Based off a suggestion from someone, I don’t recall who exactly.

Eight years, ninety days, and about twelve hours. That’s how long since Simon had cum. All that time ago, back when he’d been someone else entirely–younger, a business man aiming high up the corporate ladder. Straight, but something about that strange fag who’d been eyeballing him that night at the club, dressed in this weird leather and rubber shit, hell he’d thought–it was worth a try with a freak like that right? When he saw the fag’s caged up cock, he’d laughed, and the fag had laughed too, but his had been different, almost relieved and excited and he pressed their crotches together, and when he’d pulled away, the cage wasn’t on his pierced cock anymore–it was on Simon. He’d assumed it was some fucked up magic trick or something, but the guy had just sprinted off, shouting that he was free, finally, and Simon hadn’t caught up to him, and he soon discovered that this was more than a cage–it was a curse.

It had no key, no lock. It was a solid piece of plastic, clear, his cock right there, but unreachable. He tried cutting it, he tried melting it even, but nothing affected it, but he didn’t start appreciating it as something truly strange until it started coming alive. At work, it began squeezing, cutting off circulation to his nuts, turning them blue and making him sick if he didn’t leave, if he didn’t go somewhere and find a few cocks to suck, to keep the cage happy. He lost his job rather quickly, but he was young and smart–he found another, something similar, but again, the cage refused to let him remain in that life. It wasn’t where it wanted him. It wasn’t where it wanted him to be.

It became particular about what kind of men it wanted him to service, and he found it was most satisfied when he cruised truck stops. sucking off rough bikers and truckers in the cubicles and forests around the place, but it wasn’t until a trucker offered him a ride that the cage gave him that first, tantalizing taste of pleasure. He said no, thought it was more of a moan, but he didn’t think he’d be able to resist for long. Eventually, one came along who didn’t take no for an answer anyway, hauled Simon into his cab and abused him for the next thousand miles, before dumping him somewhere else.

He started seeking out those fleeting tastes of pleasure. Tattoos. Going naked in public and humiliating himself. Servicing strangers. Physical abuse. Bondage. Fisting. Piss play. What the fuck was he becoming? What in the hell has be become? Still, it’s close now, he can feel it starting to loosen around his cock, eager to find another host to latch onto. It will find it in a few weeks time, while Simon’s getting gangbanged by a pack of bikers, and the leader will find the cage inexplicably around his own cock the next morning. And Simon will be free–kind of. Except the cage around him now is an invisible one, and just as unbreakable, and he’ll he sucking cock on the road for the rest of his life.

The Dark Mind (Part 4)

“Not again,” he thought, as he rolled over on the floor. He must have passed out again–apparently, those four days without sleep were still catching up with him. Still, he could see from the tiled floor that he was still in the lab, if nothing else, so he couldn’t have been out for too long. He picked himself up, every muscle in his body protesting, feeling like his frail body had just tried to run a marathon. Once he was standing, however, he noticed two things in succession. First, his lab was a disaster area. All of his carefully organized samples and notes were scattered about, beakers and vials broken everywhere. His work–he hurried about, looking for things, but his personal computer was smashed to bits on the floor, anything paper had been ripped apart or burned, even textbooks. It looked like whoever had done this hadn’t quite known what to destroy–and so they’d just tried to destroy everything. It had been enough. This would set him back weeks, if not months. The most important information was all in his head, but without equipment, what it the world was he going to do? It was then, also, that he noticed the time. He’d arrived at the lab in the early afternoon, but it was just slightly passed dawn. He went over and checked the time, but it was the date that shocked him–he’d just lost three days.

That accounted for why he suddenly felt so well rested. He was interrupted by a light in the hallway–he didn’t know who it was, but someone was coming, and he was standing right in the middle of a lab he was pretty certain he had just destroyed. He quickly drew the blinds, hoping no one would notice and decide to check in on him, and once the footsteps had faded, he slipped out the door and out of the building. The damage would be discovered at some point, of course. No one would believe the truth of the matter–hell, he wasn’t even sure he believed it, and it was happening to him. Could he blame a rival researcher? A corporation? Nothing credible leapt to mind. He’d kept such a tight lid on his work, even his advisor hadn’t quite known what he was working on exactly. No, best to just get home. Get home, get out of this stinking leather, figure out how to get his hands to stop shaking…

…Smoke…

Was that his thought, or something else? Either way, he knew that would help–calm him down, take the edge off his panic. He found a fresh supply of cigars in the inside pocket of the leather jacket he had on. The clothes he had on were different than the ones he could remember wearing before–leather pants and a black tank. He reeked of smoke and sex, and just smelling it–

…Horny…

Disgusted him, but at the same time, made his dick twitch. He took his first inhale of smoke, and his cock was at full mast, tenting out the front of the leather pants, as he tightened the belt a bit to keep the waistband from falling down, trying to not think about how much he could use a hole to fuck.

