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I’m a huge fan of your furry transformation stories here and on FA. I’m well aware that you cannot promise anything when it comes down to writing free stories, but i’ll try my luck anyway with a story request with the understandings of your writing policy kept in mind. You have every right to refuse such stuff as a hard working writter and that is something i applaud and support. My request is actually more geared towards including some slobby werewolf transformations in any story you see fit.

Eh, that’s not super my sort of thing, though I would definitely point you towards @vikingzombieboyfriend and his stories, especially the end of his story “Sliver Tongue”.

Life Coach (Part 2)

Shane woke up the next morning in an unfamiliar bed that, at the same time, felt…right. It was smaller than usual–just a twin bed, in fact. But the room–he recognized the room, for sure. He was back in his house, but he was in a room which he thought had been a guest room, but which his brain was now telling him was…his room. But that couldn’t be right–he slept in the master suite in his house with his wife–but that thought was so embarrassing he felt his cheeks turn red immediately.

He’d never once slept in the same bed as his wife! She had taken one look at his puny cock on their honeymoon, and laughed him onto the couch. He’d never even fucked her once–she’d told him that he wasn’t man enough, and she was right. He had the money, he had the career, he had the confidence out of the house, but in here he was whipped, and he hated it, but there was no getting out of it now. He rolled up in his bed, and looked down at his tiny, half inch cock and raisin sized balls–some part of him unable to believe it, but he’d looked at the same equipment his whole life, why was he finding this so hard this morning?

Even then, the cock was only one piece of a larger problem. He stood up from the bed, and was certain he should be standing taller, but he’d always been short–just shy of five feet five inches–and his flabby body wasn’t doing him any favors either. He’d always found his body disgusting though–all of the hair everywhere–it was almost as thick across his back as it was across his chest. The muttonchops on his face only made his head look fatter and wider–why did he keep them cut all bushy like that anyway? He picked a cigar from the humidor and lit it up, feeling a bit better once he got some smoke in him, and then he got dressed–Sandra demanded that he be dressed at all times in her presence–it lessened the chance that she might have to lay eyes on his disgusting body, as she called it.

She was downstairs in a robe, when he got there. When he entered the kitchen, she informed him that she had a new lover coming over in an hour, and that Shane would have to get the door, because she would be getting ready when he arrived. That small part of him did a double take, but it wasn’t like his wife was willing to forego sex just because her husband’s cock was a microdick. No–she took lovers all the time, as many as she wanted, and…and he let her, because it made her happy, and sometimes he got to watch–provided the man she was making love to was alright with it. He ate some breakfast and read the paper–his lazy Sunday routine–and when the doorbell rang, he got up and answered the door, finding a young man on the other side, wearing little, his massive cock bulging in the front of his jeans.

“Oh, uh, hi–I’m here for Sandra…” the guy said, “Who…are you?”

“Oh, I’m Shane–her husband. Come on in, she’s upstairs getting ready for you.”

“Oookay,” the young man said, “Actually, I think I’m just gonna go…”

“No, please,” Shane said, “Come in! It’s fine, we have an…arrangement.”

He was obviously still skeptical, but he stepped inside anyway. Shane got the young man’s name–Devin–and then led him upstairs, where Sandra was in the master bedroom, nearly naked. “Oh there you are Devin–you’re late. I hate having to wait, you should remember that. Get undressed.”

Devin looked from her to Shane, but he pulled off his tank top, displaying his thick pecs and solid abs, but paused with his jeans. “Is…why is he still here?”

“Oh–Shane here has the tiniest cock I’ve ever seen–he can’t even get inside me. You’ll have to forgive him, he hates asking. Shane–is there something you’d like to ask Devin?”

Shane cleared his throat, somehow feeling even smaller than his new height made him, “Oh, uh, I’d like to…to watch, if that’s alright with you.”

“Wait, seriously?”

“Yes, if you don’t mind. I–I’ll stay out of sight, you won’t know I’m here.”

“Fuck no, you fucking creep, get the fuck out of here!”

