Category: Uncategorized

Joining The Family (Part 2)

All my life, thinking of Mikey’s father and how I’d failed him when he was growing up, I’d always blamed my drinking, my absence. “If I’d been there, if I’d been sober,” I’d tell myself, “None of that would have happened. I would have been able to catch him before everything went wrong.” Well now here I was again, watching another young man in my charge slowly slip away from me, except this time I couldn’t blame my drinking. I wasn’t even sure I could blame myself, though there was plenty of that involved, I can tell you. I kept trying to figure out how to get Mikey to open back up to me, to help him find his way back to that sweet kid I’d been raising, but suddenly it was like I was living with someone else entirely.

There was the smoking. I couldn’t prove it, I would turn his room over while he was at school  searching for cigarettes or ash, but I never found anything. Still, it was the drinking that made me even more furious. I’d worked so hard, freeing myself from liquor. I’d told him everything, I’d told him how the devil was in alcohol, how it had ruined my life, his father’s life, and then there he was, coming home with booze on his breath, eyes unfocused, that new sneering grin of his on his face, pushing past me and locking himself in his room until the morning, when he’d leave again, picked up by those two foul twins. “They were to blame,” I told myself now, it was their influence which was ruining him somehow, but I knew it was a lie. Things just fell to shit sometimes–I’d known that for as long as I lived. There was only so much I could do. So…I was there for him as best I could be that spring, but things only got worse.

He started packing on weight, going from thin to pudgy in a matter of months. He wasn’t taking care of himself, refused to brush his teeth or shower. He’d wear the same disgusting clothes for days at a time, usually just a pair of overalls with nothing else, not even overalls. Dale and Rick liked the look, he told me, wanting me to be furious. He refused to go to church, he burned my bible at one point after one of our common fights, when I’d slapped him for disrespecting me. It wasn’t too long after that I decided I’d been passive for long enough, that I had to do something, or Mikey would ruin his life before it even began.

I started following the twins around in my own truck, both with and without Mikey. I’d been getting calls from the school, telling me that Mikey’s attendance had slipped severely, and I found out that the twins almost never went to school. They’d pick Mikey up, and then drive a few miles down the road to the trailer park where they lived–one even more rundown than mine, and they’d spend all day there. They lived there with their father, a man who reminded me in all the worst ways of myself when I was younger. He’d leave once a day–long hair, scruffy beard, huge gut–and take the truck to a gas station down the road, stock up on way more beer and cigarettes than he needed himself, and then go back home. Obviously he was supplying his sons and Mikey–I confronted him at the station one day, but he just sneered at me with a smile missing more than a few teeth. “Gotta give my sons what they want, ya know? Best be stayin’ away if ya know what’s good fer ya,” he said. Well when Mikey stopped coming home at all, that’s when I’d had enough. He stayed out two nights, and then I got in my truck and drove off, planning on dragging him back home if I had to.

They were obviously home. I pounded on the door for close to ten minutes, and I could hear them inside, laughing at me. The door wasn’t exactly strong, and I might be sixty but I still had some strength left. I forced the door open and stormed into the trailer. The place was a complete sty–ashtrays and booze bottles everywhere, the stench of the place made me gag. There in an armchair was their father, staring at the TV screen, wearing nothing but a pair of whities stained yellow with who knew what. He had his cock out and was jacking off, tongue out, but a thick cigar stuffed in one corner spouting smoke, drooling at the screen. I came around but the screen wasn’t showing anything but static. I tried to get his attention, but he didn’t even seem to notice I was there at all, aside from a low, guttural chuckle. I could hear something in one of the bedrooms–I forced my way in again, and found the twin’s bedroom lit only by candles, and Mikey was between them, and they were all naked. I didn’t want to know what was happening there, in the dark. The light from the candles was burning bright, but it couldn’t quite manage to extend light to the entirety of the small room, leaving what was happening there to the imagination. It was almost like there were too many bodies on the bed, too many arms and legs. I suppressed a gag, and fumbled for the light, flipped it on and soaked the scene in fluorescent clarity.

There they were–Dale buried in my grandson’s ass, Rick in his mouth. I was nearly sick again. I’d never had tolerance for faggots, it was never something I’d ever been able to understand. I’d had my suspicions with Mikey, given his disinterest in girls, and I’d…been trying to think about what I might say to him, if it came to that. Trying to figure out if I could still love him or not. But this filth–it was too much. My head was reeling. The smoke was so thick in the trailer, it was hard to breathe, my head spinning. I didn’t feel good, and I tried to get out, but without me hearing him, Dale and Rick’s father got up and blocked my way, and whispered in my ear, “Told ya tah stay away. Who knows what might happen to ya now…” He laughed–the sound was filled with his own terror and desperation, and that hopeless sound filled me with more terror than anything he could have said to me, right then.

Joining The Family (Part 1)

Considering everything the boy had been through, I suppose it was pretty impressive he was as happy-go-lucky as he was. His father sent off to prison when he was seven–dumb as boy a mine, I’ll take credit for that one. Never…quite knew how to be a good father, you know? The fuckin’ babe just pops out, and it’s not like you have a damn instruction manual. Yeah, his dad was a lout–drunk, unemployed. Got busted cooking meth with a buddy, ended up shooting a dang cop! He’s gonna rot away in there, and serves him right. Still, Mikey’s mom didn’t hang around for much longer–she needed her fix, after all. She ditched him on the steps of my trailer, just some kid I barely knew–it’s not like my son brought him around to see Gramps very often. Then she hopped on the back of a motorcycle, driven by some fat fuck with fewer teeth than her, somehow, and she hasn’t come back. I doubt she ever will. Wouldn’t matter anyway–court’s given me full custody, and I resolved to do better with this generation than the last.

Still, I owe a lot of it to Mikey–he’s a real good kid, you know? Not like his father ever was, at least, or maybe I just have a bit more patience now. Helps that I stopped drinking, and the church helps us out too, of course. Gives us a some structure. And now, here he is–seventeen and almost a man, not that you’d really know it, looking at him, or maybe I just see him that way since I raised him. He still looks fourteen to me, his bright eyes, chubby face. Barely has any stubble anywhere on his body, and he’d rather be down in the forest catching crawdads than chasing girls–which is a better occupation in my book. He doesn’t have the grades for college or anything, but he’s already got a job helping out in the kitchen at the roadside diner down the road from our trailer park–he’s got a real talent for cooking, not that you’d know it, looking at the beanpole. He’s put a few pounds on me though, with his food at the diner! Things were going great–until things suddenly weren’t going so great.

It was spring, I remember that–just finishing up his junior year. Now, Mikey had never been very good at making friends. He just…had a hard time trusting people, and opening up, I think. He was always a quiet kid, and I don’t think he’d ever invited anyone over to his house, and had rarely gone anywhere else to play. It was usually just him and the forest until he came home at dusk for dinner. Then, one day, he wasn’t on the school bus when it rolled by. I assumed he’d just missed it, which happened on occasion if he got hung up by a teacher. I was getting ready to drive to school and pick him up, wondering why he hadn’t called me to tell me. I went outside, in time to find some mud crusted pickup, spewing fumes, roll into the trailer park, stop, and a moment later, out came Mikey, laughing and smiling at the other boys in the truck, gave them a wave, and then walked over to me and came inside.