He took his usual route home, and, along the way he passed the same smoke shop he’d entered several days prior, but this time, from a block away, he could see the police car parked out front. Nervous, for reasons he couldn’t quite figure out, he crossed to the other side of the street, and as he passed the shop opposite, he could see a couple of cops in the early morning searching the premises. An older woman was with them, a wad of tissues against her eyes. His dick twitched again, but this time he got an odd sense of anticipation with it, and he took a deeper breath of smoke, pushing it out his nose, picked up his pace towards his apartment, and arrived ten minutes later. He used his key in the door, opened it, and found himself facing an older, nearly naked man there, on his knees, head bowed. He looked up at Jordan’s confused face, letting him glimpse a moment a disappointment there, and then he dropped his head again. “Slave Jordan, please come in, you’re late.”

Jordan stepped inside the door, checking the hallway to make sure no one had seen anything, and once the door was shut and locked, he said, “Who the fuck are you? How did you get in my apartment?”

The older man didn’t move, and now that he got a better look at him…he recognized him, his stomach dropping out from under him. The owner of the pipe shop. He’d been so tired when they’d met, for that short moment, but even now, he could recognize him. “You…the cops are looking for you! They’re going to think I took you or something!”

“You didn’t take me, Slave Jordan, Master did. And I came willingly, and I would tell them that. Master didn’t see any need for me to have anymore communication with that old life.”

Jordan walked past him, and the older man stood and followed him into the apartment–before, his chest had been in shadow, but now, lit by the morning sun, Jordan saw a fresh, day old tattoo on stretching across from shoulder to shoulder–”Property of Master Harry.”

“I’m…sorry. I’m sorry I did this to you,” Jordan said.

“You didn’t do this to me,” Oliver said simply, “Master did. He marked you too.”

“What?”

Oliver walked up to him and pulled off the coat, and then hauled the tank off of him and walked him in front of a mirror. He could read it perfectly even though it was reflected backward–the same tattoo that Oliver had across his own chest. “He owns both of us–he wanted me to be very clear about that. Please…please just…for my sake, do what he says…He has a schedule for you to follow, certain quotas for you to meet, and a strict sleep schedule of course. I’m to assist you in any way possible.”

“No–No, this is insane, I’m not doing this.”

Oliver nodded, looking like he’d expected this response, “Master said I shouldn’t go easy on you, even the first time. I’m sorry.”

The Dark Mind (Part 3)

Jordan woke up slowly, like he swimming back to the surface of the ocean from some dark depth, but the water was molasses, trying to push him back down. His body ached, but he could move at least–he opened his eyes and found himself in bed–he must have slept then, so that was a relief. He certainly felt more rested than he’d been in ages, but damn, those had been some crazy dreams while he was out. He couldn’t remember them in much detail–he’d been…huge, and fucking guys, and he hadn’t had dreams like that in years, not since he was a teenager. He remembered how he’d found those websites about bears, until his Baptist father found him jacking off one day, and sent him to that camp…

He suppressed a shiver. He wasn’t religious anymore, but he also hadn’t thought of that in years–what had brought this on? The room was dark, but he could see dawn cracking outside–shouldn’t the window be on the other wall though? He found his lamp and switched it on–only to discover that this wasn’t his room, and someone was in the bed next to him. Some big, hairy, naked man, who rolled over, disturbed by the light, and looked over at thin, hairless Jordan–and did a double take.

“Fuck, what? That’s not…fuckin’ beer goggles…” He grumbled, “Go on, get out if you’re leavin’, or turn out the light,” he rolled back over, and Jordan heard him grumble a bit more, “Can’t believe I let that fuck me…seemed bigger at the bar.”

Jordan got up and looked for the clothes he’d been wearing the day before, but all he saw was a pile of leather and denim. He picked up a leather jacket, and some strange shimmer of pleasure shot through him, making him shudder again, some voice deep in him telling him these were his clothes–even though there was no possible way they could fit him. He put them on anyway, cinching the belt to keep the jeans up, and left the stranger’s apartment and headed for his own place in the dawn light, trying to piece together what, exactly, had happened to him.

The last thing he remembered clearly, he’d left the lab–utterly exhausted and desperate for sleep, but still in the grip of insomnia. He’d been stumbling home when…when his memory just sort of faded into that strange dream he’d had. At some point walking home, he’d bought some…cigars? Then he’d been different all of a sudden. Bigger, hairy, desperate for sex. Everything kind of blurred together then, images of walking through the streets. He’d…taken some clothes from a biker? He looked down at the leathers he was wearing, and realized the clothes from the dream were the one’s he had on now. And that guy, back in the bed…he could remember him too, in some bar or club or something. They’d been kissing, and the guy had been obsessed with him. So was it a dream? Which parts of it had actually happened?

