Still not enough though, is it? No–we need equipment to match, of course.”

Kyle’s cock began to tingle, pulsing slightly as it grew longer and wider, thrusting deeper into Nick’s hole, more and more pleasure overwhelming his increasingly simple, animal mind. The heavy silicone around his balls became flesh and expanded, pulsing with seed, coated with the same fur as Kyle’s new face. His feet began to blacken and harden, until Kyle stood on two wide hooves, human bones cracking and bending, forcing him into an awkward, hunched posture, leaning his full weight on Nick’s back, and his hands became the same, his arms shortening but thickening with muscle. His torso and belly had grown thicker, but still appeared superficially human–same with his now much wider haunches–aside from the long bull tail whipping around behind him. A monster. A brute. A chimera. A beauty.

“Stunning work. Absolutely freakish!” Amoredie said, clapping their hands, “I adore your mind, Oliver, but please, continue!”

As Kyle rutted, Nick had begun to sense that something strange was happening. His moans had become mild protests, asking Kyle to be less rough, but when that had gone unanswered, he opened his eyes and looked back, only to find himself staring at the face of a true bull, snorting and grunting and heaving his huge cock into his ass. He screamed in terror, and tried to crawl away, but the bull was too heavy, and too intent on fucking, to allow him to leave. Nick looked up to Oliver, “Please! Make…make it stop! What happened?”

Oliver squatted down beside the struggling, crying Nick, and stroked his shoulder. “Now Nick, I thought this is what you wanted? To be fucked by a beast?”

This? Is this what he’d wanted? Something…was taking hold of him, making him protest less, push back more, enjoy the sheer…size of the monster’s huge cock, stretching his hole wide. “I…But…Kyle?”

“You shouldn’t be worried about Kyle, Nick. You should be much more worried about what’s going to happen when that beast cums deep in your ass. Do you know the myths, about what happens when you let a beast like that fuck you? You become a beast too. A mindless, monstrous, inhuman fuckbeast, desperate to find other holes for your twisted seed, but also desperate for anything to use your holes, hungry for cum.”

“No–No, this isn’t…I didn’t…”

“If that’s not what you wanted, then why did you let it fuck you? It’s no matter, right buddy?” Oliver said, patting the side of Kyle’s thick trunk, “you’re about ready to fill this boy’s hole up, aren’t you? Any minute now…”

Nick started to struggle harder now, desperate to work himself out from under the monstrosity’s bulk, but even he could sense it was too late. Could sense that, deep down, he…wanted this, as much as he didn’t want to admit it. Something in what Oliver had said had changed him. Flipped a switch deep inside his guts, and now the thought of no longer being this frail, weak thing turned him on. Made him…excited. He’d stopped struggling, wondering what he might become, when the Oliver’s minotaur gave a long mooing cry, slammed in deep, and filled Nick’s hole with his infectious seed.

“Hey handsome. Top or bottom?”

“What, you don’t want to buy me a drink first?”

“Heh, I’m just curious is all.”

“Oh, I guess I’m pretty vers, though I probably bottom more.”

“Seriously? Too bad–you’re hot, but I’m looking for a top.”

“Well hey now, I’m more than willing to give it a shot for a hot guy like you. It’s not like I’ve never fucked a guy before.”

“Well, I’m looking for a bit more than a fuck, but I suppose you could do in a pinch–the pickings are a bit slim tonight…still, this whole look isn’t going to do. Way too “nice guy,” you know? Don’t you own any leather?”

“Are you kidding? That stuff is so expensive.”

“Maybe so–but I don’t think you care, do you? You need leather on, it makes you feel powerful. Helps you display your dominance.”

“What…I feel…”

“Hush…just listen, and pay attention. Those chaps are looking good, and that vest, showing off that hot body of yours. You want guys staring at you, don’t you? You want them to need you inside them, all ten inches.”

“That’s…I wasn’t wearing this…shit.”

“Sure you were–this is what you wear when you go hunting for ass. You’re a beast. Hairy, muscle bound, aggressive, rough, and none too bright. Operating out of need and instinct. You just let that dick to the talking, don’t you?”

“Fuckin’ slut, you’re–no, this…isn’t me!”

“Sure it is. Stroke that big cock, feel your brain draining, that alpha aggression taking over your whole mind. You know what you want sir, now fucking take it.”

“Shut up!”

“You’re gonna have to make me shut up, you stupid brute. Now drag me into the alley back there and show me what you do to talky bottoms like me.”

