Category: Uncategorized

Pig Bros (Part 3)

Ethan squeezed into the booth, and the bartender immediately brought over a pitcher of beer and a platter of food. He was starving, even though he’d just eaten a few hours earlier, and stuffed his face with fries, guzzling beer right from the pitcher.

“Damn, lookin’ real fuckin’ good already, if I do say so mahself,” the farmer said, “How’s that brother a yers doin’? Been…smellin’ him much?”

“You…did this to us?….What the hell….is wrong with me…” Ethan managed to say through the food.

“Oh, I just gave you and yer asshole brother a new pair a souls is all. They’re eatin’ out yer old ones just like yer packin’ away those fries there.”

Ethan’s eyes widened, but he couldn’t stop himself from eating.

“Don’ trouble yerself none ‘bout it. Nothin’ ya can do about it now, besides enjoy it anyway. Still, I like ya boy, I like how ya smelled, and I definitely like how ya smellin’ now. Finish up those fries, ‘n let’s take a drive.”

The drive was delayed, because the farmer made Ethan make out with him for a bit in his truck, and then forced Ethan to suck his cock. He squealed at the sight, because it wasn’t human…but it smelled real good, and he was still hungry, and so he sucked at it until the farmer filled him up with a long squeal of pleasure, lolling for a bit. “Damn, hate drivin’ after a good cum like that–hard tah focus–” he huffed, started the truck, and drove off to the southwest, heading way out of town.

Ethan tried asking questions, but the farmer forbade him to speak after a couple, and so they rode in silence until they turned onto a gravel road, and pulled up next to a barn…and a scent caught Ethan off guard, his cock hardening in his pants. It was…kind of like that smell his brother had been putting out, but…stronger. The farmer watched as he let himself out, went into the barn, and found himself looking at a mass of pigs in a large pen.

“Go on, follow yer nose, stud…” the man said with a snort and a laugh, and Ethan followed it to a pen where one pig was off by itself–or rather, herself. “Been needin’ tah freshen up the gene pool a bit, ya see. Yer bro won’t be much help with that, but I think ya’ll fit the bill just fine…”

Ethan couldn’t stop himself from hauling is bulk over the pen, shucking off his pants, and driving his hard cock into the sow’s pussy, fucking away at her in the mud, hearing himself squealing and grunting as he rutted, but unable to stop himself. “Fuck…no! Please…” was all he managed, and then he gave in, snorting in time with his thrusts, as the farmer climbed in behind him.

“Course, I only really like the boars myself, like yer gonna be. Been kinda lonely around here lately, so I could use some company. Think ya’ll be sharin’ mah bed a whole lot, little boar–we’re gonna have lots a fun tahgether.” He came close pressing his bulk against Ethan’s back, pinning him deep in the sow, “Ya wanna feel daddy’s big cock in that boar hole a yers? Hell, of course ya do, even if ya don’t know it yet…”

The farmer’s cock was huge, and Ethan had never been fucked, but he was right–he did want it. He fucked the sow, and came deep, collapsing against her as the farmer rode his ass long and rough, and when he came as well, he dragged Ethan down into the mud below and rolled with him, Ethan lost in his daddy’s scent, listening to his daddy whisper in his ear, feeling his old self drift away even further, his new soul taking deeper root in his heart feeling himself and he embraced his new role as Daddy’s personal fuckboar.

Back on campus, Avery was growing more and more anxious. He usually wasn’t separated from his brother for this long, and the night was wearing longer and longer. It didn’t help that he was even hornier than usual, and his cock showed no sign of getting hard…and everytime he started to stroke it, his hand drifted lower, to his ass, but he’d pull it away before exploring anything, out of fear and shame. He tried to sleep, but couldn’t. He ended up stuffing his face with snacks be bought from a 24 hour convenience store, and sniffing one of his brother’s cumrags, disturbed by how much he needed the scent close to him.

He was still awake right before dawn, when Ethan finally returned. He wasn’t wearing the clothes he’d left in–instead, all he had on was a pair of overalls, and he was covered from face to foot with half-dried mud that reeked. “Christ Ethan!” Avery asked, “Where have you been?”

Ethan didn’t say anything–he just snorted the air and leered at Avery–a leer that reminded him of…someone, but he couldn’t remember who. All he knew was that it scared him half to death, and he got up off the couch and backed away from his advancing brother, who was letting the overalls fall as he walked, revealing a cock that…wasn’t right. It was bright pink, and seemed to twist somehow as it rise tight to Ethan’s furry belly, the pendulous balls slapping against his thighs as he stomped closer.

“Ethan…Ethan, where have you been? You’re freaking me out bro…”

“I’ve been with Daddy, learning how to be his little Fuckboar, but you’ll find out all about that later. He said…I get to fuck you first, and fuck, do you know how fucking good you smell? Get the fuck over here, I wanna fuck that damn hole of yours.”