It was getting hard to think–some voice in his head was pestering and nagging him, interrupting him, but it wasn’t really a voice so much as…this urge, telling him to do something. His hand was going for the inside pocket of his jacket before he realized it, and pulled out a cigar–and then a match–and he was smoking, the same shimmer of pleasure from before working it’s way through him like ripples, making his cock hard, and that tugging again. He ducked into an alley, whipped out his cock and started jacking it, sucking down even more smoke, huffing and grunting. He wasn’t in control, he didn’t want to be doing this, and yet here he was, stroking fast, his hand trying to stretch his cock uncomfortably, almost like it thought it should be bigger. He shot his load over the side of the dumpster he’d crouched behind, and the desires faded a bit–but not so much he could bring himself to put out the cigar.

The serum–had it actually worked? This wasn’t what it should have done though–the point wasn’t for him to just black out and turn into some monster–what part of him had he awakened exactly? The cigars, the sex, that massive body, it was everything he’d ever wanted, everything that had always felt so good, that he’d always denied himself, everything he’d repressed for so long–it was like all of it had combined into some ravenous beast that was finally let loose from the cage of his mind to do whatever it wanted. No–no, it was doing everything he’d always wanted to do, everything he’d always been too terrified to try. Still, he was in control again, mostly, and he didn’t have any time to waste. He had to get to his lab, and try and figure out what had gone wrong, so he could reverse it.

At that thought, nausea and vertigo ripped it’s way through him, nearly toppling him over in the alley. Something in him wasn’t happy about that idea, apparently. It took all the will he could manage, but he got himself upright again, and staggered off towards his apartment, so he could get out of these clothes, get something to eat, and then get to work. He kept hoping the thing in him, that other self, would calm down, but all it did was get angrier, sending him to the bathroom to hurl more than once, his vision so blurry he couldn’t read. But touching leather helped. Smoking helped too. Jacking off helped the most, even though it was also somewhat unsatisfying. Better to have his cock in someone, in a hole, fucking and slamming and raping–

He snapped out of it sitting on his toilet that afternoon, looking down at his changing body, and forced the beast back down, and focused back himself–his true self. That had been a close one. He’d kept these desires in check for so long–how could he have known they were this powerful? If he didn’t figure out a solution quick, he might not have another chance. He lit up another cigar, threw on his new leather jacket, and headed for his lab, hoping he’d be able to find an answer before he changed again.

Dale’s Story (Part 9 – Finale)

Thank you all for the input over the last month, this has been a lot of fun to do again! I’ll probably take a break on this for a little while, and go back to just photo captions for a bit (look for them on Wednesdays, Saturdays and Sundays). Here’s the finale, which is option #3 with a twist of #2 for all of you desperate pups out there.

His dad did look rather lonely, nursing that beer over there all by himself, looking around at the bar as more and more men succumbed to the new reality slowly taking them all over, exuded by the stranger…or the mayor, right? Dale looked over at the old man, shoving pipe smoke down George’s throat at the bar, and wondered how he could have not recognized him all this time. The damn town mayor! What in the hell was wrong with him, that he’d forget something like that? Oh well, it wasn’t like his head was screwed on too tight when it came to anything that wasn’t food and cars, so he’d make do.

The two young men, Jack and Terry, were still licking him clean, and he started tweaking their brains a bit, a little at a time, pulling and unraveling a few strings at a time, making sure they knew what was happening, but also knowing there was nothing they could do to fight it. Soon enough, they actually kind of liked it–the idea of a man having total control over them, especially someone like Dale. A big man…a father figure, even. Someone they could respect. Someone they could serve, perhaps.

The mayor gave him a funny look, and then shifted his attention to the man who, yesterday, had been Dale’s father. He’d gone to pot a bit since his wife’s death a few years ago, putting on a spare tire, and getting a bit too attached to the beer and whisky. As dale watched, his gut expanded into a firm, hard ball belly, his shirt disappearing, revealing skin coated with hair. His beard filled in but remained a bit scraggly, his nose growing red and bulbous from a few breaks, scars from brawls due to his mean streak, a real roughneck, as rough as they come. A denim vest covered with biker patches and regalia appeared on his shoulders, some well worn chaps over his jeans–Bubba, as everyone called him, knocked back another shot of whisky, stood up, swayed a moment, then stomped his way over to where Dale was sitting with the two young men, and he definitely liked what he saw, liked it even better when Bubba lit a cigar, leaned over and fed Dale a deep lungful of smoke while his two boys went to town on Dale.

Yeah, they were going to be Bubba’s boys for sure, not that the rest of the town couldn’t have a piece of either one whenever they felt like it. He looked down, and saw them changing under the stranger’s gaze. Jack first, his body bulking up with a muscle and fat, a bushy goatee around his mouth, body covered with scars, sores, welts and bruises, but that’s just normal for a punching bag fag like him. He’d grown up taking everything Bubba had felt he deserved, and Bubba thought he’d deserved a whole damn lot–thankfully, the boy’d grown to like it well enough, and generally was happy enough to let anyone abuse him as long as he got a fuck out of it in the end. Bubba tapped him on the head, and Jack looked up, mouth open, letting Bubba drop a cinder in his mouth to swallow, and then he went back to licking Dale’s chest, his tongue leaving a trail of sodden ash wherever it went.