I asked him who they were, and he just said they were some kids from his class who’d offered to give him a ride. He smelled of smoke and…something else I couldn’t place. Something a bit musky? His quietness had changed as well–before he’d been happy to talk about anything once he got talking–but suddenly he was clamming up, dodging questions. He excused himself and went to his room–odd since he usually preferred the woods after school, and he didn’t come out until dinner, and when he came out this time–he still reeked of smoke and that musky smell again…and I realized what it was. He’d been masturbating.

Now, like I said, he hadn’t shown really…any interest in girls, or sex at all for that matter, as long as he’d been in my trailer. So this was odd, to say the least. Now, I’m religious, but I don’t think there’s anything wrong with a guy busting a nut now and then. Hell, I jack off plenty myself, and I don’t want to be a hypocrite, so I just let it slide. I figured he’d get over it, or if it became an issue, we could talk about it.

Well, it wasn’t the masturbating that became the issue, it was the smoking. From that day on, he stopped taking the bus–instead, he caught rides with those new friends of his. It took me days to pry their names out of him–Apparently the ringleaders (that is, the two who drove the truck the rest of them rode around in) were Dale and Rick Pearson–twin brothers in the same grade as Mikey. Everytime, he smelled like smoke, and he insisted he wasn’t having any of it, and I believed him–until I found the lighter and the pack of reds in his room! I threw them out, and we had a long talk–well, a long argument at least. He was pissed I’d gone through his room, and I can understand that, but I didn’t want him smoking. He didn’t see anything wrong with it–after all, Dale and Rick smoked all the time! It didn’t end well–I sent him to his room, which was where he wanted to be anyway, and…he stayed mad at me for a while. I knew he was still smoking, but I couldn’t prove it, and I blamed those two twins, for coming between us. I hoped that this was going to be the worst of it, but it turns out things were only going to go downhill from there.

After Hours

rbbrpigmen:

It was like any other Friday night. Jack
had been counting down the hours since lunchtime at work, and was ready to get
dressed up and hit the club. He’d only moved to London a month or so ago, but was determined
to find out about what the capital had to offer. After a smoke, Jack begun his
ritual of kitting up in his favourite gear. He decided he’d live dangerously
tonight, and would wear his rubber chaps, t-shirt and cut-off along with a jock
with a red stripe. He knew he was a tease, and got hard when he saw how horny
he looked in the mirror, after he laced up his 20 hole rangers. When he was
ready, he begun the journey to the club.

Once there, Jack headed to the bar and
exchanged small talk with the barman, as he bought his first beer of the
evening. The club wasn’t full yet, so Jack decided to stroll around to see what
– or who – was happening. Not wanting to get into anything just yet, Jack found
a spot by a pillar, sparked up one of his pre-rolled spliffs and started to
‘people watch’ and keep an eye on who was coming in. He was looking out for his
mate Matt, who’d said he’d meet Jack at the club as he’d never had the courage
to attend by himself, and around ten minutes later, Matt arrived in his full
suit, which he’d had adapted with an all round zip. Like Jack, Matt was
reasonably inexperienced, but got off on the feel of the gear and the
possibilities it held when he wore it. He wanted to be with other guys who felt
this way, but was nervous sexually and had built up the courage to come here to
meet Jack in gear for the first time.

Around half an hour later, Jack was feeling
nice and high and so decided to check out if there was anything happening. He
enjoyed rubber, and liked to get together with the occasional mate he’d make
through the contact sites, but hadn’t really gone much further than a bit of
light bondage and mutual wanking. It’s not that Jack was out of his depth –
he’d keep his head clear(ish) enough to be aware if anything got out of his
control. He’d heard that some guys became complete sluts in environments like
these, and while he liked that atmosphere, he certainly had no plans to become
like that himself.

As the night wore on, Jack started to
notice a few guys, and he was also attracting the occasional glance himself. He
got the eye of a 6ft plus rubber man, with obscenely bulging muscles wearing a
half mask and an heavyweight rubber apron. Jack noticed the guys’ industrial
rubber gloves were already slimy and that his boots had seen a fair bit of piss
too. Jack recognised the guy from a website he’d found through a link of a link
of a link, and knew he’d be way too hardcore for a guy of Jack’s relative
inexperience. He noticed that the guy also had a slave trailing behind him on
the end of a lead. Again, Jack thought he vaguely recognised the slave as a
chap who’d messaged him before, and he was surprised that his message buddy had
a master, and was a tad concerned when he remembered that his buddy had
virtually no experience, and had only just started to develop his taste for
rubber. However, he knew that pervs were everywhere in this town, and just put
it down to being a bit stoned and bad lighting. This master had some effect on
the other guys in the club, all of whom had stopped what they were doing and
went up to him with their heads bowed, like he was the Pope or something.

This was all a bit strange, but being a
relative newcomer, Jack assumed it was some kind of bonding thing where this
bloke was some kind of local hero or visiting dignitary. Jack looked to Matt,
and the pair of them felt a slight tension in their crotch areas, before
smiling at each other with a ‘yeah, right!’ look in their eyes. As the
ritualistic bowing ended, the man in the apron looked around and smiled, with
an evil looking glint. There were only a handful of guys who hadn’t joined in,
yet they all were staring at the scene in semi-disbelief. What on Earth was
going on, and who was this man?

As the night wore on, Jack and Matt decided
to go on their own individual wanders around the dark area. Jack had found
himself a couple of guys indulging in some piss action, and together they
decided to take it to the toilets where they could get messier. After indulging
in his first piss session, Jack had felt a bit wobbly – he’d never tasted piss
before, and didn’t expect it to make him feel this strange. Sitting himself
down on the toilet seat after the guys had left, Jack started to feel a bit
sick and dizzy, and within minutes, was slumped alseep in the cubicle.

After what felt like hours, Jack awoke and
got himself together to get Matt and see if he was ready to get a cab home. He
immediately sensed that the club was a whole lot quiteter than it had been when
he arrived. The lights were out and the cloakroom locked when he ventured out
of the toilets, and there were no sign of the owner or indeed anyone else. What
the fuck had happened? Had he been asleep that long? And how come no one – even
Matt – woke him up when they were closing the club?