Dale’s Story (Part 7)

Well the winner by a good margin was option number two with 35% of the vote, and the close runner up was option four with 27%, so why not combine them both together, right? So, WARNING: BESTIALITY AHEAD is what I’m trying to say.

“Well come on o’er here, Mick, ‘n let me git a good look at ya,” Dale said, waving the farmer over to where he was standing next to Bishop, or Piggy as he knew himself know, still helplessly chowing down on slop from the trough, horrified that someone had found him in this position.

“I don’–who the hell are you?” Mick asked, “How’d ya…know my name?” he walked over, not even aware that he was doing so until he was a few feet away from Dale–and he looked over his shoulder at where his shotgun was lying back by the barn entrance. “Yer on mah property, I want ya off.”

“Oh, we ain’t trespassin’, Master Mick–yer the one who invited us, after all. Piggy here wanted tah be yer new pigslave, ‘n we’re tryin’ him out, tah see if he’s good enough fer yer sty, ain’t that right?”

Mick’s mind was simple, and Dale found it rather…thrilling, how he could rewire the man’s head at to his merest whim. The farmer was a gentle guy, easy going–he had a shotgun, sure, but he’d never be able to really use it on anyone. No–he’d been more scared than anything, when he’d heard the noises in his barn, coming back from getting his hogs bedded down for the evening. So Dale started hardening him, giving him edges, cruel and abusive instincts, sadistic desires, and filling his mind with all sort of pervere, twisted fantasies. He resisted a bit, but the old Mick couldn’t stand for more than a moment against Dale’s mental onslaught, and when Mick looked down at Bishop again–it was hunger and lust and anger in his eyes that show through, as he kicked his new slave in the gut, yelling at him to eat faster, that he’ll never manage to be his pigslave with a sorry appetite like that. Mick started inspecting him then, unhappy with his scrawny the pig was, but he could fatten him up, if the thing had the spirit to handle him.

Dale crouched down next to Bishop’s face in the trough, and watched his brother plead with him for a moment, but he was already rewiring him as well. After all, this is what Bishop had wanted, right? Yeah, a master, a farmer, someone who could really help him become the pig he knew was deep inside him, that he’d always felt in there, that he’d always wanted to be. He wanted to be abused, humiliated, raped even, if that’s what it took, and even though these desires made him feel so ashamed, his cock was hard as a rock when Mick ran two dirty fingers down his crack and gave the piggy’s cunt a test–and Dale had an idea, or rather, Mick had his idea a moment later.

“I’m on the fence ‘bout it,” Mick said, “Could be a good ‘un, but I ain’t sure it really wants it. One way tah find out fer sure though. Get the hog’s hole warmed up fer a bit man, ‘n I’ll be back in a few.”

“Heh, ya heard the boss,” Dale said, unzipping his fly and dropping his pants, hefting his huge gut onto the small of Bishop’s back and shoving his rock hard cock in dry. Bishop groaned in pain, and Dale gave him a slap on the ass. “Don’t be worried ‘bout this, bro, be worried ‘bout who yer new master’s bringin’ back wit’ ‘em.”

Bishop had no idea what Dale might be referring to, until Mick returned with his prize winning boar leashed up. “Best way tah see if it’s got what it takes, is tah give it a taste a the real thing.”

“Sounds like a plan tah me!” Dale said, and made room for the boar. He gave the animal a mental prod, encouraging it on to mount Bishop, who cried out when he realized what was about to happen with him…but he wanted this. No, he didn’t want this, whatever his brother was doing to him he…he’d always thought about this, about being mounted like an animal, by an animal. A squeal escaped his mouth as the boar slid inside him, and the excitement of his fantasies coming true–his cock exploded all over the ground beneath him as he rutted with the boar, Mick letting out a laugh. “Hot damn, this thing ain’t a pig, it’s a god damn sow! Heh, bet we’d make some real nice progress if we went ‘n nutted the damn thing–then it’d put some wait on her hips real fast.”

“Well, I suppose that’s up to you, Master Mick-it’s your piggy now.”

“Heh–the leather daddies back in the big city ‘r gonna go fuckin’ nuts over it at the convention next year, I’ll tell ya that!”

“Well Bishop,” Dale said, “I think yer in perfectly capable hands now–maybe I’ll come check in on ya tahmorrow, ‘n see how yer comin’ along.”

Bishop tried to beg, tried to plead, but all he could do was oink and squeal and debase himself as the boar came to climax inside him, and his master shoved the animal to the side and took it’s place, raping his new pig’s sloppy pussy as rough and hard as the boar who’d just been inside him. Dale watched a moment, and then left the barn, satisfied–to an extent.