Next came Terry, or Terrier, as everyone called him. A simple boy, he hadn’t really been up to being a man, so Bubba had trained him to be a pup instead. He was smaller than his brother Jack, more lithe and muscular, and he dropped down onto all fours, wagging the buttplug tail in his ass to and fro, as he scrambled under the table, buried his nose into Dale’s fat and started working on his cock, lapping up Dale’s cum as he moaned, and Bubba hauled out his own cock and fed it to Dale’s hungry mouth, and he looked again at the stranger, whose eyes were on him now.

He could feel his awareness dulling, his memories of the last twenty four hours dimming and dulling away into this new sense of normal. He saw Farmer Mick burst into the bar, hauling his massive pig behind him on a leash, coated with mud, and it was just…normal. His sucking Bubba’s cock was normal too, of course. He’d always had a thing for rough types like him, and Bubba had always liked pounding his big, fat ass into the ground, whenever he came in to get a tuneup for his harley. Course, Dale did have a bit of a reputation to uphold–he couldn’t just go around letting the whole town think his fat ass was open to just any fucker who wanted it, but he did have a soft spot for the big lug, he had to admit it. “Ya know Bubba,” Dale said, when he pulled away for a moment, “How ‘bout you ‘n yer boys, ‘n me ‘n mah boys, all spend a nice long night at mah place tahnight?”

“Heh, I had a date with a few biker buds of mine, but I wouldn’t pass up a chance at yer big ass, the way I’m feelin’ tonight,” Bubba growled down at him, and they shared some more smoke, before Bubba hauled him up out of the chair. Dale gave a whistle, and his two boys came over, and all six of them headed off into the night, happy denizens of the new town, where they lived happily ever after, in one life or another.

The Dark Mind (Part 2)

As soon as he crossed the threshold of the shop, he could…tell that the man wanted him. He was probably in his fifties or so, with a decent gut and a full beard. He seemed familiar somehow, but it was hard for him to remember anything at all. In fact, it felt like he’d just popped into existence just a moment earlier, or like he’d just been assembled out of…chunks of something left and forgotten. All of this felt so new to him, this body, and yet at the same time he…knew so much, even though it was hard to think about much beyond fucking.

The man behind the counter, Oliver, gulped, staring at the huge man walking into his shop. He had to be a few inches over six feet, broad shouldered, body bulging with muscle and a firm layer of fat, every inch of his skin coated with hair. He had some pants on–sort of–but no shirt or shoes, and…and Oliver hadn’t seen a man that sexy in a long time. He hadn’t seen a man that sexy look at him that…hungry ever. “Are…are you alright? Do you need some help?” Oliver asked, adjusting his growing cock. He could…smell him, and fuck he smelled so damn good. He’d never smelled anyone like that before, his eyes going a bit cross, cock hard and leaking in his slacks.

“Need a fuck,” the stranger said, and walked up to the man. The closer he got, the lower the man’s jaw dropped, and when he leaned down and locked lips with Oliver, shoving his smoke into the older man’s hungry mouth, Oliver felt his cock pulse and spasm a huge load right in the front of his pants.

Oliver didn’t have a very good memory of what happened next. He dimly recalled hauling himself up onto the counter, tongue pressed to the man’s sweaty body, licking across his chest and over to his musky pits, moaning and humping the air, unable to control himself, while the man tore at his clothes, ripping them away from the man’s body as quickly as he could. Neither of them spoke–the shop was just filled with moans, the air growing thick with the smoke from the man’s cigar.

“Turn ‘round,” he said, both his massive hands grabbing hold of Oliver and forcing him to face away from him. The counter turned out to be a surprisingly good height, once he forced Oliver hips lower, and he ripped away the crotch of his pants, and ground his massive cock up and down the older man’s crack.

“Not…here, anyone can see us…” Oliver moaned, but he couldn’t do anything to stop himself either from pushing back, the massive bear’s cock slipping into his hole, making him groan. The thing was huge–he’d never taken anything in his ass before, and the stranger didn’t have any patience, just grunting and humping himself in deeper, ignoring Oliver’s protesting and begging for him to go slower and take his time. But Oliver’s body wasn’t even obeying him at this point–as much as it hurt, all he could do was push his way back harder onto the huge cock, not caring how much it hurt, only needing as much of it inside him as was possible. He came again, without even really noticing–what mattered more was…was satisfying him. Was making this huge beast happy, was submitting to him, and begging him for his seed. The beast managed to slide his cock in up to the hilt, but didn’t last much longer than that, his cum spewing forth, filling Oliver’s ass and cascading out around his shaft, both of them grunting and moaning with need. Sated, he pulled his cock free, Oliver whimpering slightly and feeling…so empty all of a sudden, but the musk was fading now, and he felt more in control than before–all that remained was a powerful euphoria–people were walking by and could clearly see his leaking hole, and…and he didn’t really care.