Shane blushed red, but did as the young man said, and retreated outside the bedroom door, closing it behind him. There was lots of laughter for a few moments, and then that segued into moans. Shane was left outside the door, smoking one of his cigars–almost sucking on the rough leaf–rubbing his crotch through his pants, feeling his tiny cock stiff like a nipple thinking…thinking about that young man, how big his cock must be, what…what it might feel like. Maybe…maybe he’ll let him watch some other time, maybe he can find out what kinds of things he might like, or give him some money, next time.

Wait–what the fuck was he doing? This wasn’t right, this wasn’t right at all! He wasn’t some…flabby short pushover with a cock small enough for the record books. This–something had happened. Something had changed, but what? He stalked away from the door and back to his room, where he lit a cigar and tried to focus on something beyond the moans of the young man he could hear from down the hallway. What had he done yesterday? There was that new neighbor, and he’d gone over to say hello, but after that things got…hazy, and he couldn’t quite remember anything of the visit at all. Still, something in his gut told him that if he wanted answers, he’d have to go there, and so he left the house and went next door, where he knocked on the door. After a moment, Evan opened the door and looked down at his short neighbor, and smirked. “Well hello Shane, back for another session already? I must say, you look like you’ve made tremendous progress from yesterday. Why don’t you come inside?”

His body, something was wrong with his body. he stepped inside, and before Evan even got the door shut, he was on his knees–waiting. Waiting for Evan to turn around, slowly unzip his fly, his huge cock flopping out, and Shane swallowed it to the hilt.

Life Coach (Part 1)

“Look, all I’m doing is providing a service. I’m a lawyer, it’s my job to represent my clients to the best of my abilities. Besides, in my opinion, when it comes to divorce, misandry rules. Do you know how hard it is for a guy to get custody? Kids need their fathers too. All I do is level the playing field,” Shane said and took another sip from his beer, looking over at his new neighbor, trying to judge his reaction. Still, he was used to getting flack for his job from people–but he didn’t want approval, he wanted cash, and cash is what he got, which is why he got to live in this nice neighborhood.

“How does Sandra feel about what you do for a living?” Stewart asked. He was an older gentleman in his late fifties, a bit of a potbelly with a thick, mostly white beard. He’d offered his neighbor over for a beer, since they hadn’t been formally introduced yet, although he was beginning to have second thoughts he even wanted to know him.

“Why would it matter what she thinks? I buy her the jewelry, the handbags, the perfume. She’s happy,” he said with a smirk, “If anything it’s a warning. If she wants out, she’s not going to be getting anything out of me, that’s for sure.”

Definitely didn’t want to know him at all. Evan let the silence between them expand, hoping Shane would take the hint, but he didn’t.

“So, what do you do, Evan?”

The older man stayed silent a moment more, before replying. “Well, it’s a bit hard to explain, really. The closest thing, you might say, is that I’m a life coach.”

Shane let out a laugh, “You? A life coach? Don’t you think you might want to look like, you know, a better role model before that? No offense, but I wouldn’t really think someone who looks like you would have good advice for how to live your life.”

“Well, my clients would disagree–they bought me this lovely house right next to yours, after all.”

“Well, you must be good then.”

“I’m very good at what I do, I think. My services are rather unique, in fact. I’m less a life coach, and more…well, it’s difficult to explain. I can help people who’ve reached a dead end find…a way out, you might say. Most of it works a bit like hypnosis, but–”

“Wait, hypnosis? You have got to be kidding me, that shit’s not real!”

“Oh, well, hypnosis itself is a rather limited tool, but what I do–”

“No, seriously, you’re just a fucking con artist?”

Evan bristled a bit, “You would do well to remember your manners. It’s not nice to insult the host.”

“Look man, I’m sorry, but you can’t really expect me to believe that you can actually hypnotize people, right? I mean, that shit’s for college parties.”

“Well, like I said, it isn’t hypnosis per se, but rather…well, why would I even bother talking to a skeptic like you?” Evan smiled, “Someone like you would have to see it to believe it, right?”

“Heh, I suppose so. Still, I can’t be hypnotized, so you’re out of luck.”

“How do you know? Has anyone tried?”