Jack decided to see if the bar staff were
still around, and so went back into the main part of the club. The music had
stopped, although Jack could sense there was something going on towards the
back of the club. He walked around a bit, and headed to where a thick rubber
curtain had been pulled across the room. He could make out some moaning noises,
and went to pull the curtain back. To his shock, there was Matt strapped firmly
into the club sling, looking like he’d been drugged beyond his limits, covered
in piss and cum and seemingly mouthing a mantra of what sounded like a number,
as a line of rubbermen queued to methodically fuck him harder and faster.
“Like what you see boy?”, came a voice in the darkness. Jack stood
there wide mouthed as the big guy in the apron came towards him. “What the
fuck are you doing to him?” shouted Jack, Apron smiled “Your friend
here has decided to join my whores, he was perhaps a little hesitant at first,
but I think you’ll have to agree, he’s taking to it like a seasoned
professional!”, “Who are you, and what’s going on? There’s no way
he’d be into this sort of thing at all”, raged Jack, as rubbermen started
to surround him and grab him by the arms. “Oh, Jack my dear boy, your
friend here is going to be a prize rubber whore for me and my slaves. As you can
see, I have a few of them now, and there’s always room for more”. He
grinned evilly as he went over to stroke Matt’s head, and turned it towards
Jack’s direction. “Speak, slave, tell our friend here what you are”,
demanded Apron. “I am Rubberslave Whore 251, my aim in life is to please
men sexually, to please my master” slurred Matt. “You see? He’d
fitting in nicely”, joked Apron, “You fucker, you can’t do this! His
name’s Matt and he has a life and a career! He’s not a slave!” protested
Jack. The Master then asked Matt some questions…

“What is your name?”

“My name is Rubberslave Whore
251”

“What is your job?”

“My job is to please men sexually and
to please my master. My master allows men to use me as they see fit”

“What is your speciality?”

“I have been conditioned to be a
cumdump for rubbermen, my holes are my income now. My income is my Master’s. He
owns Rubberslave Whore 251.”

Just as Jack struggled in horror and
disbelief at what Matt had become/ was becoming, the Master approached Jack
with a gasmask. Before he could hold his breath to stop, Jack found himself
passing out into the arms of the Master’s other Rubber Whores.

Jack awoke, as if from the longest lie-in
imaginable, and allowed his eyes to adjust to the half light streaming in. Where
was he? Was he still in the club? If so, how long had he been there? All these
questions ran through his bleary mind as he tried to get up from where he was
lying, but to no avail. He was strapped down to some kind of table and could
barely move. He could sense that he was also naked and that his entire body was
hairless, which came as something of a shock as the last thing he remembered
wearing was his favourite rubber gear – what had happened to that? Jack’s mind
went in and out of focus as the events that lead him here replayed in his mind
albeit somewhat hazily. He recalled being in the club with Matt… ah yes,
Matt, that was his name… and the piss session that left him in a bit of a
daze… and something about rubberwhores. That was it, Rubberwhore Slaves…

Just as Jack begun to put a mental picture
together of how he arrived at this place, the guy in the apron walked into the
room. Jack was startled and started to struggle as the events in his mind
cleared. Grinning broadly, Apron approached Jack and rested his hand on Jack’s
forehead. “Good afternoon Jack, I trust you slept well?”

Anger begun to build inside Jack, and he
tensed up with rage, “Where am I? What the fuck are you doing? Where’s
Matt?”, “Oh my sweet Jack, so many questions for one with such
potential… Firstly, you are in my facility, based some miles beneath the
centre of London,
as for what I’m doing, well that’s for me to know and you to discover along the
way. You may not be too keen on my ideas right now, but trust me you soon will
be. As for Matt, I know of no Matt, would that be 251 you’re referring
to?” Apron flashed a smile that suggested that Jack knew all too well what
happened to his mate, and just needed a little reminder. Apron called out
“251, report to your Master at once”.

A few moments later, a door opened and in
came a collared man in a full rubber suit that looked like Matt, except this
Matt had a sleazy and subservient look to him. Nothing like the ex-hetero
social worker who’d developed a yearning for men and rubber, this was something
beyond Matt – a real drooling, hungry pig slut. Jack looked at 251/ Matt in
disbelief and with a level of sadness and concern as he begun to accept that
his friend would never be the same again.

It was at this point when Apron cut in,
“Yes, this is – or should I now say was – the Matt you were concerned
about. Is it all coming back to you now? He’s had a bit of a re-think about his
life, and decided to join us here”. Jack fought back his tears – how on
Earth could he let himself get into such a situation? And most of all, how was
he going to get out of here? “What did you do to him, you bastard?”
“Questions, questions, young man! I had a few friends entertain Matt when
you were busy with in the gents with your piss session, and after a few snorts
of poppers – and I must confess, these aren’t your normal shop-bought snorts,
think of them more as a chemical lobotomy – he begun to lose his mind – or, to
be fair, he wiped out most of it himself. The thing is with the new lads, is that
they soon find themselves out of their depth in certain situations, and are
easy to manipulate. Obviously, if he’d known what was going to happen to him
that night, he’d have stayed at home, watched the telly and continued his
repressed existence.” Jack started to freak out – as much as anyone could
freak out when strapped down to a table – as Apron carried on “I sensed
251 would be an easy acquisition, and so I thought I’d keep him here for myself
as a personal slave to train and abuse to extreme levels, and he can be of
service to any visitors that drop in. Obviously, he has no use for his flat
anymore – that’s on the market now – and a couple of abrupt, rude calls to his
office helped terminate his career. All he’s left with now is his Master, and a
hunger for men unlike anything I’ve ever seen before”

Jack was disturbed at how his evening had
descended into complete weirdness, and regretted that his mate Matt had been
irreversibly transformed by the whole ordeal, but what was in store for him?
Was he to become a whore like his friend? Just as these thoughts scanned
through his mind, Apron approached him with a syringe, “As you can
imagine, dear Jack, now you’ve witnessed all this, you have no choice but to
join us”, “In your dreams you sick cunt, never!” Jack shouted.
“Tut tut, that’s no way to speak to a gentleman, perhaps I should fill you
in. I have my whores everywhere, and they’ve helped me to define your new
purpose and role in life.  I bet that
you’d look good as a cock whore. Most of the guys you’ve chatted with or perved
over their pics belong to me. I know your limits and I know your desires.
Really, Jack, you should be thanking me for allowing your darkest and sickest
dreams and wishes to come true, and I feel you’re perfect for so much more”,
“I’d rather die first! I’m gonna get free and get out of here!”
replied Jack. “How do you intend on doing that, dear boy?”, queried
Apron, “You’re in a secure centre, miles beneath the ground, and if you
did reach the surface, well… let’s just say I have a few contacts in the
police force, the emergency services, the armed forces, as well as London
transport, cctv, your favourite sex shop and even your local newsagent. So, the
best thing you can do is just lie back and accept this jab as the doorway to your
new life”.

Jack struggled to the best of his ability,
but there was no way out. The syringe began to pierce his skin, and Jack
started to feel very strange, as if a train was speeding through his veins,
purifying him, raping his mind, giving him the biggest rush of his life. Within
seconds, images of Jack’s existence started to flash before his mind’s eye.
Family and friends, loves and hates, his first pet, people he fancied,
significant moments in history, his favourite bands, art, TV and film stars –
All sorts of random items and imagery that somehow put together made Jack the
man he is.