Finally, he managed to climb down and get his clothes put back together as best he could, looked over and saw the man rummaging through his display case, grabbing a huge handful of cigars and shoving them in his pocket.

“You…you can’t just take those. You have to…to pay…”

The man looked at him, and walked over to him, “I’ll pay you back, don’t worry. I’m gonna need that hole again later. Does that sound like a deal? You keep me supplied, and I fill that aching hole of yours over and over again.”

Oliver nodded, without even really thinking about it, and the man stepped back, and headed for the door. His head clearer, Oliver realized why the man seemed a bit familiar–those pants, and that smoke! That tired looking guy who’d bought those cigars just before that beast had come in here… “W-Wait!” Oliver said, “Are…are you…ok? I mean…”

“I’m fine, just need another fuck is all.”

“But…you came in here, and you were different…”

He turned around and looked at the man, who walked over to the cash register, and found the last receipt. “J-Jordan, right?”

Jordan…was a familiar name. The stranger felt something his head…struggling, when he thought of that name, but it wasn’t his name. “That’s not me.”

“R-Really? Then…then who are you?”

He stopped and thought for a moment–did he have a name? Something told him he…should have one, but he didn’t, not in his short run of memories. “Just…call me Harry.”

“Well Harry, do…I mean…I guess I’ll be here, for…for when you want to pay for those, then…” the older bear said, his hole already aching to be filled again. He’d always had a secret suspicion that he might like being with a man, even though he’d thought he was happily married. Still, after that, he might have to rethink some things. Harry laughed, and then walked out the door and back onto the sidewalk, smoke trailing behind him. Jordan, huh? That strange thing happened in his brain again, and he growled a bit. Whatever, more important, he needed another hole. He sniffed the air, lit another cigar for himself, and headed off, following his nose, eager to be on the prowl.

The Dark Mind (Part 1)

Who knows? Maybe tonight he’d be able to get to sleep. Jordan stumbled suddenly on the sidewalk, dragging his feet and catching them on a crack. The sidewalk seemed to pulse up and down as he struggled to figure out whether he was going to fall or not. Four days since he’d tested the serum on himself. Four days he hadn’t slept a wink. That part was working just fine, apparently, but he hadn’t quite anticipated feeling this exhausted.

Jordan was a medical researcher, a young hot shot in his field, fresh off his PhD researching the nature of sleep. He’d always found it funny that, even though no one knew why people needed to sleep, everyone did it anyway. Imagine the amount of productivity lost, just because people were doing something they might not even need! This serum would change humanity, if he could get it to work–if we only used ten percent of our brain, why not activate another ten percent to operate while the daytime half went dormant? It was so simple, or so he’d thought. With the right mix of stimulants, people wouldn’t have to sleep ever again. Sure, he shouldn’t have tested it on himself, but he hadn’t gotten to where he was in life by not taking risks. Jordan had always been consumed with his studies. He’d pretty much lived a celibate life (he’d always felt gay, but being raised in a conservative baptist family had led him to shove those feelings as deep within him as he could) and with his small frame he’d never been cut out for much beyond books. He’d just…never had enough time in the day to do everything in his head, to try everything he imagined, and he’d hit a wall in his research. Injecting himself had been a gamble–if it worked, he’d be able to redouble his focus, and maybe get new insight into the therapy. Unfortunately, things weren’t turning out quite like he’d planned.

Four days. He’d been good for two of them, but yesterday he’d started crashing. He’d never been this tired before in his life. He couldn’t focus, he couldn’t work. He’d just been staring at papers in his lab, trying to decipher things he’d written last week, but everything suddenly looked like gibberish. It was Friday, he just needed to relax and hope the serum would wear off so he could sleep, finally. That, and he needed to get home without killing himself.

It was only a few more blocks to his apartment, but as he passed a small smoke shop he’d walked by hundreds of times, his feet stopped, and he sniffed the air. Ever since yesterday, he’d had this…craving. He hadn’t been able to articulate it, but it was like his body was screaming at him for something he didn’t even know he needed. On the air outside the shop he caught whiffs of tobacco and smoke and…and without knowing why he was doing it, he went inside, picked a brand of cigar at random, bought half a dozen with a book of matches, and left. What was he doing? He wasn’t a smoker! Sure, for a couple of years towards the tail end of his undergraduate study he’d gotten into the habit, but he’d kicked it for years. Is this what he’d been craving this whole time? But why now, out of the blue?