“Damn, Dale, that’s pretty fuckin’ twisted,” a familiar voice said behind him. He turned, and the stranger appeared out of the dark, smoking a cigar.

“Fucker deserved it.”

The stranger didn’t say anything, just let a stream of smoke into the evening air. “Well, ya still got plenty a time left–who else ya wanna get some revenge on, while ya got the chance?”

I’m not sure if we’ll revisit Bishop here or not–his story line seems to have wrapped itself up pretty well. Still, I’m sure a guy like Dale has a few other grudges he could take on, right?

  1. His father–he’ll need some way to occupy himself now that both of his son’s are out of the house.
  2. His bully from high school who still lives in town–he could use a few lessons in punishment.
  3. A couple of Bishops friends–he’s sure to find them at George’s bar tonight, and he never did get to finish that drink with them.
  4. The stranger himself–try and take control of him. It’s risky and might fail, but he’ll never know unless he tries, right?

So, who do you want Dale to target next?

Pig Bros (Part 2)

Ethan found his body drawing closer to the massive figure, and squeezed into the booth with him, Avery still screaming across from them. The man shoved his face into Ethan’s personal space and started snorting, and came up for air, “Not bad, actually–good thing I always come prepared, right, boy?”

From the pocket, he withdrew a second crystal–still pink, but with darker striations running through it. He made Ethan take off his shirt, and then pulled him close, the crystal pressed to his breast, “Now, give me a kiss boy, eh?”

He fought harder than he ever had in his life, but he leaned in and allowed the massive farmer to shove his thick tongue in his mouth, as he pressed the crystal through his skin, Ethan feeling the same searing pain as his brother, screaming into the fat man’s snorting mouth. He pulled away a moment, and said, “You won’t remember much, but you will remember this–in one week, you and only you, come find me here. Understand?”

***

The brothers woke up the next morning in a ditch, both of them shirtless, on the far south side of town. Neither of them could remember what had happened the night before, at The Watering Hole, but neither one of them could imagine it having been a good experience. Ethan was furious at his brother for convincing him to do something so stupid, and Avery was apologetic for once. The first half of the morning they spent walking back into town to their car, and by the time they got there, both of them were utterly famished. They went back to their dorm room for new shirts, and then went to the dining hall, where both brothers found themselves going back for second and third helpings of heaping plates–far more than either of them would have ever eaten previously, but neither of them could quite work up the will to stop. When they finished, they both swore up and down that they’d never eat like that again, but a few hours later the grumbling had begun, and they devoured just as much for dinner that evening.

The next week, they did their best to get back into the swing of their classes, but neither of them found it easy to focus on their studies. Ethan in particular was having issues–normally he was fairly calm and collected, but in the days after their trip to The Watering Hole, he found himself becoming irritable and even aggressive–not to mention the fact that he was horny all the time, suddenly. At first he thought it was just blue balls, but women…didn’t interest him much, for some reason, so he ended up just masturbating seven or eight times a day, trying not to think about how his cock seemed to be getting longer, his balls bigger, his bush thicker.

Avery, on the other hand, found his sexual interest dropping like a stone. Well, that wasn’t quite true, it was just that his cock just…didn’t seem very interested in getting hard for much of anything at all. He was still horny, however, and it was becoming…difficult to deal with. He found that eating helped keep the edge off more than anything else, and so he would often hang around the dining hall even after Ethan had retired, still stuffing his face, trying to fill some…hole in him he couldn’t quite identify. Each day, he’d stare at himself in the mirror, in clothes that now hugged his frame tight, looking at his growing gut, his thick thighs and ass, and promise himself he’d stop, but he couldn’t. And things only seemed to get stranger.

The weight gain only sped up. The two brothers were being openly gawked at and mocked as they crossed campus–Ethan usually shouting back angrily while Avery just hurried along faster, blushing. His beard fell out over the course of a day, emphasizing his second chins and puffy face, his body hair thinning as well, leaving him with a slight treasure trail and a tight bush around his cock and balls, both of which seemed…smaller than they had been. While he’d been losing hair, Ethan had been gaining everything he’d lost, and more, with a full beard appearing all over his face in the course of a night, along with enough hair to cover his front and back. It was…odd hair too, almost bristly to the touch. They tried to talk about the changes, but neither of them could say much of substance–while each of them was disgusted and repulsed by their new bodies, they also felt…normal, somehow. They knew they should be different, but were at a loss of imagination as to what they might be instead. Instead, Avery found himself hoarding his brother’s cumrags, sniffing them, desperate for some form of sexual satisfaction, while Ethan kept catching an odd, urgent whiff of something around his brother, a smell which made him both uneasy and incredibly horny. Come Saturday, he knew he had to get out for a bit, by himself. Pulling on his biggest clothes, which now barely fit him, he told Avery he’d be back later, took the car, and went for a drive, his body on autopilot, taking him back to The Watering Hole.