Source: roidsandrants

The Muse of Fantasy (Part 2)

Inside, the room was quite dark, aside from two electric torches flickering on opposite walls. The bed was in the middle of the room, covered in grey upholstery cloth–to make it appear like stone Oliver supposed–but the illusion was weak at best. There was a chair by the door; he sat down and pulled out his cock, while Noah rolled over on the bed, dressed in his bedsheet toga, and got his first look at his minotaur boyfriend. “Oh no!” he cried, “The minotaur has found me–I have to escape!”

He made a feeble attempt to flee off the bed, but Kyle stalked over with a few rather nice grunts, grabbed him by the hips and hauled him back over the bed, running his cock up his boyfriend’s crack, and said in a deep voice, “I’ll eat you later Theseus, but first, you’re going to get bred like my cows! If you’re good, maybe I’ll keep you as a slave.”

The rutting started, and the two of them dropped their acts rather quickly, each lost in their own imaginary version of the scenario. Oliver toyed with himself, enjoying the effect of his makeup work. It wasn’t fabulous, of course, but in the darkened room, Kyle’s face did look rather bestial, and even sexy. Too bad he wasn’t a bit more built, and bit hairier–still, it was enough for Oliver to set his mind running, getting lost in his own fantasy, watching both young men shift and change at his direction into something new, something inhuman.

“I must say, I have always liked your art, but it’s your fantasies which I find most enjoyable.”

Where had that voice come from? He was still envisioning his strange sexual thoughts, but now, some stranger had appeared, unbidden. Young, wearing just a thin robe, voluminous enough to make Oliver rather unsure whether the figure was male or female. Still, this was no thought of his–he pushed the fantasy away and opened his eyes. Kyle and Noah were still themselves, still fucking, but the stranger was standing with them all in the room, like they had simply stepped out of Oliver’s thoughts and into the real world. They looked over at the two men, neither of whom had noticed the stranger’s appearance, their nose wrinkling in slight…disgust? Boredom? It was difficult to gauge what the expression was, but they weren’t particularly pleased.

“Don’t know why you waste your efforts on these two; they’re so shallow…so basic, as people seem to be saying these days. So strange, how quickly the world has been changing lately–I’m so sorry I haven’t introduced myself sooner. I’m Amoredie–a spirit of fantasies.”

Oliver wasn’t quite sure what to say, or what to do. “I…you mean…Have you been watching me?” he said, quietly, hoping neither Kyle nor Noah noticed him speaking to something which had to be a figment of his imagination.

“Why of course I’ve been watching you! You’ve only grown more interesting with age, so I’ve been letting you ripen, but at this point, you’re wasting yourself. So many ideas in that mind of yours, it goes unappreciated! Take these two for instance. This one,” they motioned to Kyle, “So much effort put into dressing him up, and he’s not even involved in the fantasy you’ve helped create! It’s really quite rude. Here, I’ll show you.”

It was rather difficult for Oliver to explain what happened next. At first, a halo of silver grew around Kyle’s head, as he thrust into Noah’s ass, oblivious to what was happening, and the halo grew larger, expanding until it was two or three yards in diameter, containing Kyle and Noah, with Oliver and the stranger on the outside. Oliver could see that everything inside the ring hovering in the air, had simply…changed, somehow. It seemed a bit duller, and somehow, Kyle had been stripped of his entire costume–and Noah was gone entirely. In his place was Aden Baffie–a movie star of moderate popularity–putting on quite a show of bottoming for Kyle.

“This one again–he shows up everywhere! Every era has their fantasies, but still, I have to wonder about people’s judgement,” Amoredie said.

“I don’t understand–what happened to them?” Oliver standing up and walking to the liminal edge of the strange halo.

“Everything inside is Kyle’s fantasy. His mind. What he’s picturing at the moment. He has no real interest in Noah’s strange desires, but he humors him.”

“So…none of this is real? How is this even possible?”

“Someone hasn’t been listening…” they said, wagging a finger at the older man, “As for this not being real–it certainly could be real, if I wanted it to be. But I find scenarios like this so dull! Everyone wants to be with Aden all of a sudden! Why can’t anyone want something original?” In exasperation, they passed into the fantasy and flopped on the bed where Kyle was fucking–but neither man noticed their entrance, “After thousands of years of existence, this becomes a bit weary, and that’s why I like you so much, Oliver! Because you imagine things that still seem new to me, and that’s why I’m here–because together, we’re going to have so much fun!”