The exhaustion had reached a new level now–no longer did Jordan feel like he was inhabiting his body, it was more like he was outside of himself. Not even really aware of what he was doing as his fingers unwrapped the first cigar, stuck it in his mouth, and lit it. The smoke in his lungs was like a jolt to his system–part of the reason he’d loved smoking so much was because it helped him stay awake while he worked on term papers and grant proposals. The nicotine hit him, and it was like a shock to his entire body–he didn’t feel more awake though, if anything it pushed him further away from himself. He…sensed he was in pain, but it was more of a dull throbbing ache, his body grunting and growling. He saw himself stumble into an alley, teeth clamped hard around the cigar, sucking in more and more smoke. Someone else was screaming though–was it even him? It…it didn’t sound like him. The voice was so deep and rough and…and he was floating. He could see everything, hear everything, but it wasn’t him anymore, he could…sense that. Better…better if he took a break, he thought to himself, and fell back.

With a roar, he woke up, heaving for breath, heaving for smoke, staring around at where he was with panic in his eyes, looking down at himself. Where was he? Who…was he? He ran his hands down over his body–he was…huge, holy fuck. Big gut, covered with fur. He had on a shirt much, much too small for him–the buttons had already shot off, and he tore the remnants away, running two big hands over his hairy pecs and down over his gut, down to his massive bulge, letting off a low growl around the cigar he had stuck in his maw.

“Fuck, I gotta…gotta fuck…” he muttered to himself. These shoes were too tight though, and he yanked them off, wiggling the fat toes at the end of his size seventeen feet with a sigh. He was in an alley or something, and he walked out of it–it was early evening, and the sidewalk wasn’t very crowded, but there was enough light that he could still see his reflection in the window of a smoke shop on one side of the alley…and hell, he was one sexy mother fucker for sure. He started groping his cock harder in the pants stretched tight over his hips and thighs, seeing a wet spot form from the precum leaking out the head. Through his reflection, he saw the older proprietor’s jaw drop at the sight of him–and he sneered a bit, all sorts of strange ideas pushing through his head suddenly, and he went inside.

We met through a mutual friend, one night, at a poker game. His name was Ed, and we got on pretty well. We were taking a break from the game, out on the porch, smoking–me a cigar, him a cigarette–when he told me he wished he could quit. So I mentioned my hobby, that I was a bit of a hypnotist, and that, if he wanted, I could practice on him, and help him break his habit.

Now, you should know, I’m a sucker for guys like Ed, and I also am a sucker for smokers, so…I may have had no intention of helping him, really. Of course, I can’t just make someone gay, you know, but Ed…well, he was setting off my berdar a bit, and he had a girlfriend but, well, under hypnosis the truth would come out. If it turned out to be hopeless, I’d help, but if I could take advantage of him? Well, for a face like that, I might do a lot of things.

So he came over a week later, and I put him under. Sure enough, he’s bisexual at the very least, though deep in the closet all the same. That won’t last too long, however, and I put my scheme into action. When he wakes up, I tell him that I’ve made it so he’ll be unable to bring himself to buy cigarettes, or borrow them from anyone–the only place he’ll be able to get them is from me– and I’ll control his intake so he’ll be forced to quit. Of course, what I didn’t tell him, was that I’d just made his nicotine addiction quite a bit stronger than it had been…so he’d be coming over a lot, and he’d be willing to do pretty much anything to get a cigarette from me.

We started off easy, and I put him under a few more times, making him comfortable around me, making him trust me, making him enjoy my presence and my touch. It wasn’t long before he was stripping for cigarettes, and after a month, he resorted to his first blowjob in exchange for five. Tonight? Well, as you can see, he got one for a down payment, and he’ll get an entire pack once I fill his ass. Still, I think he’ll be upgrading soon enough–I much prefer my men to smoke cigars, and Ed’s already starting to loosen up and push back, so I don’t think there will be too much resistance from him in the future.

Dale’s Story (Part 8)

Well, options one and three were pretty much even, and I think I have a better idea that can pull them both together, so why don’t we go with that?

“Hell,” Dale said, “I wouldn’t mind gettin’ mah hands on a couple a Bishop’s friends, who were always assholes tah me. Bet we can find ‘em at George’s bar, right ‘bout now, too.”

The stranger grinned, “Sounds good tah me. I had plans there last night, which I put off after running intah you anyway. I’ll see ya there in a few, then,” he said.

“We can jus’ drive over tahgether, I got mah…truck?” Dale said, but when he looked back where the stranger had been standing outside the barn a moment before, he had disappeared. Dale looked back at the farmer and Bishop, rutting over the trough, and he made a few final tweaks to his brother’s mind. He’d always remember who they’d both been, but he’d find it impossible to tell anyone the truth. He also made it so that, even though this new Bishop would always love anything his master did to him, deep inside, he’d never be able to get rid of his shame, especially of his size. Lastly, he buried a few…extreme thoughts in Bishop’s new master’s head, some new ideas of what he could do with, and two, his new pigslave. Dale had a feeling he’d be in for a few wild rides, and whole lot more, soon enough. Satisfied with himself, he lumbered back to his truck and climbed in, started her up, and drove off back into town, pulling into the parking lot of George’s bar half an hour later…only it wasn’t quite the bar he remembered it being.