The farmer was there in his booth, waiting. Ethan didn’t know how he knew the man…but he did. He waddled over and the smell of him, the sense of need suffused his mind, and he grunted and snorted, close to cumming in his pants. “There ya are,” the farmer said, “Have a seat, and try not to cum yet, if you can help it.”

Pig Bros (Part 1)

Avery and Ethan were twin brothers attending college in a small town out in the sticks. It had seemed like a nice place when they’d visited as high school seniors, but after three years spent there, their patience was wearing a bit thin with the place, and they were both eager to finish their senior year and be gone. The town always felt this tension, however, between the college student population which bloomed each fall and died back in the summer, and the farmer and ranchers who remained there the whole year long. Both of the brothers had turned 21 over the summer, and now that they could drink legally, they were stretching their legs a bit–and it was Avery who suggested they go to The Watering Hole, just to see what it’s like.

There were a few unspoken rules in the small town which kept tensions lows between the students and everyone else–one of those rules was that the college kids would keep to the North of town, where the small downtown had been rejuvenated and hipsterized, while the rest of the folks would stick to the southern side, where they had their own set of bars and restaurants–all of them quite a bit cheaper, but with the expectation that students weren’t particularly welcome there. The Watering Hole was one such bar, and Avery had always been curious about it, but that was Avery. While the two were identical in appearance, their temperaments were a bit more varied. Avery was brash, always up for a good prank, a shortcut, and rule bending. Ethan, on the other hand, was quieter, thoughtful, and usually the one who got Avery out of the trouble he inevitably stirred up in his wake.

The bar wasn’t much to look at–just a fairly normal pub, beaten up tables, chairs and booths, a craggy bartender who wasn’t particularly happy to see a couple of students in his bar, but he served them, and they took a seat. The rest of the patrons, mostly cattle ranchers, pig farmers and corn growers, shot them a few dirty looks, but when that wasn’t enough to deter the brother’s they opted to ignore them–all aside from one man, propped up in a corner booth, slouched over, his huge gut propped up on wide thighs, chewing tobacco and staring at the young men…trespassing. It had been a while, he realized, since the students had been…reminded what could happen when you go where you don’t belong. Perhaps, he would make an example of these two, or perhaps not. He watched, making up his mind.

Ethan was bored and suggested they leave, but Avery was disappointed their arrival hadn’t caused more commotion–so he ordered more beer, got drunker, and louder. Everyone ignored him, but the massive man in the corner had made up his mind–an example indeed, he thinks, of that one at least. He gives off a massive, beery belch, making sure the young man notices him, encourages him to notice him, encourages him to think poorly of him. He can see the young man looking over, looking down, sneering a bit. Just you wait boy, just you wait.

Avery kept looking over at the massive, obese farm fuck in that booth, grossed out in one way…and yet obsessed in another way. The man was staring at him with his tiny eyes, glaring really, and Avery met his gaze each time, feeling emboldened each time. Ethan excused himself to go to the bathroom, and as soon as he was gone, Avery knew this was his chance to confront him, to taunt him. He got up and made his way to the back of the pub–the rest of the patrons staring at him and the massive farmer in silence. A few men got up and left, others tore their eyes away and kept them there, as Avery sat down across from the fat farmer and leaned on the table. “What the hell man? You’ve been looking at me all fucking evening. You have a problem or something?”

The man let out a low, snorting laugh, and then heaved himself up into the light. He was…uglier than Avery had thought, and he leaned back a bit. “Oh, silly boy–you think you’re in any control here? In my booth? In this bar? In this town?”

“Oh, I get it–you’re not just a dumb fat fuck, you’re a delusional fat fuck.”

Faster than Avery was expecting, the man lunged over, and with his fat fingers grabbed hold of the young man’s shirt collar and dragged him closer, their eyes inches away. He hadn’t been able to see from across the room but his eyes…they didn’t seem quite…human. He tried to pull himself away, but his body was limp–he couldn’t do anything as the man, snorting and chuckling, undid a front pocket on his overalls and pulled out a small crystal shard. In the light, it shone a brilliant pink between two fat, stubby fingers. “Don’t worry, you won’t remember this in the morning,” the man said, “It’s more fun when you forget, after all.” With one hand, he gave a sharp tug on Avery’s shirt, ripping the front away and revealing his furry chest. Avery kept trying to quirm away as the man pressed the sharp point of the crystal to his left pec, and forced it into him, where he could feel the thing dig deeper into his body. It hurt, and he screamed in pain, throwing himself back against the back of the booth, clawing at his chest, trying to fish the crystal up from the wound which sealed itself up behind it, leaving just a raw scar.