“Ha! Do you know the kind of willpower it takes to succeed in my line of work? You don’t get to where I am by letting people walk all over you and control you,” Shane said, looking his new neighbor right in the eye. Evan didn’t reply, he just met the gaze, and locked it. After a few seconds Shane started feeling a little uncomfortable, the hairs on his body raising up slightly–he tried to pull his eyes away, tried to blink…but he couldn’t. All he could do was keep staring at Evan’s eyes…sinking in deeper and deeper, like the tension in his body, the energy, was being sucked out of him. The bottle of beer tumbled from his hand to the carpet as he slumped down in the chair, his mind furiously trying to push back, trying to resist, but it was too late. His head just felt so…empty all of a sudden. He was so tired, and yet he couldn’t quite fall asleep.

“Funny how the ones who think they’re in control are the easiest to put under,” Evan said, pushing himself up from his armchair and walking over to where Shane was slumped on the couch. The closer he got, the more intense his gaze became, until it was the only thing Shane could think about, the only thing he could see. He barely noticed Evan unbuttoning his dress shirt, and examining his muscular, gym toned body, opening the fly of his slacks and pulling out his six inch cock from his pants. “It feels good, though, right? Not being in control? Letting people walk all over you, you fucking wimp? Feel how hard you are, how much you’re enjoying this–how humiliated you are. You’ve been taken down by a short, fat old man, and all you can do is get harder in my hand.”

Shane couldn’t quite comprehend what was going on, but…but he did feel good. Is…is this what losing control felt like? Did it really feel this good?

“You know, I don’t really have room in my schedule for another client, but I think I’ll take you on, pro bono. I think you should explore this side of you, don’t you? See what happens when you let go of all that need to control, when you let other people dominate you, take over your life. Is that what you want? Do you want me to control you?”

Shane wanted to say no, he did, but his mouth wasn’t working right. All it could do was…was gasp and moan, his rock hard cock leaking all over Evan’s hand, even as he desperately tried to form the word. Evan kept up the attention, leaning closer, their eyes mere inches from each other when Shane finally exploded, cum splattering all over his suit, and he finally managed to utter a word in the midst of the afterglow, a quiet, barely audible, “Yes.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Evan said, “Now let’s get to work–we have so much to do tonight.”

Shane didn’t really know how to describe what happened next. Evan put his fingers on both his temples in a strange configuration, pressed hard, and it was like electricity fired through his brain and body, and everything went black.

Apartment Hunting (Sketch)

A tribute to AgainstMyWill for what is still one of my favorite stories ever. WARNING: FILTH/SCAT 

There really wasn’t anything worse than looking for apartments. If it wasn’t the crazy fucking people who lived in this city, or the strange apartments where some contractor must have finished, looked around, and said “someone could live in this,” it was the astronomical rent required for a fucking room. Rent too fucking high indeed, it was horrific. But if you wanted to be somebody, this is where you had to live, and so here Parker was, fresh out of college, looking for a room to rent.

He knocked on the next door, and waited for a few minutes. He could hear someone on the other side, but it took a few seconds for him to get there–the guy opened the door, which was stopped by the chain, and it was exactly the kind of person Parker loathed more than anything else. Lean and fit, though that natural kind of body, the kind of young guy who couldn’t keep an ounce of fat on him if he tried. Scruffy face, unshaven, and from the musk rolling off him, obviously unwashed. Not the sort of guy he wanted for a roommate. “Yeah, what do ya want?” The guy asked.

Parker could have just said he had the wrong apartment…but he was getting to the point where he was about ready to settle for anything. “Oh, hey…uh, I saw an ad on Craigslist about a room for rent?”

“Oh…us…” The guy said through the crack in the door, and then he obviously gave Parker a glance from head to toe. “Yeah, actually…you wouldn’t be half bad.”

The door shut, and then opened wide, giving Parker a better look at the apartment–and the place was a fucking sty. The floor was littered with trash, aside from small walkways through the muck, mostly leading to a grungy, well stained couch in front of a TV on the wall, which had some stupid reality show on. “Come on in man, let me show ya around.”