The building was bigger for one thing, and when he went inside, he discovered that the exterior wasn’t the only thing that had shifted. The walls were lined with all sorts of fetish equipment around the bar, and a set of stairs led down into an a darkened series of halls and nooks. The bar was full, and George was madly serving drinks wearing nothing more than a leather vest, chaps and a jockstrap, like everything was perfectly normal. Looking around, he also saw that, while the gender ratio usually was about 50/50, tonight every guy in town was here–hell, more like every guy from the three closest towns. And there the stranger was, at the bar, just like the night before.

He saw Dale gawking at the entrance, got up, and walked over, chuffing smoke from his pipe. “What do ya think? Not too bad, right?”

“Fuck, you fucking…” Dale said, and looked around, “I mean, are they all…gay now?”

“Eh, they all will be by the end of the night. If you change too much at once, there can be…issues at times. Still, we’re going to have a nice little town here, I think–we’re all going to have a whole lot of fun.” He reached out and tweaked one of Dale’s nipples–he flinched, and then looked down, discovering his clothes had shifted as well, and he was wearing just a pair of rubber overalls and some waders on his feet. “Love a big man in rubber,” he added, leaned in and they shared a smoky kiss for a few moments, before the strange pulled back. “Anyway, the guys you mentioned are over there,” he indicated with his pipe the two young men sitting at a table, sipping beers, chatting and laughing like nothing had changed at all. Dale looked around, and saw a few more familiar faces–his two boys were sucking on each other’s faces in a corner, halfway out of their coveralls already, and he also noticed his dad–or rather, the man who’d been his dad, sitting alone on a barstool, looking a bit lonely. His dad had never been a bad guy, and he’d been pretty broken up ever since his wife left a few years back, but he’d done his best. Maybe he could help him out too.

He walked over to the two young men, already slipping into their minds, and as soon as he got to the table and sat down, both of them men got up, came around, and started licking and sucking at his fat, kneading his gut through the rubber stretched over his massive frame. They were both fighting as hard as they could, disgusted at what they were doing, but also unable to stop themselves, Dale stroking their hair and considering his options.

So, what should Dale do with these two young men?

He makes himself a couple of muscle bound slaves for him and his sons to use and abuse around the shop.
They’d be cute as a couple of puppy dogs–one for him and his boys, and one for his old dad, to keep him company.
His dad could use a couple of sons to replace the ones he’s lost, but he has a feeling these two will be in for a whole lot of abuse.
George is looking a bit understaffed–he decides to make them both into a couple of sexy waiters for the whole bar to enjoy.

So, what would you like to see happen next?

Pig Bros (Part 4)

WARNING: Bestiality, herm TF

“Ethan! What the hell are you–” he said, but had the wind knocked out of him as Ethan tackled him to the floor…and Avery smelled him. God, he wanted him, he wanted him so badly, his body wanted him, but…but he did too. He wasn’t even fighting as Ethan rolled him over onto his belly, lined up that freakish cock and slipped it into his ass. The pleasure that hit him was massive, all of the pent up honrniness of the entire week crashing into him as surge after surge of pleasure, pleasure at finally being mounted, like he needed to be! He started to cum, at last, and while it felt amazing, it also hurt–his balls contracting so hard with each pulse of cum leaving him that they ached in his gut. Ethan didn’t notice–he just kept rutting, and while that sow had felt good, his brother’s ass felt amazing. No wonder Daddy liked boars better–he had a feeling he’d be riding his brother a whole lot more in the future, provided Daddy gave him permission.

Beneath him, Avery’s cock kept pulsing, a massive puddle of cum growing beneath him, and as it did, he felt his body…shifting. Odd sensations up and down his front, as three more rows of nipples appeared on his massive gut, all of them incredibly sensitive, more so than even his cock, but not as much as his ass had become. He felt so good, submitting like this. He liked to submit. He needed to submit. He was meant to be ridden, to be taken, to be controlled. With a final heave, Ethan slammed in deep and came inside Avery’s ass, his balls aching even worse, something strange happening in his groin, his body…shifting, leaving him both exhausted and satisfied, as his brother collapsed onto him, musky and sweaty…but there was another stench on him. Someone else, that same person he could almost remember.

“Fuck, could lay here all night, but let’s get you out of here before the whole campus sees us.”

Avery wanted to know where, he wanted to know what was going on, what had happened to his body, but his brother put on his overalls again, and let Avery out of the dorm naked, on his hands and knees, to a waiting truck. Avery could smell the person in the driver’s seat–it was a familiar scent, and he wanted to see who it was, but his brother forced him into the back bed, while Ethan rode in the cab, and they drove off in the dawn light.