Ethan had emerged from the bathroom, and heard his brother screaming. Everyone in the bar was purposefully paying the noise no attention, but he ran back to the booth, where he found his brother shouting and digging at his chest. “What the fuck did you do to him?” Ethan said to the farmer.

“Don’t think I forgot about you now–come here, and sit on my knee boy. Let me get a better smell of you.”

I’d fired that stupid bitch of a secretary the week before–I’d never liker her much. Sure, nice legs and a good ass, but she refused to put out, which is the only damn reason I hired her–that’s what secretaries are fucking for. But when she started getting “ideas” about the business (and let’s be honest, no idea a woman has about business can be good, right?) I fired her on the spot. Still, turns out the bitch had been doing her work, so I had to hire a temp while I do a search for a better candidate to match the position.

I told the temp agency to send over a hottie, but what I got instead was a fucking flaming faggot! I could tell he wanted me too, because he was looking at me the same way I would have been looking at him if he was some sexy bitch. I confront him…and what I want to do is pound him into the dirt and fore his ass, but what we end up doing instead–fuck, the faggot somehow convinces me to let him suck my cock at my desk. Worse, he’s damn good at it, and he seems like he “needs” it, so instead of calling the agency I decide–what’s the harm in keeping the faggot around for a while, right? If he wants it.

Well, it’s been two weeks, and I can say that decision was a terrible one, but I…I can’t stop now. I swear, I spend all day at the office, fucking his holes, morning to night–and worse, I think…I think I’m changing too. I mean, some of the changes are nice, like how muscular I’ve gotten lately, and I don’t even necessarily object to all the body hair, but these nipple rings make me feel like a fucking slut, especially everytime the faggot tugs on them, and while it’s still plenty for him…I think my cock is actually getting smaller, and it’s harder and harder to get hard for him without…without tugging on my nipples, or…or playing with my ass.

And now…now I keep staring at his bulge…wondering what it would feel like, to have him in my daddy hole. God, did I really just call it that? It’s gotten so hard to think lately, about anything other than sex. It’s a good thing that faggot has a good business instinct, or I’d be fucked for sure…yeah…yeah, fucked. Maybe…just once. Just to feel what it’s like. Yeah, I only need it once, just for curiosity. It’s not like it’ll turn me into some slutty daddy, begging for his young cock all day long. Yeah, I mean, I might…fantasize about something like that, but I’m too much of a man, a real man, to ever let that happen to me.

Source: lustbox

Dale’s Story (Part 6)

Ha, well, it wasn’t quite what I was expecting to win, but option number four (pig farm) pretty much ran away with 34% of the vote. Option two (beers with friends) was in second place with 25%, so we’ll try to have Bishop meet back up with his friends at some point, beers or no. Let’s see where this goes first, however!

“Ya know what ya always called me, the name I hated the most a all?” Dale said, leaning in close to Bishop’s face, where his much younger brother was kneeling in front of him. He didn’t say anything, “Go on, guess. Ya called me it often enough that ya obviously knew how much I hated it. Go on.”

“P-Piggy?”

“Yeah, that thar’s the one! But do ya remember what ya’d always do as well?”

Bishop didn’t want to do it, but his mouth opened, under Dale’s control, and he started squealing, loudly. He’d always done that to chase Dale off–call him Piggy and squeal at him until he ran away crying. He kept trying to talk, trying to apologize or beg, but all his mouth would do is squeal, grunt and snort.

“Now, how’s ‘bout we go visit a piggy farm, Bishop? I think we could have some real fun there, don’t ya?”

Bishop shook his head, but couldn’t fight Dale’s control over him. He stood up and began stripping off his clothes, abandoning them in the office. He squealed and grunted in protest, and Dale just laughed.

“Ya ain’t gonna need those on the farm, piggy, ya’ll just git ‘em dirty,” Dale said, and examined his brother’s physique. He’d put on a bit of weight since graduating from high school, but he was still quite the stud–and as he was, he certainly got Dale’s cock hard in his fat, but Bishop didn’t deserve it, and he wouldn’t have that body for much longer, if Dale had anything to say about it. He led Bishop out of the office, caught his son’s fucking against the side of an old truck in the garage, and told them to finish closing up the shop without him, that he had an errand to run and he’d see them later. He forced Bishop into his truck, he climbed in with him, and drove out of town, keeping Bishop occupied licking and sucking at his fat until they arrived at one of the pig farms surrounding the town, and he forced Bishop out again. He covered himself up as best he could, embarrassed to be naked in the evening light, and thankfully no one was around to see him as he and Dale walked to the barn and went inside.