And then, nothing…

Jack laid there, almost wiped out of his
previous existence. What was there was definitely his body, even if his mind
wasn’t. When it looked like he was in a suitable condition, the Master checked
him over and liked what he saw. It was then when the doors opened and three of
his whores walked in. Master had been monitoring Jack’s online activity via his
network of slaves. What Jack was unaware of when he’d be messaging someone
about their pics or a possible meet, was that they in turn would report back to
Master, to help him build up a profile of who and what Jack was, what his
desires were and ultimately to bring him into his fold. The whores were guys
who’d also been inducted over the years, and were as hungry for sleaze and
whoring themselves as their master had made them. Master had taken these guys’
fantasies and made them real, and pushed them further. Now they worked for him
on a variety of levels – some would be ‘spotters’ who’d seek out new blood,
others acted as a gateway, these were originally masters, but had now
surrendered themselves along with their slaves and occasional fuckbuddies to
the Master.

One of them – Karlheinz – was a German
master who’d been living just outside the capital for the last few years, and
had an array of sluts at his disposal. His profile would show dozens of
pictures of fisting. His speciality was long, sleazy sessions in which he’d
take an everyday man with ‘a bit of a fetish’ and make him into a cum hungry
filth pig. He had had a couple of long term pig slaves – a couple of ex-office
workers who’d been pierced and inked all over at his request, and were working
as a pair of tricks for him, reduced to being cumdumps for any visiting
friends. Karlheinz took a shine to Jack some time ago, and had wanted to play
with him. Jack liked Karlheinz, but was too scared by how hardcore some of his
scenes were, and so they had yet to actually meet. Now Karlheinz had Jack at
his disposal, and Karlheinz was to work his magic for their Master. He walked
up to Jack and started to probe around his hole, “Mmm, now that’s just a little
bit too tight, but nothing I can’t work with “ he grinned to himself. He
started to rub his hardening cock through his red rubber jock, as he spat at
Jack’s hole to lube it up ready. Slowly he entered Jack finger by finger, with
Jack putting up no resistance whatsoever.

Looking on was another one of Master’s
whores. Jason was originally a sweet – but not necessarily naive country boy
who’d occasionally travel up to London
each weekend and go clubbing. He was more into the feel of the gear, and
enjoyed bondage a fair deal too. He was fit – and he knew it – with his suit
specially made to show off his majestic arse and the increasingly large tribal
tattoo that went across the shoulders and down each arm. Since messaging with
Jack, Jason had been inducted by Master. Master knew the two pervs were
reasonably good friends, and had decided that Jack would work well with a
partner, who’d be equally as sick as perverted as he was becoming. Always a
quiet type, Jason said even less these days, preferring grunts and snorts to
his now increasingly difficult to handle English. He stared on at Karlheinz’s
probing, that had now become a full fist, and grunted in approval.

The final of the three was something of a
wild card. Buck, who’d came to visit London
several months ago, but hadn’t checked back into his hotel since meeting Master
during his first visit to the club that was Master’s domain and hunting ground.
Heavily tached with an almost constant cigar on the go, Buck enjoyed titplay to
the extent that his own were the size of a bull’s. Jack had chatted with Buck
about him breeding him up the next time he visited London, knowing that it was never likely to
happen. Now Buck was looking down at the spreadeagled Jack, and had a shit
eating grin that suggested he liked what he saw, and had planned to give Jack
exactly what he wanted, and get Jack into cigars in a very big way too. Whether
he liked it or not.

Time had long become a distant concept for
Jack. As he stirred from his amyl mindwipe, only the basics remained in his
head. He vaguely recollected his name and a few small details, but not enough
of his life that he had been part of before this time. The Master saw that Jack
becoming aware and slightly restless, and stuck on gaskmask and hood over
Jack’s head, which had a strange looking switch device on the side. As Jack
acclimatised to the hood, a strange type of hissing noise was evident in his
ears. Unable to do anything about it, he let the noise continue, and was soon
in thrall to its unique discordance.

The Master was very happy with Jack’s
progress. As much as he enjoyed his chemical abductions such as whore 251, when
he’d pop out and alter someone’s life in the matter of an hour, he preferred
these lengthier scenes more. He liked the gradual becoming of his whores, the
transformation process of men into total pigs, going past the point of no return
into a life of filth. As The Master watched Jack along with his whores
Karlheinz, Jason and Buck, who were all starting to drool at the sight of their
prey enraptured in new and previously unknown pleasures, he made the near
silent instruction for them to do their things. Karlheinz, who had by this
point had gotten his whole fist inside Jack, smirked away, and set about going
further in, and had started to grease up his other fist, while Buck was having
some cigar fun with Jason’s tits just over where Jack’s head laid, letting Jack
get his full share of the smoke. They would all get their turn, the Master was
certain of that, as he wanted Jack to be trained into becoming one of his top
earners.

As the scene developed, Jack was accepting
Karlheinz’s fist without too much trouble at all. If Jack was conscious, or
indeed the Jack that first walked into the club that night, he’d more than
likely be horrified at what was going on. However this was showing signs of
change. Jack’s mask was hooked up to a cansiter of gas, which he would inhale
naturally, unaware of what it was doing to broaden his horizons way past
anything he’d ever imagined.

Jason started to buck under Buck’s cigar
tit torture, and was grunting – it was hard to decipher whether in pain or
pleasure, but the monstrous bulge in his jock suggested he was enjoying
himself. Buck then decided to begin Jack’s tit torture, not that Jack had much
to work with, so he pulled out a pair of suction cups that would start Jack
off. Making a pair of doorhandles may take some time, but Buck had hoped he’d
be able to get them to a nice standard. Jason, now wanking himself through his
rubber jock, started playing with Jack’s cock, and semi-grunted something about
a piercing. Jack had a fair way to becoming like Jason, but these perverts had
plenty of time on their hands…

The scene of Jack being fisted by
Karlheinz, and having his nipples tortured by Buck while Jason drooled
uncontrollably at their actions looked like something out of Jack’s deepest
darkest fantasies. Even if he’d ever imagined that something like this was
going to happen, it was more to the imagination of artists and the very finest,
intelligent and filthy writers who’d keep him entertained on his favourite
website, he knew he’d have to come a long long way before he could become like
that, but part of him had wished and urged to be taken away from his everyday.
Woefully under-appreciated in his job, each hour spent in his shithole of an
office felt like a day, and his boss was just taking the piss. Jack had wanted
to leave, and thought he’d happily abscond and disappear into a life of porn
and was amazed how many offers he’d had when he’d logged on to an Escort/Client
chatroom for a laugh. It had made him think that it’d be easy to go and meet
some desperate soul, wank them off then make a couple of hundred quid for it.
The closest he got to thinking about this career change was when he’d received
a ‘friendly’ letter from the bank disclosing that he was hugely overdrawn. Now,
as he’d eventually find out, that career move had been already been decided for
him, and there’d be no backing out now.