Avery’s head had cleared a bit by the time they arrived at the pig farm–the chill of the morning air had helped ease some of the desire from him, and as much as he tried to explore his body on the ride…he found it rather difficult. His…arms seemed shorter, or he was simply so fat he couldn’t reach far enough down to reach his cock, much less his balls. They pulled up alongside the large barn, and Avery demanded an explanation, but Ethan just ordered him out of the truck, and led him into the barn, where the driver, Daddy, Avery assumed, had entered. The two of them forced him into a pen too small for him to turn around in, and the massive farmer came around in front. “Ya can go ahead ‘n remember me now.”

The scene at the bar returned to him, and Avery squealed, trying to escape from the pen, while both Ethan and Daddy squealed and snorted with laughter. “Ethan! Ethan, you have to stop this! Snap out of it!”

“Don’t mind the sow, little boar,” Daddy said, pulling Ethan close and giving him a sloppy kiss that Ethan eagerly returned, “He just hasn’t had a proper dicking yet, is all.”

“Can I do it Daddy? Please?” Ethan asked.

Daddy laughed, “No boy, we can’t have that–yer welcome tah his ass anytime ya like, though, n that fat snout a his too, a course. In fact, feed that brother a yers that big boar cock, while I introduce him tah his new sowhood.”

Avery tried to demand answers, but Ethan shoved his cock into his throat, forcing him to suck it, and then Daddy touched him where his balls should have been…but weren’t. Instead, he felt his rough, stubby fingers slip inside him, and he squealed with pleasure.

“Somebody like’s their new pussy, I see. Don’t worry, I’ll be fuckin’ ya plenty, little sow. Yer gonna have quite a few a mah litters, I think, how does that sound? Make that dick hard, thinking about me sowing my seed in yer new pigcunt?”

He forced himself inside Avery’s new pigcunt, and with that, he felt his entire resistance slip away, the soul sinking deep into his heart, and he accepted it. Welcomed it, actually. Eager to be fucked by his daddy…even excited that he could get pregnant with his piglets. And his brother, of course, with his own delicious boar cock, he thought, sucking and licking at the shaft in front of him. His brother might have to fuck sows for a living, but he knew that the hole he really wanted was Avery’s piggy ass. He felt the final changes sink in, his arms and legs shortening, hands and feet becoming trotters. His face was mostly human still, aside from floppy ears and a short snout, but Avery would be on all fours for the rest of his piggy life.

Ethan’s boar bristle filled in thicker, his face becoming more porcine than Avery’s, with a long snout and flat nose Daddy would eventually pierce with a thick ring. His feet changed into thick trotters, but he remained upright, rudimentary hands capable of wielding a few tools, but not much else, eyes dulling, no longer interested in anything beyond fucking and making his daddy boar happy. And the farmer looked down at them both, happy with the new additions to his farm, and knowing the rumours that would spread around the campus with their disappearance would remind the students who was really in charge around here.

Still taking votes on part seven of Dale’s Story! We’ll be wrapping the interactive up in the next few weeks I think, so come help me figure out the conclusion!

Another day, another workout. The locker room was always fairly deserted at this time of day, at least, and Ian walked across the room towards his locker, having just finished his shower. He didn’t have the easiest shift at work, but at least he usually had the gym to himself when he got off late–and he’d always been a bit of a night owl anyway. Even if there had been someone around, Ian had never been shy or ashamed of his body. He undid his lock and opened the door, only to be nearly knocked off his feet by the stench that rolled out of the small chamber when he did.

He coughed, tears streaming down his eyes. He’d never smelled anything like that before in his life. Had someone put something in his locker or something? What even was that? It didn’t smell rotten exactly, more like…well, it was hard to describe, but it was more like sweat and BO or something, but way more powerful than should be possible. Holding his breath, he pulled out his gym bag and opened it up, but his clothes weren’t in there–it looked like some strange, disgusting work gear or something, and now he could detect other scents in the powerful aroma he’d begun to breathe in a bit more deeply–beer, piss, smoke, cum.

His cock was hard, and he was stroking it. He pulled out a disgusting jockstrap, pressed it to his nose and snorted in the scent, finding himself craving it–and then hauled out a disgusting, mud crusted work boot, shoved it to his face and huffed in the powerful scent, his cock exploding all over the bench.

“Sorry fer borrowin’ yer locker, pig, but I didn’ think ya’d mind.”

Ian looked over at the man who’d appeared at the entrance to the locker room, soaked in sweat, reeking with the same musk Ian now couldn’t imagine living without, and he ran over, shoving his face into his master’s pit and licking out as much sweat as he could get.

“Heh, prefer not tah shower after I workout, but suppose we can make an exeption tahnight.”