Parker really, really didn’t want to step in there, but his standards were…low at this point. It wasn’t, in fact, the worst place he’d seen that day–though it was the filthiest. He stepped inside, carefully staying on the trail between the trash, and let the guy close the door behind him. “I’m Aaron” he said, “Come on, I’ll show you your room.”

Parker let the guy lead him, winding through the filth to a hallway, passing the kitchen as they went. He heard something in there, and he took a peek around the corner–there, in the middle of the floor was some, disgusting fat man on his hands and knees, wearing only a pair of well soiled briefs, his face shoved in a pizza box, eating some who knew how old pie in there, and he nearly vomited. “What…who the fuck is that?” He said, unable to look away.

“Aw hell, that’s just my pig,” Aaron said.

“He…he lives here?”

“Well yeah, he’s my pig. Where else would he live? Not with me?”

“That, I…No, fuck this, I’m leaving, this is disgusting,” Parker said, turned around and started back towards the front door.

“Stop right there, Mister,” Aaron said, and without even really understanding why, Parker froze in place. “Turn around–I haven’t even had a chance to show you your room yet. You do want to see your room, right?”

“What…why can’t I…” Parker said, but his feet, helpless, turned him around and he kept following Aaron deeper into the apartment, “How are you doing this?”

“You came into my apartment Parker!” Aaron said, “Or our apartment, really. You came in, and I get to play in your head. Getting all my fun strings in there, don’t worry about it–it feels good, actually, doing what I say. You like it. You like obeying me.”

They kept going, except now, every step brought him a strange tingle of pleasure, all of it going right to his cock. Halfway down the hallway, Aaron stopped in front of a door, and said, “Here we are Parker, you’re new room!” He opened the door and turned on the light, revealing inside a filthy bathroom, the floors stained with who knew what, and…and there was no toilet. It was obvious where the toilet was supposed to be, from the empty space, but it just wasn’t there. “What…what the fuck? I can’t live in a bathroom!”

“Well toilets don’t live anywhere else. And that’s what I placed the ad for–for a new toilet. The last one managed to run away, but we’re going to be extra careful with you, Parker–you won’t be going anywhere.”

“No–No, I’m not, this is fucking disgusting!” Parker said, and managed to push back against whatever control Aaron had over him, stepping back bit by bit.

“Yeah, see? That’s the problem I had before. That’s why I specified in the ad that I was looking for a toilet. And you came! That must mean you want to be a toilet, right Parker?”

“N-No!” But his memory said otherwise. The ad…how had he missed it? It had said toilet, why had he thought it was about a room? He…hadn’t thought it was for a room though, he’d specifically come because…because he wanted…wanted to be– “No!” He screamed, and pried himself backwards again, but not as far as he should have been able to go.

“I mean, I have high standards for toilets too, you know,” Aaron said, “I asked for references even, and your references…man, they’re something else? Serving as the football and rugby team’s personal toilet all through college? Those are some references, I gotta say. I know, serving as the toilet for just me and my pig won’t be as strenuous, so you’re welcome to work elsewhere–I know some clubs nearby who contract for toilets on the weekends. And I certainly don’t expect you to take the position without a sample. Wouldn’t want to spend your time eating shit you hate, right! Go on in, get on your knees, and you can taste all you want, Parker.”

Parker his eyes glazed over now, let loose a grunt, his nose flaring, lips curled in a sneer, hurried into the bathroom and got down, panting at the thought of a fresh load of shit. Hell, even if it was terrible, he’d probably take it–after all, finding a room is easy, but finding a place to live out your destiny has a toilet for filthy men? That was an opportunity he couldn’t bear the thought of passing up.

Coach Ray Gets Framed (Part 6)

Ray tried to pull away at that point. He really did, but the cruelty programmed into him, knowing his prey was without escape, couldn’t resist the opportunity presented. He forced the pig back onto hands and knees and ravaged it’s hole for the second time that evening, longer than the first, relishing it this time, enjoying himself. After all, this pig wouldn’t be going anywhere for the foreseeable future. It was his now. His, and no one else’s, to do with as he choose. He whispered things into the pig’s unhearing ear, describing what it could do to it, but Noah didn’t care. Noah was just a pig at this point, consumed by its senses, unable to muster any kind of consciousness beyond pleasure and filth. Ray came, at long last, long after the pig had cum, slumping down against the concrete in the throes of its long orgasm. Again, as soon as Ray’s cock slipped free, his old mind reverted, and he backed away as quickly as he could, furious at himself for losing control, but still shaking from the pleasure and excitement he’d felt, dominating the pig.