Bishop fell to the floor, and only after trying to get up a few times did he realize it was Dale, who’d removed his ability to walk upright, forcing him to crawl up to a massive trough along the wall, while Dale looked around, figuring out how to dispense the feed, and after finding it, he pulled the switch, and a thick, sloppy mash dropped into the trough in front of Bishop.

He fought as hard as he could for a moment, but drove his face into the muck and started eating it as quickly as he could. Dale stopped the flow once the trough was full, and then walked up and got down beside his brother, running his chubby hands over his naked back, down to his ass, slipping a couple greasy fingers inside him as he talked to him, influencing his mind.

“Yeah, that’s it Piggy–ya go tah town on that shit. That’s yer new name, by the way–the only thing ya’ll let people call ya from now on. Piggy–just hearin’ a guy say it, inside, yer gonna hate it, it’s gonna fill ya wit’ so much shame, but outside, you’ll grin, and that piggy cock a yers is gonna get a flutter. Ya’ll look like a piggy soon enough to, since we’re gonna make ya eat all the time, I think. Yeah, I can do that to ya–ya can feel that hunger now, can’t ya? The pleasure yer gettin’, fillin’ that gut a yers. Damn Piggy, got her cock hard ‘n everythin’ already, ‘n all ya’ve done i stuff that fat fuckin’ face a yers like a damn animal. Fuck, feel how full this gut a yers is? Damn piggy, yer gonna–”

He was interrupted by the barn door opening, and Dale looked behind them to where the farmer had just opened the door, shotgun in hand, staring, unbelieving, at the scene in front of him. Dale took control of him easily, and the older man set the shotgun down against the wall. From the look of him, he’d been in the mud with the pigs, the man’s rubber waders coated with muck. He wasn’t the cleanest fellow either, which was fine with him–and he had a feeling Bishop would enjoy him as well. But what does he do?

Alright, time for you to choose! Here’s a range of options, from a couple more normal ones to some…more extreme options. Again, they can be mixed and matched a bit, if two are more popular than the rest.

  1. Dale convinces him to hire Bishop, and degrades Bishop’s mind and memories to match his new position in life.
  2. He makes the farmer an aggressive leather master, and Bishop is his new pigslave in training.
  3. Two pigs are better than one–he has the farmer join in with Bishop, and Dale enjoys them both.
  4. Dale convinces him that Bishop is actually one of his sows in heat, and together they get a boar to mount him.
  5. As an apology for trespassing, he offers Bishop’s services as a toilet and cumdump for the filthy farmer.

So, what would you all like to see happen next?

Job Revenge (Sketch)

This shit shouldn’t be legal in the goddamn 21st century, Jordan thought to himself, unable to believe he could be so stupid. Sure, some of the country thought it was a good idea to make sure people couldn’t be fired for being gay, but not here in the fucking Carolinas. Nope, here it was perfectly legal, and after his boss, Rodney, had overheard him the other day telling one of his coworkers, who wasn’t a social troglodyte, that he had a date with a hot guy that evening, he’d had a fucking grin on his face he hadn’t wiped off for a few days. It was no secret that Rodney hated Jordan–in part because everyone knew Jordan could do Rodney’s job better than him, but mostly because he was a little femme, and had always suspected Jordan might be “one of those disgusting faggots,” as he called them. And so, at the end of the day, Rodney had confronted him, and told him that Jordan had two weeks to wrap up his projects and get out.

That was yesterday, and news that he was being fired, and why he was being fired, had spread through the office like wildfire. Still, Jordan wasn’t about to give up without a fight, because what Rodney didn’t know, was that Jordan was descended from a line of witches. He’d never really dabbled much in it, not after seeing some of the crazy shit that had happened to his mother when he was younger, but for this…well, he needed this damn job! The job market wasn’t exactly getting better, after all, and he’d been hoping he could at least crawl his way up to management here before looking for better work with a bit of experience. So, he pulled out his grandmother’s grimoire, and started studying.

It wasn’t easy–it took him a week just to find a spell he thought would do the trick, gather all the ingredients for the curse, and then to make it. The whole time, Rodney had been insufferable. Gloating at every chance, calling him names, turning his coworkers against him–so yeah, he was angry. When he finally wrangled the spell together into a potion Rodney would need to drink, he finally had something to channel his anger into…and the potion didn’t turn out quite right. It was supposed to be a clear blue, but his was kind of a muddy purple. Still, he didn’t have time to do it over, right? If it didn’t work, then it didn’t work, but he had to at least try.

The easiest part was getting Rodney to drink it. He always brought lunch and kept it in the fridge, along with a thermos of coffee which he always forgot around the office all day long. He’d waste hours hunting it down when he was supposed to be doing something more pressing. Jordan waited for it to be abandoned, added the potion, and then had someone return it to him–so he wouldn’t suspect Jordan had done anything to it…but he kind of had. How could he resist, really? He’d slipped into the bathroom, and jacked off into the thermos as well. All it took was a sip, after all–so even if he could taste it, he’d have a bit more revenge.