The Muse of Fantasy (Part 1)

The elevator dinged and Oliver stepped out, dragging his kit along with him into the narrow apartment hallway. He was a bit late, but getting across town had been awful like always, his breathing a bit ragged, but then again, he was almost sixty, and his breath was ragged just from hauling himself out of bed. He ran a hand back over his head–thin tuft, bald head, sweaty grey hair-and then dragged his things towards apartment 607, where Kyle and Noah were waiting for him.

Oliver was a few things to different people. On the street, he looked like an older, slobbish guy, sporting a long wiry goatee and clothes had seemed a few decades out of style and fit on his portly frame. Around Hollywood, his reputation was golden, as one of the old guard make up artists. Movie monsters, science fiction epics, disease, age, beauty, ugly, he’d applied something to any actor who’d ever mattered in the business. Computers, after all, could only do so much–or at least that’s what people told him to his face to be nice, and what he told himself to feel relevant. But to a few young men and couples around the city, his reputation, spread by word of mouth, was a bit more complex. Pervert, perhaps, was a simple way of putting it. Fucksmithing, something apparently created by a strange webcomic one of his clients had shown him on one of those tablet things, that was closer. He’d always just thought of himself as an enabler of fantasies which were…difficult to see realized in the real world. Depending on what was being requested, and who was requesting it, the fees he charged could be anywhere from exorbitant to gratis, as long as he got to watch them fuck.

Kyle and Noah had been regular clients of his for a few years now, usually calling him every few months with a request. The fantasies were rather boring, but both of the boys were rather cute both in and out of his makeup, and his interests overlapped somewhat with theirs. As such, he charged them only for materials so long as he could observe, and both of them seemed to enjoy having the old man masturbate while they fucked in his makeup. He knocked on their door, and Noah answered–he wouldn’t be needing any makeup today, and he was already in costume–A simply draped toga designed to be easily lifted to expose his ass, and a pair of sandals on his feet. In look, he was really no Theseus–the blond hair and pale complexion was too Nordic to be anything close to mediterranean, and hardly toned enough to wrestle and kill anything so powerful as a minotaur. Then again, in this fantasy, Theseus wasn’t supposed to win, was he? Still, Oliver’s powers were limited. He’d offered to dye Noah’s hair, or give him a bit of a tan, when they’d consulted over the phone but Noah had turned him down–he was more focused on Kyle. “Hey–” Oliver said, “Kyle ready to go?”

“Yeah, he’s in the bedroom, waiting–he didn’t want to see me, but I thought I’d go ahead and get changed. What do you think?” He gave a twirl

Oliver shrugged, but threw him a smile at least. “You want to watch me make him up?”

“Not this time–surprise me!” Noah said, “I’ll be in the labyrinth when you two are ready.”

“It’ll be a while, just to warn you.”

“The waiting just makes it more exciting,” he said, and went off into a door off the hall, the playroom, which the two of them set as the stage for whatever myth they felt like re-enacting that day. He found the mythos angle rather boring, but at least their selections were at least…challenging for him, on occasion.

Oliver had become rather good at keeping his eyes from rolling after years spent in close proximity to actors, and headed down the hall to the bedroom at the end of the hall. Inside was Kyle, the relative top in the relationship, or at least, Oliver had yet to witness him on bottom. He was in better physical shape, a bit more tan as well. The same age as Noah–the two had met in college–but he seemed…pleasantly older than the flightier one. “Hey, how are you doing?” Kyle asked, “Traffic bad? You’re a bit late.”

“It’s LA, traffic’s always bad. You ready? It’ll take a little while today.”

Kyle shrugged, “That’s cool–I’m excited.”

“Well, it’s not as good as some of the minotaurs I’ve done before, but I don’t think you want to be in the chair for hours either, while I apply hair all over your body.”

Kyle laughed, “No, I think what we discussed will be plenty.”

The couple had a small vanity in the room which was good enough, though a bit low, forcing Oliver to squat a bit as he worked, which always gave him a crick in his back. “Alright, so I molded the snout for you in latex. It might seem a bit short, but it works better than a longer one as far as kissing and everything goes, trust me. We’ll get it on, a smaller brow piece and some ears, give your face a bit of a paint job, put on some accessories and we’ll be good.”