The Master had been called to the
observation room where Chief Inspector Edwards was waiting. Showing no concern
that the police had finally located his underground world, the Master entered
to find the Inspector by the desk, on his knees with his head bowed in respect.
Edwards had been ‘recruited’ by the Master a number of years ago, Edwards, a
well-respected father of three had long been on Master’s trail for a number of
years, until he’d managed to co-ordinate a raid on the club where the Master
would frequent, but had no idea that he actually managed to set himself up. The
Master had taken great pleasure in making Edwards into a useful addition –
someone who’d be able to massage the facts, or file false death or missing
reports on some of the guys who were never to return – and he’d been made into
a cumslut for Master to fuck and feed, and was always grateful when the Master
seeded his hole. In thanks, Edwards would occasionally sacrifice younger
officers to the Master, so he could increase his rubberwhore empire. Some
remained in the force as spotters, a few, such as those involved in the raid
had been chemically lobotomised and were some of the Master’s favourite
playthings. His technique would be to capture one or two of the officers, and
then parade them naked in front of their ex-fellow officers-now whores, then
would dose them up, and literally throw them to the pigs. After being taken to
new extremes by one or two of the flying squad, the new boys would then
graduate onto whoredom and a new life. As a special treat, he’d make them all –
and there were at least two dozen copper pigs in his collection now – seed and
bathe an always grateful Edwards with their cum.

Edwards had both
Jack and Matt’s details up
on the Master’s laptop. Jack, it transpired, would have subtle little
changes
implemented into his old everyday life. Nothing too much. He would carry
on
working in his old job for the next few months, and would gradually
build up
his whore reputation in the evenings. Soon, he was to lose his life due
to
faulty wiring in the office. His boss would be held accountable for his
death,
completely unaware that he wasn’t actually dead at all, but being reborn
in a
new life bestowed unto him by his Master. Matt, however, or at least his
‘remains’, would be found on one of the few remaining bits of wasteland
in East London the next day. His body too disfigured to be
recognised, his ‘death’ would be a cut and dried affair. His mother had
moved
away a long time ago, and was never one for keeping in touch, and other
than
Jack, Matt had few friends who’d be concerned enough at his passing.
Edwards
then flicked through some jpegs of his officers for Master to select his
next
sacrifice, he pointed at a handsome muscular 6ft+ chap named Simon, and
to make
it less suspicious, he selected another one – the bearded, thick set
Dave – so
that the pair of them would be called out to a ‘disturbance’ at the club
that
next weekend. With that decision made, Edwards offered his arse to
Master, and
was rewarded with his seed, before being plugged again, putting his
uniform
back on and leaving.

Meanwhile, back on the other side of the
glass, Jack’s arse was now accomodating both of Karlheinz’s fists, as Buck was
applying a suction-based cock-enlarger onto Jack’s parts. Jack was going to be
one hot fucking whore ready for anything once he was over this stage, and Jason
was getting a bit over excited at this, and hungry for cock, was busily
unzipping Buck’s rubber skinhead jeans to get his mouth round his vacced-up
meat. The Master smiled broadly at this action, as he knew Jason was going to
be important to Jack’s new future as both his lover and co-worker. The pair of
them would soon be each other’s pig.

As Buck forced his thick cock further down
the ever accommodating Jason’s throat, Karlheinz began to withdraw his hands
from Jack’s hole, and moved over to start snogging Buck, this lead to Jason
also playfully munching at Karlheinz’s jock. The Master noticed that Jack had
been left to his own devices as the suction on his tits and cock worked into
overtime. The Master looked down at Jack’s form and thought about a new –
chiefly rubber – wardrobe for his escort, one that would show off his finest
assets and get the big orders in. He also wanted Jack to help recruit more men,
and by having primped and prepared to such a high standard, Jack would cause a
minor riot in the clubs, and would be envied by all as he and Jason whored
themselves to the hardcore. He reached down to an intercom and contacted Doug,
who shortly entered the lab wearing low cut chaps, and a rubber waistcoat, with
an array of piercing equipment. Jack’s nipples and cock would need to be
accentuated with heavy rings to show how hard he now was. He’d also need a
couple of tattoos too, but that would be something that he’d be programmed to
accept was very necessary, and so left that to happen in due course as his new
lover Jason would be very insistent in encouraging Jack to get inked.

As Jack laid there, still out of it, Doug
was doing his work. Doug had previously worked in a bank, and had been brought
to the Master’s attention by one of his skinhead whores. Doug was an old school
traditional weekend skinhead who’d look suited and booted in his finest Perry,
bleachers and boots ensemble down the bars of south east London, after being
fairly respectable all week working in the city. The only thing that had
originally prevented him from becoming pierced was an apparent fear of needles,
although this changed overnight when he was set upon by some of the Master’s
harder, more violent skins and given an almost mind-altering orgy of kicking.
Now there was very few places on the young Doug’s body that hadn’t been pierced
or inked – from the huge nose ring that clanked against his chin, to the large
‘cumpig’ tattoo across his back – it was best that he changed career, as
looking as he did now, it was no longer an option to continue in banking.

Doug continued his work on Jack, when Jason
got up from guzzling Buck’s cum, and stood between Jack’s spreadeagled legs,
grunting away with remnants of Buck’s juice dribbling from the side of his
mouth, feverishly rubbing his crotch, and took advantage of Jack’s now exposed
cock, after the suction pump had made it reasonably colossal, and chowed
hungrily down on Jack’s newly pierced meat. Karlheinz took advantage of Jason
bent over Jack’s cock and begun to lube up his fingers for an exploration of
Jason’s hole. Not wanting be left out, Buck lined himself up at Karlheinz’s
crotch, and set free his monster slick and greasy dick into his hungry mouth to
begin a suck unlike anything the German had experienced before.

The perverts continued in their sleaze for
some time, working each other up into a frenzy. Suddenly, an alarm went off in
the lab, and lights flashed inside the observation booth. It would appear that
Jack was starting to wake up…

Jack’s head was whirring about, trying to
digest its new information, role and responsibilities. Jason, who’d been
munching down on Jack’s vacced up meat, looked up to see Jack stir. The Master
entered the lab to attend to Jack’s sudden reawakening. He wasn’t sure if Jack
would fully take to everything his brain manipulation had thrown at him, and he
was also concerned that he hadn’t destroyed the bits that’d made Jack, well,
Jack. These were to prove invaluable as Jack to all intents and purposes, was
still to be Jack, but also as one of The Master’s stable. One of the prime cuts
in an already large and foreboding army of man meat, designed to pleasure and
be pleasured in what could only be described as totally hardcore.