No, not the pig. It wasn’t a pig, it was Noah! He focused, pushing away the invasive thoughts as best he could, but they felt so natural to him, it is difficult to believe that they weren’t actually his. He was so focused on himself, he hadn’t noticed Noah returning to his own senses, and trying to stand, but the chain was only long enough to allow him to squat. He struggled with the collar, beginning to panic, yanking at the chain, but it was heavy steel, and well rooted in the floor. He fell back to his hands and knees, looking at his coach. “Please, Coach, you can’t do this to me, you can’t. I just want to go home.”

What could Ray say? He had reasons, but he knew Noah would never believe him. This…this was for the best, he tried to convince himself, but he fled back upstairs as quickly as he could, slamming the door behind him, but it wasn’t until he was in his own master bathroom that he could no longer hear Noah’s screams and sobs from below him. A shower. A shower would make him feel better. He turned on the water, and as it was heating he got down on the tile next to the tub, put his feet high on the wall, arced his cock and released a stream of piss that flew and soaked his chest and face. So refreshing he told himself, drinking in some of his shower–it wasn’t until he got back up and turned off the water that he realized what he’d done, and that Julian was there beside him, sneering, but he was gone again before Ray could try and throttle him.

What had he just done? What in the world was he doing? Did he have any control over any of this, anymore? Julian was toying with him, he knew that, but he had no idea what kind of game he was playing with them both here. Was he actually managing to oppose him, or had he simply done everything Julian had hoped he’d do. He was crying, and he didn’t quite know when he’d started, but he snorted back his dripping nose and got control of himself. He could figure this out. He’d gotten Julian fired, he was only trying this because he was desperate. If he could stay calm, maybe he could get out of this before they get any deeper.

“You should probably be the one to hang on to this, you know,” a voice said behind him. Ray spun back, and found Julian on his bed, naked, with a single key on a ring hanging from his finger. “I tend to lose things rather easily, and this is the only key to Noah’s collar. If you have a change of heart, and decide to release your sex pig sometime soon, you should have it.”

“He’s not my pig.”

“You seem to call him that quite often, so I don’t know that I believe you.”

“You fucker, you’re doing this, you’re forcing us to do this shit.”

“Oh coach, I’m not forcing you to make these choices–you’re just behaving in a perfectly rational, self-interested manner. Still, the key–I’ll just leave it here,” Julian said, setting it on the bedside table. “Now, coach, are you thirsty? Need a drink?”

Ray nodded, and without much thought, he walked over to where Julian was, wrapped his mouth around his fellow teacher’s cock, and waited. After a moment, he started pissing, and Ray gulped it all down. When the flow ebbed, he started sucking, and after a few minutes was rewarded with a load of cum as well. He stood back up, wiping his beard, amazed at how much better he felt. “Thanks, I guess I was thirsty.”

“Well, you had a busy evening. Now, why don’t you go play some Solitaire before bed? I know that always helps you relax. You won’t worry about Noah until the morning.”

Ray nodded, and then turned and left the bedroom, not noticing that Julian had disappeared from his bed. He could hear Noah in the basement still, his voice hoarse, but he didn’t need to worry about that until the morning–he’d figure out what to do about Julian’s tricks then. First, Solitaire. He went into his office and sat down at his computer. In his mind, he opened up his favorite game, which always helped him calm down when he was stressed, and played a few rounds. In reality, he started a slideshow of porn, sat back, and started jacking off over and over, making sure to catch as much cum as he could on his filthy shirt and in his soaked jockstrap, the screen flickering on occasion, and if you looked close, a second face was reflected behind the Coach in the screen, even though no one else was in the office with him. It was a few hours before Ray finally started to feel tired, and then he went to bed, certain, somehow, that come morning, he’d know just what to do to foil Julian’s plan and get his freedom back.