The spell was supposed to have a suggestive effect on someone, where they would find themselves unable to resist the orders of the witch for a time after drinking the spell. How long of a time was unclear–apparently in varied based on the caster’s skill (minimal) and the subject’s willpower (also minimal, since Rodney could barely grasp the concept of a spreadsheet.) All he’d need was a few hours to…change Rodney’s mind about Jordan’s worth, and everything would be just fine.

He waited half an hour, and then decided to go check on Rodney–when he got to his office, he even saw him take a swig from the thermos, grimace, and then set it back down–perfect. That, supposedly, was all it should take! So he went ahead and stepped inside and shut the door behind him–but Rodney just glared at him. “Faggot, get the fuck out of here, unless you want to be packing up your shit today.”

“No Rodney, I think the two of us need to have a little chat. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? To talk to me?”

He saw Rodney start to retort, but an odd purple wave washed through his eyes, he shook his head, and said, “Uh…I mean, what…would you like to talk about?”

Jordan had planned this–planned what he was going to say, but he felt…something odd inside him. He felt so…angry all of a sudden. Angry and…horny as hell. This…wasn’t right, was it? The spell wasn’t supposed to affect him. But this…rush! “I think you…should apologize to me. For all the shit you’ve called me.”

The same wave of purple, the same wave through him of anger and horniness. “I’m…sorry,” Rodney said, gritting his teeth, trying to fight it.

“Sorry for what?”

“For…calling you a fag, and…queer and shit.” Rodney said, but something seemed strange about him. He looked…happy, like he’d just had a burst of pleasure. “What the hell is wrong with me?” He said, a bit quiet, “I…why did that feel so good?”

“Maybe because you like submitting to me. I think you do, Rodney, I think the idea of doing whatever I say turns you on.” The words were just tumbling out now, unbidden. Sure, he’d always kind of…fantasized about this, but what in the world was he doing?

“Oh fuck, it…kind of does, doesn’t it?”

“Get over here, and lick my shoes clean.”

He didn’t expect him to do it, but Rodney got up, a throbbing erection obvious in the front of his pants, and he walked over, got down, and started licking, and Jordan felt an uncharacteristic sneer turn up the corner of his mouth. He could have some fun with this, actually, and Rodney would as well, at least if he told him so.

I’m still taking votes for Part 5 of Dale’s Story. Help me decide what to do to his asshole brother!

FatOldHog: There, I fucking did it, are you happy?

DaddyLoveXXX: You’re not done yet Hog, you still have to eat it. That was the deal, remember?

DaddyLoveXXX: Yeah, that’s a good hog, slurp all that old cum of yours down. Go on Hog, tell me how it tasted–did you enjoy eating your own seed?

FatOldHog:

It was fucking disgusting. 

DaddyLoveXXX: Oh really? I thought an old pig like you would enjoy a treat like that.”

FatOldHog:

Look, I did everything you said I had to do, alright? Please just change me back.

DaddyLoveXXX: No, if you remember, I told you I’d be willing to change you back after we’d both had our fun, isn’t that right? Well I still haven’t gotten off, you old hog, so if you really want me to change you back, you’re going to have to help me out.

FatOldHog:

No, this is fucking over!

DaddyLoveXXX: Now now, be careful! You wouldn’t want me changing that username of yours again, would you? Now play with those fat grandpa titties for me, show me how much you like showing yourself off.

DaddyLoveXXX: Come on now, that isn’t very sexy at all! Hold on…

DaddyLoveXXX:

Yeah, now you’re getting into the spirit Hog! Looking sexy, getting my cock hard. Why don’t you go find one of those toys you have, and then come back and we’ll play someone.

OldHogPervert: Toys? What…

OldHogPervert:

No–fuck you, no, I’m not putting anything in my ass!

DaddyLoveXXX:

Oh really? 

DaddyLoveXXX:

I thought disgusting perverts like you put things in your ass all the time, though. In fact, I bet there’s something in that old hole of yours right now.

Plug_My_PiggyHole: Oh fuck, why does that feel so good?

DaddyLoveXXX: Because you’re a slutty daddy piggy, that’s why! Fuck, look at you go, ramming that thing in deep–it looks big enough to be a fist! I bet you’d rather have my cock in your ass though, isn’t that right?

DaddyLoveXXX:

Don’t just give me that little half nod–type it out. I want to see it.

Plug_My_PiggyHole:

I wish you were fucking my old piggy hole.

Plug_My_PiggyHole:

God, why did I just call it that?

DaddyLoveXXX:

Because that’s what it is!

DaddyLoveXXX:

Daddy, keep a hold of yourself–don’t you go making another mess now!