Buck and Karlheinz looked on with fierce
hard-ons, they were dying to get their hands on Jack more and more. Knowing
that the pre-requisite pleasantries were out of the way, they urged to get
their hands on and in him. Master had long decided to make Jack into a cumdump,
and motioned to Buck to start it off. Jack obviously had been fucked before,
but had never actually taken any loads. Buck recalled his early messages to
Jack, when Jack offered his hole to be bred and fed like a cheap cumdump whore.
Buck’ bloated tube was going to take advantage of Jack’s current situation and
give him what he originally had jokingly wanted. Jack’s hole was going to be
bred up and advertised as available to any man who wanted it, and by the time
these pervs were done with him, that’s just how Jack would like it – as if it
had always been the way.

The Master removed Jack’s gasmask – Jack’s
head tossed about in a form of weariness and surprise at the blinding light
streaming in after days of darkness, and rather than swear at what was
happening to him, and curse the men who had surrounded him, Jack’s face looked
a little less restrained, and a touch more animal. His lower lip seemed to
protrude more so, as a filthy grin spread across his face when he saw Jason
noshing his cock, Jack bucked and tried to let Jason have as much of what he
could fit into his mouth, Jack then let out a roar – somewhat inhuman – that suggested
he liked what was happening. The Master then stroked his new acquisition’s
head, as he smiled to himself at yet another success. “Oh, my dear Jack.
How you fought against joining us, and now here you are, ready, able and
willing to obey my every word and work for me and open yourself up to a world
beyond your wildest dreams”. Moaning contentedly as the Master tugged at
his tits, he bent down to snog Jack passionately. Jack responded with a keen
affection, as his master worked his tongue around Jack’s eager mouth.

The Master then stood up and smiled at Jack
“tell me boy, what’s your identity?” Jack slurred, and then as words
formed into coherent shapes in his chemically abused mind, he replied:
“This is Rubberslave whore 252…”

***

It had been one hell of a night/ weekend/
week by the time Jack, or 252 to give him his new, alternate designation, had
been inducted into being one of The Master’s Rubberslave Whores. As the months
passed, Jack/252 was gaining a reputation for himself as one of the sleaziest
escorts around, and along with his new partner/ evil twin Jason, would continue
to reach new heights/depths of depravity. He would still, to all intents and
purposes, have an ordinary everyday existence – well, for a few hours a day
anyway. There were still the basic essentials of having somewhere to entertain
‘clients’, and the place he was now sharing with Jason (AKA 207) had all basic
mod cons, with food delivered, broadband, a cleaner – another one of The
Master’s employees named Bruce/186, who’d been a top stockbroker but now gets
his payment in cum from the guys whose houses he now cleaned – and a playroom
so well equipped, it was better stocked than all the sex shops in the city
combined, with some of the most eye-watering gear, equipment and toys
imaginable. Jack/252 and Jason/207 never had to think about bills – they were
paying for such things in other ways. Jack/252’s life was now under The
Master’s control and, quite frankly, he’d never been happier.

There were still days when Jack/252 would
catch himself in rare moments thinking of his old life. Certain old routines
came to mind when he’d travel past his old haunts and workplace. Jack/252 would
dismiss these moments as a weird deja vu, as they would never develop further
to trouble him too much. The Master had been doing this sort of thing for too
long to let anything, or anyone, screw up. What Jack/252 knew now was normal –
the piercings, the addiction to working out and his increasing tattoos were
natural. The fact that he had one of the horniest men he’d ever wanked over on
the internet as his partner, they both had a lust that neither of them had
thought was possible. Of course, The Master still had full control, and would
occasionally summon ‘the twins’ in to help with training up new recruits and to
free the potential whores still trapped in their miserable existences.

Most of Jack/252 & Jason/207’s catches
were the customers who’d file in throughout the day. Some were well aware of
The Master’s set-up – in fact, most were programmed to be ‘topped up’ by them,
and they in turn would help introduce the curious men who’d they’d encounter in
their everyday lives as potential customers. The Master also kept an eye on his
charges and would instruct them to loosen up any particular customers, and
perhaps lead them too into a potential life of whoring for his stable.

Soon there was nothing that could faze
Jack/252. Jason had taken him to such new extremes and levels of pleasure, that
Jack/252 could take anything. Things Jack/252 would never have thought of
before had become second nature. In fact, he didn’t bat an eyelid when he saw
his friend Matt /251 again, although now he was no longer capable of normal
language, just dealing in grunts and snorts. He’d taken to wearing brown rubber
and was living in the darkest recesses of The Master’s underground empire,
quite literally happy as a pig in shit indulging in inhuman practices that only
the most depraved and filther would consider.

It had been one hell of a night that had
lead 252 to this whole new life, but as he stood there before The Master with
207 fingering each other’s moist, sloppy holes, he knew it was all of his
dreams come true and more.

Great story by @rbbrpigmen here, definitely worth a read if it hadn’t come your way yet.

Bro Shots (Sketch)

“Fuck yeah bro, that was a fuckin’ awesome fuckin’ workout, ya know?”

“Hell yeah man, we fuckin’ killed it. Feel so damn pumped.”

CT and RJ threw their gym bags over their shoulders and left the gym, laughing and high fiving, both of them two happy brutes–neither of them had much fat on their bodies at all, and each of them looked like they might be on steroids, though both would attest that they never used the stuff. Their apartment was a few blocks away, and they headed that direction, though CT, as much as he tried to be happy about his workout, he didn’t actually feel that good for some reason. If anything, he felt a bit sick. He tried to push past it, just like RJ and his trainers were always telling him to do, just like he always told them, but this wasn’t just being sore after a workout–this was…something different.

As soon as they were through the door to their apartment, RJ had CT shoved up against the wall, their lips locked together, snarling at his best friend, his lover, groping his cock, but he could tell something was up with him. Usually CT was fucking ferocious after a workout like that, they’d fucking killed it! But now, he seemed distracted.

“What’s wrong bro?”

“N-Nothin’, I think. Just feel kinda weird all of a sudden. I think I need a moment,” CT said, and pushed himself away–when something brushed against RJ’s abs that shouldn’t be there–CT had sprouted a gut. Not a roid gut either, this was a flabby, sagging thing, and RJ flipped out.

“What the fuck is that man? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

CT just stared down at his body, grabbed the gut and gave it a shake–surprised at how…good it felt. No, not…good exactly. Just…just familiar. Familiar because…because it was his. His gut. It was growing bigger, and the rest of him too–his muscles dissolving as he expanded, past 300 pounds now. He could remember–he could finally fucking remember, what always seemed at the edge of his mind! He turned to Ryan to tell him, when the baseball bat slammed into his head and he crumpled to the floor.

*

“Did I kill him? Tell me I didn’t kill him brosir, please!”

“He’s going to be ok, RJ, try to stay calm.”

“But what’s wrong with him? My bro, my alpha fucking bro’s a fucking lardass all of a sudden, and you won’t tell me what the fuck is going on!”

Carl moaned. His head was throbbing from where Ryan and slammed the bat into his head. He looked up, his vision blurry, and found himself looking up at two trainers. They’d hauled him up off the floor and had him tied to a chair, and he could see one of them with a…with a needle. They were going to shoot that fucking shit into him again! He started struggling, yanking at the ropes. “Ryan! Ryan, you have to try and remember. This isn’t us, Ryan, we aren’t like these fuckers man! Please, you have to trust me, you have to get us out of here.”