Kyle nodded, and Oliver got to work. The latex covered his whole nose, went up under his eyes, around his whole jaw and down to his neck. It was a bit on the short side, and quite boxy, but Kyle actually quite looked in the mirror. He saw what Oliver was talking about as well–any longer, and doing anything with his mouth would have looked like his bull snout was a quacking duck. After Oliver got the edges glued down, he fitted a heavy brow over Kyle’s eyes, giving him a more menacing look, and a couple of ears that were a bit longer and flopped over. After all of that, he got to painting, sticking to brushes. It didn’t have to be his best work, after all–it only had to on for a sex scene, after all. He darkened his skin tone with greys and browns a bit and added a few white splatters for impact, and then came the accessories–fake rings–a door knocker in his snout and a few smaller ones in his ears, and then Kyle got his pants off. This, apparently, had been a bit of a sticking point for the two of them. Noah had initially planned on having Kyle wear a strap on, so he could get the full experience of getting hammered by a bull, but Kyle hadn’t been very interested in just play fucking his boy friend with fourteen inches of rubber while his own cock did, and felt, nothing. In the end, then, he had his usual cock, but his balls would be massive. Oliver was a bit disappointed, to be honest–while Kyle was cute, he wasn’t all that impressively endowed. He had more than a few odd props, including the heavy silicone balls he slid up around Kyle’s own set, securing them with spirit gum, and sat back, a bit frustrated that it only made Kyle look smaller in the shaft. Still, he was only here to do make up, not to direct–so he finished the job, securing a couple of follow horns to his temples. Kyle was very happy with the result, and they set off for the playroom, where Noah had been waiting for close to two hours.

Beasts of the Corn (2 of 2)

I was completely turned around at this point, shouting for my friends, but getting no response. My phone had no service at all, so I knew I was on my own. A few minutes later, I got ambushed by two more of those things…and I remembered it a bit more. How one pinned me down and…and the other fucked my ass, it’s claws raking across my back, teeth biting into my shoulders. Again, when I could get up, I had changed–more hair, fatter…shorter, and were my arms a bit longer even?

I didn’t know what was happening, or how any of this was even possible, but I kept going, kept searching for the exit, even as the beasts followed–taunting me. I could…hear them now, even understand them. They all wanted me to stay, they wanted me to play with them, to…to feed them. I didn’t know what they meant, but I was determined to avoid finding out what they meant my all of that. One of them chased me, and I managed to dodge it and run away, only to run right into two more. I could see them more clearly now–they were like nothing I’d ever seen–no more than three feet tall, with a round belly and short bowed legs. Their cocks were huge, and they reeked of some scent which is just…impossible to describe. Those two raped me as well. I mean, I say rape, but…but I enjoyed it. It felt good, having them inside me, and when one presented its hole to me I…I gave in. I fucked it, like it had fucked me, but I stopped myself. I stopped and hauled my cock out…and it didn’t look quite human anymore, and it was bigger.

I understood, then, what these things were. I understood what would happen to me if I gave in, if I let them have their way with me. I ran off again, shutting my ears to them, refusing to entertain their suggestions. That I relax and stop running. That I play with them. That I become one of them. That I don’t really want to be human. There was…one more time, that I couldn’t resist. It was almost night, and I was exhausted and cold and hungry. One of them jumped me, and I was so tired of fighting, so tired of being so scared. They could all feel me, beginning to give in, looking to see if this was the moment I would break. I…felt my body shifting more–my beard longer, my teeth sharpening, my balls swelling larger with strange, inhuman seed, my brain dulling around the edges-losing focus and will, but I crawled away. I’d still be in there if I hadn’t found the exit a few minutes later, stumbling out of the corn, sobbing, unsure if I was happy to be out, or if all I wanted was to go back inside.

The hicks…I understood who they were now. They were like me–tied to the beasts of the corn. They offered me shelter and food at the house, and I took it, desperate. They were amazed that I’d made it out at all–they rarely saw anyone as far gone as me emerge…and stay. I knew what they meant. I could feel the desires tugging at me. I could never go back to that old life of mine. I could stay here, living with them, fucking…keeping each other as sane as we could be. Feeding others to the beasts so they might give us a night without the whispers, calling us back inside. I took another picture of myself, in the bathroom. I looked at myself as I’d been, and as I was now. No one was surprised when I threw my phone in the trash, left the house, and ran back into the maze, the beasts cackling with delight as they descended upon me in the darkness.

Source: danartrd