DaddyLoveXXX:

Fuck Hog, we’re going to have to keep you better under control, so you don’t keep cumming like that.

Locked_PiggyHole: What the fuck is this fucking thing? How do you get it off?

DaddyLoveXXX:

It doesn’t fucking come off daddy–you’re going to be wearing that new cage for a long, long time–fuck, here it comes!

DaddyLoveXXX:

Damn hog, that was a fun session. Glad you enjoyed yourself as much as I did.

Locked_PiggyHole:

Please, just change me back now…

DaddyLoveXXX:

Oh alright.

LinebackerPiggy: Wait–I’m young again, but I’m still fat! And my cock’s still in this damn cage! Change me all the way back!

DaddyLoveXXX:

No way! I don’t think your coach would be very happy with me for messing with his piggy linebacker slave, do you?

LinebackerPiggy:

No, you can’t do this to me, please!

<

DaddyLoveXXX has signed off.>

LinebackerPiggy:

Fucking get back on here! 

<DaddyLoveXXX has signed off.>

Rape By Neighbor (Sketch)

It was a few weeks after I’d moved into my new apartment. I’d asked my parents to finally let me move off campus this year, now that I was Junior. Don’t get me wrong, the dorms are fine and everything, but I was looking forward to the chance to have some space to myself. It was a one bedroom apartment, though that description was a bit generous–it was more like a glorified studio than anything else. Still, everything was functional and relatively clean, and only about five minutes off campus. The complex had a pool–not that I really was planning on swimming or anything–and everyone’s apartment had a little balcony that looked out over it–none of them were exactly private, but hey, that’s apartment life, right?

It was late summer and still sweltering–I’d already learned to regret going to school somewhere hot–and the apartment didn’t have air conditioning. I was…a big guy, alright? I’d done both the Freshman and the sophomore thirty-five, and so I was sweating like a pig, and the breeze was one of the few things that I could do to cool myself down during the day, and that’s when I first met Jed. He was my next door neighbor to the left, and he was out on the balcony as much as I was, thought he did it because he smoked these fat cigars almost non-stop. The apartments were allegedly smoke free, but everyone looked the other way, as long as our places didn’t stink too much when we moved out. He had a big beard, always wore these wife beaters which showed off his hairy arms and chest covered with a riot of tattoos. We chatted a bit at first, but he didn’t seem like one for much communication.

Now, the other reason I’d wanted an apartment of my own was something my parents didn’t need to know about, and that’s that I was a bit of a slut around campus…and around town. I was on Growlr all the time, and I’d had enough of my roommates walking in on me and some other guy with his cock in my mouth, or mine in his ass. Needless to say I took advantage of my new freedom almost immediately, hooking up with a few guys I hadn’t seen all summer. I don’t know when Jed figured it out–I sure didn’t tell him. He probably ran into someone leaving or heading for my apartment, and must have put two and two together…since I knew a few guys who weren’t known to be quiet or subtle in bed. It was late one night, and I couldn’t sleep in the heat. No one was around who wanted to fuck, and so I was out on the balcony on my phone, cooling off in my underwear, when I realized I wasn’t alone. Jed was out on his balcony, and he was looking at me…and groping himself, lips wrapped around one of those big cigars of his.

Now, at that moment I thought I was pretty lucky, since I’d always had a thing for the rough daddy type. I cruise him a bit, slip my hand down the front of my pants and start fondling myself–and that’s when he gets this disgusted look on his face. “Fucking faggot, did I say you could fucking touch yourself? Get your hand out of your fucking shorts.”

Fuck, one of those. I should have figured as much. I thought about just going inside and not even dealing with this, but, well, I was horny. I’ve never been known to make the best decisions when I’m horny. So I pulled my hand out, and watched him for a bit. He just kept groping himself, wouldn’t let me see his cock, and I was getting bored. Eventually I said something like, “You just gonna stand there, or you gonna do something with that?” He just glared at me, and then went back into his apartment. I went back into my apartment too and tried to get back to sleep. It was an hour later that someone started knocking at my door, and I got up, peeped through, and saw Jed on the other side, pounding away, smoking a cigar, a bottle of booze in his hand. I only opened the door to tell him to go back to his place, but as soon as I turned the handle he slammed the door into my face, and I stumbled back, blood streaming from my nose, and he was on top of me, ripping away my underwear.

It didn’t hurt, really. I…might have been busy with a toy at the moment. I didn’t even really mind the roughness, if he’d just thought to ask, you know? I just let him have his way, it was easier, and he was a pretty good fuck–nice thick cock, though he stank of smoke and booze in the moment. He came after a few minutes, and without anything else stood up and left me there to push myself up, avoid dribbling any more blood on the carpet from my nose, and shut the door behind him.