“What the fuck’s he saying man?” RJ asked.

“Don’t pay him any mind, bro,” one of the trainer’s said, “About 1% of bro’s have a natural resistance to the serum–all we gotta do is give him a double dose, and everything’ll be just fine, trust me. You’re alpha bro will be back, and better than ever.”

“Really?” RJ asked, “You mean it?”

Carl fought, he screamed as the two men slipped the needle into a vein and injected him with their special serum. The effects were almost immediate, Carl’s mind losing focus, his fat melting away and becoming muscle again, but this…was worse than last time. His…bones were aching, and his head, it felt like he was in a vice, and it was crunching down everything in his skull until only the simplest thoughts were left behind. RJ’s jaw dropped as CJ reappeared in the chair, ropes ripping away as the huge, hairy beast tore them away with a roar and stood up, looking around dumbly, a foot long cock hanging between his legs, half erect. CJ snorted, and glowered at RJ. “That’s what I’s talking ‘bout. Get over here fucker, ‘n suck my fat bro cock!”

The Catcall Curse (Part 6)

Jack awoke in his bed, feeling every muscle ache, in parts of his body he hadn’t even known existed. His huge cock was halfway into the pig’s hole, snoring beside him in his bed, and he was immediately torn. Slip it in and keep fucking? Pull it out and see what he could about extricating himself from this mess of a spell? At least the choice was there–he had almost no memory of the night before, ever since the spell, and Clyde the pig, had seized control over him and used him to corrupt the entire bar around them. He had been a willing accomplice of course, but he still hated the idea that, at the end of the day, it was the curses that manipulated him, not the other way around.

Gently, he inched his hulking form away from the pig’s warm body, letting his semi-hard cock slip out, bit by bit. Clyde snorted a time or two, but didn’t wake–he had to be exhausted too, after everything he’d been through. He was able to roll away–slowly, trying to not let his body disturb the mattress too much, and got off the bed, not at all adjusted to the body he had at the moment. The simple size of himself alone was enough to give him waves of vertigo–he was so damn far from the ground! Wide too, his shoulders were almost as broad as two smaller men, and the mere idea that he’d never be able to go somewhere without people gawking and staring at him, it was enough to send a shiver over his skin, his cock engorging to it’s full thirteen inch length, and he turned back to look at the pick, licking his bearded lips.

He must have weighed in somewhere a bit north of five hundred pounds at this point. He’d kicked the covers off, giving Jack quite the show of his new body–he didn’t remember all of those tattoos before, they must have showed up after the spell got control of him. They were everywhere, running all the way to his fingers, and up onto the pig’s hairless face. Fuck, his fucking face–he’d never seen that much metal on a body before, just there. He couldn’t get a good view of the pig’s junk, but he knew what was down there anyway–his mind just…supplied the image. It’s cock was nearly invisible, but it’s balls were so huge they formed an impossible bulge in the front of anything the pig wore, and it had to walk bowlegged, or just crawl–which the pig obviously preferred. Fucking whore, disgusting piece of shit pig, fuck, he’d teach that bitch another lesson or two–

Jack bit his lip, hard, to stop himself from storming back onto the bed and ramming his cock deep inside the pig’s loose hole. He couldn’t afford to get anymore lost in this, he’d wasted too much time already–there were appointments to keep, curses to cast. He retreated to the bedroom, walking as soft as he could, unable to believe how loud a simple footstep of his size twenty feet had suddenly become. He faced himself in the mirror, and recoiled–he’d known he was a brute, but even…that was more severe and extreme than he’d expected. He was quite a bit older, his hair and beard mostly grey, the skin lined with wrinkles–where skin was even visible. So much of his body was simple coated in hair. He ran his two, huge, scarred hands through his pelt, proud of how much of a man he was, what a beast he was, a fucking beast! Fuck yeah, should go fuck that pig again, show that bitch what a real man’s like–

He gripped the sink, hard enough to worry his new strength might just break it, and took a few deep breaths. Enough of this–he focused on himself–his real self–pushing back past the curse, stripping away the layers the spell had painted on him, a bit at a time. After twenty minutes, he took another look at himself–still too big, still to hairy, still too old, but more manageable at least. The urges, while there, were easier to control. It would be a few more days before he could recall himself well enough to put the curse completely behind him, but this would be enough to get rid of the pig–as long as it was still here, he’d never get out entirely.

He walked back into the bedroom and shook the pig awake. “Hey, you’ve had your fun, now you gotta get lost,” he said, keeping the gruff attitude going, figuring it might help him out here.

The pig yawned and lolled in bed, before it said, “I thought you were bigger–didn’t you like being bigger?” It reached out for jack’s now more modest cock, but he pulled away before he could touch it.

“I mean it, get out. We’re done here, and I have other work to get to.”

“But daddy,” the pig whined, “You don’t have to return me for hours, you know. It’s twenty four hours for a reason…Now where’s my big stupid daddy fucker? I know he’s in there somewhere…”

Jack felt his control start to weaken, his body suddenly expanding at the pig’s words. Damn, this pig was still strong. He had a feeling it wouldn’t have a hard time finding new men to abuse it every night, and every man it touched would probably end up as yet another brute at the bar. “No…No, I’m stronger than you, you don’t have the spell helping you now.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about daddy,” the pig said, wiggling it’s ass at him, “I have a hard time thinking before my first fuck of the day–better than coffee. Now get over here you stupid fuck, and plow me rough.”

One step forward. One more fuck couldn’t really hurt, right? Another step. Fuck, his cock was so fucking big, fucking nasty, fuck. He pressed the head to the hole and slipped in. “One more, then yer goin’ back, ya fuckin’ slut,” Jack snarled, as big as he’d been when he woke up. He knew he shouldn’t give in like this, but he did need a day off–besides, it was a 24 hour rental, and Jack would hate to waste something as good as that.

I saw the ask where you said muscle guys bore you, but I love your stories about muscle growth transformations. Any chance we could see more in the vein of extreme muscle growth/inflation and loss of intelligence? You do them so well!

I do muscles mostly because people ask me to, so there will always be some of these coming down the pipe. I have a sketch I’ll be posting soon that I think will make you happy though, so be patient!

Do all your stories happen in the same universe? (It’s kinda hot thinking about a world full of gay bears/pigs)

Short answer: Kind of.

Longer answer: This is a question which doesn’t really have a good answer, because I don’t feel like it’s framed properly. It turns on definitions of “world” and “universe” which I don’t really like to have applied to my writing, for rather long reasons. So no, all of these stories don’t happen in the same universe, because my stories don’t happen in anything I would ever call a universe–there are no fully formed “worlds” here. These are just settings and backdrops. That said, there certainly is a kind of repetition going on here, and some of these stories certainly overlap somehow but it isn’t by way of any sort of consistant setting/world, so much as by theme, symbol and character.

Take Pigtown for instance. Pigtown in a bar/neighborhood which dates back to my earliest stories. It’s fictional. I’d never even set foot in a fetish bar to know what they look like, so Pigtown from the beginning has always only ever been the gay idea of what a fetish bar / sex club could be. Over the years, Pigtown has taken on countless forms–it’s been a massive complex of rooms which shift and change over time. It’s been sentient. It’s been a normal bar corrupted by demonic energy. It’s been a strange, simple dive bar. Nearly all of these instances of the bar are, in one way or another, run by a man named Rod. Rod usually has a friend Micah, with whom he had been romantic, and one of them betrayed the other, but not always. Sometimes Pigtown is a bar called “The Barnyard” and it’s run by a man named Jimmy. Lately, other writers took the idea and ran with it, imagining Pigtown as entire neighborhoods, mostly in the captions of @rbbrpigmen. None of these places are identical, but all of these places are pigtown–the same place. Every pigtown story, is identical in the same sort of fashion. It’s like looking into two mirrors reflecting one another–there’s only one object, reflected infinitely across space. That’s the closest my stories ever come to existing in something that might be called a “universe”.

Pigtown isn’t the only one of these things I write from. There’s Louisiana Acres, a trailer park. There’s the City of Bears (which is itself a stolen reflection of an old story called “Saturday Night Eternal” which has always been a favorite of mine). There’s the Fat Action Team, the Special Investigations Bureau, and a small town in the middle of the Midwest called “Sus”, or maybe it’s called “Kingsford”. Each of these stories are reflections of one another. So no, all of my stories do not take place in the same universe, but they do relate to one another in meaningful ways, if you know what to look for.

brackenousjunk:

Requested by @andyreworld. 

WARNING: SCAT AHEAD

Kyle liked going to the gym in the mid-morning–everyone who got a workout in before work had left, and everyone who came around lunchtime wasn’t there yet–it gave him a good hour and half with most of the weights to himself, to focus on lifting. He’d sure been working out long enough to learn patterns like this, he’d been a gym rat for years, and maintained a near flawless physique–low body fat and ripped with muscle. Still, he wasn’t a far of people–especially fags–staring at his body, unless he wanted them staring, so he preferred off-hours. Usually he had peace, but, today, some fat fuck was crowding his space.

He’d seen him around the gym before, but Kyle didn’t usually care about what other people were doing, and if he wanted to work out, good for him. But it seemed like every time he turned around, the guy was within five feet of him, lifting something, or on the next machine over–and then the first one came, loud enough that Kyle could hear it over his music, a massive, horrific fart that lasted at least five seconds.

He looked over at the pig, disgusted, but the guy just leered back at him–and then Kyle smelt it–it was horrific, one of the worst things he’d ever smelt in his life. It was so strong that it was almost like his mind and body blew a fuse–he couldn’t move, he couldn’t think–his eyes went glassy, his jaw gaping as the pig got up, pulled the headphones from his head, leaned in and whispered in his ear, “Finally got you. Come on, you’re gonna spot me today.”

Kyle did as he was told, even though he fought the compulsion as best he could, but his body wasn’t his anymore. The smell lingered in his nose, and just as he’d start shaking the pig’s control off, the fat fuck would nearly shit his pants again, and he’d…lose it all over again. The pig kept talking to him while he lifted, telling Kyle how much he loved the smell of him, how much he loved his farts, how much he loved submitting. Soon, as much as he hated himself for it, he started craving it, the smell, the filthy thoughts his master whispered in his ear. Finally, he couldn’t resist it anymore–his master was doing squats, and let a huge fart loose, and something in Kyle broke. Snorting and grunting, he got down behind him, shoved his head to the man’s ass and started crewing at his shorts, cum spewing in his jockstrap.

“That’s a good pig–I think you’re ready for your post-workout meal, don’t you?”

Kyle didn’t know what he meant, but he crawled after his master, who went into the locker room, commandeered the large stall, and sat backwards, his hole right in Kyle’s face. He fought as hard as he could, hesitating, but a wet fart pulled him in, lips locked to his master’s hole, tongue burrowing in, ready and eager for his first feeding.

Here’s an expansion requested a few times, and also incorporating this request.

Also, still really messy!

This close to the source, Kyle felt like his brain was literally melting away inside his skull, the wretched stench of his master’s farts stripping the paint from his soul. He sucked down as much of the filth as he could, and didn’t even realize when the shit started pouring out with the gas, his mouth devouring it, grunting and moaning, his master laughing and berating him as he fed him. It never seemed to end, his gut felt full and distended, his mouth coated in filth, but at last his master did finish, ordered Kyle to lick his crack clean, and then got up and left without another word, just the sound of laughter. 

Kyle just rolled over and slumped next to the toilet, trying to get his bearings on what had just happened to him, trying to grapple with what he’d just done. He looked down at himself, at his shit stained shirt bulging with a sudden gut full of shit–he belched, and the taste of it was disgusting, but also made his cock even harder. He couldn’t just stay here, though–but he also couldn’t leave. If people saw him like this, what would they even think of him? He had fresh street clothes in his locker though, maybe he could get out of this, somehow. He wiped his face and neck clean with water from the toilet bowl and toilet paper, took off his shirt, threw it in the trash, and then went to his locker–only to discover someone else had gotten there first. His normal clothes were gone, and in their place were the filthiest, most disgusting garments he’d ever seen. A white shirt crusted with stains he didn’t want think about, some briefs equally disgusting–crusty and crispy. Some jean shorts that felt so…disgusting in his hands, and the stench of his master on them, his master! He buried his face in the filthy fabric, snorting and grunting in front of everyone around him–he stripped off the rest of his gym clothes, pulled on the briefs, and immediately exploded–all the cum he’d build up in the last few hours pouring out of him in a sopping deluge. Then the shirt, then the cutoffs. A couple of tennis shoes without socks. He didn’t even notice the clothes should have been too big for his old, muscular body, but now they barely fit him, a sliver of hairy gut poking out under the shirt, cutoffs bursting around his thighs. 

He came back to his mind a bit, enough to know he needed to get out of there. However, he didn’t notice that he left a trail of piss as he left, oblivious to the stream running down his leg and into his shoe, leaking out onto the floor. He had to get home, he had to get away from here. He fled, got in his car and drove home as quickly as he could, belching up the stench of his master’s shit, gut bulging larger, and he kept ripping off the most horrid farts–in the enclosed car, the stench only made him horny, and by the time he got home he was pushing out longer and louder. In his parking spot, huffing and panting with need, he bore down, filling the back of his underwear and cutoffs with a huge load of shit, feeling it squelch out the legs and coat the car seat under him, while he rubbed his sopping wet crotch until he came with a squeal.

He recovered slowly, his mind exhausted–and looked around. This wasn’t his house–it wasn’t even close to where he lived. But he needed to be here, he knew that–this is where his master was. This is where he belonged.